Suo-gan - Bryn Terfel -
Bryn never sang this Welsh Lullaby in tonight's concert, but I thought I would post it anyway.
He didn't sing that many Opera pieces and songs either, letting the recipients of his scholarships (young talented singers and musicians from Wales ) showcase their own talents, but what he did sing was impressive...especially a particularly nice version of the Police's Roxanne
Bada- bing- bada boom!
"Our" dog breeder once gave me a bit of invaluable advice about the vagaries of dog illnesses.
"Don't worry too much about your dog" she said brusquely "as long as it will eat a piece of toast!"
For some strange reason dogs seem to love toast.
In our house, given our more cosmopolitan tastes, the dogs will do ANYTHING for a quick bite of a bagel.
Now we don't do those awful "traditional New York" bagels that come in a synthetic pack of 5....no sir---ee......we wouldn't wipe our bums on something as artificial as those.. no we, as a family are addicted to freshly baked bagels from Sainbury's bakery which are as traditionally tasting as ones we have eaten in the deli's of New York.
Mabel had a real talent when it came to eating bagels. Given the size of her chops, she could get a whole one into her mouth without watering an eyeball. The terriers are much more civilized in their eating habits and will line up rather politely at the breakfast table, ever hopeful for a the odd morsel
They don't get a lot though
Bagels are an impressively low 3 points of weightwatchers
Badabing-bada boom
Tonight we are off to Bangor
For those that don't know Bangor is North Wales' only University City.
and apart from being the academic centre of excellence, the place, in my humble opinion, is a shit hole.
With a non student population of a mere 13 thousand, Bangor is more like a parochial small town rather than a true multicultural city,but occasionally something of interest can rear it's head amid the handful of Welsh "Weatherspoon" pubs, Greg's the bakers and Blodwyn's Beauty Parlour
Tonight Bryn Terfel will be singing to mark the centenary of "PJ Hall" at the University and we have tickets!!!... which is a real treat.
Janet ( sister) has been conscripted for hen duty, so we have no need to rush back..... and may even have time to share a little pinot before driving home...... mind you where we are going to find a wine bar in Bangor that does not cater for the Lambrini brigade?
Pass The Torch and Long Live The King
What have Mikhail Zolotovitsky, Paul Gavin,Terry Hughes and Robin Govier (pictured) got in common?
According to the official website, the torch will pass a mile or so south of Trelawnyd and I for one will be waving my Union Jack with game gay abandon as one of the chaps passes by.
I am a fan of the Olympics....and I am pleased that we are hosting the games.
I am not a sports fan though....all that running and jumping stuff leaves me a little cold, but as a celebration of positivity and a most welcomed panacea to the bloody awful mess the bankers have wrought on the world, I cannot wait to see fellow blogger Nota Bene and the other thousands of volunteers waving their collective flags at the opening ceremony.
It will, I am sure bring a tear to my eye!
Closer to home, I have been witness to a certain change in the power base within the hen community on the field. It had to come I suppose...a kind of Shakespearean tale is developing where the existing king ( the old cockerel Stanley) is becoming physically less dominant and noticeably frailer whereas his son (The buff but slightly nervous Badger) is developing into a magnificent adult bird.
Stanley is around seven, which is a fair age for a male who is constantly supervising and shagging a large group of gals during daylight hours, and like any ageing lothario he has got to a stage where the mind is willing but the body is weak.
Fairly soon the king will be dead.....and I will be thinking and saying "long live the new king"
This morning Stanley has an inflamed and closed right eye. He has lost a little weight and feels a little thinner than he used to be. I have treated him with antibiotics and have set him up by himself with extra food and water in his own run in sight of his adoring ladies.
He is an ideal cockerel. He is a gentle natured, vigilant protector of the flock and during the occasional threat from a marauding fox has always put himself into harms way to keep his own hens safe and I hope his son, who is the spit of his father, will eventually take over the mantle and the responsibility of the old king with such dedication and bravery.
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| The Old King |
Just Panties (What Else Do I Need?) for Nigel
Chris is still away today but seemed to have enjoyed the West End Production of SWEENEY TODD very much....
It never fails to amuse me that the most dire and black of stories can be adapted into a Hollywood style musical....
This clip is a case in point and kind of dovetails quite nicely into the slightly surreal "sausage" blog entry of this morning
The "famous" Panties song is from The Poseidon Adventure- An Upside Down Musical
This is for my friend Nigel
CONGRATULATIONS
xxx
Rate My Sausage
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| My Sausages |
Rate My Sausage said... Good morning esteemed Blogger,
It’s Simon here, from Rate My Sausage, England’s second best sausage blog.
Completely random approach, but I wonder if you’d consider writing a guest review for Rate My Sausage? The style and content could be anything you fancied. A couple of hundred words and at least one digital image are all we ask for! I’m trying to gain reviews from people and blogs with completely different agendas, and your excellent place fits the bill perfectly.
Would you be interested in contributing? Of course I’ll fully link in to any websites you wish.
Thank you for reading, hope you have a fab Thursday!
Is Simon flirting? was this a subtle thinly veiled "Carry on" double entendre ?
Coughs
Does Simon really want to see my sausage?
Nope! looking at his website it looks as though he may actually want a PORK review
F*CKING HELL....I need a sleep.......
The real question must be asked though before I rest my weary head and that is......what is England;s FIRST and foremost Sausage blog?
Answers on a postcard p---l---e----a---s---e!!!!!!!!!!
People You Don't Know
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| Nothing to do with this post but I kind of love Norman Rockwell's illustrations |
I am working tonight. Chris is away in London having some "well dressed me time" with a friend
and the water for this part of the village has been cut off by some hairy arsed and bored builder types who are ooooing and arrrhhhing over a hole in the road.
It's 6.45 am and before I take Chris to the station, I am pottering around killing time.
A chap in a silver pick up has just passed the cottage and we both wave cheerfully at each other.
We do this regularly
I have no idea who he is.
He has no idea who I am
But we wave.
It has become a habit.
On our afternoon walk, the dogs and I will pass parents waiting for their children in their cars by the school.
I will wave and nod shyly at two of them.
They are always there, as am I and we all will look for each other everyday...it is the same for the unknown elderly lady in the corner bungalow...she has a frail look and blue skinny arms...and the old chap that lives in the house by the garage, he always wears a cap
All of us look out for each other
It has become a ritual.
I suspect that commuters play this little game more than I do. Especially when human nature dictates that you always have to sit in the same spot on the same part of 6.10 from Cockfosters and I suspect even the most antisocial member of the human race gains some sort of solace from a regular jaunty wave or a mouthed "hello".....do we not?
Yesterday one of "my" Dad's outside the school opened his window when I passed
He smiled in that slightly pained way, people do when they know there's some bad news coming
"I hate to ask but where's the bulldog?" he asked kindly
I explained with the same story I have repeated to a score of locals and he said he was very sorry
"I've missed seeing her" he added
It was nice of him to say it.
Do anyone else out there have "regulars" of their own? People they "see" everyday?
answers on a postcard please
Teenage Angst
I know I paint him as a sort of exasperated , somewhat fastidious academic that spends much of his time shaking his head at my teenage, animal obsessed, shit covered, scruffy bastard ways......and of course, in many ways this portrait is indeed a correct one......I do drive him to distraction!
So yesterday, I did indeed make the effort.
Meg was given a bubble bath , had her hair all fluffed up and smelt delicately of almonds
The dog snot was removed from the inside of the bedroom windows
Apple blossom ,bunches of granny's bonnets and lilac were placed in vases and tastefully arranged around the cottage,
All traces of chicken shit was removed from collected eggs and all kitchen surfaces,
and after strimming the field borders, I had a bath BEFORE he got home from work and looked fairly clean and tidy!
After dinner we watched CHATSWORTH, the BBC documentary about the famous Stately Home ( Chris' favourite place by the way!) and after he had gone to bed in clean animal free sheets, I took the dogs out for their final walk with a clean and non farting Albert in tow.
It was all too good to last!
For when I got back, I quietly plonked myself down in front of the tv to sneakily watch a re run of The Walking Dead
As the Channel five announcer warned rather too loudly that the "following programme was filled with zombie scenes of graphic violence, gore and mayhem!"
I heard Chris groan loudly
"Oh God- the teenager has returned"
He sighed.........
...and on a lighter note....
Picture this
Chris returning from Church in his lovely new tweed waistcoat
He is all spick and span
He loves the more genteel aspects of life
He faces an animal filled kitchen
Meg had just rolled in a pile of incredibly smelly chicken shit
William is scratching at a possible new flea
and Albert is standing on the kitchen table trying desperately to catch someone's eye so he can have some lunch
He farts loudly when I retrieve some cat food
and splatters a small bowl of beautiful mushrooms with a tiny flourish of cat poo
Chris stands amid the melee with his eyes closed is silent resignation
"I was not born for all this!" he says sadly
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