Useless Little Buggers

Yesterday I collected a young Rhode Island Red from a woman I know in Prestatyn. She has now been installed with Annie, the lonely Marran, and the two are getting on as well as Cameron and Clegg did during those first few Honeymoon days of the coalition!

When I got home, another poultry keeper I know was parked next to the field. I spied a small cardboard box on the passenger seat and couldn't miss the "can you just?"  expression on their face.

Five useless, but decorative little pekins have now joined the field population

Happy Days

The only problem when you have to "kill the dead. and fear the living" is that there is seldom much good news.But at least Carol has been found alive and has been given the Rhett Butler treatment by all round good guy, the redneck asperger, Daryl.

hey ho.....I suspect the producers of The Walking Dead won't go a bundle on my recent suggestion of a bit of a lighter episode once in a while?

When It's Your Own................

Yesterday I went with my sister-in-law and my twin sister to visit eldest sister in hospital.

Luckily we negotiated the only clear part of the gridlocked A55 during another reported "wettest day of the year", leaving behind a semi flooded field, some miserable looking wet hens and 8 hysterically happy Indian runner ducks paddling in the downpour.

Even though I have been a nurse nearly thirty years, my experience with private health care has been minimal, so I was intrigued to see what a private hospital actually looked and felt like, albeit from the perspective of a visitor.

Apart from the slightly claustrophobic feel of the building, the spacious single rooms and the state of the art free coffee machine in the foyer, the unit was exactly what I expected. 

Prim reception staff in their executive uniforms, cheerful non- harassed nurses and doilies on the tea trays  gave the hospital the look of a mid range modern hotel and when we found our somewhat pale and shattered patient, who was now feeling the more uncomfortable side effects of a major orthopaedic operation, I was so glad that she had oped for the private route.

Now don't get me wrong, the nhs, (an organisation I have been a part of for most of my adult life) does provide a good standard of care in most areas of it's primary health care provision. and in the areas I have had direct experience of ( namely spinal Injuries in Sheffield and Intensive care in Wales) the quality of care has been second to non. BUT ( and there IS a but here) when I saw the usual "bon vivre" missing from my sister's face I was so glad that she wasn't crammed into a busy hospital bay of six beds over seen by one overworked staff nurse and a physiotherapist who had three hip replacement patients to assess before lunch.

Do you get where I am coming from?
Course you do

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Father in law will be arriving in a few hours and "operation dog snot removal" has now been completed to my satisfaction.

A casserole is cooking , I am just off to buy some flowers for the table (and will pick up a couple of coop mates for the lonely Annie when I do so)

and I have just polished the cottage coal dust from the woodwork in the sitting room, leaving the sweet faint smell of wax around the house!

The place looks lovely

oh

apart from a sudden pile of mouse body parts which have been regurgitated in the centre of the lounge carpet..............

I give up

Miriam Margolyes lives off High Street

The biggest laughs are always those that are unexpected
I adore Belly laughs
They are a rarity, to be sure
But when they start, you are often left chuckling for the rest of the day.

Yesterday, as I walked the dogs around the village, I spied a lady I know, to say hello to.
She is a rotund, slightly breathless elderly Welsh lady, who is not in the best of health, but she is friendly, always polite and generally portrays the perfect public picture of cheerfulness.
She looks like a bespectacled Miriam Margolyes
Today this lady, who I shall call Betty swayed her way from her small house and after many laboured steps,  banged in a rather irritating way on her next door neighbour's window.
The neighbour obviously was not in and sighing loudly, Betty stood in the street and muttered at her absent neighbour
"SILLY FUCKER!"
To me (who knows both Betty and her neighbour) it was as funny as it was unexpected
and  I burst into huge helpless chuckles right in the middle of the street.
Betty then caught me laughing and with a grin.joined in
"I'm glad I made your day!" she called over eventually

I will leave you with the real potty mouthed Mz Margolyes Enjoy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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