Times are a changing

Last night I went scrumping.
Pig pellets are incredibly expensive and apples, no matter where they come from, can supplement a pig's diet   rather effectively and more importantly, cheaply.
I need not have bothered really as my sister called around with a sack load from her garden, but the exercise of humping a couple of plastic buckets full of apples around the lanes probably did me some good.

I suspect kids of today will have very little idea of the original meaning of the phrase " to scrump"......it is an activity that has all but disappeared from the arsenal of mischief behaviours young  boys possess nowadays

I was slightly dismayed to learn this morning that one of the urban definitions of scrumping is in fact "to dry hump another person"

how things change

ps a quick hello to my nephew and his partner Rebecca "good luck for the big day"
x

Big Ups for Albert and Claire's Charity "Do"

Ever since I bought my first house  ( a two up/ two down in windswept Walkley, Sheffield) I have owned  a cat.
There is something rather grounding about a cat.....in my mind they make a house feel like a home.....for everywhere you go, that curled up feline shape shrieks to all......this is a warm place to live.......warm physically and warm emotionally.
Our Albert remains a constant here...always a slightly unsung hero, always in the background of the dogs who demand centre stage


Having a cat in a cottage of dogs is always interesting......
Albert is tolerated, but not embraced as one of the pack.
He is generally ignored but never looks nonplussed by the rejection he recieves... and it is ever so slightly heartbreaking to watch him welcome the dogs with a face rub when they return from a walk and see them accept the greeting without ever understanding what it means in cat speak.

Albert is always impossible to photograph and NO , I am not strangling him!!!

The Welsh terriers have more of a relationship with Albert than Scottie George has.(he has never really acknowledged that the cat actually exists)- Very occassionally Meg will playfully down herself infront of Albert daring him to play... but the siliness last only a fraction of a minute before she becomes bored with the daft little black cat with overly surprised eyes, and walks away yawning to herself.
William , however has always been intrigued with Albert.
Willliam, the pack leader will accept a face rub welcome with the alacrity of a boss who is putting up with a junior apprentice, he will enjoy the occasional bottom sniff ( if Albert is in the mood) but that is really as far as the relationship goes apart from the "stair game!"


Now the star game started a few years ago now, when Albert graduated from kitten hood to skinny adult hunter. Every day since then he had proudly dragged and carried a zoo full of dead, dying and very much alive field animals into the cottage, past the dogs ( dogs can be so stupid) and up into the bedrooms where he spends many a delightful minute ripping the unfortunate prey to little pieces.


Now William in his own, not-so-bright way, eventually worked out that something was afoot and ever since he near hysterically followed Albert upstairs carry a struggling baby rabbit, a game of chase has blossomed whether Albert now has a furry victim in his mouth or not.


Now Albert will saunter into the lounge from the kitchen many times during the day. The dogs more often than not will be lying in heaps around the room and all will generally look asleep.Albert will tip toe past them, stand carefully at the foot of the stairs and will pause for a moment, looking back into the room with a fake bored expression. The dogs will not stir except for William who will usually open one eye carefully......and as soon as that happens the game has started.
The object of the game is to see who will break for the staircase first, will it be the "laid back" William or the diminutive Albert?
A second or two passes, ....it's just like the climax of  High Noon.....and then.... as always William is the one that cannot contain himself and he  launches himself after Albert who is already streaking upstairs like the proverbial rat up a drainpipe. The Winner is the one that reaches the safety of the back bedroom first.......and of course it is invariably Albert...who always stands on the bed waiting for William to acknowledge the victory with a half friendly sniff.


This game has continued sporadically for over two years now.....
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The Cancer Unit at Glad Clwyd Hospital

Now on a different and more serious note:-
I need to BIG up a fantastic charity event that takes place in Trelawnyd on the 3rd of December.
Local baker and all round good egg Jason Randa and his wife Claire are holding a "Ladies" night at Trelawnyd's Memorial Hall in support of the Cancer Unit at Glan Clwyd Hospital, where Claire has recently had treatment.


For just 10£ a head ( 80£ per table) The "ladies" will be waited upon by men in tuxedos (a first for Trelawnyd I am sure!)..There is a  bar, (Provided by the Crown Pub)  cracking evening entertainment, an auction with some fabulous prizes, a disco and supper!!! Not bad for just a tenner!!!!


Please ring the The Randas on Trelawnyd 571954  for further details or to book...


IT'S A GREAT CAUSE.....
and as Fred Pontin always used to say "Book Early"

"I'll rattle my bag!"

A "Google" photo of Gwaenysgor Pond

Without his motorbike, Chris needs to be ferried to Prestatyn most mornings in order to catch the early "University" train. At 6.30am he is bright as the proverbial f*cking button ( a regular Doris Day in fact) where I have the look and temperament of  Atillla The Hun crossed with Lord Voldemort.

God help anyone crossing me at this, the most vulnerable part of the day....and even Chris is now well versed in the art of not trying to engage me in ANY conversation at a time when not even my cockerels are properly awake.

To get home from Prestatyn, I have to drive up a 1 in 4 hill  to a height of 600 feet, pass through the village of Gwaenysgor and then negotiate a series of tiny country roads to our village. This I do, oblivious to most things around me, however this morning as I drove down towards Gwaenysgor pond (above) I caught sight of a fox trotting with some purpose across the road and around the back of the pond itself.

I slowed the car and in a second realized where he was going, for grazing peacefully on the far side of the pond were four beautiful white farm geese.

I stopped the car (effectively blocking the single track road), got out and at the side of the pond started to shout in the direction of where I last saw the fox.

Now, what the hell DO you shout in this sort of situation "Run???" "Help?" "Get out of there?"

There is no way of knowing what warning call would be more effective....

I chose a sort of generic "HEYYYYYYYY!! HEYYYYYYYYYY! hEYYYYYYY!!" while waving my arms madly (not a pretty sight in dirty trackie bottoms and a t shirt covered in jam stains).

Two cars pulled up on either side of the Berlingo.

One woman called out "what's up?" and I pointed to the geese explaining "a fox is after them"

"I'll rattle my shopping bag" she said helpfully , getting out of her car

(I think she was thinking the action would attract the geese, who may of thought they were being fed- though i couldn't quite be sure)

A man in the other car looked rather flushed and started to wave his hands around a bit, as the woman rattled her carrier bag  at the geese who raised their heads to see what these stupid people were doing and turned slowly for the pond.

By the time a third car had stopped, I realised just how stupid we looked, and in embarrassment I started back to the car. I couldn't see the fox at all, the noise must have frightened him off, but as I pulled   hard into the side of the lane to let the irate man squeeze through, I could hear his call of "dickhead!!!!!!" as he passed.

A lovely start to the day... I need a coffee

Co-Operative

I have just taken some spare rhubarb to a neighbour....in return for some strawberry/rhubarb jam!

So far this week, after some negotiation with hen, duck and quail eggs we have received

1 home baked loaf

1 jar of apple sauce

1 bucketful of eating apples

A large bag of scones

1 bowl of cherry tomatoes (given without a swap- Thanks Pat!)

1 jar of damson Jam

 half a sack of wheat

oh and a donated second hand parka coat "we thought of you out in all weathers"- thanks Kate

Apparently in Gwaenysgor ( the next village) there is a co-operative that meet in the village hall  to "swap" excess produce... I have been told they meet on a Wednesday morning.

May be worth a visit

The Book Inside Us

If we were honest with ourselves, I have the feeling that most bloggers would like to think that there is a successful novel within us all just waiting to be unleashed upon a greedy and adoring public. We practice our craft, so to speak every day...chatting about this, sharing a little about that and if we are lucky a few kind souls from across the globe will big us up with a few nice words of encouragement and thanks.
For most of us that is as far as it will go; but for some others, people with some talent, that final goal of a published book may well, some day, materialise into reality.


Dia, Tom and Maria are three bloggers with such talent


 Dia writes eloquently and passionately about the taboo subject of dying. Hers is not always an easy read,especially as I often prefer a pithy and somewhat wry text, but she has a beautiful and an economical turn of phrase, which often makes me stop dead to read her work again.
Some of her essays are moving beyond belief.


Tom is at his best when affectionately recounting stories of his past, of family and friends.His work has a rhythm and pace about it which is readable and clever , a fact which is helped immeasurably by living a slightly eccentric and interesting life....put the two together and bingo...you have a cracking autobiography!


Maria's work comes from her heart. It is less a story, but more the thoughts,feelings, insecurities and fears of a modern day mother, partner and friend , all jumbled up together into a stream of consciousness. With her you can dip in and dip out when you want and still enjoy some beautifully honest writing whenever you visit. I envy her ability to bare her soul on "paper" so to speak.


Of course there are hundreds more talented people here in the unreal world of blogging...certainly there are too many to mention here.....and I have kind of digressed from my original theme here, as I wanted to flag up a few ideas for bloggers own autobiography title!
what would your's be?
There are some cracking titles out there....
for example


Mel Blanc "That's NOT all folks!"
Boy George "Taking it like a man"
Peter O'Toole "Loitering with Intent"
Christopher Reeve "Still me"
George Saunders "Confessions of a Professional Cad"
Christopher Lee "Tall, Dark and Gruesome"
James Earl Jones "Voices and silences"
James Mason "Before I forget"


Then again.....why did we pick the blog titles we already have? won't they do?....anyhow ideas on a postcard please....


I will never write a book... my spelling is too bad

Two Fat Heroes

Sky tv is generally filled to overflowing with shite..new shite, old shite......repeated shite.....its all the same..... but just occasionally it will come up with an old gem of a tv series that you almost forgotten that you enjoyed.

Two Fat Ladies, was a cracking watch, as , for me, it summed up everything that is great about Britain.

The programme was fronted by two English ecentrics. Spinster,devout Catholic, drinker, chain smoker and ex Ugandan legation cook, Jennifer Paterson was teamed with ex alcoholic, barrister , hunt em and shoot em Clarissa Dickson Wright.

Both women came from privileged backgrounds, both had suffered great hardship in their lives and both were blessed with a "spirit that won the war" mentality of "let's get on with it and let's not suffer any fools"...their programmes were a joy to watch as they unapologetically cooked cream filled food with painted fingernails, a cigarette slid carefully behind an ear and with a wardrobe that looked as though they had been dressed by Oxfam.

The video above, perhaps sums up their "Joie de vivre" better than any words

Paterson was especially entertaining, as she still was part of the "social set" in London and loved her dubonet, social gossip and holidays in the south of France when asked if she inherited her flair for cooking from her mother she said "My mother had no idea of how to cook and no wish to learn, existing on gorgonzola, coffee, and chocolates after the demise of any form of servant."

Their sucessful tv seies was cut short when Paterson became ill during filming and was diagnosed as having lung cancer. She deteriorated quickly and phoned Clarissa to bring her in some caviar into hospital but when her partner arrived, Paterson had sadly died.

Dickson Wright, however brought the caviar to Paterson's funeral, where she ate it as a tribute

....................................................................My kind of women!

Field Watching

It is 13.34pm and I am on field watch .
The guinea fowl have been particularly noisy over the past hour or so, and  so I suspect that there is a fox about some where past the field borders.
The weather is turning more blustery and somewhat violent, and tomorrow we are expecting the last vestiges of hurricane Katia  to arrive.  It is not going to be a day for gardening.


The animals are not used to me being sat up against the church wall with my laptop and they crowd around to see if I have any treats hidden away in my pockets. After a few minutes of waiting most of the hens melt away, leaving Boris and the geese watching me carefully.
Boris, is not after any food, all he is wanting is protection  Bingley the other stag turkey on the field is more dominant and aggressive but will tend to keep away from me when I am around, next to me Boris has a chance to relax and settle......and settle he does, sitting on the grass beside me like a dog.

Winnie and Jo chatter quietly away to themselves and crowd even closer to me as I tap the ground with my fingers .It was a habit I did when they were goslings which I am sure they remember, and they bow their heads low to see what I am doing, their deep blue eyes placid,calm and always curious 
Camilla is a little way behind them, still courting favour and still not quite being accepted by the group. She looks slender and breakable compared to larger geese, who all have keels like the Queen Mary, and remains rather a beautiful and sweet natured bird. All four geese , settle like Boris has done, and make themselves comfortable a couple of feet from where I sit.
The hens, in their ones and twos amble away to sit comfortably in the shelter of the Church wall out of the wind and the guinea fowl glide noisily into the riding stable fields to peck through the small mountains of dung  lying temptingly in the grass.
This afternoon all eight ducks are sleeping in the long grass next door to the pig enclosure, each one with their head tucked tightly against their wings. I suspect they feel safe a stones throw distance from the pigs, who since their arrival have provided a strong arm deterrent to predators whether they be foxes or badgers.


From where I sit I can only see no 12. Even at 200 yards, he is a fine figure of a pig and somewhat charmingly, he always seems to sit on his haunches like a very large pink and brown dog.
Even at this distance he looks rather benign even though he is now over six feet long and has more fat on him than the average sumo wrestler .


As the wind increases even more, the field clears itself of birds completely. I leave the Church wall for a while and pick the last of the raspberries in the allotment with only Boris again for company. I hand  feed him the spare overripe fruit which he gobbles down with some gusto,making the most of this moment of male bonding

Time flies when you indulge yourself in these sort of jobs,
I am back now at the computer and its quarter past three.....
I think it's about to rain

John Williams : Cadillac of the Skies (Empire of the Sun)

Every Year at this time, Chris can be found on the couch, waving his flag to the BBC 's production of The Last Night Of The Proms...and enjoying every bloody minute of it all...

Although I love Classical Music..... over a decade listening to "Rule Britannia" clutching my double gin and tonic. , is a little too much...even for me..so whilst Chris was wiggling his Union Jack... I donned the old headphones and listened to perhaps one of the most talented of modern classical composers.. the film composer John Williams.

His soundtrack for the film EMPIRE OF THE SUN is quite, quite beautiful especially the piece Cadillac of the Skies.....this is the only version I could find that will play on blogger

but see the original at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OD4Xyb2LJsA its much better

Perhaps one day he will be played at the Last Night of The Proms

He deserves to be