Could we?

The Hooded Tomb in Trelawnyd Graveyard

A year or two ago, as I was entering the village shop a guy passed me and rather unsteadily got into a works van and drove off. He smelled strongly of drink and had a newly purchased bottle of wine in his hand. It was 9.30 in the morning.

I went home and rang the police, and had no qualms in doing so.To me it was a no brainer,

Yesterday I was speaking to someone who voiced similar fears about a neighbour of theirs who was driving to a local shop several times a day for alcohol. They were unsure of just how to deal with what they were witnessing on a daily basis and were seriously thinking of reporting the matter to the police.but had some reservations, many of which I could understand. 

Having said this, I would report a drunk on the roads no matter what the ramifications may be., especially if the person involved is drinking to excess and driving several times a day. Escalating behaviour like this means an accident is almost inevitable at some time, especially on fast, narrow country roads.

Gawd, how things have changed since I was a kid. Then it was perfectly acceptable for my mother with ten year old twins to climb into my father's massive Granada when he picked us up after babysitting my nephews on a Saturday night. He had spent a merry time drinking at the Conservative club and although not falling down pissed, he would, quite acceptably be a few "sheets to the wind!" so to speak

The hair raising seven minute journey from my sister's house back home would be completed at rally car speeds where my sister and I would be practically weightless in the back of the car as my father negotiated the Prestatyn's hump back railway bridge doing 65.

But things have changed, and they have changed for the better, Despite increases in the drink driving rates over recent times, we could never return to the glory days of the 1970s when driving home after a few jars in a country pub was acceptable.

Could we?

Possum and dog

Mrs Fickle sent me this photo of a possum which had been caught in a bakery 10 hours after it had broken in and filled itself stupid on jammy tarts

I loved it

This was from my sister
I love happy dogs
Animals are so bloody honest

Strangers In The Village

For some reason I think Trelawnyd experiences a larger than usual number of visiting Jehovah's witnesses than regular places, I could be wrong, after all  I am around the village on a daily basis and strangers have a tendency to stand out somewhat from the normal routine -  but in general there does seem an awful lot of them around .
I understand that according to Jehovah's belief "Jesus told his followers to “make disciples of people of all the nations,”, and going out into the community to "spread the word" is an integral part of the faith but I must admit that even though I am irritated by my perceived "intrusiveness" of their preaching, I hold a begrudging respect for their optimism and positivity in a world that hates door to door evangelism, cold calling of any kind and religion in general.
It must be a thankless job to do, after all the general public can be incredibly rude when it wants to be (Believe me I am a nurse I KNOW!) but at least if the weather in nice, a walk around an unreceptive Welsh village is at least a scenic amble!
Yesterday two middle aged ladies called at the cottage. Although friendly, the sight of a bulldog flanked by a trio of terriers kept both women at the gate which I was thankful for, and I already had rehearsed a polite "no thank you" comment as one lady offered me a leaflet to read.
"No thank you" is a bloody hard phrase to say when someone is being dreadfully polite. It has to thrust into the conversation with equal politeness, and that takes skill, timing and opportunity.
Yesterday, as the woman really got going, I wondered just how many people listen properly to this cold calling kind of preaching, surely even the Jehovah Witnesses big wigs could re interpret Jesus' preaching instructions for the 21st Century and would be content to with something on facebook or even twitter?
It would cut down on a great deal of shoe leather, slammed doors and constant rejection.
In the end , I smiled a huge smile and said "Best stop there, I am afraid, I really am not interested. Thank you anyway" and the woman immediately knew that the "interview" was over.
In that typical English way, I did feel a little guilty and in way of lightening the encounter
I pointed to Mabel who had her paws up on the wall, blowing kisses at the strangers and said
"she wants to kiss you"
The woman lent down kissed Mabel on the nose and said brightly
"Jesus loves you too"
It made Mabel's morning
and it made me smile
"Have a good day" I called after the ladies
And I meant it

Health & Safety Comes to Trelawnyd

The sign says BEWARE, HORMONAL TURKEY!

Spring is here!

You can always tell!

Testosterone is on the increase in torrents and the few males on the field have suddenly been transformed from benign poultry and water fowl "sweet things" into posturing, hormone filled sex addicts, who are ready, literally , for anything!

The turkey stags are now spending all day puffing themselves up in a schoolboy effort to prove who exactly is tougher than the other and when they are not jousting, they have positioned themselves next to the field gate, ready to attack anyone who ventures close enough to be given a good bashing!

Several of the villagers will come into the field to feed the animals without checking with me first, so just in case Boris and Bingley actually "kick the crap" out of some poor old soul, I have had to post a warning sign that will effectively keep people out until turkey lead has been well and truly emptied.

Halleh as a ducking with him mum Blanche

Halleh, the lone drake has started his usual springtime attempt to rape several of the brown hens ( funny how he finds this colour of hen irresistible!) His confusion of duck versus hen can be located in the fact that he was raised by a broody hen rather than one of the hysterical Indian runners.

In the mating season, drakes can be terribly aggressive and brutal, so I have learnt long ago to keep their numbers to an absolute minimum. Halleh has seven ducks all of his own.....and still he has a roving eye for a buxom brown hen............beauty is certainly in the eye of the beholder!

Russell the gander has been mating noisily with Winnie his chosen goose only this morning, and even the blind Rooster  Cogburn has been belting out a lusty baritone cock-a doodle  in the vague hope of shagging something warm blooded as it passes his safe haven prison..

Love...is certainly "in the air!"

btw...weight loss this week NIL! which I was thankful for seeing that I filled my face on my London trip remains 14 stone 7lb

The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel

Sometimes we all need a bit of predictable whimsy
A fairy tale that entertains, gently amuses and ticks all the boxes on a relaxing Sunday afternoon is a movie that must not be sniffed at , so despite some ropey reviews we went to see The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel this afternoon.

Maggie Smith,Ronald Pickup,Bill Nighy,Penelope Wilton, Celia Imrie, Judy Dench and Tom Wilkinson

It's not a great film, after all, when all said and done it is just a glorified sit com, but it has a great deal of charm, quite a few laugh-out-loud moments and a quality cast to die for.
The story is a familiar one where we follow an eclectic group of  "OAPs" as they meet up in the said Indian hotel in search of some retirement peace and contentment in the twilight of their lives.
So we are quickly introduced to the Unhappily married Douglas and Jean ( Bill Nighy and Penelope Wilton) who cannot afford to retire in the UK due to family debts, cossetted widow Evelyn (Judy Dench) a woman who has never had to look after herself., Norman (Ronald Pickup)  a knackered old Lothario who is constantly on the pull, Celie Imrie  a wisecracking fun time girl, melancholy Graham, (Tom Wilkinson) a retired Judge with an ancient gay past and Muriel (Maggie Smith) a working class racist who has been tagged along with the others to have a hip operation on the cheap.
Yes a typical cinematic group of people that are hungry for being transformed by the charms, sights and experiences of a run down hotel and the people of India.....
Despite some cracking one liners,
(I especially enjoyed when Imrie's character is asked by the po faced Penelope Wilton how she should celebrate her and her husband's forth coming 40th wedding anniversary.,  Imrie offers a dry as toast
"By holding a minute's silence")
the film is really only elevated by the classy cast, who wring every ounce of depth from their potentially cardboard characters.

Tom Wilkinson is remarkably sweet as a man on a pilgrimage to happier times, Dench and Nighy show  moving on screen chemistry as their characters embark on a tentative relationship and Penelope Wilton is absolutely marvellous in the most unsympathetic role as the bitter and unhappy Jean, a woman unable to appreciate the positives aspects of old age


Forget the heavy handed Indian Characters ( Dev Patel doing his Norman Wisdom impersonation as the junior Hotel manager is almost a bit too much).....and ignore some of the cultural stereotyping and story lines... just sit back and enjoy the prospect of quality actors giving quality performances in a sweet natured, amusingly told comedy drama


8/10

OGGY. OGGY, OGGY

I am not a pub goer, nor am I one to join in on ward nights out.
In actual fact in the 6 years we have been in Wales I have turned up at no more than four works do's , so catching me socialising with colleagues with a beer in my hand is a rare event.
Last night I was glad I made the effort as the reason for the celebration was the fact that Roy, one of the senior staff nurses, was leaving for pastures new in London.
Over ten years ago, finding staff for critical care areas such as intensive care was difficult and many Hospital Trusts looked to a "foreign" pool of nurses to plug the gaps so to speak. In Sheffield large groups of beautiful Spaniards arrived "en masse" while at ITU in North Wales it was the hardworking Filipinos that arrived, and around a decade later eight of them still remain on our unit.
Roy was one of these staff. A talented and well respected nurse he proved to be one of our unit's best assets, and I wanted to break my usual habit of not turning up to a night out to offer him by best wishes.


 A small tidy wine bar in Prestatyn was chosen as the venue. Usually quiet and relatively "classy" for North Wales, I thought the place appropriate for a measured pint and chat.....hummm ......how wrong I was.......
 I had forgotten it was St Patrick's Day, I had forgotten that Wales had won the Grand Slam at Rugby and  had forgotten that all of the Prestatyn "rednecks" were on the prowl on a Saturday night..
The place looked and sounded like something out of the wild west.
Zombiefied , beer goggled over weight men  in red rugby shirts leered over orange faced shrieking women as I pushed my way though the front door.and my hope of having a delightful time over a couple of crisp pinots literally flew out of the window .

In the end it was lovely to pass on my good wishes, and a chat over several slightly watery Budweisers  
it WAS  fun.
But I was sure I was  standing outside the bar exactly at 11pm so Chris could get me the hell out of there!

Paddy's Day

Now earlier in the week I visited my best friend Nuala ( pronounced nooo la)
As some people may have guessed Nuala is an Irish name and Nuala herself although a broad Liverpudlian  is just one generation away from pure Irish stock......parents who could have been picked literally out of tv's Father Ted or John Wayne's The Quiet Man!
In our salad days, Nuala and I would always enjoy a rollocking good piss up on Paddy's Day. We would meet up with a gaggle of Irish physiotherapists with the fairly complicated names of Grainne (Gron-ya),Dymphna and Hillary and drink copious amounts of whatever around the Irish pubs of Sheffield or indeed Liverpool depending on where we decided to go.
I have never understood the draw of St Patrick's day to non Irish people. Perhaps it is purely a result of some shallow enjoyment of getting pissed out of your head whilst wearing a cheap plastic green hat fashioned into a rough shape of a shamrock.......perhaps it is just a result of some false warm community nostalgia about "the craic"........
or perhaps it is the fact that most people from time to time love to belt out the first verse of The Fields of Athenry with their arms around a group of sweaty strangers as a scruffy man with a beard plays a penny whistle !

Our Sheffield slice of Galway The Dog And Partridge

Who knows?
Tonight I am off out to a colleague's leaving bash in Prestatyn.....I hope the bar that we will be going to isn't decked out in Irish flags and photos of Dana......I am a bit too long in the tooth for all that bollocks!

Ben..........ton aka George

I lost George today
up the Gop
spent 25 minutes yelling "GEORGE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
ONLY TO FIND HIM sat next to the gate by the car after an awful time searching
I need to chill out !