Going Gently

Pals

Prestatyn pals 1960

This 1960s photo was sent to me by a colleague at work whose Grandmother "Greta" ( second from left) was my mother's best friend. My father ( with the very large drink and fag) is holding court centre stage while my mother (far right) is looking rather pensive.
I feel that I should know the lady who is flashing her gusset to the camera, but her name eludes me for the time being.
Take away the cigarettes and change the fashion style somewhat and this photo could have been taken only yesterday.
It provides a bit of a testament to the power and necessity of friendship and just how vital it is for all of us,to have someone " to be silly with".......it is a lovely photo!
I know I skit Tom Stevenson somewhat for always starting a post with the phrase "I have a friend....."
Looking at the above photo, all I can really say to him as he pens another "friend post" is, you are, indeed a very lucky man!

"Fiddle-de-dee"

I must thank Miss Scarlet over at http://talesfrombeyondthenook.blogspot.co.uk/ for her wonderful detective work last night. In a series of emails she has furnished me with some intriguing information about the family Morgan ( see previous post) and their presence in and around Trelawnyd at the turn of the century.

It was very kind of her, especially as she took the time to send me invaluable snippets of census records

When I have a bit more time after Sorrel goes home, I will get stuck in with more research!

Tonight I am working, and so will be disappearing back to bed this afternoon. Chris and Sorrel have gone to Chester shopping for the day, so I am determined to have a quiet day!

As I type this, I have just spied Peter Ellis walking his dog in the lane.

He looks annoyed and is rubbing his head

A collared dove sitting on the power lines has just shat on his head....

That is hopefully the most exciting thing that will happen today!

The Rectory Path

In the old Churchyard, there is a rough path leading from the church to the old rectory next door. I use it to deliver eggs and often read the inscriptions on the graves as I go.
Many of the older gravestones were removed and levelled by the council nearly 40 years ago now.
It was the fashion then for old, previously unkempt graveyards to be streamlined and cleared of "clutter" in order for the bigger sit on lawnmowers to gain access.
It was such a shame, as some wonderfully historic stones were removed or downed, their inscriptions fading away under grass, lichen and rainfall, but at least, thanks to the likes of my animal helper Pat, before the stones were altered, historical information was documented from the stones to be held in the records department at Hawarden
There is one gravestone, by the path that has caught my imagination. It is the grave of three siblings all from a farming family of Morgan who lived in the imposing farmhouse "Ochr-y-Gop" which still can be seen just off High Street.
In 1903 Arthur the 17 year old son of Edward and Mary Morgan died and was buried, followed in 1906 by his 28 year old sister Eleanor and then a year later their 26 year old brother Edward was buried there too

The Morgan "sibling" gravestone

I have no way of knowing just why these three siblings died. I cannot find their parents grave either, but I have sort of promised myself that I will find a little more about who they all were and how and why they all died in such a short timescale of one another.
My first port of call will be the farmhouse itself, as I know brother and sister, Basil and Mona, who have lived their all of their lives. They may be able to furnish me with my first clue about the Morgans.

Mum-in-law

Mother and Son

Just waiting for the mum-in-law to arrive, so I have a few sneaky minutes of blogging to share!
As I said yesterday, I am extremely lucky having Sorrel as a mother in law.
She's sociable, easily pleased, undemanding and house trained
She is also young-at-heart. terrified to the point of abject hysteria of mice and birds (yes not a good mix with our lifestyle what?) and in her smart "Broadstairs" designer wear, is certainly not built for schlopping through mud with a pig under her arm.
But I do love her dearly!
Like any retired lady of independent means who has a middle aged gay son, Sorrel has often gone on holiday with the two of us,These "adventures" have always proved to be entertaining affairs, as something "unfortunate" often seems to happen to her when abroad
I have blogged about this before, but I think the story of her first day at the rather select resort of Sitges in Spain is worth repeating for comic effect !
We arrived at Sitges by train, which was not a good move as Sorrel who is a trusting little soul, got herself pick pocketed by two Albanian scumbags before she got off the coastal express!
Hyperventilating and shaky we got her to the very select hotel, checked her into her lovely sea view room with instructions to , freshen up, get changed and meet us downstairs at the heaving lunchtime restaurant for a stiff gin and tonic and a rejuvenating lunch!
And so, a short time later, dressed classicaly all in black, Sorrel met us outside the hotel where hoards of affluent Spaniards were enjoying their late lunches at the open air dining area.
As we ventured out onto the pavement to pick a table, Sorrel slipped out of one flower encrusted sandal and immediately fell into a large, shallow and incredibly dusty manhole!
It seemed like an absolute age before she managed to climb out, and as "older" ladies have a want to do when they fall over, she rolled over several times before managing to get to her feet!
Chris, mortified with the spectacle of his mother looking as though she had been trampled by a herd of buffalo hissed "Get up get up!!!!!!!!!" rather too loudly as Sorrel, sandal-less and filthy clambered out of the hole in front of a hushed restaurant
And were was I when all this was happening?
Yes...I was hiding in a nearby doorway , sobbing in hysterics
And that was only day one
hey ho

The Santa Maria Hotel Sitges (right)

I am Sorrel Ready!

All the dog snot has been removed from cottage windows/paintwork/doors and strangely enough the cat flap
A mummified mouse has been removed from under our bed
Fresh flowers have been put into the spare bedroom alongside a pair of worn fluffy slippers and of course, a spare towel has been laid out tastefully upon the neatly unwrinkled eiderdown
and every surface has been double sprayed with a generous helping of febreze

I am ready!

Broody despite the weather

I was due to take neighbour and friend Carol over to Alfreton in Nottinghamshire today to collect her new Welsh Terrier puppy from the breeder we bought all of our terriers from. However when I got up, the weather had changed from being a benign spring back to a rather chilly snowy winter , so reluctantly we thought it prudent to cancel the trip,
I am glad we have, crossing the Pennines in snow is not a bag of laughs
Animals HATE being very wet and very cold. They can do one or the other quite easily, but do not fair well if both are on the cards, so I placed extra feed inside the hen houses today as I know the birds will not be venturing too far from home.
One old buff is holed up on eggs in a broody box which is safely tucked away on the allotment. All of the broody boxes this year have been set up inside donated dog crates, making them impregnable against the marauding badgers which still troll through the field at night.
In the duck house another old runner has made a nest for herself. and in the goose house both Winnie and Jo have laid their huge white oval eggs together in the name nest. This accounts for their behaviour with Camilla, I suspect as the juvenile female is "too close for comfort" to be allowed into the same nesting area.
Out grazing the Canada goose seems to have rejoined her companions safely. only at night does she separate off to join the slightly bemused "crackheads " in their house

Brooding birds never cease to amaze me. They possess a strange ability to completely "Zen out" to everything around them and will possess that strange faraway look which is usually employed by habitual drinkers when you try to engage them in conversation.
Poke a broody hen and they will fluff themselves up and will growl like a dog, but they won't leave their eggs for anything.
This is motherhood in the raw. Instinct and innate behaviour.
No thinking whatsoever.

The cottage looked very dark and rather forlorn when I gazed back at it from the icy field.
Time to light the fire and switch on the lights.
Winter has returned for the day

Mothering & Things

Question?
Does anyone know the movie which featured Donald Moffat yelling the following line?

"I know you gentlemen have been through a lot, but when you find the time, I'd rather not
spend the rest of this winter TIED TO THIS FUCKING COUCH! "

Geeks and fans of horror films may recognise that this came from the cult John Carpenter alien-on-the loose slasher flick The Thing, where a group of scientists on an Antarctic research site encounter a shape shifting monster with rather stomach churning results.
The film was not a hit at the time, but its tense storyline and state of the art special effects coupled with a mean and moody hero in the shape of Kurt Russell gave it cult status on video and on tv, so it was with some interest that I watched the 2011 prequel, which was also rather confusingly entitled The Thing

Stig Henrik Hoff just of the "lumberjacks"

The prequel is in fact just a remake of the original, with the Norwegian scientists glimpsed at the beginning of the Carpenter movie taking on the American scientists roles.

Instead of a mean and moody Mr Russell, the remake gives us the more politically correct female warrior hero in the capable hands of Mary Elizabeth Winstead but thankfully as the research station was filled to the gunnels with Nordic viking types, there was plenty of hunky lumberjacks to keep me happy, especially as the film was a little disappointing!7/10

Joel Edgerton (swoon)

On the other hand, the other dvd I watched this week is a must see
We Need to Talk About Kevin is the filmed version of the acclaimed novel by Lionel Shriver
and tells the story of Eva, a middle aged woman who in a whole series of flashbacks reviews incidents in the upbringing of her imprisoned son which chronicle his decent into a psychopathic behaviour and murder.
The strength of this film lies in it's total ambiguity when appointing blame for Kevin's antisocial tendencies
Eva's lack of emotional warmth towards her son may have have caused his problems, then again it is hinted that physical illness may have caused the damage, whatever it is, Eva ( played by a haunted looking and icy Tilda Swinton) is left with the terrible guilt of her son's crimes and the terrifying burden of trying to work out whether it was nature or nurture that irrevocably damaged him.

Its not an easy film to watch, especially as Swinton plays a rather complicated and at times unsympathetic character, but she is truly compelling as the world weary Eva and should have won an Oscar for her performance.
9/10