Congratulations Eric

j

Sporadic blog writer Eric (http://mountainrambler.blogspot.com/) won my sister's on line MND fundraising competition of "Name The Pig" with MARGIE ( a tribute to his Grandmother!)
Now the prize for the competition is a Welsh Love Spoon AND (be still my beating heart)  a CD of the Trelawnyd Male Voice Choir...so yesterday I went onto the official Choir website and ordered the cd in readiness for sending..
I ordered the cd when I was up at my brother's house  , so I was fairly surprised when I returned home to find the choir's secretary outside the cottage with the cd in his hand.
Personal delivery, I thought...now THAT is good service!
We chatted about the choir and interestingly he told me that he had read by blog entries detailing my quandary about joining the choir!
"You really should come and join us" he said kindly " we have a wonderful time!"
I talked about my fears of embarrassment  and his wife ( who was sat in their car chirped up that she thought I would benefit from going to sit in with the choir practice as an observer.
I agreed, and the secretary promised to contact me by email before the next rehearsal, which was very kind of him.
Anyhow a little later in the day, as I was walking the dogs  down Chapel Street , I spotted a man I did not know standing near auntie Glad's house., he called out a hello and when I stopped asked me if I had enjoyed the Choir's summer concert which took place on the 16th of July.
The conversation then took a bit of a deja vu turn, when he said he had read my blog and that he knew that I was thinking of joining the choir! (bloody hell twice.... in one afternoon how odd was that?!!!!)
Like the secretary ,he waxed on lyrically about how much fun he had being a part of the choir and laughed long and loudly when I said I was worried about how well I can sing!
"90 % of the choir wouldn't sing on their own" he reassured me with a smile..... "come along to the rehearsals" he said...and I have agreed that I will....
I walked on , amused at how fate can throw you a curved ball when you are not looking and the man went off to check up of how Auntie Glad was doing.......(Gladys has been the unofficial mascot of the choir for many years now and is held in high esteem by most of the long standing members)


Despite my lack of confidence and life long fear of embarrassing myself in public...I am rapidly coming to the conclusion that my path and that of the choir will be joining at some stage

A Mixed Bag- Fickle updates/Camilla and farting pigs

The Indian Runners in defensive mode....watching a cat in the long grass

To answer Mrs Fickle's anxious email...YES the hysterical Indian Runner Ducks are still with me!

The field compliment of ducks has plateaued at 8 birds. (5 Indian Runners females, 1 Indian runner cross female, 1 magpie female and Halleh, the bog standard lone drake with sexuality problems .

I need a runner drake to bring back a better blood line within the group and Halleh, who has practically tried to rape every dark coloured hen on the field, will be removed to pastures new.

Most of the ducks are over two years old now and despite their maturity still they retain the rather irritating persona of a group of teenage girls that have been locked inside a ghost train.

Every move you make on the field, whether it be filling up the pond with a bucket or scratching your arse with the blunt end of the garden hoe, the runners will spy your actions, look at each other with slightly anxious expressions then launch themselves into what only could be described as uncontrolled hysterics

"Scream!!!!!!run!!!!!!!!!!! run like the wind"

I love them dearly.....they lay scores of beautiful blue eggs too! but I could slap each and every one of them

Yesterday I decided to rename CJ.

He/she is far too graceful and beautiful to have such a teenage name, so I thought I would ask the first person to stop by the field to suggest a more fitting title!

Around 2pm a woman and her young daughter stopped to ask if I had any chicks for sale. After a brief conversation I asked the daughter ( who looked like Ugly Betty) if she could think of a new name for CJ.

I explained that the young Canada goose needed a name in keeping with her slim, graceful and pretty new image...

The girl didn't hesitate

"Camilla Parker Bowles!" she lisped without hint of irony

And so...children let that be a lesson to you all...... Camilla it is!!!

Camilla with trusty Badger still in tow

I will leave you with a note of caution.....

I was rushing this morning as I needed to get to my brother's house for 9.15am.

As I was galloping down to water the pigs I heard someone walking their dogs just beyond the hedge. They must have heard me as I was puffing and blowing like a steam train at full pelt..... as I got to the pig pen No 12 let out the longest and loudest fart I have heard in many a month, and immediately afterwards I could hear the person that was walking the dogs tut VERY pointedly.

I was too embarrassed to explain to "disgusted of Trelawnyd" that it was not me that broke wind quite so vociferously but the pig, but that's obviously what they thought!

Another nail in my social coffin me thinks

Dealing with Depression.....and "That's Life"

I am going up to my brother' s house twice this week. Not only is he battling the physical assaults of Motor Neurone Disease, he is suffering from the debilitating effects of a reactive clinical depression.
I thought I knew depression.
As a former psychiatric nurse I have actively treated people with endogenous and reactive depression. Endogenous depression ( for those that may not know the term , it is a depression which often just springs from nowhere)
Through a series of supportive interventions which included, pharmacological treatments, talking therapies, physical exercise and good basic nursing care and support,  I have seen the "black dog" of despondency lifted from the shoulders of those afflicted, but more often than not, the journey towards feeling well again was always a hard and difficult slog for their patient and their loved ones who had to watch helplessly in the wings.


My brother's depression is a particulary difficult one to treat. He can no longer verbalise his distress and physically he cannot activate those natural endorphins that may be of use to him. The symptoms of motor Neurone make him feel dreadful for most of the time, so it is the constant and unwavering support of his wife coupled with medication that are keeping him going at the moment.
I have to hope that a change in antidepressant medication will be of some help.....deep down I am sure that  they will be... although.... not as quickly as we would all like.
The fires of hope, hope that things will improve need to to be stoked and tended by us all, the people standing in the wings and, even if my brother at times may fail to realise that his mood  could lighten, we have to have the constant and unwavering optimism that it will.


                             *****************************                     


On a different note ( and I apologise for sounding like a presenter from That's Life)
Today I have been catching up with all those necessary but rather horrendous jobs that dog owners always put off until someone tells you that your house smells!
Yes its a day for carpet cleaning and dog bathing.
Now I absolutely HATE bathing the dogs..it's the only animal job that I actively complain about.
The bathing of four dogs, each with their own "individual needs" is a dirty, exhausting and rather WET enterprise.

George

William is the only dog that loves a bath. It has to be a hot bath though, and he has to be allowed to sit and enjoy the experience like a housewife who   may be allowed to enjoy a soak after a hard day with scented candles and a glass of pinot!
George and Meg on the other hand HATE bathing and when plonked into the bath always seem to have that slightly ashamed look of a maiden aunt who has just been goosed at a family party .


Constance, who weighs in at over 25 kilos will put up with a bath but will take a totally passive role in the whole bathing process, which means that she has to be carried upstairs to the bathroom, which is no mean feat I can tell you.


This morning the neighbours must have thought something dreadful was going on as all they could hear was my colourful snippets of pure filth as .I battled to hump a dead weight bulldog up a narrow cottage staircase before slinging  her into the bath with a satisfied splosh!.....
I have only just re cleaned the bathroom after all four baths......
The mess would have made a stout hearted domestic weep!

A Postman BIG up and Dylan Thomas

weaver of grass. sent me a much welcomed belated donation to our open day this week.

She addressed the envelope in a somewhat interesting  way.

John Gray (Sheffield !)

"Organiser of the Allotment Day"

Trelawnyd

Flint

Wales

so fair do's to my postie.....he delivered the letter safely yesterday!!!

Thank you again Weaver

x

When we went to my Sister's Flower Show yesterday, I was stopped by a lady from Prestatyn, who had come up to our open day last Sunday.

She was very sweet, and waxed lyrically on  about the pigs and the turkeys and before she turned to go she asked me suddenly if I liked Dylan Thomas.

I told her that apart from Under Milk Wood ( which I remember reading in school) I was afraid that I had not really studied any of his work at all.

She seemed surprised.

"I thought your blog was named after one of his poems!" she said and when I asked her which one she recited the first three verses of "Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night" a poem she said she remembered from her college days.

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rage at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

I told her that it sounded like some sort of rally cry against giving up when death approaches, which she seemed to agree with but assured her that My "Going Gently" was purely about living, albeit living is a plodding , benign kind of way.

It seemed just  a little surreal that I was listening to an stranger quoting me Welsh Poetry on a sunny afternoon under the vicarage trees....

ps. The phrase "Going Gently" actually comes from the title of a novel by David Nobbs. It is one of my favourite books , which   tells the story of 99-year old Kate Copson's life, in flashback form, while she lies paralysed in a hospital bed after a stroke. From her upbringing and sexual awakening in a Swansea suburb, through the marriage of her five husbands to the murder of one of them by her son. It is a book of great charm, warmth and humour

The Prestatyn Flower Show 2011

There must be some "showman" blood in our family somewhere.
I suspect it may come from my father, who would make a speech when opening the fridge door, but certainly the skills to organise a "show" are there in our family for all to see.,
I of course help organise our Flower Show here in Trelawnyd as well as the now annual "open Allotment Day", my twin sister, Janet, has developed and organised more events that you can shake a stick at,in support of Motor Neurone Disease over the past year or so ( and raised over 11 grand in doing so) and my elder sister, Ann, has spearheaded the highly successful Prestatyn Flower Show for going on twenty years now.
The Flower Show In Prestatyn runs over two days, and I missed the opening day yesterday as Chris had the car (his motorbike still being under the forensic gaze of man mountain copper "Gareth with the tattoos")..and so taking Constance and George out for a treat, we went down to the coast to join in with her show!

The Flower and Veg tent
Prestatyn's Show is much grander than Trelawnyd's

The chap that won the veg trug will be entering our show ( after a bit of arm wrestling!)

Ann (my sister always wins with her stunning floral art!)

One of the prize winning scarecrows Princess Beatrice and THE hat 

We sat under the trees in the vicarage gardens and listened to the brass band play "tillidly pom pom pom" 

The best thing to come out of Rhyl (the town's brass band)

And finally... Constance when she got home
it was all a bit too much!!!!

Inception Animals & crow kill

"Funny" animal videos often leave me just that little bit cold...

this short one I did find somewhat amusing

last night I witnessed something that was not quite as "fluffy bunny" as this video
A youngish crow sneaked underneath one of the hens' arks and was busy stealing some corn when two hybrids cornered him. Within seconds several more hens had joined in the attack and amid a flurry of pecks the crow tried hard to retaliate. The fight proceeded outside where within seconds the hens had mortally wounded the crow and literally one minute after it all started the crow was left gasping its last on its back and the hens continued with their foraging.

Bulldog Security and Affordable Village Housing

Constance on guard duty

It may be a case of "shutting the stable door" but I have become just a little paranoid over security since Chris' motorbike was pinched by a low life joy rider. The cottage is secure, and anyone "sneaking" up to the back door will have the full force of an extremely unforgiving bulldog to cope with if any nefarious goings on are the order of the day.
The Welsh terriers are gentle souls with strangers but Bulldogs and Scottish terriers are terribly territorial if they need to be, and once locked on to an intruder, can inflict some considerable damage ( here here!)
So if the scroat who stole Chris' bike is actually reading this ( and I suspect they may have some trouble doing so, as occasionally I can use BIG LONG WORDS)...well then you have been warned...if you ever return then.you will be savaged by several house dogs and then would have to face the wrath of a very pissed off and hypertensive gay queen with murderous intent...
I don't think your chances of survival would be very high.


Anyhow, I have been giving the subject of affordable housing in rural settings a big think this week. A year or so ago a survey was passed around the village to ascertain if there was a local need for an affordable house project to be implemented. The project caused some unhappiness as it proposed the building of a small estate "outside" of the village envelope. There were some that said it was a good idea , there were many that were against it (fearful of where the development may lead) and although I am against any building inside greenbelt land, some sort of initiative that may utilise derelict and unused village dwellings for affordable housing for local people in need of a step on the property ladder, could, I thought be a way forward.


As it has turned out, I have been informed today by our local counsellor, that the original survey quite clearly stated that there was no local need for cheaper housing on a scale outlined ( there being several low priced properties in the village) , and that no building work of any sort will be implemented on the land "outside" of the village........
The ground work of needed for two surveys as well as the planning of the small estate was considerable and I suspect costly  (yes another was sent out recently in what looks like a rather stupid mistake) ...and all I keep thinking of  is why didn't the local housing association just buy the two derelict properties in the centre of the village..do them up into 4 flats and offer them to local families at a subsidised rate rather then to embark on a huge and as we know now, ineffectual project?
The village would have supported and welcomed this smaller initiative I am sure. No backs would have be put out and a few families would have been housed as the local need would have been assessed albeit in a more manageable way.
But that, I guess, is just common sense.....

"Pig" mix up

I had just dismantled the large field tent and was enjoying a cooling sit down, when I heard an excited call from Jason's little girl yelling "John    John!!!!!!!!!!!The pig's chasing the chickens!!!"
I hurried outside to find no 21 (aka Margie) scattering quail and frizzle cockerels in all directions as she blundered into their runs after mouthfulls of corn.
It was a fairly good natured raid this time.....she was more interested in the corn rather than ripping the back end from any passing chicken, and within a few minutes of guiding her around the field (watched by a few passing villagers), she returned reluctantly to her enclosure.
In the blazing heat of the afternoon, I nailed foot boards to the pig enclosure and was just ambling back to the cottage when a police car pulled up at the gate.
Out stepped the biggest policeman I have EVER seen in my life. His arms looked as thick as my waist and covered in tattoos and even though I don't think I have have ever done anything illegal in my life...I suddenly felt very guilty and.......very puny!!
The policeman was as affable as he was large.......he introduced himself as Gareth and asked if I was Dr Burton!
I told him that I was Dr Burton's partner and the policeman informed me that Chris' motorbike had been found in nearby Prestatyn! I had not even noticed that it had been stolen!
As Gareth with the muscles professionally completed his paperwork, a neighbour called over
"I see you've sorted out the PIG!"
I froze as the Policeman stiffened slightly at the remark and found myself babbling away like a baby
"It's my pig he's referring to.......nothing else..he's not talking about you....!!!! she escaped a few minutes ago and tried to eat my quail!!!
I had to chase her around the field"
I lapsed into silence and giggled inanely
The policeman carried on with his notes