Yuletide Felicitations

Speak tomorrow

Have a lovely day x

70 Years On.

I like to think that this snapshot of  Trelawnyd winter circa 1940 was taken on Christmas Eve. It shows the village vicar with his daughter and one of his bullocks,braving the snow in the fields of the rectory.
The rectory fields, bullock and indeed the vicar are long since gone now.....only the daughter remains in the village to this day, living in a house a stone's throw from the church in which her father preached.
I rather like that continuity .....

A storm lashed Poultry village

I wonder who will look out over the site of the Ukrainian village after we are gone? Ultimately the graveyard will extend down into the field and the bones of chickens, pet dogs and old joan the cat  will mix in with the dead of Trelawnyd, Dyserth and beyond....
I am glad , when this happens, I , for one will be lying in the field, the field in which I have spent
So much time and energy.
The Ukrainian village is deserted this morning ,; another storm from west has sent the hens scurrying for cover amid the houses and forced the sheep to hide against the hawthorn hedges.
In 70 years time....perhaps when the new owner of Bwthyn -y-llan googles " the Church Glebe"
This odd little photo of an odd little village will pop up out of the internet mist.

A Thank You

I know a few assorted despots from around and about read Going Gently but I need to remember that essentially it IS a village based blog.

And so....I thought I'd leave a short and " official" thank you to a few locals who popped in with a much appreciated gifts today

Eirlys & John ( I appreciate the bottle of wine for looking after your two knackered old hens!)

Val & Peter ( a gift for us AND the dogs just for delivering eggs! - you daft devils)

Rosemary & Bernard ( a bag full of jams and sloe gin bottles....all full!) 

Auntie Glad ( mince pies!)
A festive bara brith from animal helper Pat,

Greta ( I haven't opened them yet!)

Thank you again

Eirlys and my cock!

Hey ho

" ohhhh Eileen"

I completed some last minute shopping this morning
and while I was standing at the checkout of one particular squeaky clean department
store I overheard this conversation
First assistant : " Eileen, there's a dreadful smell by this till...it smells like  the drains"
Eileen ( sniffing) " oh lord you're right...I've just been outside, I wonder if I stepped in something"
They checked their shoes
and waved the air like old ladies
I grabbed my shopping and legged it
I should have known
In the pocket of my hooded top
was the hastily bagged up  and forgotten about waste products of
Of one smelly arsed bulldog.

Blog Christmas Greetings

Now, I am aware that it's time to send out my " blogging" Christmas card before 

for many of us, real life takes over from blog life

And so to readers of Going Gently from Trelawnyd to South Africa, the USA to Canada

Australia to New Zealand, Angola to South Yorkshire 

France, Bath, The Netherlands 

England , Scotland  & Wales

And all places in between 

"Have Yourselves A Very Merry Christmas"

And Remember

A bulldog is not just for Christmas

The bitch is for friggin life!

Seasonal London

Me and Nu ( me with my big head)

Cities in general, always look at their best at Christmas.

I think it's the combination of dark skies and coloured lights that tips the balance

London was full of good cheer today, it had shed some of its antisocial bad boy image.

I am typing this on the virgin train home.

A group of Samaritan volunteers at Euson  Station were singing carols amid the crowds, and although the was a sense of " I've got to get home" urgency hanging in the air.... I and many other commuters seemed rather moved by the spectacle of it all.

I have had a lovely .24 hours in the capital. Swan lake at Saddlers Wells, cocktails and a meal out overlooking London Bridge and the twinkly Thames and a catch up with an old friend.

What could be better?

Like I said London was on good form...as was Nu.

I slipped all of my loose change into the samaritan's collection bucket before I legged it to my train.

" have a lovely Christmas" the volunteer called out

And do you know what?

she really sounded as if she meant it ...............

Nu and the city

Seeing Nuala

http://disasterfilm.blogspot.co.uk/2011/12/rat-under-sofa.html

Sandy asked me if I was the exterminator at home

The above link perhaps will answer this question quite nicely

Anyway this morning I am off to London
I am going to see Nuala my " touchstone"
We are going to the ballet, we are going out to dinner and we are going to talk all day
It's a Christmas tradition

Nu, has been my best friend since the late 1980s
She has been my rock
My constant
And my buddy for more years than I care to remember.
And I love her dearly
Today we will be touching base...it's been far too long

She is as essential to me as breathing

Disaster!

It was still pitch black outside and several hours before dawn when I woke to the sound of running footsteps on the stairs

The dogs ( with the exception of Winnie) were all asleep in bed with me

And all woke up with a start when the bedroom door burst open with a bang

And framed in the light from the hallway 

Stood Chris

He was panting 

Something was VERY WRONG indeed

What was the calamity, I hear you ask?

A family trauma?

The fairy lights on the tree on fire?

Someone had broken in and had nicked all of the Christmas presses under the tree?

No

It was something so much worse

Measuring his words slowly

Chris told me what the disaster was

" THERE IS A BIG SLUG IN THE PAN CUPBOARD!,"

he gasped

RING THE FRIGGIN POLICE!
I said with a sigh