Thoughts over A Cottage Pie

I tend to prepare supper over morning coffee. It's a habit I have gotten into. There is a practical reason for this as the more the day progresses, the dirtier I usually become. Later this morning I will be digging over " Bosoms" , chitting potatoes need to be planted out.
Recently, we have been asked by an elderly friend to be a " first port of call" if the " enevitable" would happen.
We have been asked to hold house keys, know who to contact in case of an emergency and understand other personal and practical jobs " that need to be done" .in the case of......etc etc
It's a responsibility to be sure,
But, Chris and I were rather touched to be asked.
It's hard when these things need sorting when there is no family " around and about" so to speak.

Chris and I have made a will. We made sure we completed one when we bought the cottage, but as there is two of us, those mini practical things of where the key to the shed is kept or where the dogs' medical cards can be located have never really been discussed.

God forbid, if I was to be hit by a truck tomorrow, poor Chris would flounder with all of the minutiae of normal home life bollocks. He has no idea where  the George Clooney vet has his surgery. He doesn't know where the home insurance papers are and he would be flummoxed with what recycle bin has to be placed out and when  or who gets their eggs delivered on a Monday and who prefers them popped off on a Sunday afternoon.

Funny where your mind wanders to over a half constructed cottage pie

A Wild West Train

If it wasn't for the passengers, a trip on the north Wales Arriva Train service to Bangor would be a pleasurable experience , full of blue skies, blue sea and green fields.
Unfortunately most of the clientele in the cramped two coach shuttles seem to be track suit wearing, alcohol swigging, rude trailer trash type characters , who are going who knows where from who knows what.....
It's a depressing wild Wild West kind of journey, which is strangely typical of this 50 miles of coastal gateway into Wales.
At 1pm in the afternoon, I spied two swearing louts already drinking extra strength lager and I was careful not to catch their eyes as they looked like trouble.
It's a good time to listen to your ipad music and make sure you look invisible.
Apparently the boat train back from Holyhead is equally grotty. Chris always reports there are more drunks fresh from the Irish ferry ports on these trains. Loud and drunk and belligerent
Anyhow I am on the train as I am off to Chris' University to supervise him moving office. In short I am a Debbie Mc Gee to his Paul Daniels., for I am the glamorous assistant that titivates the bookshelves, rearrange the furniture and cleans the coffee stains from the shopworn mugs on-top of the filing cabinets .
Now I seldom go to the University, so I wasn't at all surprised to see several of Chris' fellow academics " popping in"  for a chat.....I suspect that they just wanted to check me out for themselves. Probably to see if I was as scruffy as Chris makes out that I am
I am sure that I didn't disappoint!
I know I had odd socks on!

The Rocket

I went to see my first Laos based film tonight
Ok it was made by an Australian documentary filmmaker ( Kim Mordaunt) but the film couldn't be more further away from Australian culture than I am to understanding a woman's erogenous zones?
The Rocket is a gentle, low key affair, set in a dirt poor and historically war ravaged rural Laos.
Ten year old Alho  (Sitthiphon Disamoe) -a child thought to be cursed from birth by being a surviving twin- is relocated from his village with his grieving father and bad tempered grandmother. They team up with a James Brown loving drunk and  his precociously mature 9 year old niece and after a few ragged adventures, enter a local rocket competition to raise funds for a new home.
Think of a far Eastern version of Local Hero and you'll know where I'm coming from. 
Sweet natured and a little meandering.....this movie is a  harmless way of passing two hours in a deserted welsh art house cinema
Incidentally the  lead child actor ( Disamoe) was a truly talented find.....and is the spit of Chris's
nephew Leo.
7/10

Making Your Own Traditions....Camilla.....and the Baby Jesus

Sorrel leaves today. It has become a little bit of a tradition that I take her to the train. It is also a little tradition of mine to prepare her some sandwiches and cake to eat on the journey back to Kent.
A Lunch wrapped in brown paper, tied up with string.
It's a silly little tradition, but there it is, fixed and unchanging over the years that we have known each other.
On the home front, thoughts are turning to babies

Camilla the Canada Goose has now taken up residence in the duck house and with a bit of help from me, now has a large collection of eggs laid by her and the other geese on which she will finally settle.
At the moment she spends much of her time patrolling her borders,hissing gently at passing hens, only disappearing into her chalet from time to time to rearrange her eggs.
She is the sweetest of creatures.

And that leaves me to tell you about The Baby Jesus. Remember him?
Well the single chick that hatched on Easter Sunday is doing fine and is the apple of his mother's eye

Mothers and sons eh?

Goggle- Eyes & GoggleBox

Chris and his mother have left Trelawnyd for a whole day's clothes shopping.
I cannot think of anything worse
So at the moment, as they are whipping themselves into a frenzy over the latest fashions I'm filling small plastic boxes with cauliflower soup to put into the freezer.
That will do for me.

Winnie.........

Sorrel will be glad of the respite. For Winifred has formed some sort of lesbian bulldog crush on my mother in law, spending much of her day making moo moo lip kisses at her whilst fluttering her eyelashes in a fair imitation of Beryl Reid from The Killing Of Sister George.
It's all a bit unsavory 
It's also got to a stage where bulldog has been caught lying outside the bathroom door whilst Sorrel is in the bath......I wouldn't be at all surprised to find Winnie sneaking into Sorrel's bedroom sniffing in her underwear drawers.....
Anyhow , on a lighter note, I must share with you a " must see" tv programme from the Channel 4 stable.
Gogglebox has a simple enough format. A selection of British " families" are filmed by a " secret" camera while watching a selection of programmes. Their reactions, observations and interactions make up the majority of the show, and the resulting footage provides an entertaining and fascinating snapshot of society in the UK today
The most endearing couple of tv watchers are posh bread and Breakfast owners Steph and Dominic. The couple sit hand in hand with each other and down what seems like a whole bottle of gin a night as they slurr away happily at whatever the producers have to show them.
It's surprisingly funny and affectionate tv making

Night Nurse Hysteria

I really should get up.

The little red clock on the bedside table says 13.15

I have been in bed four hours fifteen minutes

A record for me after night shift

I feel as though I have been hit by a train.

Last  night was hard work.

The girl working alongside me had an incredibly busy patient

The whole unit was snowed under

So me and another colleague not only had to look after our own patients 

But had to chip in to support this nurse

teamwork is what gets you through

when everything goes tits up at 3 am in the morning.

The three of us, and our patients made it through the night

But by 8 am the hysteria was beginning to show

" Night nurse hysteria"is a well known phenomenon 

on busy shifts

It occurs when something that is only gently amusing takes on a huge significance

The resulting hysteria is often infectious and to

onlookers insanely perplexing.

Years ago , when my mother was admitted to hospital she recounted a cracking example of 

" night nurse hysteria"

Lying in bed at night she watched as the three ward staff raced around like

blue arsed flies without a break.

Finally at around 6 am, a knackered looking support worker

Dragged herself to the nursing station to where the two trained staff were gulping down

a cold cup of tea, their first one of the shift!

There she hissed in an exhausted stage whisper

" staff!...I've found another one dead!"

And promptly the three women burst into fits of uncontrollable giggles.

Exhaustion can play very cruel tricks on a person in the wee small hours!

Anyhow, Like I said, I really should get up.

It's now 13.40.

and I have to move the new chicks from their broody box.

somehow the dogs have found their way into the bedroom

( thanks chris)

They will need a walk before we all have to go around to Mrs Trellis' house

She has invited us round for a cup of tea.

And I still feel like a bag of shite.

Winnie, giving me the dead eye......

Sorrel's Inner Child

I am sure my mother in law would not mind informing you all that she has reached an important milestone in her birthday calendar . This has not curtailed her ability, in any way,to unleash her inner child whenever the mood takes her in order to enjoy and appreciate activities and experiences usually reserved for the likes of Bobby from The Railway Children or Titty from Swallows & Amazons
Sorrel has an amazing ability to enjoy anything and everything

Sorrel, chocolate Mary and the infamous dressing gown

This morning I arranged an " Easter Bunny Hunt" for her. Four goose eggs and a chocolate bunny ( a fitting tribute to the valiant  Mary I thought) had been secreted in the front garden for Sorrel to find,
Donned in a fleece dressing gown and fluffy slippers she skipped around the garden,  squealing triumphantly  as she removed each egg from its hiding place amid the greenery
She was only  interrupted the once, when Ann  Malthoff from around  the corner walked by with a wry smile on her face. Sorrel tried hiding behind a ceanothus bush but the Purple Hearts on her dressing gown gave her away.
Ann is a happy soul too......I heard her chuckling away to herself as she disappeared down the lane.