More Tea Vicar?.....And The Devil Of Whitechapel

Sometimes I feel as though I live on the set of tv's Miss Marple

Village life can be somewhat bizarre to say the least

This morning was a case in point for at 7.30 neighbour Mandy saw me filling the feed buckets and yelled over in rather a Kenneth Williams type of way

"Can you do anything with a big marrow?"

I bit my tongue to prevent a witty reply

It was just too early!

Tonight Chris and I are off out to dinner with the vicar.

We don't eat out much so it's all a bit of a treat!

He's quite a jolly fellow, so I know the conversation won't be centred wholly on deep theological theory and garden fetes.....but it is dinner with the vicar! 

........I do actually live in St Mary Mead!

Speaking of St Mary Mead, (a village that must have one of the highest murder rates this side of the Bronx) I am reminded that Jack the Ripper is coming to Trelawnyd in the new Year!

Affable despot Jason,( who is a bit of a Whitechapel murder geek), has managed to organise somewhat of a social coup and has arranged for Retired British Police Murder Squad Detective, Trevor Marriot to come to the memorial Hall to talk about how he has applied modern day policing methods to the infamous Ripper murders of 1888!
Fascinating stuff !!I adore this kind of thing!

 It's all go!!
For locals, the evening will be on  
Saturday 18th may 2013, ticket prices are £12 for adults, £10 concessions

and no kids, I am afraid...for obvious reasons

Now where's that poison ?

Les femmes du 6ème étage

Les femmes du 6ème étage ( The Women on the 6th Floor) has an interesting plot. It's 1962 and Spanish maids (women who have left Franco's Spain) are all the rage amongst their Upper class Parisian "bosses".
In one apartment building a stuffy and repressed middle aged banker (Fabrice Luchini) is won over by the gaggle of Spanish "help" who inhabit the top floor and suddenly embarks on a voyage of discovery about himself and what he wants in life....


Sounds good? Yes I thought so... but apart from a rather winning Spanish Cast of despots (one of whoom Berta Ojea looks remarkable like a raven haired Clarissa Dixon Wright), the film really didn't work for me as the French lead (Luchini) seemed to be devoid of any charm or sympathy.
I was in the minority however, for as the credits rolled, and our uptight hero finally embraced his new found Spanish roots, the mainly elderly audience at Theatre Clwyd gave him an unexpected round of applause......
I was walking to the exit when they stared! 7/10    

Cogburn's morning out

Cogburn, the blind cockerel does have an occasional opportunity to walk free of his small run and is able to warm his face in the sun when it eventually dares to shine.

I take the old chap out when I have a moment, and with me watching out for the other cockerels who would severely injure Cogburn if they could, he will shuffle around the grass with a controlled kind of excitement, always clucking gently to himself as he does so.

I have to constantly talk to him when we go out, and with that meagre contact, he regains his confidence and pride and stretches himself tall in response to the breeze and the sun.

It never ceases to move me.

A creature who by all accounts should have died a long time ago, is living and thriving, with his own little troupe of hens for company. He has adapted to his life in darkness by learning how to feel his way with his big fat feathered feet, and as animals have a want to do, he is just getting on with things....to creatures like him..there is no alternative

This morning we walked for a bit through the wet grass, followed by a few of the tame warrens and flanked by the sheep, who curious as ever, wanted to give the strange bird with the goose stepping feet the once over.

We made a bizarre specticle as we made our way slowly through the field

 

Who would have thought a blind old cockerel would be important enough to have his own blog entry?

Go Figure

A House-Husband's woes

Black is Black- I want my baby back!

Now I am sure that in this world there are a few misinformed individuals that think that most house-husbands enjoy a charmed life eating hob-nobs in front of Jeremy Kyle while they drag the hoover sporadically around the living room without moving any piece of furniture whatsoever!

Well to all those scum sucking morons , all I can say is " Come around to my house.....and if you do, bring a spare duster and a boiler suit!"

This morning I was up with the lark and after taking Chris to the station, I walked the dogs, sorted the animals out (The sheep came within 2 feet of me today!) and then when to the Church to help take the Harvest festival goodies down to the homeless centre.

As usual the staff and "residents" were overwhelmed with the good will  of just 20 or so elderly village Churchgoers here in Trelawnyd, and I must admit I was somewhat humbled by the sincere good wishes passed on by some of the users of the shelter who helped unload the car.

As we left another car load of food arrived from another diocese in the county.

So many people just don't realise what good work the unfashionable and seemingly archaic institution of the Church can do.

Anyhow, on the way home, I called in to the supermarket, bought some dog wormer from the vets and collected some coal before I went to Quick Fit to get a bald tyre changed (I had to laugh when the mechanic told me that he placed a plastic sheet on  drivers seat to protect his overalls and not the car interior!) 

After all that I then took advantage of my "lets get the jobs crossed off my list" mentality and  after feeding the animals and walking the dogs again, I grabbed the chimney sweep brushes and launched forth up the inglenook!

Two hours later I looked like a butch Oprah Winfrey....and a while after that I counted four bags of soot in the back garden---it's a horrid job, and no matter how careful you are, there is always a small film of soot over most surfaces when you finally yank that filthy brush head out of the firedoor....

Ah the joys of having a real fire!

Anyhow, Its going on two thirty and I have just sat down with my FIRST coffee of the day .......all I have to do now is to clean the cottage, bleach the kitchen floor, collect and deliver the eggs, walk the dogs again and make supper..........

Now........ where are those hob-nobs?

If I Wasn't A Nurse?

......what would I have liked to have been?

Hummm do you know what?

I would have loved to have been a ...........

(wait for it)

......a professional Butler!

Who would have thought it?

What would you lot have been

Given the chance

?
ps
In retrospect I would have liked to be (apart from a butler)
a zoo keeper
a vet
or perhaps even
Russell Crowe's P A 

A Heart Warming Story

It's another grey morning here in Trelawnyd.

I am busy making "lists" at the dining room table.

George has just been sick on the kitchen floor and as I am steeling myself to collect the debris

Mind you...I have just noticed that the other dogs have just eaten it.

How delightful

enjoy the video

You Couldn't Make It Up!

It was the harvest festival service at the Church this morning.

Chris left the house at 10am to go. I woke after just one hour's sleep at 10.15 when, John the next door neighbour started chipping away at some masonry on his cottage wall.

With a sigh I took the dogs out and as I returned I bumped into Auntie Gladys leaving the Church with Stan (Husband of Kit who is famous for making knitted slippers!)

Gladys has recently had eye surgery which must have worked wonders as she has recently increased her scone output to record levels..

I have been requested to drop by later, to collect a scone package!

Anyhow, 

Apparently the Church was full as parishioners from the two villages of Dyserth and Cwm attended the service, so I was glad I had given the carpets a good hoovering on Thursday morning.

There is nothing worse than letting the side down in front of other congregations.

I must say that the Church did look impressive for the harvest service, with food adorning every window and every available nook and cranny....

I asked Chris what he thought about it all.... and he agreed that everything looked rather splendid and beautifully laid out

"There was ONE thing I wasn't sure about!" he finally added

"I wasn't sure about the pot noodle on the font!"

A Cracking Line if ever I heard one

The Ghost Sheep

My efforts to tame the sheep are going a little slow.

Sylvia, like her namesake, is somewhat of a robust, character who leads the shy Irene a sort of merry dance all over the field. Sheep trails have already been formed clearly in the grass and are providing a highway for the hens and ducks too and from the coops and the pond.

I need better weather really, and aim to sit with a book when the rain finally clears away, so that the ever curious ewes can have an opportunity to give me the once over.

Physically smaller than your average "Wallace and Grommit" sheep, the Soay breed are shy and silent characters. They slip from one favourite part of the field to another like grey ghosts and will suddenly apprear out of nowhere when they went to see just why I have my head in a coop or a bucket in my hand.

With their wide panda eyes and their gentle ways, they are characters that are certainly growing on me