Virtual Flowers For Tom

Our kitchen table this morning....how very fucking Homes & Gardens?

The garden at Bwthyn y llan, always looks it's best in early May. Cottage flowers such aquilegia, Jews mallow, bluebell and tulip adorn not only the borders but can be found plonked into vases around the living room and kitchen.
It's my favourite part of the year.
Now I posted the above photo for Tom. No, not stone Mason, " Bath" Tom, the rakish imp , celebrity banter expert and scourge of every young pretty barmaid this side of the M1, no, I am sending this virtual bunch of flowers to Angola Tom of
Hippo On The Lawn fame. ( click the word hippo to find the blog)
A day ago I received an email from tom's wife, Marcia stating that Tom had been extremely poorly in hospital. She told me he was improving but was very weak, so I thought ( like you do) that if the old duffer could muster the energy to tap the keyboard on his computer, be may appreciate a " get well soon" token of free welsh flowers .
Having gotten to know tom over the years, I do know that his admission to hospital was a serious affair., after all, this is the man who was recently bitten by an angry puff adder and who dealt with the resulting necrotic foot with a slug of whiskey and a bandaid.
Hats off to the old soldier
They breed them tough in the colonies don't you know?
I tried to type in capital letters, about the risk of infection, the need of IV antibiotics and the probability of septicemia .... He just smiled a lot and attacked the bite with a razor, hot water and a towel.......
Come the zombie apocalypse get behind Thomas.... That's what I say!
So I am sending him our collective best wishes. I know that many blogging enthusiasts in this odd little world here follow Hippo On The Lawn avidly.... And why wouldn't they? The adventures of his adventures in Angola make Auntie Glad's scones look just a little wan
This world is made just a little richer and more interesting with Tom's writing and escapades still in it

Alarm Call

A hormonal turkey, laying hens, a cockerel   a snoring bulldog and night shift

Invisibility

Just off to bed as I am working tonight

Have a look at this video

X

Into The Dead

I have another guilty secret.
Ok...Everyone knows of my addiction to a certain savoury snack food ( the nectar of the Gods that is breadcrumbed   covered pig meat surrounding a perfectly boiled hens egg)
Everyone understands that I am a sucker for poultry lost causes
And my teenage fascination with AMC's Walking Dead knows no bounds.
I am, in fact, a sixteen year old nerd who has unfortunately let his body lapse into that of a 51 year old man.
It happens.
Ok ,back to my new guilty secret.
No, I haven't been making up phantom animal ailments again so I can visit the George Clooney vet
And no , I haven't been pulling the Church bell again out of devilment when I am dusting the font

My guilty secret of today is that ( pauses for dramatic effect) at 51, I have started to play one of those " video" games that I have always and vociferously slagged off as being " brain dead" over the years.

Loaded onto my ipad, I can now indulge myself with my zombie fix, whenever I like..

Now I try not to indulge in public ( I did shout out a slightly over excitable yell of  " BASTARD!"  on the train when a bleeding walker grabbed me when I was running through a corn field...and so I have limited myself to a quick ten minute fiddle every evening.......it's great fun.

Paws

Bulldogs have dinner plate sized paws
I've only just realized 

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