A Hand Shake

I wanted to write a funny post today
But sometimes the Gods of blogging conspire against a person.....
It's not as though anything funny has happened over the last 24 hours ( I have a knack of wringing out a funny situation from the most bizarre of situations) it's just that certain things tend to stick in your mind more that others.
Yesterday, I was happy to help out at Sylvia's funeral " tea". I collected plates, served the older people at their tables, poured out tea and coffee and slipped  the more distraught  guests with extra large helpings of sherry that had been left over from the meet and greet table.
 I , like the other helpers were glad to be there. There is something totally therapeutic in mindless activity, especially if everyone is feeling just a little " out of sorts" so to speak.
After the bun fight was almost over, and as I was folding some of the tables away, Sylvia's grandson, a rather serious boy of around ten or eleven, interrupted me and held out his hand.
Quite formally he thanked me for helping with his " grandmother's funeral" and shook my hand with all of the seriousness of an old man.
His genuine and spontaneous act brought a lump to my throat
I am still thinking about it this morning

Arglwydd Dyma Fi

Funerals can sometimes be fondly remembered because of attention to detail

Sylvia's family personalised her service with some lovely details

A humorous eulogy

The moving welsh Hymn " Arglwydd dyma fi"

Which means " lord ! Here I am"

The Memorial hall tables decked out with crisp white tablecloths each one complete with a vase of 

Sweet summer flowers.

A proper Welsh tea table heavy with bara brith and lashings of tea

And the melancholic sense of an end of an era

Funeral Morning

Only one of the 33 refugees didn't make it through the night.

She had hidden herself away in the undergrowth 

And a pile of feathers laid testament to the fact that one of the field badgers had found her

The other hens, spread through the untidy collection of coops that make up theUkrainian village,

are awake and foraging with the field hens

Peace has returned.

The gravedigger arrived early this morning.As we speak, he is working away opening one of the graves in the new cemetery 

It is Sylvia's funeral today at 11

I am helping out with other Flower Show Committee members and helpers at the memorial Hall 

after the service

We are " doing the teas"

It seems right that we are helping out

The Flower Show Committee 2012 ( Sylvia 2nd from left)

Bleeding Hell

For f*cks sake
Someone follow me
I want to reach my 600 status
!

Count Arthur Strong

Twelve of the refugees just would not go into their allotted houses tonight

It was almost dark before I could corner some of them

( hens cannot see well in bad light)

And my frustrations were high as the rain started to fall

I had just about enough by 9 pm

And bellowed out a lusty

" for fucks sake you are all getting on my tits

GO IN!"

My neighbour who was putting out the bins

Chuckled to himself

" language Timothy!" He trilled out

Ps

I watched the new sit com Count Arthur Strong tonight and laughed like a drain

I love it

And have a strange crush on the classical actor Rory Kinnear

Who plays straight man Michael
The expression and the turban had me in fits

It's Official....I Am No Longer Popular

The Ukrainian Village this morning

The " refugees" came face to face with the field hens early this morning. Apart from the occasional chicken version of " come on girls slap the bitch!" type altercation....things have been pretty quiet so far....I think the refugees are all a bit gobsmacked..... Their former run was a bare patch of earth in the centre of a large wooded area......... Grass on tap is a new experience for them


Anyway.....changing the subject
It's official
I  am no longer popular
I listened to classic fm yesterday, and for some reason the presenter outlined that " John" as a name has now been kicked into touch outside the 100 of most popular of  boy's names.
( According to mumsnet.com that is)!
I am therefore now, officially a dinosaur
John like Susan, Angela, Nigel and Janet is a relic of the 1960s
This surprises me
as I always thought that John was a timeless title......after all John Cusack is a very sexy man and 
He's bleeding 47 for Christsake

When I am a pensioner, I suspect " John" will have gone the way of Albert, Fred and. Ethel ....names that the young bottom wiping health care givers think of as " cute" and on reflection , that really doesn't bother me....after all... It could be worse
A great deal worse.......
I could have been called Jayden

Now, Now Girls!

The Ukrainian Village is now filled to capacity. I collected the refugee hens last night and one by one, I checked each hen over , treated each one with the anti parasitic panomec solution and then divided the group into four hen houses. The refugees will be locked inside their new quarters today and will be let out tomorrow. 32 new hens!
There will be a brawl like one of those  great Western Movie Saloon fights tomorrow.
You will hear the aggressive clucking from space....hens can act like  groups of bitchy drag queens when they meet up for the first time.

Spirit That Won The War

I didn't get back home until 9am. I spent the night working on the wards and much of my shift I found myself looking after a patient with serious mental health issues , so getting back to the fresh cool air of the field was a fantastic way of blowing the cobwebs away.
I was just filling the goose puddling pool with water, when I spied a chap standing at the gate.
I recognised him , for he was a fellow poultry keeper from the next village, a chap who I had donated one of my very first cockerels to some six years ago.
Something was obviously wrong. He looked tearful and upset and after a brief hello he asked me simply if I could take some of his hens off his hands today.
I didn't ask him why he needed to " get rid" so quickly. His tears said enough.....I just asked him how many  he needed to relocate.
" 24 hens, 2 young cockerels and a few chicks." He said hopefully
He added that Eirlys ( my friend from the other side of the village)  had just agreed to take a load from him at short  notice as had several other poultry keepers in the local area but he now had 28 stragglers left
so what could I say?
He was obviously in dire straits .....
Like me,this guy loves his birds
"When do you need me to collect them?"I asked him gently
" around 8pm?" He said sadly
" 8 pm it is" I said
" how many can you look after?" He asked
" I can take them all"I told him