The Kitchen Table

It's going on three o'clock and I am sat at the kitchen table
after picking over the carcass of a roast chicken

One bowl of chicken bits is destined for tomorrow's lunch

The rest will be shared between the dogs and the field birds.

We have just finished lunch

and Chris has gone to Church,

I think he's ringing the bell today. 

It's tolling rather quickly.

The cottage is silent apart from the sound of a bulldog and three terriers licking chicken fat

from some foil bowls outside the back door.

Albert is asleep on the couch, he hasn't smelt the chicken as yet.

I continue with my mindless job.

Kitchen tables are a place for mindless activity.

Shelling peas,

Baking,

Making idle lists on the back of envelopes.

Squeezing dog's anal glands

Polishing silver.

I have a load of washing up to do, the dogs to walk,

the broody hens all need turfing off their eggs for a quick feed

and I still have to deliver eggs to Michelle up the Marian

But I can't be arsed moving,

So I will sit at the kitchen table a while longer,

and continue with some mindless activity

ie. blog writing.

Hey ho

Afternoon Drinks

If I lived in Rachel's World this blog would be entitled Saturday and it's white wine Afternoon....we were due to travel over to Sheffield to celebrate an old friend's 50th birthday celebrations but were let down by a dog sitter, so in a fit of sulking we dusted ourselves off and took the trailer trash train to Llandudno for a spot of lunch at Osborne House
After a bottle of wine each we sorted out some of the wedding plans, spoke to the maître d' about the wedding meal and got into the spirit of things.

Giddy as a kipper ....Chris in the tart's boudoir that is  the Osborne house cafe

I had a nice sleep on the train home .....

Group Hug

Sometime in the near future, I am accompanying Chris to a conference in Denmark. On our way to the train station this morning , he started to bang on about booking me on one of the guided tours that have been organised especially for partners, when their academic loved ones are thrashing out their research papers.
Picture the scene
Two local guides ( in traditional " native dress")' a confined and claustrophobic coach, and a captive audience that are strangers to one another.
To me Hell looks more attractive.
Now, I have to say in my defence, that the older I get, the more sociable I have become, but it has to be made known that the thought of organised group activities drag me back to a time when I was a slightly awkward , socially shy youngster who blushed a great deal.
If it was a choice between forcing out a " my names's John, what's your name?" Small talk and sticking needles into my eyes........the needles would win every time.

" I'm sure all the other partners will be going on the trip" Chris told me this morning.. Trying very hard to sell it." There is even a trip to a local museum and a famous stadium!"

I gave him one of those after all this time together, do you really need to ask looks.

" I'll bring some books" I informed him shortly.

Ps.....duh...we're actually going to Stockholm 

Favourite Person Thursday

Just got in and have realized that I haven't posted my " favourite person" blog entry for a while now......consistency was never my strong point.......

Ok so here goes.......... My fav person today is actress, playwright , theatre director and comedian Kathy Burke.
A woman of great warmth, humour and talent.........

I would love to go to a London Pub with her for a whole afternoon....one of those dark wooded ones that look like a set piece from a Jack-the-ripper movie

UFO

In springtime, every spring time, Camilla, the Canada Goose tries to fly.
I don't  know if it is just a seasonal exuberance that makes her take to her wings,
But what I do knows is, that despite a natural ability that could take her a quarter the way across the globe all she manages to do is to soar a  hundred feet or so up into the air before crashing and burning into the neighbours' field.
Where flying is concerned
Camilla has all the natural grace of a skateboarding Winifred.

It's a case flap wings like a loon,
Somehow catch a cross wind coming from the east
And it's up and off .
Three times yesterday I had to traipse over the sheep fields to retrieve her.
And three times Camilla just stood there shaking her beautiful head, stunned and shocked at hitting the wet grass at twenty five miles an hour.

Her last flight was observed by neighbour John, who was busy constructing a home made boat in his drive.after she had honked her way by him, he called over to me and pointed out the direction the ungainly goose had disappeared into......
I had taken twenty or so steps down the lane when I heard Graham , the Shepherd, shout out from his supervisory position above his lambing pens
It was obvious to all that Camilla's third flight was as precarious as all of the others

All Graham yelled was a somewhat sarcastic and slightly excitable World War Two-esque warning of
" INCOMING!!"

Plodding

Last home as always

Last week, at work, I found myself supporting a junior manager. She was having a moan about a bad shift she had experienced, where a few colleagues didn't quite pull their weight as part of the team. 

I took the opportunity to share my thoughts about " the plodders" of a team, every group has them..... Never the high flyers,  never the ambitious ones, but often supportive in their own pedestrian kind of way.

Plodders , I always think, can form the backbone upon which a team can support itself.

I think she got my gist.

The plodder in our house is George.

Physically slower than his fellow pack members , he is always last through the door, last home after a walk and last up from bed in a morning, but it's his character that so amuses and exasperates me during everyday life, for George is a chronic procrastinator. 

In George's world, every blade of grass needs a sniff and every new view needs to be looked at and looked at again. There is no urgency in George World...and why would there be? , he learnt long ago that whatever he does, she could never compete with any other dog.

Being small and stocky means that the bigger, more assertive and faster dogs beat him to the bone every time.

What's the point in rushing?

George is best served in his own little world

It's a world of plodding.

The Great British Sewing Bee

Heather doing a hidden zip

 While I have been waiting for this years's Great British bake Off , I have had to content myself with it's less well known sister The Great British Sewing Bee , which finished this evening on BBC2
Would freehand champion Chinelo beat the off the wall sewing champ Tamara? Or would horsey metaphors lover Heather gallop up on the rails ? All was to play for in this dress making tv competition' where a selection of talented British needle workers knocked up a succession of hemmed items with beautiful seams.
In the end it was posh totty Heather that won...... And fair do's her final frock was pretty impressive.....then again what the hell to I know about fashion?
I still wear wellies to the cinema

Sigh

I really only watch the show for judge Patrick Grant........his beard is worth an hour in front of the television anytime...........

A Free For All

The berlingo was having new tyres fitted this morning, and so, while the cheerful mechanics did their thing. I took myself off to a nearby " budget" supermarket for a coffee and the paper.
The coffee was shite as was the news, so I killed some time wandering around the aisles buying things I didn't really need.
I was just pricing up a packet of cheap chicken roll ( a dog treat) when I noticed a young woman brazenly stuffing a packet of meat down the sleeve of a coat she was carrying over her arm.
I turned to stare at her and she caught my eye for just a second before walking off.
It was a look more of defiance rather than shame.
And that pissed me off more than anything.
I walked  to the tills and caught the eye of a supervisor, and I told her what I had seen. I described the thief and pointed to where I last saw her, and left the professionals to it.
 A few minutes later there was a scuffle of sorts beyond the checkouts. The thief was shouting at the supervisor and a security guard. Her coat and it's contents strewn across the floor.
A packet of meat, chocolates , toiletries and what looked like expensive men's razors lay on the tiles.
Apparently razors are a popular choice by addicts as they can be sold on quickly..so my check out girl explained....she also told me that the woman in question already was banned from the store for theft.
" they come in everyday, seven days a week stealing" the checkout girl added wearily
" it's a full time job for many"

It's another world is it not?