Yesi

After the shenanigans with new hens and American amblers I was slightly late going to auntie Glad's to meet with the reporter who is doing the piece on " Gladys and The Flower Show" for the Evening Leader.
In the end, both reporter and photographer didn't turn up ( a mix up on their part which they should rectify today) but the three quarters of an hour waiting for them to turn up proved to be a surprisingly entertaining time out in my day.
Sat at her spotless table in an immaculate old fashioned kitchen, Gladys and  I were joined by Islwyn  Thomas, who at 90 is a sprightly five years Gladys' junior. He had been out and about selling tickets for the forthcoming Trelawnyd Male Voice Choir Summer concert, which takes place on the 19th.

Islwyn

Islwyn is a man who never stops chortling. Most of his sentences are punctuated with the very Welsh word " Yesi" ( pronounced as yessssss-i) which can be translated loosely as " Jesus" and this seems always to be followed with a smile and a laugh.
He is one of life's naturally happy individuals.
Islwyn and Gladys have been friends for a lifetime and it shows. In a matter of minutes the two of them cackled and laughed over memories shared and village news.
I just sat back and watched.
They recalled a mad Irishman who lived in High Street who once drunkenly threw milk bottles at the men from the choir when they took refreshments in Auntie Glad's garage.
They laughed at the way Islwyn used to deliver canisters of paraffin to the outlying village farms on the handlebars of his bike.
And they laughed like drains at the helium balloon with the phrase " congratulations you are 80" on it that Gladys found floating by her back door only that morning.
She brought the balloon in from the scullery to show us, and the pair laughed happily again.

Laughter... I suspect it's just one of the reasons both have lived so long

Be Nice To Strangers

I caught two lady ramblers in the front garden this afternoon. Both were peeping through the cottage windows. And both looked incredibly shocked when I bellowed out a lusty
" Can I help You?" from the field.
The younger woman was bright red in the face and very apologetic and explained that she wanted to know if we had natural ceiling beams  or painted ones. She had been told that " proper Welsh Cottages " always had painted ceilings.
Both women were American, and both were on an organised walking holiday. I think the younger woman said they were from Columbus , Ohio.
Of course I invited both in to see the ceiling for themselves
and there was much 'oooohhhhing'and 'arrrhhhhhing' when the ceiling was presented

The older woman saw our collection of gaudy Welsh jugs that I have displayed between the ceiling beams and squealed excitedly that she would love to own one.
This tickled me , and I remembered that in the kitchen cupboard I had put a cracked and chipped jug that I had bought from ebay for just a few pounds some years ago. As the woman took a couple of photos of the beams ( I never asked them just why they thought the subject was so important)  I found the jug and offered it to the woman who thought all her Christmases had arrived at once.
It was no skin off my nose as the jug was more or less worthless, but it seemed to make the woman's day

The Happy Americans left when I got sidetracked with another visitor

( a woman who wanted me to take in her five hens..which included 

a lovely

black Orpington who I have now named Bunty 

Bunty ...the size of a bowling ball

When I returned to the cottage after sorting the hens out , I noticed a scrap of paper wedged in the letter box

Wrapped in it there was a Crisp £ 10 note

And written on the paper the words

Two nosey Americans say thank you

Time Out

When I am at home, there is just one two and a half hour window a day when

I am totally " animal free" and

I feel like a suddenly " freed" parent who has just dropped the toddlers off at nursery

It is a time I am not followed by the patter of little feet

It is a time I can have a bath without little eyes peeping over the bath tub rim

And it is a time I can bleach the kitchen floor without someone demanding a shit or a wee

From around 8 am and 10.30am

the animals  take themselves off to bed,
It's a daily treat they look forward to

Albert is in the middle of all this

I am typing this at 10.26 at the kitchen table
I have just completed a load of Chris' paperwork
and right on time, the animals are starting to stir upstairs
Creatures of habit

Pussy Pad

 My cousin has recently opened up a cattery

I dropped her off a flower show schedule today and had a look at her very impressive " pussy pad"

It has all mod cons

And looks very impressive indeed!

When I got back to Trelawnyd I recommended it to a neighbour who has a cat he may like to board

He was somewhat intrigued when I offered to show him a photo of" my cousin's neat little pussy pad"

It's been a funny old day

I could do with a large martini

I've got your number.

Today I received my Samaritan number. It's an identifying number that all Samaritans get when they successfully finish their six month probationary period.
The number means that you are deemed to be an objective listener. A person with no axe to grind when answering a phone to a distressed, overwhelmed , mentally ill and possibly suicidal caller who needs contact with another human being.
Most of us are lucky enough to have our own objective ears when we are going through a hard time.
A friend who will know how much sympathy to furnish, how much plain speaking is required to help and how much clarification is needed for the murky clouds of upset  to be shifted away.
To us, the majority, it is almost unfeasible to think that some people have no one to turn to when their black dog surfaces.
Yet, for whatever reason, so many people don't have that friend to lean on when things go to shit
And that is a huge crime in my book.

No news day

Just

Albert on sentry duty over the Ukrainian Village this evening

Run and Jump

Chris was working today , and so  I took myself off to see a small little Irish movie called
Run & Jump.
It was a good choice of a movie
At the start of the story Vanetia ( Maxine Peake) is seen picking up her husband Conor ( Edward Mc Liam) from hospital. She is overly bright and bubbly as she listens to music in the car -he is solemn and uncommunicative in the passenger seat. It is soon evident when they return to the family home that Conor is in recovery after a disastrous head injury.

Forte & Peake , nice performances all around

Videotaping Conor's every move is American psychology research doctor Ted ( Will Forte) who's grant for studying  Conor post injury is a source of finance for the family,
As Conor inhabits his own isolated  little world, Vanetia's high spirits and optimism starts to crumble and she and her children start to lean on the sterile Ted , who gradually becomes a reluctant head of the household.
It's an interesting story, as from very early on, it is made clear that the story is not about Conor's rehabilitation  post injury but is a study of  venetia's  grief for a husband she has effectively lost and an exploration of Ted's rehabilitation from emotionally stunted academic to middle aged man in love for the first time.

It's a warm and satisfying movie that is enhanced by a powerhouse performance by Peake and  a sweet and restrained turn by a delightful Forte.
I can recommend it.
8/10

Yorkshire Love

Yellow jersey decoration in Leeds

I was born and bred in North Wales, only a couple of miles north of the village we now live in, but I have spent most of my adult life over in God's own country, in the counties of North and South Yorkshire.

Firstly I lived in the beautiful and slightly claustrophobic city of York before choosing to spend a good chunk of my salad days in the grubbier but much more down to earth steel city of Sheffield.

I love Yorkshire. I like the Northern humour, the broad accents and the eclectic mix of the place.

I shall always consider Yorkshire as " home" , in the most affectionate and nostalgic senses of the word.

I love the way Yorkshire has embraced the Tour de France. Ok the whole bloody spectacle of skinny  men in Lycra slogging their guts out over a gusset wrenching leather seat leaves me somewhat cold in the excitement stakes, but in their thousands ordinary Yorkshire folk have gone out of their way to support the event, and by  lining the routes and decorating houses, gardens and public areas with tens of thousands of yellow flags, jerseys and the odd yellow bike., they have taken the cycle race to their hearts

They seem to be

' appy as pigs in muck

And " good on ya"