Flight of the Bumblebee on 101 Bottles!

and who said University fees of 9,000£ a term is too high?

Loose Cannons (Mine Vaganti) and Miss BA Jones

The Italian comedy/drama Loose Cannons (Mine Vaganti) (at Theatre Clwyd this evening) is an amusing "coming out of the closet" film that would have probably been made by Richard Curtis in the 1980s or early 1990s if produced in the UK....and yes it does has that slightly dated feel which may or may not perfectly portray the attitudes and prejudices of conservative Southern Italian family life.
The main story is typical farce.......Thomasso,(Riccardo Scamarcio ) The youngest son of a wealthy and eccentric family arrives back home to inform his family that he is gay (so that he will be disowned and not expected to carry on with the family pasta business)..just before he has the opportunity to do so his elder brother(Alessandro Preziosi ) comes out to the family at dinner.....father has a heart attack, grandmother grieves past relationship mistakes and drunken aunt bemoans her fading youth...oh and the family pasta company director Alba (Nicole Grimaudo ) falls for Thomasso who feels unable to declare his gayness to his now shocked family!
.........yes and that's the simple synopsis!

add to the mix Thomasso's hunky boyfriend. his three camp -as-a-row-of-tents friends who have to try an butch it all up so that no one can guess the truth and a miserable ugly maid and you'll get the gist of the movie which amuses the audience in a kind of predictable and middle class kind of way.
I gave it an ok 7/10...but I do think that the totally beautiful and talented Nicole Grimaudo (left) is a real find..I will look out for her again. She is lovely


Anyhow, earlier today I "interviewed" Pat Bagguley and her  youthful daughter Joanne for Trelawnyd-Voices from the Past.
It was an entertaining and animated afternoon full of interesting anecdotes and cracking personal histories

Joanne and Pat

and I so enjoyed listening to their memories of the village from the 1950s onwards, it was an easy and fun afternoon.
In addition to their own fascinating stories, both Pat and Joanne described a local schoolteacher Miss BA Jones who literally ran the village community for over  half a century. Her story will be one I will concentrate upon in my sister blog as Miss Jones was awarded an M.B.E. in recognition of her passion and dedication to village affairs.
(which was no mean feat)
I will try and get some more of the blog written tomorrow night! its beginning to become a labour of love with me

Miss BA Jones is centre of the ladies on the from row (the one with the gloves) in this 1958 photo of the village welfare committee
Auntie Gladys, who was 92 yesterday is first on the left

Mr Magoo

Things didn't get off to an auspicious start this morning.....I have just rubbed  Chris' "Intensive foot softener" from Boots into my face instead of sun cream and Albert has left the tiny body of a baby rabbit on the kitchen floor which has now been disemboweled by the terriers............
By the time I had scrubbed most of the entrails stains out of the lino...the foot cream had started to "burn" just a little ( I have very sensitive skin) so I now resemble a rather fat matchstick.....complete with belisha beacon face..........
Russell has gone lame and has had to be confined to his goose house for some rest and some of my onion sets are just a little too damp to plant out today....and it's only 9am!

at least the sun has started to break through.....

Siambr Wen

I have felt jet lagged throughout the whole of today,
It has been the sort of day that doesn't feel quite real and I have bounced from chatting with  neighbours and villagers to wanting to curl up under a duvet and sleeping the day away.
Of course I have not slept...I have, however,  socialised with a score of field visitors, organised a very welcomed swap of home baked bread for eggs from Jason at Wynne House  sorted another four oral history interviews with more conscripted "greyhairs", delivered a load of eggs and hand posted a birthday card for Auntie Gladys, who is 92 today.......by mid afternoon I had a desperate need to be quiet so I took myself off alone, to photograph a ruin of one of the oldest of the village houses...the grandiose sounding SIAMBR WEN

Siambr Wen



Siambr Wen with the lovely Still House  behind. Well street and the village proper lies just beyond
It is reported that The Still house still has traces of of the old wattle and daub walls and was well known to have been an ancient distillery

 This old house dates from the early 1600s and several large houses of standing were called Siambr Wen  in the local area ( there are such houses in the nearby villages of Dyserth and Caerwys) as they could put aside a large room which could be used by the village as a courtroom! (Siambr means chamber in Welsh)
The house was the home of the Williams family. According to local historian Daphne...in her book Trelawnyd Past & Present ,John Williams who died in 1711 is buried in the South east corner of the Churchyard.

Palm Sunday and Queen Latifah

Service in the sun

 The small congregation of the St Michael's stood outside in the graveyard next to the 14th Century Church Cross for Palm Sunday service.
Although I am not a Church goer, I stood and watched the service for a while in the bright and warm sunshine, and did so with a great deal of affection.
Now where does that come from?

Chris is third from the right

 I am working tonight, so this morning I have tried to take advantage of the springlike day but real life gets in the way, as it has a want to do, and much of the morning has been taken over with the arrival of a new charity case,
The phone went early and yes it was another plea to help out a fellow poultry keeper.
This time the problem was a very loud buff orpington who thinks she is a cockerel
(not good for a semi detached garden in suburbia)
Described as a "big bugger with a large gob" Queen Latifah is a handsome and rather vociferous girl indeed, and on reflection I would have been a fool to refuse her admission to the field population....
so here she stays........

Queen Latifah!

Roft or Crofft

 Ok we are slumming it slightly with the plastic Union Jack bought from the "Royal Wedding" shelf in Sainsburys but from today we are flying the flag for Royalists everywhere and will be building up quite nicely thank you towards the Royal Wedding celebrations.
I know its not trendy
I know its not fashionable
But I don't give a stuff.
"Gawd love 'em" that's what we say!
(thanks Craig)

One of the St Trinians killing a mouse on the field

 Its been a quiet-ish sort of day. Chris has spent an age weeding the garden (!) whilst  I have pottered around planting out violas. and clearing the winter dead wood..
By mid afternoon, I decided to walk the dogs around the village and what started as a brief amble

aubretia growing on the old wall in Chapel Street

 turned out to be a bit of a marathon, as nearly everyone I bumped into provided me with some help with my new blog..
The nice Chap from Ty Wynne ( Wynne House) in the centre of the village stopped me with some interesting historic photos and information about his house, another lady from Bron Haul called me over to collect a book which would be useful for some background research for the blog and amateur sleuths Kit and Stan Hopkins waved me over to their neat bungalow to give me the results of their investigations into the historic term "The Roft" which older villagers' remembered  as the nickname for some open waste ground just off the hight street, where the pensioner bungalows are now situated  .
I could not find out if "roft" was indeed a real Welsh word...but Kit could and I was impressed that after discussion with her Welsh academic minister she found out that "Rofft" was indeed a mutation from the Welsh word " crofft" which literally means a "small holding or small field next to a house"
(Interestingly similar to the Scottish word croft: "A croft is a fenced or enclosed area of land, usually small and arable with a crofter's dwelling thereon."

Local Miss Marple Kit and hubby Stan

As I walked back to the cottage laden down with information  I was stopped by Ralph the gentleman farmer's missus, who had read the blog and who kindly offered me some information on one of her relatives the powerhouse old  village character Miss BA Jones, schoolteacher,staunch Tory supporter and Flower Show veteran.
It was a fruitful walk

Happiness is........

Old Thomas in his blog of a few days ago, debated the concept of personal happiness. I commented then that I believe that happiness is a short lived emotion and the best that any of us could really hope for was a state of contentedness with "one's lot"....but happiness does occur in the smallest of moments ...so I thought I would "document" mine today .
I have spent much of my post night shift jet lag day cleaning and sat down in the silence of the cottage at 2pm to drink a well earned cup of coffee. Within a minute or so ,the dogs, all tired after their walk, snuck up to me on the sofa in drips and drabs..... I find that there is something quite satisfying about their constant need to be close.......
(for those that might of missed him George is curled up on the arm chair)

et tu brute........

et tu brute


now, sometimes we are lucky in the nhs...we have breaks,
in a nice  coffee room
with access to a computer


so I have just read the following, scathing (ney cutting)
comments from my so called friend ....Thomas Stephenson ,
who said this in last night's somewhat fruity blog entitled "my Arse":-

"Now it's not often that I slag someone off behind their back, but I know John is at work tonight, so he won't be able to defend himself until everyone in the North Eastern Hemisphere has gone to bed, so I feel safe. Let's hope I don't find myself in intensive care in his part of Wales, but since I never choose to visit on a matter of principal, the chances of me having a head-on collision in his jurisdiction are virtually nil, and I am hoping to get up early enough to erase this post before he has a chance to read it.
What have I got against him? Well, he seems to be surrounded by sycophants for a start - have you seen how many people respond to one of his posts announcing the arrival of a sick chicken at his hoarding-centre up there in sheep-shagger country? I sit here day after day, making profound comments about Life, the Universe and Everything, and attract about 5 comments from mad old women in Canada and the USA - half of whom are retired/failed interior designers, and the other half that seem to spend their retirements knitting cup-cakes for fictitious Grand-Children and deliberately mowing down pedestrians in their 4 Litre Jeeps - and HE just has to mention one of his fucking dogs shitting on the carpet to get about 50 ecstatic comments telling him what a wonderful, caring person he is, and how only God understands how he must keep it all together in such an efficient and caring way!.............."

All I have got to say in reply  is....


"envy is a terrible emotion for an over-the-hill artistic-type to acknowledge....."

Now I may have an adoring following..but let's face it who wouldn't when you are blogging about fluffy bunnies, sweet fat old chickens and incontinent bulldogs....?

perhaps that is the lesson in point.....

an essay on the merits of slabs of stone,  old sets of candlesticks and some knackered old wine glasses.....perhaps just doesn't cut the mustard....let alone capture the imagination

much love and as grouch would put it

oxoxoxoxoxo

john

PS. to all those so called sycophants......please feel free to pop over the old fart's blog site and leave him a pithy comment.....he doesn't receive many!