Flouncing For Wales

Sometimes the only way to go is to indulge yourself in a flounce

The ward sister at work asked me to do one too many things at 6 am on a bloody awful night shift

And I threw myself rather energetically into a flounce that would have 

gotten the thumbs up from Scarlett O'Hara

I was in such an uncharacteristically bad mood

I could have quite easily bitch slapped a nun

I blame it all on this cold, which is kind of lingering

Anyhow

I fell asleep in the chair when I got home 

Watched over by one very anxious face

And

The only people I have seen today is my sister who called off to off me a new hen house

And a collegue from work who wanted to rehome 2 hens 

which he had placed in an oversized sharps box

After they had gone 

I took myself upstairs and flounced on the bed

" fiddle de dee"

I 

Cottage News Monday Morning

Well we had lesbians yesterday, relationship discussions on Saturday and a buggered up Phyllis Diller a day before that....what little delights have I got for you today dear reader
Well it's an eclectic mix today
If you are not interested in 1940's sewing box bargins, Phyllis Diller rehab, chilli sucking Bulldogs and the last of The Walking Dead blog posts until Febuary walk away now.

Now I am not a huge fan of lifestyle blogs ( apart from Chania's Razzmatazz that is) but spurred on by Tom Stephenson's recent bed wetting blog entry on candlesticks, I thought I would share with you my latest acquisition for the cottage

I have been looking, for a small occassional table it sit next to my armchair for ages now and it has been a nightmare given the fact that the cottage is so compact. I saw this 1940s oak sewing box  in a local craft shop a while ago but couldn't justify spending 40 quid on it....so I decieded to slowly chip away at the shop owner with a weekly visit and offer a regular 25 quid for it.
I know it was probably bought for a tenner, but small tables don't come around often so I was pleased when the shop owner finally agreed.
It's not pretty but it is bloody useful!
I've made a large pot of chilli this morning , only having to stop to lavage Winnie's mouth out with two water soaked tea towels after she had hoovered  up a few stray chilli flakes from the kitchen floor. The only good thing about a bulldog's mouth is that it resembles that of a pigmy hippo's.
It opens like a gin trap.
Anyway the other animal who has been in the wars recently is , of course , Phyllis Diller.
Here she is this morning with room mate Bodica.

Still a little muddy but more like her own self...it's nice to have a little health scare victory once in a while.

And before I go to bed again ( I'm on night shift later) I will give a tiny mention to The Walking Dead mid season finale which shows in the UK tonight..... Being a geek I managed to find several videos of the episode on YouTube ( before they were pulled) so early this morning I managed to watch it.

(Beware spoilers) 

I am a little exasperated with the producers of the show, as every mid season finale ( what's with this new phenomenon of MID season finales btw?) someone of note gets killed....it's a silly and pointless tradition as the event takes president over the narrative which is a shame.

Today Poor Beth gets the treatment, which is a shame cos I quite got to like her big doe eyed southern charm.......

No more Walking Dead posts now  until Febuary ............most of you would be glad to hear.......

Hey ho!

Memories of Fighting Lesbians

This week our pub was taken over by two manager landladies.
I only know this because three separate people have told me, when I have been out with the dogs throughout the week.
One told me that Chris and I were no longer " The only gays in the village"
So I am presuming that a lesbian couple has taken charge.
But of course, it's always dangerous to presume anything.
Not until you get the info from the horses mouth
When the third person, commented with a knowing look that two ladies were in charge of the pub, I decided to have a little fun
The conversation went roughly as follows
Villager 1: " There are two women managing  at The Crown" said with a theatrically wide eyed smile
Me: " Great stuff.....a lot of people commented that the previous manager was a bit stand offish"
Villager 1: " Have you met the " girls" yet?"
Me: " no what are they like?"
Villager 1: " Well...they ARE very friendly and nice enough.........you'll have something in common of course !" ( another knowing look)
Me: " why? .........Do they keep chickens?"
Villager 1 ( thrown for a moment) " errr no, I don't think so"
Me" oh that's a shame"
I left it at that

Speaking of lesbians and pubs, when I was single and living in Sheffield , I would occasionally go to " The Cossack " one of the few gay bars in the city.
It was a dive of a place, situated between the University buildings and the railway station, and I remember one Thursday night many many years ago now , when a massive fist fight erupted in the centre of a large contingent of very butch women.
Apparently the argument started when two bulldog dykes fell out over a particularly sweet looking lipstick lesbian!
There is nothing more dangerous than a butch lesbian scorned
Bar stools and several pint glasses flew, the swearing was worse than anything that could have been heard on the terraces of Hillsborogh football club as lesbians from across South Yorkshire seemed to join in with the bar room brawl, and I remember killing myself laughing,when quite suddenly, a very camp and frail elderly man clutching a rather battered cocktail staggered out amongst the denim dungarees gasping for breath with a hand around his throat
" the horror! .......oh......The horror!" he cried
God love an old queen!

Mothers & Sons

Well I think the Burton mother and son combo enjoyed the Ritz, it's nice that they like the same sort of day out. Shopping is a passion of theirs.....Unfortunately I cannot abide shopping.

A friend of mine has an extremely close relationship with her gay son, and I once asked her if she minded that her son was in a close relationship with a man
" oh no," she replied without really thinking about my question " I am just happy no other woman will have him!" Her look of shock after she realized what she had said was telling.

I am lucky as I have never been threatened by Chris' relationship with his mother and I am sure Sorrel has never been threatened by my relationship with her son. We are simply not jealous of each other and without that tension, we get on very well together
I wonder if it would be different if I was a woman, and I suspect in some ways it would be,for the dynamic between mother and son can be a very complex thing.

My mother, never met Chris, and I really wish that she would have done, for I suspect that her acid brittleness and jousting nature would have dovetailed neatly with his aloof and measured responses.
They would, I am sure, have gotten on  very well in their own way.

And on reflection it would have been me that would have felt slightly jealous of their relationship...
Funny that

Black Friday

There is only one thing against living in a 18 th Century cottage and that in Winter, even in full daylight , the place can suddenly look gloomy and very dark.. This is what the living room looks like at 10 am
It's so miserable that all four dogs with Albert in tow, have taken themselves off to bed.
Chris is still working in London this morning and will be taking his mother to the Ritz for tea. The two of us went a few years back and all I remember was that The scones balanced upon their silver cake stand were ten times smaller than Auntie Glad's and that everything was brightly lit, shiney and " bling"

Looking back on things the experience of tea at the Ritz  was a little over facing but quite magical in as much just occasionally it's nice to do something out of your comfort zone.

Having said that, don't go to the Ritz tearoom hungry.....you'll bloody well leave hungry.

This morning, in the gloom of Black Friday, I had a large cheerful  slice of fruit pie for breakfast

Christine from Chapel Street called yesterday, she had made me one as a treat and with a strong cup of coffee from my thick american coffee mug, it was as good, if not better than anything I had eaten in the Ritz Palm court.

Traditions

For a few weeks now I have been collecting little piles of Christmas bits and pieces. Chocolate money, tiny birds for the Christmas tree, little silver stars ..just little gifts that can be seen in most shops at this time of year.
I have developed a tradition of sending a package of these items to my mother in law in Broadstairs and to two friends...one in Yorkshire and the other in Australia.
The gifts are inexpensive, a little silly even , but I would never miss collecting and sending them.....its a silly tradition I get a lot of pleasure from......and I hope it's a tradition that the recipients enjoy just as much.
WHAT PERSONAL TRADITIONS DO YOU FOLLOW AROUND CHRISTMAS?
I'd be interested in hearing them.....

Ps Phyllis is eating well this morning. Her run is safely locked up again

The Bastard and Phyllis Diller ( with update)

Not so white and fluffy..Phyllis post attack

11.40 am
Today "The Bastard" got into the run of the smallest and most vulnerable hens I own. (" The Bastard" regular readers may remember, is the feral cat that has been leading Albert a somewhat merry dance over the past few months.) With small rabbits is short supply, I have seen him lurking around Phyllis Diller's run, but he has always kept his distance until this morning.
This morning he saw that I had not replaced the overhead door to the run properly and had grabbed his chance for a small fluffy white feathered meal.
I heard the commotion from the back kitchen, and as I reached the field, two of the geese and both cockerels had driven the Bastard off from the run. In his panic to flee, the cat had dropped Phyllis into the mud , where she lay shocked and covered in dirt, so I scooped her up and hurried back to the cottage......as I went I could see " The Bastard " standing on the Church wall, his tail whipping angrily from side to side.
Attacked hens don't do very well,
So very quickly I checked her over, cleaned a couple of bites on her neck and back and after I gave her some antibiotic, I smartly wrapped her in a tea towel and lay her quietly on a cushion next to the hastily lit log burner.
That was three hours ago and Phyllis is still lying quietly in the dark next to the fire. Her head is moving a little more and she's looking a little more alert , so I will take her out soon and return her to a warm nesting box
I have a feeling she will survive.
Hey ho

19.45 pm
I have just staggered over to the field with my wellies sliding everywhere in the mud to check on Phyllis in her coop.
She shares the hut with one other refugee ( a warren called Bodica..who used to live in the old Still House in the village)
I peeped in with a flashlight to see both hens cuddled up and fast asleep together
Phyllis is fine!

Coffee With Bunty (and Other Stories)

Bunty...well as near as dammit

Chris is away until Saturday and in between work commitments will be meeting his mum in London for afternoon tea at the Ritz no less. I am on holiday from the hospital this week but have offered to do overtime if they need me. They dont which is a bummer as I need a bit extra cash before Christmas...so I have volunteered to cover a couple of 4-7am shifts at Samaritans= they are the shifts no one likes to do..so its an early night for me tonight.
I felt , I needed a day out today, and so I thought I would take myself off to a matinee after meeting Bunty, the lesbian smallholder, for coffee .
Bunty, as it happens, is a girl that really doesnt "do"coffee!
Bunty lives with her girlfriend on a tiny farm up in the hills towards the village of Llanfair Talhaiarn (The village goes by the shorter nickname of Lanfair T H btw) so we arranged to meet in a coffee shop in the little town of Abergele.
I got there early so was sipping a nice americano when Bunty hurtled in like the proverbial bull in a china shop dressed in her usual pair of mens jeans and checked shirt
.I ordered her a "normal" coffee and had to smile when after her coffee arrived she bellowed a question at me "and what the fuck is this?" pointing to the tiny square of wrapped chocolate in her saucer. Bunty likes to make a big performance about all things twee and proper and I now understand its all a bit of a act/
a bit like Brian Blessed's yelling all the time!
We chatted about all sorts and she reluctantly agreed to have a turkey and cranberry sandwich "("friggin panini's at 11.45!!!!!" she snorted) before I told her I had to go to catch the 12.35 early showing of The Imitation Game 
"GOING TO THE CINEMA ? ON YOUR OWN???? ITS PRACTICALLY  THE MORNING?!" she bellowed again
"youre FRIGGIN NUTS!"
I smiled at the people behind us who were looking a little wary
"why dont you come/" I asked her "Benedict Cumberbatch is supposed to be very good in it"
"He's that funny looking twat isnt he?" Bunty grunted,
straight to the point is our Bunty
 I took that as a no!
I cant say , I was too disappointed
I couldn't envisage Bunty being quiet for 2 minutes ...let alone 2 hours!

 

The Imitation Game as it turned out, is a worthy but ever so slightly dull stab at exploring the work of math genius Alan Turing at Bletchley Park during the war. It was his pioneering work that led to the cracking of the German Enigma Code, a service that went un noticed by the authorities who did nothing to help him in 1951 when he was arrested and charged with gross indecency for having sex with another man in his own home!

I couldn't quite believe my eyes and ears when the character chose to take the alternative punishment on offer to him  which was to agree to a chemical castration!( he didn't want to be be imprisoned because she couldn't leave his life work developing a working computer)

how bloody sad

I think Bunty was right, she would have hated it