Chris Does The Bus

What a lightweight... Three large glasses of white and I was fast asleep of the last train home last night......how sad is that?
Anyway we left the old Berlingo by the station, and so had to get the bus this morning down to town to collect it.
On a Saturday there is only one bus from the village
Now, you have to remember that Chris does not "do" public buses
The very thought turns him into a very passable imitation of Maggie Smith's Dowager from Downton Abbey, and so it was with somewhat of a devilish heart that I made him walk with me to the bus stop in the centre of the village.
In "Chris world" a bus ride could be a gentle, quiet and private experience. The reality of the situation was somewhat different when a largish gaggle of local grey hairs ambled noisily from the pensioner bungalows to join us in the bus shelter.
Now I know most of these characters , where as chris does not, and I could hear Chris mutter under his breath when local larger-than-life " gay" Gordon bellowed his usual "HELLO FLOWER,"as he limped across the road with his neighbour ( an elderly lady with a walker) in tow.
"MORNING MY DARLING!" Gordon sang out when another neighbour , Rowena,  passed the bus stop on her way home." FLUTTERING YOUR EYELASHES AT ME FLOWER YOU NAUGHTY THING" he flirted away as Rowena gave him one of those " get away with you" waves.
He then turned his attention to me and asked me in his theatrical way how all the animals were doing
as more  ladies from the pensioner bungalows arrived to join in the chat. Gordon sang out a lusty
" DO YOU KILL YOUR OWN COCKERELS JOHN?"
Chris tried to disappear into the background as I answered him.
It was getting all a bit much for him
" I USED TO GUT AND PREPARE HENS AT A FARM IN SARN" Gordon continued to explain to the small crowd
" I USED TO DRAPE THEIR GUTS AROUND MY NECK AND CHASE THE LOCAL CHILDREN" he added colourfully
Chris groaned to himself and said " how lovely"
It was all hugely entertaining.
And there was another ten minutes of all this before the bus arrived.

Half an hour later we had reached Prestatyn and jumped off the bus into the the sun
Chris didn't say much, but his face was a picture

" never again" he said simply

Date night

On the way home

A Good night

Mary

At the age of 51, there are things that you expect not to happen in your life.
You don't expect to get spots,
You don't get the urge to throw yourself head first on a bouncy castle
And you don't expect to be owning your first rabbit.
Mary, the disabled rabbit seems to be going from strength to strength.
Admittedly her life is a small one
A dry hay bed
A nice selection of bunny food
And a view of a field, a lane and the excitement of passing traffic.
It is a small life.
I have been thinking about the ethics of looking after a wild creature in such conditions. Her leg remains fairly useless, and so her survival chances within the Darwinian world of the hedgerows would be brief...
It's a knotty question
What would joy Adamson do I wonder?
I got home late last night after Samaritans and took William out for a quick pee break
We looked over the field gate and saw Mary, sitting up in her  hutch, eager and alert and safe.
 She looked happy enough..that is if rabbits can actually look happy.....and as we watched her nibble
Contentedly on some donated greenery...I thought to myself...even Joy Adamson wouldn't dare to whistle " BORN FREE" in my general direction.
I am 51
And the rabbit stays....

Ghost hen Christmas Card

Thanks to Em Parkinson
http://dartmoorramblings.blogspot.co.uk
This is our Christmas Card for this year. Avid readers will recognise a couple of the "Ghost Hens" from a year or so ago... You know those lovely fat rescue hens that spent  most of their brief time on this earth sitting smiling in the sun

More clever dick computer work

Members arriving for choir practice in the early 1950s 

Despot Jason has been working like a little ferret today and here are some of the results...I know a little boring for non Trelawnyd residents, but a fascinating journey for us locals.

The old long gone cottages at the bottom of high street

The same view showing the new pensioner bungalows

one of the three village shops. The little girl still lives in the village

Clever Sausage updated

The ever affable village pin up Jason is a clever sausage.
He has been playing around with some of the old photographs of Trelawnyd from  MY HISTORY BLOG and has inserted them exactly into their present day positions.
A neat trick if you can do it I thought!
The below photo is a case in point. It shows the village wartime volunteer force posing magnificently outside the memorial hall.

London Road circa 1900 and as it is today

High Street 1970 and today 

Milk delivery 1940 Byron Street

Postscript

The war appears to be over

Tragedy

Today I read with much sadness of another fatal dog attack on a small child.
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-leicestershire-24839612
Little Lexi Branson was killed in her Leicestershire home by the family pet, which as it turned out , was a male bulldog albeit what looked like  a bulldog cross.
The dog was apparently bought from rescue centre , so should have been assessed carefully for life within family home. It was also a breed not  known  for it's aggressive   nature, yet because of one unforeseen reason or another, the dog turned on the little girl and mauled her to death before being killed itself by the girl's  desperate mother .
I am insanely careful where children and our dogs  are concerned. Even though all  four dogs are delightfully warm and friendly characters, I will never allow a child to stroke them unless I can control the situation and make introductions calm and nonthreatening, Running kids are always stopped with a sharp " NEVER RUN TOWARDS A DOG YOU DONT KNOW!" and I have been known to bellow " control your child!" Orders to fraught mothers, when little fingers reach out for a hug.
Dogs need love. They need consistency, and they need to be given respect for being animals and not strange hairy little people.
They  are animals that think as animals do
and no matter how much we would like to think....we do not walk in their paw steps.