Being Naughty

Now don't get me wrong...by tomorrow I will be missing Chris' indomitable presence in the cottage quite markedly but in the meantime I can be quite......quite...quite....naughty!

I have watched series 2  in my underpants!

 I have gone back to bed after morning jobs

 I have converted the kitchen table into the nerve centre for external Flower Show exhibits 

(Thank you blog readers, Pat, Sharon,Nana,Kath, linda  for all of your wonderful entries!)

 I have cleaned the cottage WITHOUT having to re tidy it 20 minutes later

 I have enjoyed my Olympic Porn without interruption and sighing

 I have started to bake for the show

 I have caught up with long lazy telephone calls with friends

I have eaten chocolate Ice cream the remains of which  is still in the freezer!

I have cried at sad stories
dying old dog story

Musical Coops

The downside of red mite, is that when it gets a hold inside a badly designed hen house ( and I am talking about those cheaply made ones from pet superstores here) the only thing to do is to torch the whole thing.
I have a donated hen house which 16 hens ( and one guinea fowl) absolutely adore. It looks the business but is, in fact cheaply designed and badly constructed. Yesterday I dismantled the double panelled roof and found lurking inside millions of blood sucking fat bastard parasitic red mites and so, without a moment's more procrastination, I took a hammer to the whole thing and made a bonfire.
Job done I hear you all say.....well yes AND no, for the problem that now reared it's ugly head was..... where exactly do 16 suddenly displaced birds roost for the night?
I moved several of the other hen houses slightly nearer to the site of the destroyed house in the hope that they could take a bit of the overspill, then waited for dusk to hit that "night is here" switch so that I could watch the reaction of the "homeless" and hopefully help as needed.
Collectively the hens all milled around looking somewhat bemused at first, and as the light gave that subtle change into dusk panic broke out amongst the ranks
This video captures the scene quite beautifully

The whole thing looked like a rush for the lifeboats from Titanic, with fat old buffs  kicking their way into the duck house with  that frozen "frigging Hell Frigging Hell!!!" kind of expressions on their faces.
Only the old cockerel Stanley took somewhat of a calm lead by finding a space in my largest hen house and with all the experience of his 8 years of being in charge loudly clucked at his girls to follow him home.

By dark, I had rounded up all of the stragglers and pushed each one into less over crowded hen houses alongside Felicity Shagwell and the remaining crackhead Whores........and peace reigned only around quarter to ten when the last hen clucked her last hysterical cluck before sleep
 yeap never a dull moment

ps

Congratulations to local girl  Jade Jones from Flint who won an incredible Olympic Gold medal in the Taekwondo finals.....nice one!

Happy Birthday

Mike and Boris in June

I almost forgot to blog this but I found a note to myself on the kitchen table just before I went to bed which said

"dont forget to big up  Mike's birthday!"

so to my old Sheffield Mucker

"Happy Birthday!"

The dvd of some obscure male orientated geek shit is winging itself to you very soon!

xxxx

Broadstairs New

Chris left for Broadstairs today. He is spending six days with his family, hopefully spending a relaxing time in the family beach hut which overlooks the picturesque bay of the town.
He deserves the break as he has been flexing his academic brain ( which IS the size of an average planet), far too much recently
I shall miss him, but at least the cottage will be tidy for a few days
I have made the most of the beautiful weather  by scrubbing 13 hen houses free of red mite...which is a necessary but awfully dirty job to do, especially after only having 3/4 of an hours sleep after night shift....

I have only just finished ( hence the late blog) so me and the dogs have been just that little bit naughty and have just returned from sneaking to KFC for a shared 2 pieces of chicken and a large "chips" in the car park which overlooks the small industrial estate!
( who says I'm not cosmopolitan?)
Answers on a post card........

Platitudes Can Work

When you have an intensive care patient that is sedated and ventilated to care for, the constant "BING BONG" alarm sounds of the many pumps,drips,syringe drivers, ventilator and monitor can be nerve shattering to an already anxious and highly charged set of relatives and friends,
Couple this fact with the ingrained anxiety of monitor watching ( how many tv dramas have we all sat through when the hero's cardiac tracing suddenly "flatlines" with a sickening eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee) and there is no wonder that most visitors often look like rabbits caught in a tractor's headlights.

Before I take any family members in to see their critically sick relative, I always give them the old "air hostess" pep talk. 
In very general terms I liken a trip to intensive care to flying for the first time
New flyers will jump and panic at every new noise and bump on their first flight  and will generally look to the stewardess' for reassurance and guidance.

"If the stewardess looks unconcerned and calm, there is nothing to worry about on board
If the nurse looks unconcerned when the monitor or pumps alarm, the same rules apply
Look at your nurse!"

Reducing anxiety with clear information before you face a potential trauma isn't rocket science.... in fact it was the first "research based" intervention I learnt as a a student nurse some thirty years ago....and the reason I have posted about it this morning is because of a chance meeting with a woman at the traffic lights in Prestatyn at 7am this morning!

I had just dropped Chris off at the station when I pulled up at the lights and I caught the eye of a woman in a car opposite who smiled and waved. She wound down the window  and mouthed "hello" and because I looked fairly confused at who she was, she added !" I am Harry Jenkins'* daughter" 
I still must have looked a little confused as although I vaguely recognised her I still could not place her
so she added just before she drove off with a hand point and a smile 
"AIR HOSTESS!!! BING BONG!!! BING BONG!"
Ah one of "my relatives" I realised as I drove off.

*not his real name

"Must Try Harder"

Yesterday an elderly lady was found trapped in her car down a deserted country lane near to Trelawnyd's sister village of CWM  (btw for those that may be interested Cwm is pronounced  Cum !)
She had been trapped overnight before she was rescued and luckily sees to be ok despite her ordeal.
and the only reason I have posted this story is that it has reminded me that my own driving skills could be,  shall we say, a little more polished
There are loads of things I am crap at.

Here are just a few examples:-

- I am a bad driver.Plain and simple! I am not that confident when seated behind the wheel of a car and have a tendency to drive in a characteristic  "Mr Magoo- knuckles white / eyes fixed ahead" way
Incidentally I have only ever had 2 minor bumps during 33 years of driving! (I am, however, quite unaware of how many I have actually caused) 

- I cannot dance to save my life. 
I have a complete inability to co ordinate arm movements to leg movements when "strutting my stuff" on the dance floor even though I do quite enjoy the odd "boogie on down!"
Years ago, to my abject shame I remember dancing at a family wedding and being asked to stop by my mother because ( in her eloquent words) I resembled "someone with severe personal problems"
Chris ( who used to be a professional dancer when he was a young man) quite sweetly has never really criticised my own set of special moves, but, on occasion I have seen him shake his head in that "I can't quite believe what I am seeing" kind of way

-I am not good at controlling my temper  and can run off at the mouth with complete strangers that have pissed me off. My bad humour, especially, first thing in the morning , is legendary.....and is a thing that has gotten worse the older I get. 

-I have never ever looked after my clothes and constantly manage to splash food down myself on a daily basis.( as I write this I have just looked down at the front of my jumper and note the remains of yesterday's curry is there for all to see!)

-I am a terrible speller ( can you believe this?) and only survive in this email led world by a judicious use of spellcheck

-I can be overly sensitive when faced with what I perceive as the unthinking nature of people close to me and can be somewhat queenie when I feel I have been let down. ( not a nice trait when you portray yourself as a mature pillar of Trelawnyd 's community)

-I don't cope well when faced with holiday conversations with non English speaking people and seem to have a deep seated inability to "make the effort" in another language.This stems from a long standing fear of making a fool out of myself which now manifests itself in my present coping mechanism of smiling inanely at foreign shop workers and waiters whilst shaking my head like a loon.

I could go on, but I just can't be arsed ( another bad trait of mine btw).......
Have a nice day!

oh and to end.... today's Olympic gold Team GB pin ups

Carl Hester

and of course Mr "Sex on a bike" Sir Chris

sigh!!!!!!!!

A Vole Up The Dyson

"I'll have to go, I've got a vole stuck up the Dyson"

This must be the quote of the week which was uttered by me in frustration after an egg customer knocked on the door as I attempted to dismantle the hoover in a somewhat surreal attempt to locate one of Albert's victims who had somehow squeezed himself up the nozzle as I vacuumed under the kitchen sofa.
It took me an absolute age to find him ( in the end I located him only an inch or so up the tube in the end!) and by the time I had "Blown"him free ( yes I did actually blow down one end of the nozzle!!!) the little chap was gasping his last.

A Vole In One

I placed him carefully onto the arm of the sofa so I could usher an excited Albert out of the catflap and when I had turned, George, who had been watching the proceedings with true Scottish terrier seriousness,  sneaked up behind me and had carried out a swift "coup de grâce " by munching the vole like a kid would eat a Mars bar..

Nature's red in tooth and claw!

Hey Ho...

Before I go to de-louse the goose house, I will leave you with this wonderfully infectious video of BBC tv commentators cheering Mo Farrah's Olympic gold performance

Where is that British reserve when you need it eh?

oh and I won't forget the latest of Team GB's pin up's

The dignified, articulate and poised Louis Smith

My Favourite Lesbo!

Ginger Hero

Much has been made about the elitist "public school" domination of the Team GB Olympic Gold winners.
I won't be drawn into this debate, as the fact is that I applaud any cohort of clean living, disciplined and inspirational young men and women that can inspire a nation and it's youth, but I must add one thing to the Olympic hero discussion..... and that it to give a big up to the nations new favourite lesbian, BBC commentator , Claire Balding.
Balding, is , in my mind ,quintessentially British.
(well what we Brits would LIKE to see as being quintessentially British anyway!)
She is unflappable, informed, professional,warm and possesses that slight school-marm charm that is both reassuring and  impressive., especially given the dross that some of the "lesser" presenters come out with.
Balding is a class act. She knows her stuff and she loves her subject., and the Brits have warmed to her in the good natured afterglow of 16 gold medals!

 class!