Tantrums of a pig

I feel I have neglected the animals just a little this week.
Brother's house, old friend's reunion, Manchester, Work all day yesterday and work tonight.....it all feels as though I have not been around here....mentally and physically....and that feels a little odd.


Despite some dreadful weather, I decided to spend a little time in the field, and It was lovely to forget the badness of last week, even though I have been soaked to the skin.

Margie .throwing a strop worthy of Violet Elizabeth Bott

My first stop was the pig pen.
The only reason I chose them first was that I could sit inside their shed out of the rain, so after pouring some pig nuts onto the earth I made myself comfortable on the floor of the hut.
BIG MISTAKE!
No 12 and Margie ( the former 21) bounced over like a couple of overgrown puppies and started to stuff their fat faces on the pig food, but as number 12 is now a huge boar and not the timid little piglet we first got to know and love, competition between the pigs was bound to lead to conflict .
Every time Margie tried to take more that number 12 thought she was entitled to, he would knock her out of the way with a sharp nudge of his snout.
After four or five of these rebukes, Margie literally stopped dead squinting her sharp little piggy eyes at number 12  and with murder obviously in mind, she stamped her little trotters like a two year old madam , then proceeded on what can only be described as a mother of all temper tantrums.
Squealing like ( well.... like a pig)...she bounced around the enclosure biting at plants, fencing and her water bucket with a savagery which was just a little frightening and not content with biting at inanimate objects, Margie hurled herself into the shed, stamped her trotters again and took a mouthful of my pants firmly in her mouth and shook me like a dog.

I acted quickly and slapped her hard, which seemed to stop her hysterical tantrum for a second, but then, after looking at me in astonishment for a moment, she let out another scream and ran out into the enclosure for yet another performance......
All the while number 12 remained calm and unruffled.......
We have brought up a monster!

Camilla and Badger are slowly letting nature separate them (although having said this, every night they still share the same house)....Daytimes Camilla follows the bigger girls devotedly, trying to ingratiate herself into their good books. The older geese are not ready to accept her fully, but I have noticed that they are more comfortable in the presence of a prettier and more graceful  companion. By the autumn I hope that the four geese will be sharing the goose house together......

and talking of sharing- the rather knackered Phyllis Diller (centre) and Jane( the araucana) are still comfortable in their own little nunnery, away from the advances of the miniature cockerels and  bullying from the bog standard hybrids.
Phyllis is actually losing more feathers......and has a physique only a mother could love....


Are ANY of my animals normal?
answers on a postcard...please!

Nasty Drunks

I have a healthy dislike for belligerent drunks

You know the sort....someone who seems to relish confrontation, at the expense of others and with scant disregard for their own credibility and dignity.(well that is just while under the influence of alcohol!)

My mother was a bitter and belligerent drunk at times.which was an even worse thing to be as her conversation would zig zag between self pity and aggressive  goading...not the nicest of combinations to be involved with

On my way out of the hospital tonight I ran into a couple of drunks, who were being shown the door by a somewhat elderly security guard and a couple of porters... Both men were up for a fight, albeit a verbal one, and the amount of abuse and venom that spewed from their mouths was revolting, not just because of the language ("fuck"  seems almost an innocuous word nowadays).. no it was the level of aggression that I found so upsetting to witness.

It was as though, the whole of these men's anger reserves were being unleashed, towards complete strangers, strangers that had done nothing more that not accept or agree with their behavior

A middle aged domestic also on her way home stopped briefly to help.and spat out the  question "would you speak to your fathers like this?"

But it fell on deaf ears....

"I haven't got a dad" One boy sang out triumphantly.

as the other laughed like a hyena before he told her to "shut the fuck up!"

Oh how I wish that these two, over a morning cup of coffee and a couple of slices of toast, could sit down with their families to watch this little interlude at the hospital.....

sober shame....that is the order of the day......

Mind you.....Sober drunks tend to remember nothing!

How convienient

Irene

I find it slightly ironic that American Hurricanes are called after the "ladies"
When us Brits get the news that "Katrina" or "Hannah" is on the way. it kind of lulls us all into a false sense of benign anxiety!
Irene is a name derived from the Greeks....It's original meaning , ironically is "peace"
Let's hope that  hurricane Irene , turns out to be a peaceful squall 
My thoughts are with all of you bloggers out there on the Eastern Seaboard
Be safe
CNN Hurricane Info

24 hour Rejuvenation

Manchester City Hall

Manchester was a good idea.
I got there at midday and immediately met up with Hazel who now lives ten minutes from the city centre.
We caught up with things, drank good coffee and ate nice cakes.

In lovely sunshine we ambled around the city art Gallery on Mosley Street and over a pint at her student watering hole she listened all about my shitty week and Constance with uncomplaining eyes.

Manchester council has recently adopted the New York tagline of I "Heart" MCR (I love Manchester)...from every window and in every shop the poster is being displayed and this clever marketing ploy seems to be hijacked by the city population in response to the recent riots.

I said my goodbyes to Hazel then crossed the city to meet Nigel over at the Cornerhouse arthouse Cinema
We went to see In a Better World . A Danish fairytale of a movie about grief, growing up and vengeance (The Danish title Hævnen actually means vengeance)
A impressive film with some great performances from the two boys in the movie as well as the rather sexy Swedish actor Mikael Persbrandt go and see it! 8/10...It gets you thinking way after the credits have rolled

We dissected the film afterwards, drank a few glasses of wine, ate dinner and chilled out all very normal and all very therapeutic ......and after a coffee in Town this morning and only 24 hours from leaving Trelawnyd I was back home feeling more positive and a little more human.
A neighbour called over when they saw me, and asked if I had "got over that horrible business of the weekend" as if that losing a dog was equivalent to say having an altercation with the milkman! I felt ok enough to smile gently at their remark. People that have not owned dogs have no idea of just how painful the death of one can be......a fact reinforced by the next comment I received
"at least you have three others!"
Two days ago I would have flew at the remark..today I just smiled thinly.

Without meaning to sound pretensious, I think Rudyard Kipling's poem perhaps sums up the way a dog keeper feels when a pet dies...it's worth repeating I think..as it says so much more than I could

The Power Of The Dog
by Rudyard Kipling

There is sorrow enough in the natural way
From men and women to fill our day;
And when we are certain of sorrow in store,
Why do we always arrange for more?
Brothers and Sisters, I bid you beware
Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.

Buy a pup and your money will buy
Love unflinching that cannot lie--
Perfect passion and worship fed
By a kick in the ribs or a pat on the head.
Nevertheless it is hardly fair
To risk your heart for a dog to tear.

When the fourteen years which Nature permits
Are closing in asthma, or tumour, or fits,
And the vet's unspoken prescription runs
To lethal chambers or loaded guns,
Then you will find--it's your own affair--
But...you've given your heart for a dog to tear.

When the body that lived at your single will,
With its whimper of welcome, is stilled (how still!);
When the spirit that answered your every mood
Is gone--wherever it goes--for good,
You will discover how much you care,
And will give your heart for the dog to tear.

We've sorrow enough in the natural way,
When it comes to burying Christian clay.
Our loves are not given, but only lent,
At compound interest of cent per cent.
Though it is not always the case, I believe,
That the longer we've kept 'em, the more do we grieve:
For, when debts are payable, right or wrong,
A short-time loan is as bad as a long--
So why in Heaven (before we are there)
Should we give our hearts to a dog to tear?

yeap I feel a bit better

City Break

The Cornerhouse in Manchester (left)

 Today I am letting Chris take charge of the animals,and I am off to Manchester for an overnight break with friend Nigel over in Manchester.
I have already told him I am need of a break, so the order of the day is a trip to the art house cinema "The Cornerhouse", a few wines, a fair amount of  fattening food and a great deal of frivolous chatter..
I need to re group just a little and laugh a lot......my tolerance  is low at the moment

For Judith

take care

x

1983 revisited

The Main 1829 Building which had changed very little when I started my training
(On my very first shift I remember walking through the main entrance which led into the dormitory of a long stay ward called Acton.....)

I completed my Psychiatric Nurse Training way back in 1986 when I was just 24.
The times then were changing....the asylum was more or less a thing of the past and the huge, self contained Hospitals , such as the Deva Hospital on the outskirts of Chester already had started to shed its populations of institutionalized patients and staff back into the community.
Our nursing group (Known as Sep 83) was a small one. It comprised of only 7 students, all of us overseen by an inspirational tutor, the fey,camp and greatly respected Leslie Brint.

The class of '83.  From left to right Me, Sandra, Steven, Mr Brint, Paula, Noirin and Mike
Judith was in the Isle Of Man when this photo was taken

 During our training, not only did I became close to the scousers of the group ( the warm and laid back Sandra, foul mouthed comic Paula and heart throb Mike) but to the group's "baby", a country girl from the Isle of Man called Judith, who was still in  her teens.


Big hearted and a  little naive ,Judith blossomed in nursing residence life, and after we all qualified and went our separate ways, we always kept in touch, in that sporadic, erratic way, old friends sometimes have a tendency to do.


Its been nearly ten years since we met up. A  brief comment on my blog the other day rekindled our friendship, as Judith said she was staying over on the  Wirral. for a few weeks and could I meet up with her at some stage.
The message and subsequent email was chatty and bouncy enough, but being a nurse, I suspected rightly as it turned out that Judith was over from the Isle of Man to attend treatment over at Clatterbridge's Oncology Hospital., one of the leading cancer centres in the UK
I know it sounds a little selfish, but with losing Constance on Sunday and looking after my brother all day Tuesday, the prospect of meeting up with Judith today filled me with some ambivalence, but as it turned out,our meeting was filled with gossip, laughter and 25 years of catch ups

I picked her up from Clatterbridge Hospital and we drove to the picturesque  Parkgate village on the Dee Estuary.,a place that we used to take patients out for the day, when we were student nurses.
We ate ice cream, walked the length of the Promenade , talked and laughed and talked some more.
I am a year off being 50 and I felt as though I was 21 again!

Concrete mixers

Eirlys with my buff cockerel

My friend Eirlys did me a lot of good today.

She asked me about Constance , but did so in a matter-of-fact way which didnt upset me

She diverted me from my poor mood 

And offered me her concrete mixer to mix my poultry wormer and layers pellets in.(believe it or not she has worked out a formula that coats every pellet with the correct amount of medication!)
As Delia would say....

Start One clean concrete mixer

Add 25 kilos of food

Drizzle in 2 litres of oil from the hot fat fryer

add a splash of 20 quids worth of wormer

mix well

laugh a little while you are doing it

and serve...........
enjoy!