Pigless

Walking through the village with the dogs a few minutes ago, I spied affable despot Jason ambling down Chapel Street with his daughter on his shoulders.

"Have they gone?!" he called over and when I shouted out that they had, he added with a chuckle

"Bet you feel like that chap out of Schindler's List"

22 as a baby

Sweet natured number 12 and the killer-on-trotters number 21 left the field peacefully this morning. The Red Faced Welsh Farmer and his ever cheerful son Ed turned up exactly on time as did my farmer friends Eirlys and John, who had kindly agreed to give us a hand and after a quick chin wag and "plan of attack", we set up  a whole line of hurdles leading a path up to the waiting loose box by the gate.

I filled a bucket with corn, opened the enclosure gate and called the pigs out. Number 21 followed me immediately, with number 12 tottering up rather shyly behind, and within five minutes we had just about loaded 12 into the trailer where he peacefully scooped up big mouthfuls of corn with relish. The more sly number 21 played up just a little and tiptoed gaily around the field for a few minuteds, presumably searching for a spare hen to kill, followed by all of my helpers with their pig boards at the ready.

Neither pig was stressed, that's all I was truly bothered about, and when we eventually loaded 21, they both looked as though a trip in a trailer was the most natural thing in the world for both of them to be doing on a cold Tuesday morning.

Their calmness made me feel so much better, I just couldn't bare seeing them anxious and frightened.

At the abattoir

It was the same story when we arrived at the butcher's abattoir, where a huge South African Butcher, gently encouraged them both into their holding pen. "He's a big friendly bastard" he commented when number 12 ambled forward to sniff at some tiny looking porkers in the next stall, and a second later I was off to complete the paperwork . It was as quick and as simple as that.. no time for "goodbyes....no time for second thoughts!

I was glad I was with the RFWF He would have stamped on any indulgent emotional romp if  I dared to perform one.Things had to be matter of fact...that is the rule with farm animals.

"You are now a real farmer!" the RFWF said  as we drove off......."welcome to the club "

Welsh Movies

Now one of my all time favourite movies is the 1942 propaganda film Went The Day Well.

For those that don't know, it is an account of the Nazi takeover of a rural English Village during the second World War, and features a whole plethora of stiff upper Brits killing the bosh over their tea and crumpets!

The postmistress from Went The Day Well -axing the filthy hun

Tonight at Theatre Clwyd, there was a showing of two "Welsh" films which kind of mirror the story in Went The Day Well. The first was a cracking "short" propaganda film from 1943 called The Silent Village.

Aimed to be a tribute to the population of a small  Czechoslovakian mining village called Lidice, which was destroyed by the Nazis, The Silent Village "reenacted" the 1942 atrocity by using the real life citizens of the South Wales mining village Cwmgiedd in a documentary type narrative that works remarkably well

The real men of Cwmgiedd sing "Mae Hen Wlad Fy Nhadau "just before being "shot"

The main feature.... the Welsh thriller Resistance 

proved to be somewhat of a bummer especially after the creaky spirit shown by The Silent Village, but it did take a slightly different slant on the same subject matter.

In Resistance, the Germans have invaded Britain, and in an isolated Welsh Valley a somewhat sympathetic German Captain (Tom Wlaschiha) and his men, encounter a small group of women left alone by their menfolk who have joined the resistance movement.

Hampered by a tiny budget and a somewhat confusing story, this beautifully shot film,proved to be in the end , well, just a little bit dull... but I must admit that my disappointment  was probably fuelled by memories of Went The Day Well's  robust postmistress running amok with an axe!

The Talented Tom Wlaschicha  and Andrea Riseborough in Resistance

Time To Go

The RFWF and other villagers constructing the pig paddock 2 years ago

The Red Faced Welsh farmer has called around to discuss moving the pigs for slaughter.

Moving any farming animal is not just the simple process that it once was when animals were driven to market along country roads and through villages.

The pigs now have to be  tagged, and the paperwork has to be completed in triplicate before number 12 and number 21 can be cajoled into the RFWF's trailer for their last journey.
Strict guidelines are set and need to be followed about how they will be transported and I applaud the Uk for spearheading the implementation of these rules in a Europe that often cruelly treats the farming animals it is responsible for.

It is vital that the pigs are kept as stress free as possible, my decision to cull them together I think will go a long way in ensuring that will be the case, but some thought needed to be given to how we are to move and load them into the trailer, after all, the only thing they have known for the past 10 months is a small paddock and a dry old hen house filled with straw.

The RFWF knows all this. He is not in any way sentimental like me. He is simply a pragmatic old character that knows what to do when it comes to animals and will implement his knowledge with the minimum of fuss

Today I will try to conscript a few villagers to be "on hand" tomorrow morning in order to help.Village elder and cemetery carer Islwyn has already said he will be available and I am sure gentleman farmer Ralph from up the lane may be able to spare a half hour............I must not forget to tell Pat, my unofficial animal helper, that number 21 is going; after all she worked so hard last summer helping me inject the little bugger up the arse with antibiotics when she had a septic knee, she may like to call down to "say goodbye"

Perhaps I will be like the RFWF one day.....who knows..... but today... big softie that I am.,..... I hand fed number 12 and number 21 a huge bowl of warm spaghetti..........their joy at sucking the pasta in without chewing...made me feel just a little bit better about tomorrow!

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btw Weightwatchers weigh in today 15 stone

Total weight loss this week 2lbs

Total weight loss since the 2nd of Jan 1 stone

Coconut pieces?

Now first let me tell you that I am having a few computer problems, so for a while things may be a bit erratic from now on until Mr Computer Shop geek can sort it all out.... My second point is a bit of a question.... why would someone place a dozen or so small pieces of rock hard coconut shell ( no flesh) in an egg box on top of our kitchen wall?

Now I know we live in a small rural village, that could have been mistaken as the backdrop for the film The Wicker Man, but even I cannot quite work out the significance of this strange offering?

If anyone can work a plausible answer , please contact me

And thirdly, the out and out winners of a traditional Welsh Love Spoon are Kiwi "Lady Mondegreen over at

http://ladymondegreenssecretgarden.blogspot.com/ who got all of the questions right thanks to her quick witted daughter Bironey! and to "Dan" Congratulations to all three of you!

The answers ( if anyone is interested) are Brett Claywell ( Mr painfully Cute) A young Russell Crowe ,Downton Abbey's Dan Stevens, Norman Reedus from The Walking Dead,Lancastrian comic Jon Richardson,actor Jospeh Mawle, crooner and all round sex pot Matt Cardle, Miranda sit encom sweetie Tom Ellis, Reece Shearsmith from The League of Gentlemen and finally the delightfully cute Scott Evans

Shame on Prestatyn resident Gwyneth,( you know who you are), Aussie Carol and Gloria Abyss....who all cheated in order to retrieve the "right" answers!!!!.....disqualification is a nasty word eh?
Naughty Naughty!

Suction Excitement

Trelawnyd nestled at the foot of the Gop (on the right). Photo taken from the East

You know when you are middle aged when you spend a Saturday afternoon playing with your new Dyson vacuum cleaner ! 

It wasn't that long ago when we used to get dressed up and spend any free afternoon sipping at couple of bottles of pinot at the local wine bar...

Now it was the excitement of "cyclone" suction that dominated the day as well as a brisk walk above the village with George in tow.....

A "Fickle" update

The Blind Rooster Cogburn and a very cold and wet ...me

Well enough of the shiny and beautiful in the previous post and let's get on with a huge dollop of reality and "not-so-rugged" good looks. Amid the plethora of emailed Quiz entries (4 !) there was an email from U.S. gal, Beatrice Fickle asking me for a factual update on the field and politely requesting me not to be so teenage with (and I quote) 

"bimbo men old enough to be my sons!!"

tee hee.........another email from someone who has a "pen name " with the deliciously camp title of Gloria Abyss stated that they hadn't realised I was so " homosexualist!"

(she/he managed to get all the names right btw)

 Anyhow, the field ( or as it can be now nicknamed- The Somme) remains largely unchanging in it's routine and make up. The winter has taken it's toll on the old and weak (one of the Crackhead Whores, Gloria the old turkey and an ancient old black rock have faded and died ), but most of the population is doing quite well.

The four tame geese, Jo, Winnie, Russell and the Canadian Goose Camilla square off gamely every day with the three interlopers that were dumped here in the autumn. I have provisionally sold the ever aggressive Thomas and his subordinate female to a guy down the Felin and aim to keep the pretty Elizabeth to augment my little flock....the female geese will be starting to lay fairly soon

 

Winnie, Jo and a perky Russell

The field now has four cockerels though with Rooster Cogburn safely in his own run with vinegar tits, there are only three "alpha" males to protect the flocks. Old Stanley who is almost 7 years old remains firmly in charge. His "second-in-command" is a feisty little fart of an unwanted frizzle who I have called Eric .

Not six inches high, and with an attitude the size of an elephant's head, he spends most of his short winter's day streaking back and forth across the field in a desperate attempt to shag anything he can get his tiny little beak on.

For most of the time it is the slow moving giant buffs that he buttonholes and it is almost heartbreaking watching him riding these unconcerned fat ladies without ever being able to "dunk the carrot" so to speak

Little man syndrome .....Eric the ever randy frizzle

Way down in the wettest part of the field, the pigs are enjoying their last few days in Trelawnyd.

I have given them extra rations today ( complete with the recently expired old black rock)  and blissfully unaware of their fate, they have squabbled and bickered over the most tastiest bits and pieces like old pub drinkers on an afternoon binge.

No 12 schleping through the mud

In the cold and rain, I stood and watched both pigs for a while....enjoying their obvious delight in filling their fat, greedy faces....despite the weather, the whole of the field seemed to be in constant and interesting motion. Boris and Bingley the stag turkeys spar together in lazy circles as the hysterical runner ducks totter by desperate to reach their pond before the geese beat them to it.

In the distance Albert is stalking back towards the warmth of the cottage as the guinea fowl scream at him from the top of the Church wall and everywhere else little knots of hens shelter against the weather, their shoulders hunched and bowed against the wind.....

nothing much changes.......

Quiz Time

cute

sexy

Edwardian

Zombie chic

Northern Humour

English actor

Matt who?

Miranda

Strangers in the village

sigh

Ok if anyone can name all (OR most of my lastest cinematic and tv pin ups) then they will win (aka Chris over at http://growfisheat.blogspot.com/) a handmade Welsh Love spoon!!!!
email me the answers jgsheffield@hotmail.com
All Answers by Sunday please !

Arguements

I woke just before dawn this morning because of Mabel who had a humdinger of a panic attack over something insignificant going on outside the cottage. I usually can ignore her occasional bouts of worried barking but when she followed Albert through the living room door and shakily up the stairs, I couldn't quite ignore her worried fat face pressed closely against mine as I lay in bed.

For a powerful dog, she can be a neurotic bundle of nerves when the wind blows in the wrong direction.

So I got up, drank some coffee and after boxing up six eggs , I took Mabel out on an early morning egg delivery.

I seldom knock on peoples' door when I drop off eggs. Usually I just leave a box on a window sill, on a door step or in the case of one "particular" customer, in their greenhouse under a plantpot shelf, so I didn't think twice in ambling around the back of this particular home to deposit the eggs on the top of a wheelie bin!

The lights were on in the house and suddenly from within there came the sound of crockery breaking . I held my breath, not sure of exactly what to do, and there came more crashing,, a loud bang and the sound of a woman shouting.shrilly at a man who was pleading with her to be quiet.

I started to creep away from the house before Mabel started her usual nervous barking when after a few more explosions of kitchenalia I heard the woman yell clearly

"YOU CAN KISS MY ARSE YOU SCUMMY TURD"

I almost burst out laughing....the woman in question usually is such a delightfully polite and well spoken individual

as my mother used to say

"You don't know anyone unless you follow them home!"

We disappeared before we were caught!