Sad News

It could have been somewhat of a depressing day today as everyone I know seem to have their own woes and down times at the moment.

Things often happen like this, don't they?

I saw my elder sister who is worrying herself about a knee replacement  operation and like our grandmother before her, she prefaced every comment about the operation with the phrase "God Willing"

Eventually I tired a little of all this and felt I had to yell rather dramatically

"for god's sake the time when trauma patients died on the operating table during a knee operation Florence Nightingale was slogging her guts out at Scutari!"

Let's hope my counselling skills hit the appropriate spot !

Well it made her laugh just a little

I walked the dogs on the beach, then dropped off some flowers for my great niece who is sixteen today, and finally I took some more flowers and a card up to Pen-y-Cefn which is on the outskirts of the village. 

Mrs Jones died peacefully in hospital yesterday.

This short video of her and a slightly stern looking Olwenna Hughes was one I "took" a couple of years ago. It was in response to a request from someone in blogland to hear some conversational Welsh

"Nos da Mrs Jones"

"Nos da"

ps

I saw gentleman farmer Ralph earlier who told e that when he was a young thing he remembers the sheep shearers going back to mrs Jones' farm for their helping of home made rice pudding which she made in an old oven which was heated from the fire

nice memories

Whose The Daddy?

What is it about masculine men showing the world an occasional soft part of themselves that gets the oestrogen pumping in women of a certain age?

Photographs of my favourite redneck zombie killer Norman Reedus feeding a motherless baby have circulated the globe and a collective "ahhhhhhhh" has rung out from women everywhere, who wish he was

"their daddy-to be!"

Nature or nurture?

Perhaps we are all still just animals

and that macho protector is still order of the day?

One Of Those Days

I just cannot seem to get myself going today.

I may be coming down with something.

The weather is drab and wet.corpse has been thoughtfully deposited by the catflap in the kitchen,  a corpse I squashed with a bare foot as I staggered towards the millicarno coffee tin in the dark of early morning.

 (If you have never had the pleasure of standing full force on a dead rat with bare feet believe me, it's not really a bag of laughs.)

It's a day for such minor irritations!

Gloria, the turkey has actually lost her eye in that spat with Bingley, which has given her a somewhat sinister affect.

Russell, the gander has a limp again

and I need to clean the duckhouse out today ( A FOUL job especially when it is raining)

and to cap it all I have "burnt" my bum on the toilet after I had forgotten that I had bleached the bowl and seat earlier this morning.

I could quite easily go back to bed.

But of course I wont!

Spurred on by animal helper Pat, who has just called around with a ton of out of date food for the birds after she had cleaned out all of  her kitchen cupboards , I have just given myself a severe talking to and am about to pull myself up by my proverbial bra straps in order to get those dirty jobs  done.

Before Work

The village Church and chapels hold a multi denominational service at the Village War Memorial this afternoon. A wreath is laid . Words are said, and the number of villagers that attend this tribute to the dead, grows ever smaller.

Last year I went to the service with Mabel in tow. This year I again may well go and show my respects. It's not a good time, 4.30pm.

It's the time the field goes to bed, so to speak.

Last night I called into an unfamiliar hospital ward on the way to work. I wanted to see old Mrs Jones.

She remains poorly.

Unable to focus and speak, she still had a firm grip in one hand.so it was left to me to babble on about this and that with her intermittent grip sort of punctuating my conversation from time to time.

Mrs Jones, along with Auntie Glad was one of the first of the village ladies to attend my very first "Open Allotment" on a rainy Wednesday evening way back when we first came to Trelawnyd..

Her support, then, was incredibly touching.

I didn't stay too long.

The feed pumps and charts reminded me I had a job to go to, so after a few minutes, in our one sided way...............
we said our goodbyes.

The "C" Word, Sue "The Sheep" Zombie Overload and Sex in Public

Well if that title doesn't bring in the readers bugger all will!

We are hurtling towards the Christmas holidays!

There I have said it! the dratted "C " word.

I knew things had ventured into all-things tinsel once my Halloween pumpkin had started to rot down after a thousand little pecks on the field.
The poor thing is now looking decidedly zombiefied.

Christmas is coming and last night the WALKING DEAD producers killed off half of the main characters

Lori died after a make shift Cesarean went wrong, T Bone had his face ripped off and poor Carol disappeared to god knows where......it's all a bit much seeing that the festive season is only a bug fart away.

Lori RIP

My nerves were shredded after all the mayhem.

I wonder if in a post apocalypse world, do the survivors celebrate Christmas?

 Well you can buy Zombie Christmas cards!!!!!

See Lee's website

I have had to deal with "The C Word" head on today, as I needed to buy my Mother-in-law her annual Christmas decoration pressie ( a tradition I have always carried out for the past decade or so)
Every year she will get a selection of shiny, useless tinsel covered shite through the post, and every year she and I will enjoy the annual tradition of it all.
I Will bubble wrap it all ready for posting with other Christmas decs I send to loved ones in Australia and in Derbyshire!
There I have said it......I have mentioned the Christmas word at least three times already!
I am dealing with it, instead of fearing it!
I am going to make a great deal of my Christmas bits this year....so look forward to be astounded by a multitude of photographs of homemade "crap and bollocks" over the next few weeks.
hey ho
It's amazing what rubbish one middle aged old git can produce when he puts his mind to things

Irene and Sylvia getting ever closer!!

Anyhow, today I met  self confessed sheep geek and ex vet nurse Sue when I was out with the dogs.
I knew she was a "sheep geek" cos she had on her tried and trusted "ewe sweatshirt"
I was wearing my tried and tested "Walking Dead" t shirt, so of course we bonded immediately being joint saddos of the highest calibre
Sue, will prove to be a huge asset I am sure, for she is a sheep expert to outrun all sheep experts! Within a minute or so, she had told me everything I needed to know about the length of a ram's urethra ( which I am sure will come in handy one day) and gave me a mini lecture on what type of ram to get to maximise lamb meat!
She was a delight!
I left her with the assurance that I will be in touch
And I will be
.
And Finally

Do any of you remember Carol and Polenta?
Well the two ducklings from the summer and now two fat plump "fat bastard" ducks
who spend a great deal of their time shagging each other.
I have not seen a drake (Polenta) as ardent so late in the season
Perhaps more experienced duck owners could clarify this point for me?
I caught sight of a lady from the village out walking her two dogs this morning . She stopped by the gate and was confronted with some full on duck on duck action, which made her visibly balk somewhat
"Mucky buggers" she said to no one in particular before she shepherded her little dogs away
It was all a bit too much!
Off to bed now for an hour or so now., I am working tonight
Perhaps I will dream of zombies, shagging fat waterfowl, Christmas trees and a shepherdess called Sue!

Mr Crowe Can Sing!( well just a little)

Well

he Can sing! That big hunk of a bad tempered Aussie!

Love Les Mis or hate it...the stage production that has wowed audiences all over the world has almost hit the big screen.

I must admit, I was dubious when I heard of the plans to bring the musical to the big screen , but the trailer looks wonderful!

( even if the waif Eponine looks all big haired and busty!) 
Anyway I thought I would leave you all with this early morning whistle fest
I am off to shampoo the carpets!!!!!!!
William, me thinks has been eating Albert's mice again
we have fur lined shits all over the house 
"One Day More!"

E Mail

I have just recieved an email from my usual dog groomer.....

would I consider taking a 5 year old bulldog bitch in for re homing from her friend next year?

I asked what her non pedigree name was

"Martha" was the reply

oh lord!

"Table for one?"

Miss Haversham

I have a friend who refers to himself as a male spinster

Everyday he faces judgements that  underline the "collective" view that

"Couples are good- singles are bad"

It's an unfortunate and sad state of affairs
.

Yesterday I read with interest James Friel's article on the subject

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-20219349

He made that interesting point that at social gatherings he has often been treated abysmally by couples who feel that they have the right to ask him just why he is single?

His struggling answer of

: "I have never found the right person... I am a sad and sorry manchild... I am incapable of love... I am a deviant, and prefer giraffes."... is painful, especially as he always seems to notice the joint eye  rolling between the "couple" doing the asking.
What's that all about?

Friel  also comments that his own reciprocal questions of

"Why have you settled for him? Why are you stuck with her? Were you so afraid of being alone? would never be tolerated in this partner-led world. 

It would be deemed far too rude.
and he's right

Unfortunately we are a species that does not tolerate the single. (And here I am reminded of Anna, the single marran hen who has been banished to the periphery of the field borders by the confident flock hens)

Some of that intolerance of course, comes from the "spinsters" themselves.We all have experienced that lunatic, crazy gal lala from work .The one that cannot quite gel with anyone human even if it is in a benign social setting, Well he or she can provide the template for all normaltons who just choose or find themselves not part of a double act.

Everyone, unfortunately gets "tarred with the same brush"

Almost weekly, I go to the small arthouse cinema in Theatre Clwyd and I usually go alone.

I have no problem with doing so, for me the enjoyment of watching a good film outweighs the effort it takes to drag my sorry arse out into the cold, but I often do get the feeling that I am being judged by people when I am sat there reading my programme and quaffing my diet coke all by myself or when I am ambling around the art gallery on the first floor without the "benefit" of someone else to "share the artists' message" with..

I get the look.... you know "THE LOOK" which says 

"I wonder what he's doing here ......alone?"

It's not a figment of my queeny imagination

It happens........It happens everywhere.

Being alone in public = sad bastard
sad, sad, sad!

There is one exception to this rule... and we all know what it is.....

Take a walk down the beach with a dog on a lead
No bugger will judge you then!

William camouflage for singletons