Mabel's Donny Osmond Teeth and Golden Angels

Cro had the right idea.....a wintry wet day and sat in front of the fire with a wine.....

It is bloody wintry here too, but I will content myself with a log burner, antiques road/whatever on the tv...no wine I'm afraid......on weight watchers and going to the cinema a little later to see Tintin

Mabel showing her Donny Osmond (ish) teeth----- she remains very nervous of anything and everything but is slowly getting better

I am feeling just a little guilty about being so  dismissive about Sir Jimmy in my last post, so I will tell you about our day in way of diversion. Chris took the day off and in between  my jobs (Bulldog toileting and bulldog car desensitisation trips) we ventured out into weekday quietness and had lunch out.

Lunch ended up in a rather sweet place in the nearby town of St Asaph...and afterwards we had a serene amble around St Asaph Cathedral..a place I had never been before.

The cathedral it is claimed to be the smallest Anglican cathedral in Britain and dates from the 13th Century.

The place was totally deserted when we entered and even the small shop situated by the entrance had a sort of "honesty box" left out for any shoppers to use rather than the obligatory "lady on a till" that we are used to in most popular places to visit!

I was also amused by the free tea and coffee left out for visitors on a table by the shop.......a nice touch..I thought.

A golden archangel standing tall over the aisle  caught my eye........it was beautiful

I have a thing for angel statues

Apart from the angel..one other thing moved me greatly inside the cathedral

It was something that was written in a prayer book inside one of the chapels

A lady had written

" Say a prayer for me.... I want to be a better mother"

Hummmmmm!

Is it me, or does anyone else find Jimmy Savile's organisation for his own funeral just a little bit odd? The lying in state (in a Leeds hotel), the gold coffin, the three days of "mourning" and the burial of the coffin at a 45 degree angle in Scarborough ( so that he could "see" the sea), smacks to me  less about of a sense of humour and more about a degree of pomposity.

It screams Showbiz without much of the show and now, not much of the Biz

Perhaps I am being somewhat unfair.

I actually met Mr Savile many years ago now (God I sound a little like Tom here), it was at Stoke Mandeville Hospital during one of the inter Unit Spinal Injury Games. He was larger than life, that was certainly true, but I did find him a slightly odd character who was somewhat full of himself.......perhaps it would be more charitable to say that I didn't warm to him...despite the fact he seemed such a benevolent character on screen and on the radio.

His funeral, to me, didn't feel quite right...it shrieked of "look at me, I am loved".....however, as I am writing this all I can think is "what the hell"...... if it gave the old guy pleasure , planning it all...what does it matter eh?

Perhaps it is me that is not being very charitable

The Dyserth 5

Last Night I experienced a rather amusing evening giving the infamous "Dyserth 5" a run for their money.

The Crown holds a pub quiz on a Monday and although I not really a "pub" person, I accepted an invitation from Jason ( he who bakes) to try it out for a change.

Now I got to the pub, just before nine and as I sat down with a pint of Fosters I spied a somewhat eclectic group preparing for some serious quiz questioning.

One older lady in a felt hat had varying amounts of writing equipment, a large pad and paper and one of those illuminating magnifying glasses (I was informed later that this was for" in depth" photograph assessments") another man , younger than I, looked dreadfully earnest and all looked as though they were ready to run a marathon.

These people, I was told, were the "Dyserth5"...a tough, well informed group of eggheads who had won the pub quiz every week since the beginning of time.

These were the people to beat.

Now I am no slouch when it comes to pub quiz questions, I may not be a true academic, but my memory for "shitty facts" is pretty darn good, even if I do say so myself; but even my somewhat useless knowledge base was not a patch on my fellow team member's computer like recall.
In short Jason knows a little about almost Everything!

Between us, we sailed through the first round of questions like a knife through butter, and when the landlord called out that the village "Chicken Pluckers" had taken up an early poll position, the lady with the felt hat looked visibly shaken!

We had a bit of a set back on the picture round (mistaking Pippa Middleton for Natalie Portman) but retained our small lead for the last round. (One wag from the bar whispered "they're sweating a bit now!" at me when I had a break for the loo)

By the time we finished , and the final results were in, a deathly quiet had descended over the pub....In typical Strictly Come Dancing style, there was a pause just before the results were in.....and to the horror of the Dyserth 5, we had ended their vice like hold of the quiz winners title.

It was all great fun.

A few  neighbours and members of the flower show committee, joined in our celebrations  and the Red faced welsh farmer's son over at the bar gave us the thumbs up....and I had to smile when two of the Dyserth 5 ambled over to congratulate us and asked if we were going to turn up next week...

"too right" I chirped as their smiles stiffened "wouldn't miss it for the world"

We won 11£, which we donated to Jason Wife's cancer charity night.

We had a couple of pints and chatted about the merits of Robert Shaw's somewhat alcohol fuelled performance in Jaws (I love rubbishy bloke talk that this).

But when the conversation drifted over to the rather surreal subject of Mexican Wrestling Midget funerals... I thought it was time to go 
Have a look at Jason's blog when you have a chance (link here)

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The Big Society in a little Village

Forgive the extra blog today. I have come in to get warm, 

The frost of this morning has given way to a damp muggy and cold afternoon, and my bones are feeling their age.

When I was mucking out the hens earlier, I noticed village elder Islwyn and his brother beavering away in the Churchyard, so I ambled over to take a look at what he was up to.

Without payment or instruction, he had procured some quality turf and had given the old Churchyard wall a bit of a well needed makeover and I must admit that the end result looks wonderful.

These "let's get it done" blokes are a bit of dying breed I am am afraid to say.They see a job that needs doing for the benefit of the community; they get off their arses and they jolly well sort it.....for them, there's very little use in just talking about a project. For them the proof of the pudding is simply in the eating

I just wanted to big Islwyn up just a little today.

Its a job well done

Winter Arrives

A Sharp Frost welcomed us this morning

Tom, Elizabeth and "dinner" a little upset by the cold

Some of the "CWs" face the day

No 12 and 21 searching for nuts

Summer and Autumn are over, the slog of winter has just about started

Sorry lost this blog entry twice now!

The Pink Pound

Photogenic and in lurve

Today we had an afternoon off . Chris had a break from academia......I had a break from chicken shit and bulldog toileting!
The sun was shining and it was a slightly cold but lovely day so we went to the National Trust Gardens at Bodnant Hall. As you can see we had not quite worked out just how to take a photo with Chris' latest gadget, his Iphone.
we had an amble around the gardens

The terraced Lily Pond

The Woodland Walk

The newly painted rose Terrace

One of the Statues on the Canal Terrace

It was a lovely walk. We sat in the sun for a while , like two old ladies then had a look at a few of the new shops that had sprung up in the outbuildings of the old house.
I had to smile to myself when we entered "ye olde antique Shoppe" for the woman behind the counter literally leapt to attention when we appeared!......
It has happened to us a million times before!
The sight of two middle aged homos signal just one thing to some antique dealers!
"The PINK POUND!!!"
Now , we had no intention in buying anything.....(an antique shop on National Trust Property says just one thing to us.....overly expensive stock!) but I for one quite enjoys being " schmoozed" by a lady in tweed hopeful of a big sale....It's all  hugely entertaining as suddenly you feel as though you are someone's best mate........suffice to say the friendship was well and truly over after 30 minutes of soft sell....., we ambled off with a smile!

I'll leave you with a hastily snatched photo of fellow poultry keeper Eirlys, which I took this evening, just as she was locking up her girls up for the night...
Yes that is a lunging whip in her hand......Her hens must be much harder than my lot....even the infamous Vinegar tits doesn't need a lunging whip to encourage her to bed
She is very sweet... but mad as a box of frogs!

"Talk about handicap — I'm a one-eyed Negro Jew".....

.....so said Sammy Davis Jnr.....

I have always thought that our cat , Albert is a spit for Sammy Davis Jnr.

Like the entertainer, he is a slight little chap with more chutzpah than you could shake a bagel at.

He is resolutely cheerful, has coped well with a disability ( he broke his leg badly when a kitten which has resulted in him having a faint limp which often resembles a bit of a swagger) and he is surrounded by his own canine " Rat pack" , who he clearly adores with a passion.

Can you see a resemblance?

....he also has a heart as big as a lion, for as small as he is, he will take on all comers without pause or thought. When only out of kitten hood, I remember watching him fight with a rat, which was just a little bit bigger than he was and I only let George administer the final "coup de grace" when the rat looked as though he was just about the get the upper hand.

The dogs tolerate Albert., and are careful not to act too roughly with him as he is not adverse in giving them a bit of a pasting if the need arise. He is accepted but not embraced by them, a fact that does not bother him in the least , as he delights in welcoming each dog in turn with a face rub, when he returns to bed after a night's mouse killing.

Mabel wrong footed him only slightly this week, and after a momentary pause to work out that she wasn't in fact Constance resurrected, he gamely  rubbed his chops against hers as she stood there, shaking like a bulldog shaped leaf

I don't think that she had ever "met" a cat  before.....especially one that could easily belt out "The Rhythm of life"

Dogs give a home a heart.. I always feel

A cat makes a house a home

Vinegar Tits,Blind Boris and Bulldog Nerves

Bruised and a little battered

Boris is in the wars today. Bingley during a sudden rush of testosterone broke into his enclosure and attacked him, scratching his head and neck with his claws.

Luckily Boris (who is a big soft pudding really) legged it into the goose house and safety but not before he was scratched in the eye. Initially I thought the eye looked alright, but this morning, things don't look too bright.

I have bathed and cleaned the wound this morning and will hopefully conscript my animal helper, Pat later for a repeat cleansing. I have kept him in his shed today

Nervous and eager to please

 72 hours after arriving, you will be glad to hear that Mabel is doing very well. For a five year old dog who has never been house trained, I am gobsmacked that we have not had any accidents as yet, ah the joys and strengths of two hourly toileting!

Mabel, I think, is a complex character.She is a show dog with a string of certificates to her name, and is a boisterous dog who has lived her life in a kennel rather than inside a family home.

Living inside a house with 2 new humans, a cat that has a personality similar to that of Sammy Davis Junior, and three other dogs has provided her with a whole new set of rules to deal with, and despite it all, she has coped extremely well.

Vinegar Tits

And as for the Crackhead Whores (which in future will be referred to as The CWs- to protect the sensibilities of my more delicate readers) They are all doing very well. "Vinegar tits" has led her small unkempt band to the field borders where they spend their day quietly away from the existing hens.

This distancing behaviour is normal for hen groups, I have seen it before time and time again....in a few weeks they will return and join the main flock, but will keep their own portion of the field just for themselves.

This morning I had a phone call from a guy asking me to take in 2 ducks

Believe it or not .......I have said no!