Janet & John

This morning on his early morning blog Monsieur Cro introduced us all to his daughter who possesses the spunky and rather original name of Tenpin.

This got me to thinking just why we name the things dear to us, the way we do.

The naming of a child is a significant and huge responsibility.

Get it wrong and that kid may harbour psychological issues all of it's life ( One of my old patients from my psychiatric nursing days comes to mind here ....for his traumatic childhood was thought to be a direct result of severe bullying in school.......an unfortunate product of being christened "Adolph" in 1933 North Yorkshire!)

Most names can date the person who owns it .This is certainly the case of my name as for most of my life I have been referred to as just one part of a double act.

As twins born in 1962, my sister and I were named after the icons of  those 1950's Children's reading books everyone over a certain age will remember with some affection.... for we  were called Janet AND John.

Janet and John aged 26 and 1/2

Sexy Hal (centre)

As a kid, I disliked the reference. I thought it was just that little bit boring and a tad babyish, given the fact that Janet and John didn't do anything of interest apart from chasing big red balls in a suburban garden like a couple of dated middle class bores. I longed to have the ability to change my name and always had the secret desire to possess the more "exotic" Christian name of Roger!.....

Now this was only because I used to be a avid reader of the

Willard Price adventure novels where fourteen year old Roger Hunt and his older brother Hal captured animals from the four corners of the globe ( like you do!)

I also think I had a secret crush on Hal....you can't blame me given his clean cut 1960s looks can you?

Do kids of today have paperback book heroes anymore?....Perhaps the Jake's, the Ben's and the little Jaimie's of today prefer their x box heroes just that little bit more? 

Bloody hell now I do sound like a sad old John don't I?

"I am a lady"

Meg enjoying the sun, in her usual spot in the bedroom window

Yesterday I was moaning about the weather and how it has the ability to shrink Trelawnyd into some sort of ghost village.

Well today, when I got home after night shift, the weather has blossomed into spring and almost early summer, as the wind dropped, the sun came out and the village suddenly burst into life again.

I opened up every window in the cottage, and before cleaning and vacuuming the winter dust away ,I left a large bowl of eggs on the outside wall, so that people out for a walk could help themselves and not bother me.

But of course I was bothered now and then by neighbours and egg customers, but I didn't really mind... it was nice just to see people out and about.

The Good "Ladies" of Trelawnyd circa 1952

One villager chatted about the Jubilee "carnival" which is still in the embryo planning stages .I told him I had a few old photos of locals at the 1952 village carnival where local men all dressed up as society "ladies"

"Oh you can't do that anymore" he told me and he sited an article he had read in the Daily Mail 

which outlined that bigwigs at Exeter University have banned Male students dressing up in drag because it believes that trans gender groups may be offended by the mainly pissed up rugby players parading around in ill fitting mini skirts and sling backs on their male bonding nights out

(interestingly I note that Nick over at http://nickhereandnow.blogspot.com/  has brought up the same subject on his blog) and has dealt with it with his usual dry humour

Micro managers with their bloody nanny-ish ways and worries  seem to make life just that little bit harder to enjoy in our "let's be so careful" modern world. Potential Offence has to be seen at every turn and in every activity,

and generally, ( I would like to think) that in this particular case, trans gender men and women  wouldn't give a flying fuck that some alcohol fuelled 18 year old psychology student is wearing a pair of ripped stockings, a knackered old wig and  some cheap Ann Summer's suspenders.

Then again.... I could be.... oh so very .....wrong!

Ash Wednesday

Trelawnyd sheltering against the gales

The Church bell started to ring fairly early this morning which threw me slightly as I couldn't quite work out why it was doing so. The penny dropped that it was Ash Wednesday when I left the cottage to deliver eggs, as tiny knots of the village congregation braved the high winds and battled their way down to the Church.

The village looks deserted today.

It always does when the weather is bad. The daytime population of Trelawnyd is probably confined to a hundred  or so over 65s, forty schoolchildren , and a few odds and sods like me who either work odd shifts or do not work at all.

Mrs Trellis hurrying home

Apart from a few home carers, the village's elderly warden, the school's staff and a handful of guys based in the industrial units just outside the village, the village offers no employment . The employed population getting into their cars earlier today to weave their way to nearby towns, or across the Welsh border in order to work.

This was always the case, even in times gone by... but then the workers caught buses down to the likes of Rhyl, ambled down to work in the three village shops, bakery, pubs and numerous local farms or made their way, sometimes on foot, to the Coal mine at Point Of Ayr, a few miles to the North...

In , say, 1940s the village population was higher than it is today, and the daytime population was much more visual, with housewives going about their daily business .

Today, apart from a few cars, and the diminutive Mrs Trellis hurrying home , there was absolutely no one to see...oh I am so looking forward to the nicer weather.....the warmth brings the village to life
off to work later

Boxing GOOD behaviour for a change

With all of this embarrassing shenanigans with British Boxers' bad behaviour recently I was amused by these two who professionally and somewhat sweetly saw the funny side in all the seriousness!!!!

Hey Ho

I thought I would try it

It felt a bit naughty though because

I have not been able to do it for such a long, long time

But being alone in the cottage has just given me the opportunity

to give it a go

It proved to be a little bit of a  tussle

But after a couple of years

of elasticated waists

I have just managed to get into a 34 inch pair of pants!!!!!!!!!!!

Sorrel

I have posted this older video, because it does feature a brief appearance from Sorrel, the buff Orpington who had an impacted crop.
I took her to the vets today as I have been unable to clear the blockage so to speak, and the 12 year old vet who I suspect had never handled a hen before was "allocated" to us ( I was hoping that the sex-on-legs George Clooney lookalike was on duty but unfortunately he was "in surgery")
Doogie Howser seemed very nervous and was a little unsure of exactly what to do .He kept nipping out to discuss the case with the George ( who I was hoping would have popped out to give us a second opinion!) and left the consulting room no less than three times.
After weighing up the fact that this practice only performs this kind of procedure under a general anaesthetic and the fact that Sorrel was so frail, we decided that putting the hen down was the best bet and the kindest thing to do.
I couldn't help noticing that when the Wunderkind started to administer the final injection his hand shook, so much, he missed the blood vessel in the hen's wing
As a nurse that has supervised so many Junior doctors over the years I knew exactly the best thing to do.
"They are really difficult to get aren't they? I couldn't do it....... you're doing fine" I said with an encouraging smile.and I spread the wing out wider so he could see a little better.
He tried again
and a couple of minutes later the hen had died peacefully.
Ebb and Flow...
Ebb and Flow...
and Doogie Howser euthinized his first chicken at a cost of £18.70p

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Weight Watcher's weigh in 14 stone 10 lbs
Weight Loss last week 1 lb
Total weight loss since 2nd Jan 1 stone 4 lbs

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The Meter Reader

I was just about to start a blog about the merits of modern day phenomenon of "The Bromance" ( alongside the obligatory steaming cup of coffee) when the electricity meter reader turned to, interrupting me for the third time before 9 am !

I am trying to fit in a few jobs this morning, The buff Orpington who had the impacted crop, still has not shifted the blockage, so is presently sat quietly in a black bucket on the kitchen table waiting to go to her vet's appointment at 10am, I have a load of eggs to hand deliver and I have promised to give a friend a lift to the doctors before midday.

The meter reading guy is a morose kind of character who never stays long when on his rounds.He runs the gauntlet of dogs with his usual dead-pan expression, takes his readings then leaves with his usual comment of " see you next time".

Today he walked into the kitchen, and after giving the forlorn buff  a glance without saying anything, he side stepped Mabel who was waggling her bottom rather energetically into George's face and went into the lounge to read the meter, followed by William and Meg

On his return he pointed to Mabel and uncharacteristically asked

 " what's up with her?"

"She's desperate for a shag" I answered as Mabel slow danced backwards yet againwith a hopeful smile on her face.

The meter reading man's expression of gloom never changed

"I know exactly how she feels" he said sadly and left without further comment.

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I'll blog about the buff and my weightwatchers weigh in later when I have time

One Fanny Too Far

Sometimes it is interesting to see yourself though someone else's eyes

It doesn't happen very often,as I am sure we all possess that strange subjective ability to view oneself in a more than glowing light

But, at certain rare times , I think It can be rather amusing to see what other's do

The resulting image can come as a bit of a shock!

Last night, I took a patient handover from a new itu nurse who has an interest in chickens

As it turned out, she is in fact the grand daughter of a lady who was my mother's best friend for over 25 years- a fact I found to be rather surreal..so not only did we have a brief chat out past times, we waxed on fairly lyrically about the beautiful colour of aracuna hen's eggs.

Now I have not been at work for 18 days (bliss) so throughout the night, during those brief moments of quietness between turns, hourly observations, drug administrations and alarm silencing , I regaled my colleagues with fascinating stories of pig culling, meat freezing,blind Rooster tales and goose re homing....

At 5am I was quietly discussing Mabel's sexual adventures

when a patient chirped up from his bed, nearby

"Enough animal stories please"

and added somewhat testily

"You're boring the tits off me!"

Point Taken