The Flower Show Committee 2013

Most of the group at last night's meeting

The Flower Show Committee is well up in numbers!.

We are now 14 members! a number which includes Auntie Glad (front centre) as our oldest member, she having almost seventy years lead on our youngest member Hannah ( on the far right)

They are a nice bunch!
(ps Irene and Sylvia, the ladies who I named the soay after are first and second from the left!)

The Stamping Of Little Feet, Drama Queens in Trelawnyd and in Hospital

Sylvia's feet and a more sedate Irene

Since the sheep arrived I have tried to keep the dogs away from the field. 

I am no expert, but I always thought that terriers and ewes would not and could not mix.

I was right!

But not in the way that I originally thought.

Yesterday I took all three dogs onto the field,William and Meg I tied to the gate ( both have a tendency to "over sniff" the tame warrens so have to be tethered) and George I let free to roam by himself.
we had been there not a minute before both ewes crossed the field to see what all the fuss was about.

The Welsh terriers, typically of the breed, sat stiffly and in silence to watch the sheep v-e-r-y carefully as they approached.

George, oblivious to anything, wandered off by himself and entered the nearest hen house in his usual and futile attempt to steal eggs.

With Sylvia in the lead both ewes walked directly within  eight feet or so of the dogs, facing them off. With short little stabbing motions they stamped the ground with their hooves, edging forward together with their heads held high in a serious example of " Drama girl power" and within a mere 20 seconds of this "show of strength" the terriers were suddenly backing up to the gate pleading with me with worried faces, to intervene.

It was as simple and as forceful as that.

Of course if their introduction was made with the dogs loose in the field, then the resulting chase and panic would have been very different indeed. But organising this first meeting in a controlled way allowed the Welsh terriers ( who like most dogs are cowards at heart) to see who was top honcho.

And the big enchiladas are now Sylvia and Irene

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Speaking of Drama Queens, My sister is recovering quite nicely from her painful knee replacement. I have just spoken to her ( she was having a cup of tea with a doilley on the saucer when I was put through to her room! )  and She told me that when she was in the anaesthetic room before the op, she met with the surgeon, who engaged her in some light banter mainly because he knew she was a bit of a nervous patient.

Just before he "put her under" my sister, with a somewhat serious flourish stated soberly

"I am placing my knee... and my life .....in your hands!"

What the hell do you say to THAT one?

Sigh

It's nice to know that I am not the only drama queen of the family!

Cobwebs

Today is a day for blowing the cobwebs away and a deserted beach is the right place to do just that.
I have a lot of "to do" lists to sort out in my jet lagged head
My Father-in-law visits at the end of the week
and Operation dog-snot removal will commence this afternoon
My elder sister is having her new bionic knee fitted this afternoon too!
She's gone private
She always loved doillies

A Very Welsh Funeral

The tiny chapel on London Road was packed when I got there.

Mrs Jones' funeral was always going to be well supported

after all she was a much respected farmer's wife amid whole dynasties of farmers around the village

and a whole lot of them turned up to say their goodbyes

 

Eventually, I just managed to find standing room by the door, right next to Alun Hughes, Chair of the carnival committee. I had never seen the chapel so full..

People were even standing in the chapel kitchen. 

Everyone seemed to be there, The RFWF in a clean jacket for once!, Ralph the gentleman farmer with Louenna, Gladys of course, Mr Evans the old baker,Jenny the ex post mistress,Olwenna Hughes from her  Rhyl nursing home,Pat my animal helper sporting her new trendy haircut!. Old Islwyn Thomas from Bron Haul,the list just went on and on and on, and suddenly I was transported into a bygone age which has almost gone by when the mostly welsh speaking congregation started up with their first hymn.

Shaky at first, the old tried and tested voices of  Meirion Hughes and others I did not recognise started to catch their own natural harmonies as they belted out

"Gogoniant byth am drefn

y  cymod a'r glanghad;

Derbyniaf lesu fel yr wyf,

Achanaf am y gwaed!"

After their old voices echoed in the eaves
I could have cried  at the "rarity" of it all

Flirting

Today

I need to go to Mrs Jones' funeral. It will be a sad, gloomy day, a day that is mirrored by the weather which is dull, blustery and depressing this morning. 

In need of a bit of light relief, I will leave you with this video which perhaps illustrates just a tad, the following story.....which in retrospect made me smile.

Yesterday morning, there was a thick frost on the ground.

Luckily we have de icer in the car so after I left work I gave the old Berlingo a good squirt all over before leaving for home.

Parked next to me was a similarly iced up car and another middle aged nurse leaving for home was scraping the ice off her windscreen fairly ineffectually with the cover of a cd .

Feeling gallant , I offered her a "squirt! which she thanked me for with a big smile, and as I gave her car a once over, she started up a chatty and rather jolly conversation.

Tired as I was I didn't mistake the the odd bout of hair flicking , the open mouthed silly giggle and over-the-top "hero" comment for mere friendliness  and with sudden, ice-cold horror I realised I was actually being flirted with.....and BY A WOMAN!

What did I do?

what happened? 

I hear you all cry

Well like any over-the-hill, gay man worth his salt

I legged it home faster than Mo Farrah in his new lycra shorts!

The Vicar's Effin' Late!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I had not long sat down to a sumptuous meal of sausages with a lyrca clad Sir Chris Hoy, a smouldering Joel Egerton and the much maligned and rather charming Russell Crowe when, during some flirtatious small talk and exquisite gin and tonic the restaurant's fire alarms suddenly went off.

Of course my dinner guests heroically led me to the safety of the nearest exit, where I braved the smoke and bell ringing  and suddenly found myself in bed (alone!) with the church bell incessantly calling the Trelawnyd parishioners to worship.

The vicar was late

That's why the Church bell is noisily ringing past 11.20

and I now realise that I have been asleep  EXACTLY  2 hours and 25 minutes

I could weep.

To Sleep, Perchance to Dream

Bagpuss Features

Bagpuss (1974)

I am working  a back to back shift over this weekend

They are shifts I hate. Night Shift on Saturday night. (generally always a busy night) then interrupted sleep on Sunday daytime, and back to work on Sunday evening.

My face will look like bagpuss' by Monday Morning I can tell you (it's not far from that now!).

But, I know I am the lucky one.

Some of the poor sods I will be working with, will be doing night shifts over the weekend then day shifts some time in the following week.

Such is life on an Intensive Care Unit which is governed by an unfeeling computerised off duty system which couldn't give a flying stuff about circadian rhythms.

On my last shift I listened with some sympathy to one girl's story of how she had to try to balance 3 small kids, full time shifts, a husband working all the hours God sends, Christmas preparations and a rather convoluted house move.

No wonder her head looked as though it was fused directly onto her shoulders without benefit of a neck!

In a quiet moment , realising that my life is , in general, rather stress free ( apart from those bloody wardrobe doors of course!) I gave her a neck rub, which certainly pressed all of her relaxation-in-need buttons.

"why can't you be full time!" the nurse complained "I could do with one of these everyday"

"If I worked full time here I would be living inside a rubber room within 2 weeks!"I replied

and do you know what?

I BLOODY WELL would be

see you all Monday

ARGO

Argo is a class act.

Part caper thriller, part escape movie, this pacy dramatization of the 1980 joint CIA-Canadian secret operation to extract six fugitive American diplomatic personnel out of revolutionary Iran is a meticulously staged and sympathetically acted period piece which boasts a wry script and strangely several laugh out loud moments.
It's well worth going to see.
Ben Afflick ( the director and star) is on sparkling form as is the old scene stealer Alan Arkin (above) who turns up as foul mouthed has-been Hollywood producer. His performance is worthy of a best supporting actor Oscar any day.
All in all it's an intelligent , tense and  entertaining movie
8.5/10