His version was even better than Audrey's original one
Incidently it is mine and Chris' "song"Enjoy
Beach Meetings
All of us have people that we know (and have known for many many years) who inhabit the very periphery of our lives.
More often than not, we know very little about them. We may share a nod and a cheerful "good morning" with them. We may know a little about their family, or their job or their history, but in very broad strokes they remain very much part of the scenery of our lives.
Recently I have been thinking about a lady I shall call Gwen.
Gwen was in my year in secondary school, in fact, if I think on, I now realise that she was in my primary school as well. She was, as I remember, an awkward girl who always seemed to be alone in school. Big busted, old fashionably dressed and frequently bullied, Gwen always looked an unhappy girl, but apart from knowing each other's name , our paths never really crossed in or outside school as we were growing up.
School, for me was a fairly unhappy place.
When I returned to Wales in 2005, I started to occasionally bump into Gwen . Invariably it would be at the beach where I would be walking on the promenade with the dogs and she would be sitting in a car reading a newspaper. Occasionally she would be joined by an elderly lady, who by the look of her had advanced dementia, but at other times she would be alone, save for a scruffy Scottish terrier who would be let out of the car on a long lead. I used to go to the each at different times every day, so guessed that Gwen spent long, long periods reading in her car
At these times we would always swap "hello" and would chat briefly , and even though a lifetime had passed since we were both in school, I still saw the lone, sad girl that I "knew" some 40 years before.
Earlier this week I arranged with my sister-in-law to meet for a chat.
We met at a local market garden cafe during a rain storm and the place was packed with grey hairs having "coffee" and girlfriends "doing lunch". After we had sat down, I spied Gwen sat at a table and we nodded our "hellos". As usual she was alone, and looked it, and as usual ( and I know rather patronisingly) I suddenly felt very sorry for her.
I had the urge to ask Gwen to join us, but, of course I didn't. It would have been an awfully pompous and condescending thing to do, after all what the hell do I know about someone I have hardly spoken to during a lifetime?, and so when we left, all I did do, was to stop to chat briefly.
I am glad I said hello. And I am glad I didn't ask her to join us, I can cope with the vunerable and the sad when they are animals.... but as for people?
Not a good idea
Despite a 40 year gap, perhaps I just don't want to be reminded of more unhappy times
Where Do We Go Now?
is quite an ambitious film.......... It's a bittersweet comedy drama about sectarian violence between Muslims and Christians in a rural Lebanese mountain village. It's star, writer and director,.(the statuesque
Nadine Labaki- who by the way made the delightful Caramel) tells the story from the point of view of the village women (from both religious factions) who band together with the increasing difficult objective of preventing the village men folk from descending into violence as a result of an increase of sectarian atrocities around the country, and the resulting farce ( which includes an unlikely arrival of six Russian strippers) is suitably amusing and conscience pricking in equal amounts.
There is a a couple of emotionally charged scenes from Labaki ( who plays the village cafe owner) some odd semi musical set pieces ( between her Christian character and a hunky Muslim painter (Julian Farhat) and plenty of not so subtle underlining that it is always the women in the conflicts of this world that have to deal with the fallout reality of violence and hatred
8/10I have not made the effort to go to the cinema for a while.... it's nice to get back in the swing so to speak
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!
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| 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.
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| Sarah Jane....a podgy star in the making |
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
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| 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......
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
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