An Apology

Well, when you write a blog, not everyone will be happy with what you have to say.
Such is the nature of the beast.
In  yesterday's blog I talked about families ( amongst other things) who have been attracted to some of the housing estates in the village. I mentioned that they perhaps remain noticeably separate to the community in which they live, a fact which seems a factor of modern day life.
Unfortunately I mentioned one area in particular, and this fact upset someone who lives there and who has been part of village life for decades. For this upset, I am very sorry, on reflection the naming of one area over another was always going to be somewhat ill advised.
With me banging on about how people should invest in their communities, it was certainly not my intention to alienate villagers who quite clearly "make the effort "

I guess there is always an exception that disproves the rule so to speak and
I hope my words on village survival will resonate with all members of our small community
Hey ho

Have A Nice one

I think we are all in need of a smile on such a grey day

 

Survival

I think this is my favourite photo of the village
It is a long shot taken from the South West and shows Trelawnyd nestling safely in the shadow of Gop Hill, a hill that dominates the lower part of the valley.
Trelawnyd has evolved greatly over the years, every village does I suppose, but I think that the next decade will be pivotal in shaping the village's very survival.
when I say survival, I am talking about the survival of community here. Since we arrived here just six years ago, the village shop and post office have closed, the pub was boarded up ( and thankfully re opened) and many of the village elderly (always the backbone of any community) have died away.
The two chapels and the church congregations are hanging on by the skin of their teeth and the newer housing estates have attracted families that seem to remain insular and tight knit within their own little bubbles rather than feel they are a part of something  "slightly bigger"
One definition that could describe Trelawnyd and thousands of other villages up and down the country is that it is dying a very slow death.
Although some of me does believe this, another part of me emphatically does not.
I don't because of the work of a small group of individuals that battle tirelessly to keep "community" going.
The village Friendship group, the Memorial Hall Committee, The Church Council,The Carnival Committee and the conservation group all have their part to play as does our Flower Show and the Village Allotment open day and the one thing I have learnt about our fast modern world is the salient lesson that in general most people want ( and sometimes need) to participate in community ,they just are happy to leave the organising to someone else. Someone else that through hard work and some gentle bullying often gets things done.

Last year I didn't have the energy to organise my yearly OPEN DAY.
Emotionally I didn't have the chutzpah, after my brother's death
But I have thought about it, long and hard since a chance meeting with local farmer Basil who runs the last farm still situated within the village envelope
In his usual gentle way he passed the time of day with a few choice words when I caught him feeding his sheep
As I walked away, he called after me "are you holding your fete this year?"
" I think so" I said without thinking
"That's good" he said with a genuine smile

That's all it needed
I have five months to organise it

Avoiding disappointment

In 1985 I was lucky enough to see the original cast of Les Misérables perform in the West End. The only notable exception was Patti duPone who had just left her celebrated role as the tragic Fantine.
I was a very.young 23 year old whose experience of stage productions was somewhat limited to say the least, so it is not an exaggeration when I say that the production was somewhat pivotal in cementing my-life love of the theatre.
Of course show stoppers such as the rousing ONE DAY MORE and emotional jacuzzi manipulation of Eponine's ON MY OWN are the songs that most people remember, but for me it was the delicate and moving STARS sung by Roger Allam that had the most powerful effect on me.

For this reason I think I shall wait to see the new Les Mis movie when it is out on DVD
I worry that it will totally disappoint me
Anyone out there seen it yet?

Flipping eck (update)

I have wasted my morning waiting for the dog groomer to arrive.
She has been held up elsewhere and instead of ringing. she emailed me.
of course I have not checked my emails, and so I have spent a fruitless few hours watching the lane, sighing a great deal and winding myself up.
Such is life.
By 11am I was ready to beat a nun to death with her own ripped off arms, so in an effort to calm down, I went out to deliver some eggs in the village which for the first time in an absolute age was not rain soaked and miserable. Here are a few photos
Right.... enough of all this... I am off to clean some windows

siamber wen, one of the oldest houses in the village.It was once the old courthouse

A sombre looking Memorial Hall

The Church looking up the lane past our cottage

The view across the Valley looking south east

The Lychgate

The cottage always looks a little sad on winter days

A Very Danish Seduction

Norman Reedus in The Walking Dead

Well in the absence of redneck zombie killer Daryl Dixon and the other WALKING DEAD survivors of the undead apocalypse , I have been terribly in need for another group of interesting tv despots to hang my hat on so to speak.
Now this does not mean that I am being in anyway disloyal...no, not a bit of it.... But a girl needs to have an interest on these long, long nights of darkness and cold

BORGEN is that stopgap
for those that have not seen it. Borgen is a Danish version of The West Wing without the long corridors.
Instead of Martin Sheen and his Donny Osmond mouthed President , we have divorcing, mother of two Birgitte Christiansen as a feisty,black coated,and liberal as fuck coalition prime minister who is
not only a shit hot leader, she cleans her own house,works from home when the kids are ill! And shags her chauffeur when the need arises.
Yes , it's all very European.
Working alongside her delectable spin doctor, Kasper (Johan Philip Asbaek, below) Birgitte ducks and dives all manner of political shenanigans whilst under the watchful gaze of reporter Katrine Fansmark (Birgitte Sorensen) and the scene stealing alcoholic Hanne ( Benedikte Hansen , below) and throughout series 1 and 2 the story lines ( as they have a want to do) zig zag between political intrigue and the personal relationships of the main characters.
It's all very adult,
It's all very interesting
And it's all very entertaining
Oh, and there's not a bloody zombie in sight.

Nature's Delight

Sometimes all you can do is marvel at nature's beauty
This morning was a case in point
I stopped for a moment as I was ladling out the corn for the hens ( and the ewes of course,who muscle in on the feed), and in the cold serenity of the frosty dawn I spied a small brightly coloured wild bird darting through the legs of the hysterical runners in order to grab a small meal.
The tiny, delicate bird was beautifully lit by the morning sun,
It was gorgeous and sweet in it's desperate and cheeky effort to keep going in the winter cold
A thing to make the heart soar amid all the horrible things we hear about in this harsh life of ours

And for a second all was right with the world

Then two of the tame red warrens grabbed it and between them PULLED IT'S BLOODY HEAD OFF
Ah..the romance of it all!

Doing Things Well

Some visuals linger long in the mind and in the emotions. Uk readers might well have seen the co-op tv advert which promotes their long serving funeral business.
In it we see a widow on the way to her husband's funeral. The hearse takes a "scheduled" detour ( organised thoughtfully by the undertakers) to a favourite fishing spot of the deceased where a whole line of fishing pals stand in a dignified line in way of tribute.
It's a powerful and moving manipulation of the viewing audience, which cleverly never fails to pack the appropriate emotional punch.


As I "enjoyed" this emotional romp, I was reminded of a very real funeral which provided a similar, and if not more emotive example of respect and tribute.
In 2004, a much loved landowner Andrew Cavendish, the 11th Duke of Devonshire died. When his funeral car left the family's ancestral home of Chatsworth House in Derbyshire, the entire estate staff ( some 600,cooks,butlers,gamekeepers,farmers, secretaries and gardening staff) lined the route to Edensor Village Church.
At the time, I remember thinking just how wonderful this "staff salute" actually was.