Going Gently

More For Less

The crime figures for our region for May
Five villages 10 reported crimes
In Sheffield ( central) the figure was 1135

It is generally thought that a good tv documentary should be an informative, balanced, interesting and thought provoking piece of work.
Last night BBC aired the second part of Police Under Pressure, which is a sobering look at community policing in and around the city of Sheffield. The programme was less about coppers banging to rights scumbag criminals and concentrated a rather depressing view on just how the force is having to cope with massive cut backs in funding whilst having to adhere to government targets in crime figures.
The simple message was clear for an fool to see.
The city police was was expected to DO MORE
With LESS police officers and FEWER support staff.
As Americans would say...you do the math!

One after another, tired looking and demoralized police staff kept on repeating the corporate mantra of work "being a challenge" to the camera, where we the audience all know that the clear elephant in the room message is you can only fire fight a problem for so long before anarchy surfaces.
The bubbling unrest between Roma and Pakistani communities in the Page Hall area of Sheffield being a sobering case in point.

We take policing for granted. In the Uk the public takes the health care system for granted
also.....both organizations are teetering on the edge of an abyss...and collectively none of us are doing anything about it.
We just expect help to be there when we pick up the phone.....

Community policing in Trelawnyd

Winnie guarding the cottage this morning

Flower Beds & Zombies

I just wanted to add to today's post by memorializing the hard work carried out by the village Conservation group this morning. Flower Beds have been dug and laid out. Planters filled

And lavender borders laid out along the village green paths.
And as usual the majority of the village will take all this effort
totally for granted

Anyhow

I am typing this on " badger watch" by the field gate.

I am standing with a hoe in my hand

( no dirty jokes please)

Whist playing my favourite " into the dead" zombie video game

I an reliably told by the makers

I am now ranked an impressive 695th in the GLOBAL

YES I SAID GLOBAL RANKING!

I am a sad fucker

3.30am

The lane at 3.30am

Occasionally I do a 4am- 7am SAM shift. Seeing Chris needs the Berlingo for 6 am, I can only do the shift if the other volunteer can give me a lift.
I was up and out of the cottage for 3.30 and as I walked around the garden wall into the lane I caught sight of my nemesis , playing with her robust looking cubs underneath the dim beam of the lane light.
The badger sow has five almost fully grown babies, who chatted and grunted like fat piglets around their mother. It was a awesome sight, I have to admit, even though the family is undoubtedly responsible for the majority of my field losses recently.
The family moved off to root around the reinforced Ukrainian village like miniature hippos , and I could almost sense that the hens, ducks and little Jesus in his raised hutch were all holding their breath until the badgers had moved on.
Only the geese screamed out their challenge from the robust goose house , biting at the wire of the small window in anger.
The siege war continues

Trelawnyd Pride

I noted with some mild interest that my former home town of Sheffield staged its Gay Pride march and festival yesterday and it seemed to have been a successful event despite the weather.
(British rain does not quite balance out with scantily clad queens in Lycra shorts)
Now, I have just realised that I have never been to a Pride event in my life. Back in my single days in Sheffield the gay scene centred around a couple of seedy clubs in the rough part of town, a particularly common " wine bar" called Dempsey's (with its cheap flooring and and a clientele who carried bargain shop carrier bags) and occasional camp nights at the Art Deco ballroom at the City Hall." Pride" was an event to take part in London and Manchester......cities that glittered a little more brightly than Sheffield once did.
Thankfully that has all changed.
Anyhow as I lay in bed this morning covered in Welsh Terriers, I got to thinking about Gay Pride.
My gay pride ......in fact.
It's a subject I don't really think about really.
Am I really proud to be gay?
Well I guess the answer must now be yes... But it it also needs to be balanced with everything else I think I am proud of. Being gay, is the least interesting part of who I am.
I am proud I am part of a supportive and close family.
I am proud to be a nurse
I am proud that we are a part of a community that we contribute to
I am proud of the village Flower Show,
I am proud of my friends.
I am proud that my bulldog doesn't batter a fat eyelid when faced with Pippa Barnsley's baying hounds in the lane.
At 52 I am now generally more comfortable in my rapidly wrinkling old skin than I ever have been.
I never really think about anyone I meet being homophobic anymore. If they dislike me, I put it down to the fact that I can be an argumentative little shit rather than to the fact I have a rather unsavoury thing for Russell Crowe in his floppy hair phase.
Having said all this, Pride Celebrations are vitally important in reinforcing acceptance and identity and one day, I would like to walk the walk along side and in support of others who have found their " gay journeys" not so smooth or easy as perhaps we have done over the years.

I will leave you with a story from the 1980s, when an old friend and Felicity Kendal look-a-like , Home Counties, mom of two Carol had been just informed by her teenage son that he was gay.
Gay Pride was a rare thing " up north" so in a moment of solidarity she secretly travelled to London in order to walk beside her son at the gay pride march.
In those days the organisation of the march was somewhat haphazard, and Carol ( in her best twin set and pearls) got separated from her son, so ended up falling into conversation with a " group of rather scruffy ladies from Birmingham"
Imagine her surprise when she met her ex husband and mother the next day , who turned up at her hone with copies of the Sunday Telegraph under their arms.
On the front page was a photo of Carol walking alongside a shaved haired lesbian who was brandishing a placard which screamed
" BULLDOG BRUMMIE DYKES ARE HERE TO STAY,"

.

Oh the calamity

If you have a weak disposition or if you are Rachel

look away now

The remnants of my full bottle of duty free quality gin!

It bounced ever-so-slowly out of the fridge this morning
And smashed with a sickening crash onto the kitchen floor
My mother would have wept buckets if she had witnessed such a thing

The cottage now smells like a tarts' boudoir

On a brighter note

The Welsh Terriers returned today
Sleepy and grateful after almost a week yapping non stop in the kennels
They have slept solidly for six hours so far
And have refused to get up for a wee break.