Paddy's Day

It's funny but I always thought my surname derived solely  from Scotland.

It probably does seeing that my father's father hailed from over the border but over the years I have learnt than the name GRAY also has roots in Ireland and indeed also from the town of Grayes in Calvados, France.

I am First generation Welsh.

My grandparents hailed from West Calder in Scotland, and Lancashire and my great grandparents from the North West of England, Ireland, Scotland and all places Inbetween.

Therefore historically, I am a Northern Celt with touches, interestingly enough, of Jewish Gypsy from my fraternal grandmother's side who possibly originate from somewhere in Central Europe.

Like most people in the Uk, I am a product of industrial and economic migration.

Having a Irish and Scottish background of sorts, I may be forgiven for jumping upon the Celtic bandwagon of St Patrick's day, but alas, my days of drinking green Guinness with a strange green felt hat on my head went out with my student celebrations with best friend Nuala, who couldn't come from a more Irish/Liverpudlian family if she tried.

I find the cultural need of  the 'New World' Irish decendents to celebrate "Paddy's Day" so vociferously fascinating .Its not just a good excuse for a piss up , it goes deeper somehow...and is something, perhaps I will never properly understand.

perhaps someone out there could explain it to me.

ps

Thank you nana for the promise of sending me some West Calder photos

Thought you may appreciate this photo of one of your fellow Scots

In way of thanks!

The King Is Dead...Long Live The Bogbrush

Old Stanley finally gave up the ghost this afternoon, just as I was feeding his hens with extra cheap white bread. I saw him fall untidily next to an old watering can and he was dead as a door nail when I reached him.
I have commented before on just how good a protector the old guy has been over the years , so I thought it rather fitting that he was surrounded by his gals, all of which were filling their fat chicken faces with with two of tesco's best economy loaves as quickly as their greedy little beaks could muster.

Eric and Bogbrush two of the younger cockerels

And so after seven years the king of the field , like Elvis has finally left the building, and the question
remains  which male will now take over the old king's mantle?
My money is on Bogbrush ( above ) who is small but terribly aggressive
He suffers from little cockerel syndrome
Stanley's son, the impressive and gentle Badger , should by rights be the next alpha male
But I doubt he has the balls

Badger, handsome but fairly useless

Getting Better

My bat is bigger than yours

The Walkng Dead is building up to a crescendo

Tonight's episode had a rather sweet macho posturing between my favourite redneck Daryl and the Latin American hunk Martinez

Which made for compelling viewing

A cracking episode

Only three more to go

Who will survive?

The Screaming Of The Bunnies

Spring is here.

I realised this fact at exactly 6.55am when the screaming started in the living room and the dogs flew off the duvet in unison and belted down the staircase like a furry, hysterical waterfall.

In this house spring means Albert is hunting

And Albert's favourite prey in spring is rabbit.

Baby rabbit.

Recently a few of us have been a little under par.

I remain tired and run down post viral infection, Albert has been off his food and Meg has had a lame back leg, but after the baby bunny had started its high pitch screaming in the living room we were all up and running like Oscar Pistorius after the gunshot.

There is something terribly human and upsetting about a screaming rabbit.

After a brief tug of war, the poor thing was fading fast, so much so that I had to finish it off by clacking it on the head with the copper kettle which is sat on top of the wood burner.

Naked and clutching a bloodied kettle at 7 am in the morning, I didn't quite look at my best

These animals will be the death of me

They were bunnies actually

A Late Entry

Pippa from the old rectory volunteered for the the latest "Trelawnyd" 

Internet Sensation.

Yesterday I did ask another villager who will remain nameless to add his version to the others

He refused with a smile

Saying

" YOU need to get out more"

Perhaps he's right!

TRE-LAWN-YD

Galestorm asked if I could let her know how Trelawnyd is pronounced

Well here goes
Included in this 'research video collection'
1. Auntie glad
5. Islwyn ( the revampof Bosoms)
7. Kit (she of the homemade slippers)
10. Animal helper Pat
12. Affable despot Jason 

 

The Ebenezer Chapel

Originally built by John Wynne, who was the founding father of Trelawnyd ( formally known as Newmarket)' the chapel has stood in the village since 1700. Before that the building was originally a market hall.
illuminated by six oval windows, the chapel itself is bright and welcoming

Bryn Davies is one of the last senior chapel men who is responsible for taking readings when the minister is not present. his grandfather was decon of the chapel as he is today.
The chapel records (below) had to be written in English and not Welsh and date from the 1700s.

The chapel records, which are still added to today by the visiting minister. Below the boxed in pews.
The tiny chapel holds around 100 people, the same as the village church.

Below the ceiling with the ornate ventilation grills. Retain the grandeur of the original 1600s market hall 

d
The ceilings and plasterwork

Morning Jobs

The badgers have run their fat bastard riots last night, and yet again have raided a corn bin which had been weighted down by concrete slabs!....I cannot afford to lose feed on this scale to a family of badgers which has trebled in numbers over two years.

We had snow last night, and the ground is hard and unforgiving. I started clearing "Bosoms" yesterday afternoon and wanted to get stuck in again today, but I am afraid I would be pissing in the wind if I started to throw the spade around.
To support the hoards of cold and hungry hens I have the field population the carcass of a roast chicken, which they dispatched within one minute flat...Birds are in need of some extra protein this awful winter

I have been busy with jobs all morning. Some essential, some not. I delivered some pork to old poultry farmer Bob and his wife, in lieu of some more lessons in poultry dressing , and have arranged with Bryn Davies to photo the inside of the Ebenezer Chapel this afternoon.
The building was converted from a corn store and market hall into a chapel around 1700 and is one of  the most important and historic buildings in the village.
I will post the photos on the blog laters is afternoon.
Jackie, the ever cheerful dog groomer is presently converting scruffy bastard George from THIS

into THIS,!

She is still tempting me with a friend who wants a home later this year for her four year old bulldog bitch.

The bitch is called BLANCHE

Hummmm?