A Very Trelawnyd Funeral and Camilla's First Flight

Forgive this second blog which supplements my Mary Berry love fest
I bumped into Auntie Gladys in the village at 10.20 am when I was out with the dogs. she was walking down towards the church and she reminded me that today was Tommy 'Gop's' funeral day Tommy  Gop was a much respected farmer from the village. He farmed the prestigious Gop farm for many years, a farm that dominates the approach to Trelawnyd from the West.
Gladys is an old hand at funerals, especially farmers' services, and so she quite wisely  had planned to arrive over an hour before the service was to start.
This is not as bizarre as it sounds, for at the very same time, a whole gaggle of villagers were making their way down to the church to make sure they managed to get into the Church.....an hour later over seventy people were sheltering against the south wall of the Church out of the gale force winds.
As the Church bell rang out, I took this brief video, before I took my place by the graveyard fence to give my respects to the arriving family. You can tell just how windy it has been today, if you look carefully you can see one of the hen house roofs lying messily on the ground.

The wind increased in it's intensity throughout the day, so much so, that when I started to round up the geese as the light started to fade, a sudden sharp gust of wind caught Camilla's outstretched wings and the Canada goose took off like a remote controlled plane.
Now Camilla is the only animal on the field that has the capacity for self propelling flight, she has never done so because her flock are domesticated geese which have lost their free flying abilities, so her sudden 'freedom' was I suppose as much as a shock to her than it was for me.
Up she went, flapping and panicking to perhaps sixty or seventy feet, before another few gusts of wind buffeted her away over the riding stable fields.
I chased after her.
She glided downwards for a bit, got caught by another gust then after shaving some hawthorn hedging she clipped a telephone line that crossed the field and crashed heavily to the ground where she lay still.
I was convinced she was dead, and galloped through the horsefield like a mad Alec until I reached her.
She lay with her eyes open, and was very still, but she was very much alive and blinked at me with a somewhat surprised look on her face.
I wrapped her in my coat and carried her back to the field where the rest of her little flock honked noisily at me as I placed her inside the goose house to recover.
Out of all of my field animals, the geese are perhaps my favourites...I couldn't quite bare it if I lost one to a freak gust of wind.
A funeral and a wayward goose...
A normal Wednesday.....not.

Why I Am A Little In Love With Mary Berry!

The Queen of Victoria Sponges

No matter how old we are, all of us, if we are truthful, still retain the ability to enjoy a teenage crush.

Mine will waver somewhat between Russell Crowe in those britches from Les Miserables. Norman Reedus in his poncho from The Walking Dead and Hugh Jackman in a teeny weeny face flannel.
Just occasionally I have a bit of a gay crush on a lady....and the biggest crush I have had in recent years is the one I have experienced for that doyenne of The Great British Bake Off,  MARY BERRY.
Last night I watched the pseudo documentary on Berry's life. It was presented by Berry herself (and was interspersed with cookery demonstrations of her favourite recipes) and what came over from the entire production was the overwhelming fact that Berry is a delightful, genuine and perfectly sweet human being.
Brought up in a loving but strict wartime household in affluent Bath, Berry recalled unhappy school time experiences when she as a fairly poor academic struggled with unsupportive teachers and an acute teenage bout of polio.
By hard work and some luck, Berry concentrated her studies with a "twinkly eyed" home economic teacher, and this in turn led her towards a successful journalistic and tv cooking career which has spanned over 50 years.
Berry stands for everything that is right in this country. She is a self made,decent, professional middle class woman that despite her undoubted success within media has retained the much maligned ability to be ....well.....just...nice!
She is an expert without ever showing off.
She still is happy to judge the local village produce show without any pretensions
and she does not apologize for being what she is.
a quietly strong,and unflappable lady who possesses "that spirit that won the war"
In bucket loads

 now who do YOU have a secret crush on?

The Rule For Old Birds

I have a strict rule on the field

Old birds are never culled, they are retired and cared for until they die away naturally.

Sick animals are treated and culled if necessary.

But generally after their 'production' time is over, the birds are allowed to have a couple of years respite with their faces in the sun until they shuffle off this mortal coil.

Sun! I have almost forgotten what sunny days are like.

Yesterday was a wild, wet and stormy day, it was a day when the weather seemed to cut right through you, and twice during my rounds I found the bodies of two pensioners tucked away in the hedgerow.

An ancient buff ( above) had disappeared off and away from the others before she had collapsed as did Theresa the knackered old one eyed turkey, who had wandered off just before locking up 

I wasn't sad at all at the findings for winter weather is the equivalent of the ice flows for Eskimos , it culls out the old.

The bodies, I moved to the local Badger sett. At least they would enjoy a good meal during the night and when I thought about it all, the more I felt that the Eskimos had the right idea.....

When my time comes, before I have to rely on some uninterested carer in a urine smelling retirement home to wipe my arse, I think I would like to have the opportunity to wander away in the rain to lay down under a hawthorn hedge and have a final chance to look at the sky.

Then the badgers could stuff their fat faces on me for a month

My Rocky Relationship With Vomit

Now not wanting to sound like a rotund Julian Clarey, Still I have to say that I can cope rather well with most bodily fluids if they are flung at me.
This 'robustness' hails not only from my general nursing experience but from my time as a psychiatric nurse, a time when I have been pelted with and covered by every consistencancy of human waste possible.
(I remember one particularly revolting experience,when as a student nurse I got hit by a wet 'Cowpat' of a human turd right on the back of my neck, just as I was enjoying a cup of tea too!)
Anyhow, I do have one Achilles' Heel when it comes to waste,
And that is vomit.
Even now when I am holding that paper mâché vomit bowl up to the retching face of a patient, Inside I do that reciprocal heaving motion in sympathy so to speak, and if I was totally stripped of my professional responsibilities, I am sure that I could quite easily push their face out of the way and fill the bowl myself......TO THE RIM!
Now this weakness comes from another long distant nursing experience........it's not a product of the all of those student-post-nightclub-on-an-early-shift throw ups.....no....it hails from an unfortunate mouth-to-mouth moment with an elderly drunk, who promptly vomited the contents of his savory mince dinner into my mouth moments after he had so thoughtfully collapsed at the dinner table.

So....keeping all this in mind...imagine my delight in finding one of the hens suffering from sour crop.
Now sour crop IS a fun thing!
For those that don't know it's a fungal disease of the crop of a bird and happens when the bloody thing does not empty. The crop fills with what could only be described as green foul smelling liquid vomit which has to be expressed by the caring owner ( ME!) before the poor animal can be treated with a soothing medication of natural yogurt.
God I hate this job
Twice a day I have to turn the poor bugger upside down and drain her of what often seems like a quart of what can only be described as 'zombie fluid'
Then, when I am in a state of that could only be described of as an attack of the vapours, can I inject the much welcomed yogurt, moments before I start retching myself.
It's all rather unsavoury to say the least.
Hey ho
I am off to lie down in a darkened room

You can just make out the crop contents.....how delightful

Disney does Zombies

The Walking Dead goes Disney

Thanks to Kate. 

HAPPY BIRTHDAY

Today is my father-in-law's 70th Birthday

He is celebrating in Kent with the family today and next weekend

On his next visit up to Wales my family will hold a Birthday meal in his honour

Have a grand day Richard

X

Sister Gray of The nine hens

People may recall the lady from the village who has been suffering from short term memory loss...she  is the lady we had planned to visit on Christmas Day, that was until she received a better offer of a cooked lunch.
Anyhow,ever since then, around three times a week, I have got into the habit of plating her up a portion of lunch or dinner if I have made a little too much for the two of us. It's not much of a job to do, and it gives me an excuse to 'pop in' so to speak, but I had to chuckle to myself on Friday afternoon when I called in all virtuous and worthy with my foil covered plate only to realise that others had already beaten me to it.
A freshly baked cake had pride of place on the kitchen top, a gift from one of the Church ladies and in the fridge was a couple of shop bought puddings.
I was informed that a male neighbour had just left after sorting out a few problems with this and that and as I was just about to leave another villager was arriving with some items requested only that morning from the garage shop.
Such is the uncoordinated good will of the middle aged....
I think there is a fine line to be walked here between being 'helpful' and being an f@€king pious and saintly old fart who is full of their own importance.
I would like to think that most of us hail from the first category but I do in fact possess the self awareness to realise that being a good neighbour makes me feel just that tiniest bit happy and self congratulationary with myself put,more simply...being 'good' makes you feel good....
It's not rocket science.......and yobbos of the this world please take note......
Show an old lady across a road and you manufacture more back slapping endorphins within your brain than ever could be let free by downing two cans of red bull and a few n-cat tablets.

so here ends the sermon for today

Get out there

And hug a hoodie

Moel Hiraddug

Our friend Nigel has just made a flying trip to Trelawnyd which has been lovely.
I always enjoy his visits because being a history geek, he does drag us around local points of ancient interest by the scruff of our necks; jaunts that I must say that we ultimately rather enjoy even though I remember one rather unfortunate and painful expedition up the slope of an Iron Age hill fort near Conway dressed in a rather flimsy pair of flip flops.
Today he took us up Moel Hiraddug, a hill fort that more or less over looks Trelawnyd a little way to the South West.
It was fascinating, muddy, very skippy and all a bit of a laugh. especially as Nige and Chris had just a little trouble climbing to the top of the Hill Fort due to the conditions ( fortunately I was pulled up to the summit by the dogs) -

Nigel and Chris ( in his Australian hat---he told me it was Australia day!)

I am lucky knowing Nigel for he is blessed with the same somewhat tasteless sense of humour as I.
This afternoon was a case in point
On our return from Ancient hill fort explorations, Nigel decided to make some tea and as the dogs crowded around to watch he searched through his bags and gave each one a small treat.
" What did you give them?" I asked in passing
" warfarin tablets" Nige replied sardonically.