Cast Of Characters

Trelawnyd Characters circa 1957

Last night there came a tap-tap-tapping on the cottage window.
Out of the darkness, we could just make out the familiar fluorescent yellow of a workman's jacket
It was village elder Islwyn waving a small packet of cough sweets.
Over the years if Chris and I come down with a cold, Islwyn has always taken it upon himself to drop off much needed cough sweets.
It's a little kindness that has become a kind of tradition.
Today, I thought I'd bring together some of the cast of Trelawyd characters that get mentioned in passing during an average week here on Going Gently 
The village has no more odd characters than anywhere else.....it's just that I probably look a little closer than most in order to find them

MRS TRELLIS (of North Wales)
A  diminutive but vital little widow who can be seen most days being dragged around the village like a minnow in a kingfisher's beak by her psycho sheepdog Satan.
She can be often seen practicing the piano in her living room window

GAY GORDON
( who is not gay but just incredibly upbeat all of the time/-hence the nickname) can be seen hurtling around Trelawnyd in his suped up invalid trolley. Incredibly loud he is well known for adding the " "FLOWER!"  when addressing anyone and everyone and is an exuberant baker responsibe for the " monster fruit cake" sold as refreshments at last year's flower show

PAT ( The Animal helper)
If you want anything done in Trelawnyd you ask Pat to be a part of it.
A villager from birth Pat is school governer, active member of the Women's Institute, Flower Show Committee member ( and winner of the craft and domestic cups on more than one occassion), conservation group member, and all around good egg.
In a crisis, she is the woman that would turn up, sleeves rolled up, to help.

AFFABLE DESPOT JASON
Is responsible for injecting humour into most  village based activities. Only yesterday he stopped his car in order to cheerfully berate the pea green colour of my very trendy trousers when I was out with
the dogs. Usually seen with his two daughters in tow ( who always remind me of the Mendoza sisters from Banana splits.) he is the village hall caretaker and is an avid fan, strangely enough, of Jack the
ripper!
Jason's daughters

VILLAGE ELDER ISLWYN
If there is a project in the village that needs sorting, Islwyn is the person that can be relied upon to sort it. Famous for eating a bacon sandwich in his own family grave ( he was extending it himself btw) he has single handedly extended and re landscaped the village graveyard.
Known as " Steve" by some of the non Welsh speaking villagers.

AUNTIE GLAD
Yes, rapidly approaching her century, she is still baking, still taking the bus down to Rhyl to do her shopping and still walking the length of London Road to be first at the Church door for Sunday
services. A legend in her own lifetime.

Dr  CHRIS
A somewhat shadowy character, who spends most of his time harrumphing at the state of the cottage kitchen after he arrives from a 14 hour day at the university only to find me cutting the shitty clingons from a dog's arse on the draining board.
As I type this, he is presently eating a bowl of porridge watching Thoroughly Modern Millie

Supporting Characters 

THE VICAR
Always cuts an impressive figure when he sweeps into church with his black " Dracula" Cape on.
He is a rector with rather a rakish sense of humour who  is usually accompanied by Gaynor -the - organist , a lady with twinkling eyes and a repartee of Joan River-esque one liners.

CHRISTINE
Another village elder who is responsible for one of my most genuine and affections memories of present day  Trelawnyd? On Christmas Eve , during the church service, the Vicar will complete the nativity scene at the front of the Church by grandly calling for the baby Jesus to be brought forward
" Mrs Davis..Bring on the Baby Jesus!" He calls , and Christine will walk down the aisle with Jesus in her hand.
It's a lovely moment and my very favourite one in the service.

SON OF THE RFWF
Long term readers of Going Gently will recall hopefully with some affection, the exploits of the RFWF ( Red Faced Welsh Farmer)  A larger than life farmer who sounded for when of a better word,
just like Robert Newton from Treasure Island as he sped past in his battered and old tweed hat and equally battered and old red landrover.
After his death a year or so ago, it is nice to see that his son Ed has taken over his father's role on the community council and in village initiatives. As it turns out, his landrover is blue!

And there are others too numerous to mention......Irene the flower show matriarch, Ralph the gentleman farmer.........Pippa with her bad tempered hound Meg........Hubert the old baker, Stan and Kit ( she makes our bespoke hand knitted slippers)
 ....Cameron the teenage boffin ......I could go on......and on.......and on........



Squeezing Rubber Chickens

Yesterday was a bit of a dogfest as I had booked George and Meg in for a full grooming. I use a well known pet store chain as they are convenient but when I took them in , I put the groomers all in a tizz by not having William with me as some new teenage receptionist had booked him in for a groom instead of George.
" we were hoping to use William as a training test for one of the new staff" the head groomer moaned. " he's our best model"
I understood exactly why they wanted William for the newbee to practice on.... for William is the Welsh terrier version of David Niven. He's a gentle, polite little soul who won't move a muscle when instructed to " do as he's told" by the groomer
The other dogs are good natured certainly, but all have their own edge. Meg is a feisty bitch at times who is quick to spark. George is a loud comic who has a dislike for collies and strangers and Winnie, well Winnie was last seen quietly trying to pull bags of doggie treats from the bottom shelves of the grooming parlor's front desk.
No out of them all William remains the most laid back and when we are out, the most popular with strangers, for he is a dog that smiles gently with his eyes.
William calm and mindful this morning

Ever mindful of a sudden discount, I agreed to let them use William as a model and went to collect him from the car, only stopping at the toy section so Winnie could give the rubber chickens an excited squeeze which bordered in the end, on quiet hysteria
Dogs...they are as diverse and as fickle as children


See what I mean?



Christmas Advert

I do enjoy Christmas tv adverts
Most are sickly pap, but usually John Lewis and Marks & Spencer can be relied upon to produce a satisfying little production, worthy of a tear or two, especially if you've been hitting the cooking sherry.
I enjoyed the John Lewis penguin story. Marks' fairy story is so-so. and Sainsbury's World War 1 football story is just a bit over the top in a rather unsavoury way.
So full marks and prize for the best advert in 2014
Must go to Boots with their heartwarming story of a knackered middle aged nurse coming home after a fucking awful night shift......
Watch and weep.....

Vagina Head


I'm in the middle of lots of jobs today
Week shop, coal run, vets for wormer, 
Home to unpack then off
To the dog groomers
I was daydreaming on the nipper bus to town this morning
When I noticed an odd looking girl getting on the bus
with an enormous woolly hat with the words
VAGINA emblazoned across the front of it
I was so taken aback I took a photo
Now where are my glasses?

A Man In A Van

Just across a field length from the Ukrainian village a man lives in a van.
He's hidden away behind a hedge from the main road through the village, and is surrounded by sheep, by all accounts he has fallen on hard times.
I've met him a couple of times as he has bought eggs from me and he seems nice enough, but I often think of his situation when I am out with the dogs on their last walk of the night and I stare out over the black fields to see a tiny single light in the damper van window.
Some say that he is totally responsible for his present situation, who knows......but whatever is the reason he has left the family home to live in a van, the plight of " hard times" makes you think.......
Well, it's made me think.
How quickly can circumstances change in what we all would consider to be a normal life eh?
A sudden loss of a job, a relationship breakdown, a death, ill health, whatever the reason it is all too common for some of us to be reminded that we are not invincible in this world and that home is not always that " God given" fact that we always think it is.



Giving as good as I get.....

I just wanted to illustrate that sometimes humans win over aggressive cockerels ( see previous post)
And sometimes the cockerels win
Forgive the repeat blogs from 2013 but they kind of illustrate my point

" f*ck......I've Just Killed Bogbrush!"

Sometimes you just don't think when faced with a " difficult" situation
You just react.
And that does not always work out the way you would wish.

This evening, just as I was encouraging the tiny Useless little buggers into their coop
Bogbrush the aggressive silkie cockerel
Hurtled forward and started to kick the shit out of the tiny male bantam right in front of me.
Without a thought I swung the tin feed bowl I was holding and clacked Bogbrush smartly on the head with it to teach him a lesson in manners
And unfortunately this was the result


RIP Bogbrush
Life is hard sometimes

When you are a bully
There is always someone bigger than you

" The cold never Bothered Me anyway..."


Not having small female children around the house has meant that the delights of " Frozen" have largely passed me by However for some strange reason the hit song " Let It Go" has firmly rooted itself into my head, and so during various parts of the day, I can be caught warbling " here I stand......here I stay .........." And  " I don't care...what they'll say" when filling the water butts and feeding the ewes.
This morning I was in full voice when I was attacked from behind by the new cockerel Ginger Harry.
It's not the first time he has been showing his metal, and his attacks have been increasing in their intensity over the past few weeks
Some males just have too much testosterone for their own good , so when this fighting behaviour starts it is important to pick the offending cockerel up, and in a feat of dominance , walk around with him for a long time , tucked up safely under your arm pit.
I didn't manage to catch the bugger this morning, he was too quick for me, but as I walked back across the fields carrying a blue plastic bucket , he made the mistake to come in with all Spurs blazing for one final attack.
Not quite the best scene from any Disney film, I have ever seen,
But I battered the little bastard three times with the bucket
Without breaking a line of the chorus " Let it go! LET IT GO...TURN AWAY AND SLAM THE DOOR,!!!"


Repairing A Gusset


This is the view I am looking at right at this moment.
Its one of those wet, misty mornings in low bright sunshine.
The sort of morning which makes driving on slick roads almost impossible .
The Ukrainian village looks damp, with many of the hens perched on their runs in a bid to keep feet dry and warm.
Hens hate having wet feet.
did you know that?

I am sat on the bedroom window seat darning a hole in my trouser gusset. The rip was a product of not being able to cock my leg high enough over the pig fencing.
Its now time to return to weightwatchers, me thinks.
I thought this yesterday morning, when I found that I had been locked into the cottage by accident. Chris is working in South Wales, so left the cottage early, locking the back door behind him.
After a frantic search for my house keys, I realised that I had left them on the garden wall!, so I had no other choice but to jump through the only ground floor window which I could squeeze my fat arse through.
Now in front of the living room window is a selection of pots, herbs and roses, so in order not to trample anything, I had to stand on the sill, and jump around four or five feet onto the lawn.
Sounds doable ?
Sure!
So off I jump, with all the grace and agility of a fourteen stone blancmange and promptly fell onto the wet lawn leaving a long muddy slide trail as I went.
A crashing 747 would have looked more in control.
and so, for that split second when my face was pushed into the grass, I knew , it was time to get a grip

Like many people in the "middle age" I have always had a tendency to put on weight. I dont comfort eat but I do love my food too much, and this coupled with the fact that I dont walk as much as I did ( ageing terriers and bulldog) has allowed my weight to creep slowly back on.

Now I am not bleating here. Losing weight is simple enough and isnt hard when you get into the right mind set.
Its not rocket science!
If you dont want to find yourself arse over tit on the front lawn?
get a little fitter!
So fitter I shall get,
End Of.

Ps/ seeing that its a nice day, I am now off to deliver eggs, collect some coal and will pop in to see if the Lesbian smallholder Bunty is alive and well.After five days, my cold has seemed to have finally passed!