Kindness

Yesterday was made into a better day because of five little acts of kindness

Kindness Number One 
One large bag of stale bread  hooked upon the garden gate. A present for the sheep from Pippa from the old rectory. ( they always enjoy this little treat because of the quality of the bread!...it's non of your rubbish!)

Kindness Number Two
I went to Prestatyn for a haircut and as usual I dropped a few eggs to the affable barber who always seems so interested in tales of village life. After he had cut my hair, he refused payment for the job, saying that he had always enjoyed the eggs I had given him !

Kindness Number Three

My new zombie apron which arrived in the post from New Zealand ( addressed simply to John Gray Trelawnyd) thanks to  Mrs C and hubby for the gift. I shall wear it at the Trelawnyd Flower Show

Kindness Number Four

Thank you to whoever left a tray of veg seedlings on the emergency exit chair yesterday afternoon

I shall plant them out in Bosoms this afternoon

Kindness Number Five

 Because he woke me up at 5.45 am banging around in the kitchen for the porridge jug, Chris offered to take the dogs out for heir early morning walk this morning

My first lie in for many a month!

Calvary

The impressive Kelly Reilly ( as Father James' troubled daughter) and Brendan Gleeson

With Chris working late tonight, I had to go to Theatre Clwyd this afternoon to see  Calvary ,John Michael McDonagh's much celebrated sideswipe at the Catholic Church.
Father James ( Brendan Gleeson ) is the priest of a small Irish provincial town during confession one of his congregation confides in him that he was sexually abused by a priest as a child . During an electric interaction between unseen victim and clergyman the priest is informed that he will be killed in one week, even though he is , in fact a good parish priest with an unblemished record. A murder that will highlight the abuse within the Catholic Church.
Even though Father James understands who his attacker will be, he keeps the fact quiet and carries on dealing with the pastoral needs of townfolk, who all, in one way or another  have lost their faith in religion or in life itself.
It's a bit like a whodunit before anyone's actually "due it" .if you catch my meaning?..not that this is the most important crux of the story. The film has much more to say about the absurdities and the contradictions of Catholicism and the integrity of real faith than it ever does about a mere " who will pull the trigger..murder mystery?"
Gleeson is a pure joy to watch. Shopworn and wise , he dominates the screen in every scene he is in and gives Father James' struggle a depth which at times is proudly moving to watch.
(His scene with the grieving and devout wife of a French tourist ( Marie Josee Croze) is especially powerfully observed)
Having said this, I did find it a little unbalanced to have his character the only positive and sympathetic Irish character in the entire movie. All the other Irish characters being rather nasty and wholly unlikable pieces of work.
8/10

Emergency Exit

Now, if the poultry and waterfowl start their calls of alarm

and I am in the cottage

I have to leg it out of the back door, down the gravel path, around the wall

Down the lane

Past the corner

Over the field to the Ukrainian Village

Not a huge run, but one complicated and delayed by gates, paths and greenery

And so yesterday I had a flash of inspiration and devised  a short cut from the cottage

to the field.

The short cut is a simple one

Metal chair against cottage wall

The idea was, 

Hear distress calls

Drop  tea towel

Leg it to emergency chair

Jump over wall

Run to field

Save birds

Simples

Yeah that's what I thought.

Message to self, 

Don't try this when you are nearly 52

Over weight 

And wearing crocs without the backs on.

The resulting fall over the wall on the dry run

looked a little like this

Fat Bastard

Chester Selfie ( I had to crop myself off)

Yesterday Chris insisted that we drive to Chester in order to do " shopping" I wasn't happy, but eventually I went along. But I was petulant and sulky all the way there.
I have had enough of shopping recently.
Anyhow, as it turned our the " shopping bit" was a ruse, as it was a ploy of my best friend Nu, to catch me unawares for a surprise meet. She had been seeing family over in Liverpool and wanted to catch me before she went home.
It was lovely to see her, but the subsequent " selfie" ( obligatory in our meets) was a little bit of a shock. For it underlined that my lapse with weightwatchers since Christmas has severely taken its toll.
I look like a cushion.
A large fucking scatter cushion with hair

My relationship with food is a simple one.
I don't particularly comfort eat. I don't eat when I am bored
I just love eating tasty things!
Simples!
And I serve up dinners on dustbin lid sized plates at the end of the day
More " simples!"
I love scotch eggs and takeaway squid.
I adore baking and trifle
And I am sure I can put a whole bagel in my mouth in one go
Food, is there to be enjoyed.
I learnt that from my grandparents.
Wartime grandparents never wasted anything.

So I am back on the wagon. Strict weighwatchers, more exercise and one scotch egg a week.
Already this morning I have dragged my sorry fat arse out for a power walk and am now resigned to do it without the dogs in tow. ( the terriers are getting on a bit now and bulldogs DONT  power walk)
It's not rocket science...I've don't it before
Eat less, do more
Simples
The wedding is on 6 th March ........and I don't want to look like Michael Ball in the wedding photos

An Aesop's Fable

A scattering of white feathers mark the end of Odin. 

His hormones had blinded his peanut sized brain

And a vixen had taken advantage of his sex filled thoughts.

It's a fable worthy of Aesop

Or even the old Testament

" sex bringeth damnation"

Or something like that.

My girls have not been left unscathed by the roving predator

One Bluebell was taken from the centre of the field yesterday morning.

She was a good layer too.

The  vixen will have cubs and  May and June are always dangerous times for free range poultry owners.

This morning I have blocked the holes in the field fencing and have hung the portable radio in the hawthorn. Radio 5 live will now be trilling out over the fields

Radio 4 tells to frighten off foxes more , but the reception is bad today.

Little Dramas......The Arrival Of Odin

Centre background..squint carefully and you will see him

Over the last couple of days and from a small opening in the nettle cover over by the stream, a stranger has been silently watching the field. I was not the only one that noticed him. The two resident cockerels Moriarty  and Ginger Harry have been slapping their wings together a little more regularly than usual. It's a general threat display in hens.
I have nicknamed the raider Odin, for he is a large White cockerel with an obvious eye for the ladies.
Odin lives at the livery stables across the fields. he  obviously doesn't have enough bitches in his hen house to satisfy his lustful nature, for everyday he creeps through the fence, over he stream and up the bank so that he can get his " peeping tom jollies" off, on my collection of pin up hens.
Now from time to time, his lust will get the better of him and with lightening speed he will make a run for the nearest hen, bang her within an inch of her life before legging it back to his perimeter line foxhole.
Moriarty ( who is an evil bastard) and Ginger Harry have yet to catch the Viking raider as yet, but they are clearly biding their time.
I feel bloodshed will be the order of the day very soon.
Hormones have a great deal to answer for

Bodnant & Bodysgallen

Birthday boy has been treated all day

I now have mucho pennies in the " good partner" bank

We visited Bodnant Gardens and  walked amid the bluebells

And  Azaleas 

Afternoon tea at Bodysgallen Hall

Was lovely

I enjoyed myself pretending I was Dr Burton,

( I booked it in chris' name)

Picked Last For Games

This may surprise many of you, but it was not always the fine figure of a man that stands before you now. oh no.
In school, I was clumsy, uncoordinated and unsporty.
I was average in biology, Welsh, history and at art
Poor at woodwork
And abysmal at physics.
I liked English.
But like I said,
I was shite at all sports.
Suffice to say, I was always left standing against the wall when teams were picked for games.
I was never the very last to be picked , but more often than not, only "hunchback Alan " and "obese Dicko" were waiting to be chosen after a team leader had  reluctantly picked me.

This ritual of " being picked for games" was humiliating and always difficult for a shy eleven year old to cope with . I doubt that it would be allowed now.
Did the experience follow me into adult life?
Well, I think it did......just a little.........
I have never loved team activities since
I always shy away from any situation that could possibly embarrass me in any way

And do you know what....? I cannot abide soddin football.