The photographic record of the aftermath of the Oklahoma tornado is sobering and thought provoking. From a green and overly damp North Wales, I am thankful for a climate that for the most part only provides a minor irritation to everyday life , when the wind blows and the rain falls.
We are now heading towards June, and there is a risk from frost later in this week. The seedlings and the early veg in bosoms could well be affected, as could the chicks that are about to hatch under the broody gals in their nest boxes.....
But perhaps this one time , I won't bellyache about it
The ducklings of hysterical runner ducks exhibit the typical panicky traits of their mothers almost as soon as they are born. Immediately as the shed door is opened the two older and more robust babies leg it to the farthest point of their run screaming loudly for help. This in turn brings the dogs galloping out of the house in the hopeful prospect of duckling eating...thus the pattern of behaviour we will have to get used to until the youngsters can be transferred to their proper run on the field, is set hard and fast
Screaming ducklings and over excited dogs.
That's the way it's going to be
A third and final duckling has just hatched late in the incubator on the kitchen top , resulting in some sustained dog jumping and hyperventilation at its constant " peep,peep......peeping"...... The whole kitchen now smells strangely of garlic..... As the terriers of Trelawnyd fart merrily away in their excitements ......my fault me think......I treated them all to some cheap garlic sausage when I bought my scotch eggs for tea.....
We all ate our treats in the supermarket car park before coming home
Screaming duckings , garlic farting hysterical dogs ....a slightly surreal night to be sure
The last job of the evening is a brief dog walk. When bladders have been emptied and the grass verge sniffed, the terriers make their beds for the night and I can settle down in my big armchair with my " jimjams" on.
My jimjams consist of a extra large pair of Chris' old pyjama bottoms and my second best Walking Dead T shirt....it's an eclectic look.
Last night, I had to take our oldest dog , Meg out for a very late wee. She' s a nervy character and never quite got her bladder working on the dog's final walk of the day...and so, in my jimjams, I sneaked into the lane with Meg on her lead.
I really should have known better
Pyjamas gape at the crotch
And car headlights illuminate every detail
So
Apologies to the two young women driving a white fiat...
I didn't flash my goolies on purpose
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Errrr , on a brighter note
Life in Trelawnyd is lumbering into spring proper
The Welsh Poppies are flowering in the garden
The broody buff and her chicks are now out in their new run
And in the kitchen incubator, there is the little "peep,peep, peep" from the ducklings trapped within their shells, three eggs, so far, are showing those tell tale spider cracks
Yesterday, my MIL Skyped us as she was settling down with a nice glass of white to watch Britain's Got Talent
Apparently she had been chatting to her friend at the gym ( a lady who has a son who is "on the same bus as us"....so to speak) who informed her that The Eurovision Song Contest ( the final of which, was to be shown on the BBC last night) was heavily supported and enjoyed by the GAY community.
surprisingly, this seemed to be new news to my mother in law....after all why on earth would anyone gay follow something that could not get any camper unless Judy Garland had been exhumed to appear singing a duet with Barry Manilow whilst Liberace accompanied them on the piano?
Now perhaps , for the sake of my follower Fanny who lives in Tasmania, I should explain what Eurovison actually is?........simply put, Eurovision is a camp, kitsch, unfairly judged, international song contest that is gently ridiculed by many and taken incredibly seriously by many more..
It has production values that could keep Malta going for ten years, more divas than in the Joan Collins appreciation society and from it's simple 1950 roots where Judith Chalmers actually rang the judges up on the telephone contraption for their marks....it has become an epic on a par with JJ Abrams Star Trek for it has smoke , mirrors and lots of explosions.....
As a child , I adored Eurovision .
As an adult, I can take or leave it.....but last night.....after enjoying two hours of serial killer lecture... I did find myself drawn into the campy, unreality of the show, as one of the Scandinavian hosts belted out a rubbishy ditty whilst Dancers dressed as large Swedish meatballs bounced around the stage...
No wonder gays from across the globe enjoy it...
More escapism you could only get if you were suffering from a florid schizophrenic episode.
Here is my favourite of the evening... Georgia's " WATERFALL" by the delightfully restrained And remarkably classy looking Sophie Gelovani and the rather dashing Nodi Tatishvili....
They didn't do well, unfortunately, but did get 20 points more than poor Bonnie Tyler.... The old Welsh rocker.....bless her little cotton socks
Tonight the village gets riddled with " ripper fever" as the long awaited Jack The Ripper lecture comes to the Memorial Hall.Now I did mention to Auntie Glad that she would have made a delightful old Victorian crone if we made her up with a shawl and a basket of lavender and sat her on the village Hall steps , but she said her cockney wasn't up to it.......especially when her " cor lummy...ave a banana" comes out less like Nancy out of Oliver and more like Gladys Pugh from Hi De Hi. I am in two minds setting a bonfire on the allotment next to the memorial Hall at 6.45pm ... Some atmospheric " fog" would set the scene quite beautifully as the punters arrive for their evening of gore. I'll mention it to affable despot Jason a bit later....I am sure he'll be up for it
Anyhow, I'll close with a big thank you to fellow blogger Em Parkinson, who from her
Delightful rural backwater in the South East, sent me some of her artwork of Wiliam and
George ( below)
We collected the framed pictures today and they look beautiful on the cottage wall
Thank you so much Em for making such an effort
And all for the price of a sad scotch egg sent in the post
