Saint Christopher

The "hen in the airing cupboard" incident went by without so much as the raising of the famous "Roger Moore" eyebrow or the rolling of the infamous Captain Mainwaring eyeballs.

This slightly wrong footed me, as I was prepared to fight the little warren's corner,for she had been as good as gold wrapped up in a dog blanket behind the duvets and pillowcases, but Chris merely nodded his head and sighed with that "as long as I don't have to see anything" kind of way.

All the warren needed was to warm up. She slept and she kept calm in the cosy darkness of the cupboard and after a couple of hours was ready to return to the waterlogged field.

It is still raining this morning by the way.

A few years ago now, I made the mistake of hatching out 16 Indian runner ducklings without a mother and without a shed!

Strangely Calm, my last load of runner ducklings

All 16 were installed in a large dog crate in the kitchen, which was transformed very quickly from a delightful oasis of fluffy ducklings into a quagmire of shit flinging , needy and incredibly noisy and hysterical monsters.

The pitter patter of tap dancing webbed feet nearly drove poor Chris into the psychiatric version of "shady Pines". and nearly every morning he could be heard bellowing "Shut up you dirty little bastards" as they galloped to and fro in the crate following his every movement as he tried to eat his tea and toast.

Since then, I have tried to keep any  animal infiltrations into the cottage to an absolute minimum.Chris can cope with the dogs as long as they are clean and  does have a soft spot for Albert as long as he does not drag in any rodent no matter what size through the catflap, but in general terms anything else with fur or a beak would not be tolerated,

He's right of course.... the cottage is far too small for any miniature intensive care unit set ups.....I just wonder what could happen if one of the ewes has complications during the birth of a lamb....?

I couldn't see Chris boiling the hot water and fetching the towels as Irene lies prostrate on the kitchen table with her hooves up in stirrups....

Bless..... he does put up with a lot.

Anyhow the warren survived to fight another day, ( unlike the Pansy-Potterish Sarah Jane who was unfortunately voted off

The Great British Bake Off last night.) and hopefully the tropical storm which has battered North Wales and Northern England  is now petering itself out to nothing.

(BBC Wales)

Sarah Jane....a podgy star in the making

I am off now to drop some more Harvest Festival food off at the Church now....Trelawnyd collects boxes full from it's small congregation...all of which will be taken to the homeless shelter in Rhyl after the harvest services are all finished. It's another small, unsung positive community gesture which the majority of people in the village are unaware of ....

Orphan of the storm

The terrible weather is taking its toll on the animals in the field.

God knows just how much rain has fallen over the past 24 hours

I found one of the gentle warrens bowed,soaked and off her feet by the gate just as I was going up to the Church to deposit my harvest festival goodies. I brought her in and gave her a brisk towelling then left her in the dark airing cupboard next to the lagged hot water cylinder for an hour or so.

(For God's sake don't tell Chris!)

When I retrieved her, she had perked up quite nicely, and although still and terribly quiet inside her dog blanket, she ate a bit of dog food before I let her rest again on the passenger seat of the berlingo

At The Top Of The Stairs

Animals can suffer from unexpected phobias just as humans can

And for six year old George, going down the cottage staircase is now a real no-no on his very short list of dislikes and worries.

It all became apparent after our holiday. On the night we got back he galloped up to bed with Chris as normal (it is George's treat to have Chris and a double bed all to himself at bedtime) and in the morning he refused point blank to walk down the again as he has done every morning for the past six years!

No amount of gentle coaxing, begging and silly voice "commmeeeeheeeerrrrrrreeeeees" would get the little guy to budge, and from that day to this he has to be carried down to the living room by a strong pair of arms like a tiny, black and hairy Queen of Sheba.

Our previous Scottish Terrier, Maddie developed a similar fear of going down to  the stairs, and that phobia was related to the fact she fell down our previous cottage stairs from the top to the bottom pulling down a dyson hoover on top of herself as she did so.

As I type this, and just before we all go out for our morning march around the village, not only can I hear the rain thundering heavily on the cottage roof (as it has done for the past 48 hours)....I can hear George's stubby little feet drumming their accompaniment on the landing carpet as he waits impatiently to be carried down for his walk.....

"So Lonely!"

Chris hates it when I work nights at the weekend.

He says he hates feeling lonely.

I was thinking about this fact this morning when I was stood in the pouring rain rattling the feed bucket at Sylvia and Irene, as they tip toed their way across the field to stand just ten feet away from me, with their silly marble glass eyes giving it" large."

I spend much of my time alone here in Trelawnyd.

And yet, I can honestly say that, I have never really ever felt lonely.

Now where does that come from?

I have read research that indicate that being a twin actually predisposes a person to 

feel loneliness more than others  ( for those that don't know I have a twin sister) , but I can honestly say that in my 50 years on this planet, I am lucky enough never  to have experienced those dreadful pangs of isolation some people feel every day of their lives.

I put this down to the fact that I was a single man for a long time during my salad days! That was a time when I worked hard, played hard and lived a city kind of life. Days away from work were invariably at a time when others where working, and so solitary pastimes was very much the order of the day.

and I got used to my own company and then there was always another film to watch, another museum to visit and another thing to see...and then I didn't even have a pack of dogs that followed my every move like shadows on a sunny wall. 

The companionship of animals can never be under estimated

Trelawnyd..a wet ghost village today

Today's awful weather has effectively marooned me at home alone. I am bored by the weather but I don't feel alone, even though I know I will not see a living soul today as Trelawnyd shuts down in the deluge....I won't be bothered by it......

I am just not the sort.........................

A View From My Armchair

Now blogging never fails to surprise me.

I can write something that I think is worthy and interesting and get 5 brief replies in way of comment and then in  pure throwaway fashion, I can "pen" some bland rant about the weather and get 50 comments in way of a detailed debate.

It's the fickle finger of blogging me thinks.

Today my arse is inexplicably glued to my lovely comfy armchair in the corner of the living room, so I cannot really see that anything I have to say will be of any interest to anyone....but we will wait and see!.

Ok I have fed the animals, walked the dogs and had a couple of hours sleep but I intend that today's world will be concentrated upon a corner of the living room where the view of our grandfather clock, over filled bookcase and my handpicked kitchen door with too large a gap at it's base will be all that I have to worry about

Chris has squirrelled his way in his office with some academic work and the dogs have collapsed at my feet after a walk in the COLD and AWFUL START of AUTUMN we experienced last night...so I am left with the gentle tones of classic fm, which are wafting in from the kitchen radio for company.

I need to get up really.

I have a shepherds pie to make,

I have some new warrens to water in their pen

and it's time to rattle my feed bowl at Sylvia and Irene, as part of my concerted effort to win the buggers over

But do you know what?

I think I will sit here just a tad longer

and I will gaze uselessly at my green kitchen door which has too wide a gap at the bottom!
hey ho

Sod Off Autumn

My armchair bathed in sunshine this morning

Now let it be known to the great and the good that I kind of detest autumn.

I wish I could be a better person like

FrugalLivingUK who merrily skips into the third season like Julie Andrews kicking her habit skirts, but I can't!!!!!!!!!!

Don't get me wrong, I don't dislike days like today,( for it is an uncharacteristically warm and sunny Saturday), no, not at all.but I do, in general dislike autumn....and I shall tell you for why!

1. Come the end of September the zombie hordes that are the common local species of spider creep their terrifying creep into every recess of the old cottage. It's enough to make even the likes of David Attenborough go weak at the knees I can tell you!

Even today, armed with the dyson's trusty extension hose, I have already sucked up a dozen or so of the hairy fat bastards from the white painted ceiling beams of the living room.One was THAT big, that he managed to hold on at the nozzle end for a considerable and rather admirable 30 seconds before up he shot like ....well...like a spider up a hoover.
Creepy, crawlies.....I hate 'em

2. Autumn means wet kitchen floors, muddy boots and pet paw marks on everything that isn't nailed down

3. It means soddin' Christmas decorations for sale at the shops

4.And it means cold damp short days, which upset the hens more than a fox with attitude.

5. Autumn means weak, ineffectual sunshine, it means the return of chilblains, and it heralds the return of my wind chapped red cheeks that will stay will me until April next year.

6. Autumn means strengthening winds, piles of dirty leaves knee deep behind the cottage door and cold wet mud wherever you go. The countryside can be a bloody depressing place when it is constantly wet....I never really have subscribed the phrase "isn't it a lovely view" when freezing rain is lashing down onto freezing mud!

okok there ARE nice things in autumn which I can appreciate.... there's no guilt when I sneak to the cinema on a particularly awful midweek afternoon....and there's soup... thick, hot "fat bastard" soup......but that's about it for me I'm afraid.................... give me a proper hot, old fashioned , 1976 summer any day......

whatever one of those is?

I have forgotten

"I'm 83 you know!"

I have just spent a somewhat frustrating early afternoon trying to sort out an elderly neighbour's cardiac monitor. It is one of those monitors that picks up cardiac arrhythmias and contacts the hospital when the normal "bleep bleep" bounces into something more sinister. Various parts of the monitor had not been delivered, so armed with nothing more than the general hospital number, I had to try and find "who could sort it all out" on a Friday afternoon.....Friday afternoons are when hospital staff suddenly disappear into the woodwork.

I thought I had more or less sorted things when the old chap then asked me to set up a  new printer and scanner he had just had delivered, so there was more of the same as wires had to be connected and cds needed to be watched and their instructions followed.

I wonder who Chris and I will rely on when (and if) we ever reach our dotage .We have no children that could cushion the ravages of old age. We haven't even got any adopted Filapinos (aka Madonna) or surrogate babies like Wacko Jacko.... we will just have each other to depend upon when we get to that creaking old age when it takes half an hour for us to climb the stairs to bed, and when we finally get there, we've bloody well forgotten why we went up there in the first place!

Perhaps it will be Shady Pines for us eventually!  

I do hope not.

The prospect of some disinterested teenage support worker wiping my bum  with all the delicacy of an all-in wrestler after I alight from my commode, does not fill me with any warm feelings whatsoever.......

Gawd Help us

The Sheep Whisperer

The girls walking past me ever-so-slowly.. without ANY eye contact whatsoever

Forgive the second post of the day, 

Now....I am not overly familiar with sheep.

(YP hold it right there and say NOTHING!)

OK here in rural Wales you literally cannot fart without being over heard by a startled ewe  and then see a marbled eyed dumb face staring at you with a look of "how very dare you!"

Sylvia and Irene are curious and nervous little creatures

After a somewhat fraught first meeting with the Indian runners who set both ewes galloping for the hills with an unbelievably loud screaming pincer movement , things are beginning to settle down between birds and sheep!

Of course , I am the only real fly in the ointment where their emotional well being is concerned, for to begin with all it needed for them to be sent scurrying into the bushes was a merest glimpse of my sweaty little hand on the gate handle!

So at every opportunity I have gone out to the field with a bowl of feed which I have shaken enticingly at them with my best "come hither" expression on my face.and over the last few days they are noticeably building themselves up to actually come up to within a gnat's crotchet of my excitedly shaking bucket!