Silver Linings Playbook

I wrote this 'review' on the train from London back to North Wales...
Thank The Lord for cut and paste!
It's 9am and I have just gone back to bed
I still feel like a donkey's dick.

As a former psychiatric nurse, I must admit that I find cinematic portrayals of mental illness all rather  hardwork. Some of this fact comes from differences in diagnosis seen in the American system compared with the British but most of my reticence is based in the simple fact that mental illness, especially one in its acute phase, is not really an easy watch.
SILVER LININGS PLAYBOOK is an odd film.
It's a '"ROMCOM' between two rather attractive people (BradleyCooper and Jennifer Lawrence) both of whom  have their own mental health issues.
Pat (Cooper) has a bipolar disorder and is living with his waring and obsessional father whereas Tiffany (Lawrence) is a neurotic grieving sex addict living in her parents garage, so it's not a surprise to anyone that the road to true love is not a smooth run.
Silver Linings playbook is not a typical romantic comedy. For me there is far too many comments upon mental illness in the movie for my liking. Everyone has their own problems, everyone shouts too much and there is not much subtlety in the psychology of it all, but having said that, the performances by the intensely likeable Bradley Cooper and the vulnerable and brittle Lawrence are quite outstanding and at times rather moving as the pair obtain structure and discipline in their chaotic lives by taking part in a local dance competition.
The film is worth seeing just for their sparing and bouncy set pieces alone
7/10

Flu

This was the image that Chris was faced with on Skype
This evening.
He's working away all week
I assure I have the bleeding flu
Hey ho

Bosoms Revamped

Sylvia and Irene reviewing Bosoms II

" Bosoms" my allotments are in need of a bit of a revamp.
The terrifically wet winter , badger activity and infiltration by the poultry and sheep have all taken their toll, and so I have decided to let the old vegetable beds revert back to grazing land and move the   allotments to the top of the field where drainage is better.
I shared my ideas with villager Islwyn ( a guy who loves a project) and hey presto plans had been drawn up , a digger suddenly materialised and great tracks of land were cleared much to the joy of the hens and sheep who hoovered the uncovered ground with gay abandon.
Islwyn suggested constructing a new fence seperating "bosoms" from the livestock and also noted that the church wall needs reconstructing ( he taught me how to repair other parts of the Church wall a year or two ago)....so it feels a little as though he has the bit between his teeth.....and when Islwyn has the bit between his teeth...the ONLY THING to do is to go with the flow!

Who looks worse?

I am not quite firing on all cylinders this week. ( as you can tell from the above photo of me with the blind Rooster Cogburn in which I must sadly admit that I look as rough as a donkey's dick)

My cold has returned, and I have temperature....and before you all start leaving me comments to see a doctor...I AM going back to my GP!

Hey ho

Goodbye To An Old Pirate- John Lloyd-Ellis

I have been to many many funerals in my time.
family.....family friends.....friends....colleagues........neighbours and patients.....
They are all generally hard work on the emotions, especially when the grief present is raw and each service I have experienced always seems to possess it's own unique sense of sadness and occasionally  joy. Joy at the celebration of a life most extraordinary .
Over the past few decades, it is more acceptable for the service to be led by a minister 'supported' by family and friends who often read a personalised eulogy of sorts.
In my experience, if is often these intimate glimpses of the deceased that provide the most "joy" at a funeral for they always seem to underline the real love that is felt and the real affection that is often shared.
I have seen my fair share of piss poor funerals where it was obvious that the vicar hardly knew the deceased in question. it was  either that or the fact that they couldn't really be bothered.
my mother's funeral had a sense of this...a fact that made my blood boil......I was just grateful that I pushed myself forward to read a home spun eulogy...a eulogy that perhaps tried to capture the sense of the woman. A woman that was as complicated as a Rubix cube in a dark room.

As you might have guessed it was the RFWF's funeral today.
In the packed marble Church at Bodelwyddan, the Rector did indeed capture a little of the " exuberance " of the man as did one of his oldest friends who told a perfect story of how the RFWF whilst on a mobile carol service around the local farms bellowed lustily "SING YOU BUGGERS SING!" from the back of his trailer which housed, of all things, a strapped on piano!
Personal eulogys always bring the stiffness out of a funeral day.....especially when you look and sound like an old pirate!

John, for that was the RFWFs name, was buried in our churchyard here in Trelawnyd. I stood stiffy in the field holding the thumb stick he had made me, and waved gently at his wife and sons as they walked slowly into the graveyard with the congregation. After all of the help he had given me, rounding the pigs up, providing a never ending supply of bedding and hay, and putting down fences and the like....I thought it was fitting I paid my respects right here with the turkey gobbling noisily in the background and with mud on my shoes

Postscript

Well on the back of making a tit out of myself in front of a pretty face

I can at least add that I have learnt something new today

After billing and cooing over Mr Clooney

I tried to make amends by buying my first tube of doggy toothpaste

The receptionist told me that it was 'liver' flavour and seemed quite befuddled when I proceeded to open it and taste it.

Believe me...it DOES NOT taste of liver 

No way

No how

Shut Up!

I called up to the vets today very early.
I had to drop Chris off at the train not long after 6 am
There was no point going back to bed for a half hour sleep or so.
Anyhow I called up to pick up some antibiotics for Stanley. I thought I would give his a course just to make sure I have done everything I could for the old guy and they are pretty good at trusting me when I need to diagnose and treat the animals myself....so generally I save a packet.
George Clooney was on duty and just so happened to be behind the counter when I was paying for the drugs and in his seductive, film star voice, he gave me a suave " hello there" in passing
I blushed heavily, straightened my new woolly hat ( which Chris described as a maroon tea cosy) and  looking like a teenage schoolgirl I squeaked my own, slightly strangled...
"Hello"
Mr Clooney nodded then added like the excellent vet he is " how's your Scottie...did his stomach settle down?"
IT was an absolute age since I  brought George in with a bout of enteritis, so I was impressed with his memory....and I turned all smiley and giggly on myself, as the hero worship kicked in big style.
I could have kicked myself

Is this a normal sort of  reaction to a pretty face?
Does everyone who normally can act and sound like a perfectly reasonable adult in mainstream day to day existence evolve into a vacuous brain dead bubble head when a pair of baby blue ' Daniel Crag ' eyes are flashed in their general direction?
I was smiling at Vet Clooney so much, the girl behind the counter started to look a little uncomfortable,, and I am sure she rolled her eyes just a little when I squeaked up again
" He's fine but he does have bad breath"
BAD BREATH? BAD BREATH! what the hell are you thinking of? Stop babbling I said to myself.... But on I marched...sharing every detail of just how smelly George's breath can be as Mr Clooney and the receptionist stood there bored shitless
I only stopped babbling when I realised I had turned into the worst cougar impersonator EVER !

And knowing I had made a tit of myself I finally asked lamely
" do you sell doggy toothbrushes?"
" I will go and check" the receptionist said with a thin smile.

Red Shirts in Atlanta

It must be a real bummer being a character on a show like THE WALKING DEAD

one minute you think your career is on the up

Then BAMMO....you are cannon fodder..

Poor Axel ( Lew Temple)

The only apocalypse survivor with an obvious sense of humour

Out without anyone knowing his second name,

it's the zombie equivalent of wearing a red shirt on Star Trek

The King Is Almost Dead......Long Live The Badger

The oldest patriarch on the field is Stanley.

He is at least seven years old and could be as old as eight, we have no way of knowing, as he arrived back in 2007 unwanted, from a farm way up in the hills.

During his time in Trelawnyd, he has been a hard working and dedicated alpha male. He has watched over his hens with a dedication that bordered on obsession, and has proved his worth time and time again in the maintainance of a bitchslapping free population.

Cockerels are instrumental in keeping the peace amongst bullying and argumentative hens

But the ravages of time have taken their toll and slowly and surely the old guy has turned into Jaques from AS YOU LIKE IT...." Sans taste, sans eyes, sans teeth (albeit it hens' teeth).....sans everything"

He is now the old fading retainer who spends his days resting and napping by the fence and it is only a matter of time until his son Badger,the junior cockerel,takes over responsibility for the hens.

I have only realised all this today...

Luckily Badger is as good natured as his father, so no blood has been shed between the boys as yet. but I am sure it will happen when Badger realises that the old king no longer has the physical strength and motivation he used to possess.

In the meantime old Stanley continues to fade.....

and I think that after all of his hard work over the years

he deserves a few more days of peace with his face in the sun.