Operation Fanny Smell

In my fantasy life...the cottage always smells of camomile and lavender.
In reality, at this time of spring, the cottage, indeed the village, stinks of muck spreading.
The prevailing wind is invariably from the west, and the fields beyond Trelawnyd have been covered in a particularly rancid concoction of shite recently so this resulted in an overwhelming sense of "sewer" about the place
It reminds me of one of our made up Abba song verses we used to sing as kids

"There was something in the air last night,

It stank of shite,,,,,

Fernando"



The Fields West



Add to this mix, the delights of last night's home made curry, three terriers in dire need of a bath and Winifred's not-so-fragrant fanny and you have the recipe for a home that Oscar the grouch would be proud of.
Usually, on a bright day like today the answer to cottage smells would be open the windows to the spring breeze but all that will do today is to bring the muck spreading inside, so with a mop and bucket, a bath full of foam, enough cleaning stuff to re open Woolworths and a big soapy fanny cloth at the ready....I am to reclaim the cottage back into a fragrant land of the living

The stinky fanny culprit

First things first, I scrubbed Winnie's fanny until it gleamed then dipped each of the terriers in turn into the bath before facing off the soft furnishings. I've even squirted some of my expensive clinque  "Happy" on the bed linen!

perhaps the best thing to do today is to just to smear vicks underneath our noses

Even in the Great Welsh Countryside there is no fresh air







It's All A Load Of Old Cock

Tonight I helped out with the training of volunteers who have to deal with

sex and abusive call on the phone.

The experiential learning is always a little difficult as there is a lot of role play 

which features swearing and sexual phrases

At the end of a particularly sensitive session

the leader turned to me and whispered

It's all a bit ironic given the big cock on your chest!

Sunflower

I couldn't quite believe that I was working last night!
Doesn't the nhs managers of zintensive Care know that monday nights are The Walking Dead nights?
Obviously not!
There was a nice lot of nurses on yesterday's shift and even though it's been a couple of weeks since the wedding.. A group of them bought me some brand new wellington boots!, a set of smart gardening gloves a huge, four foot sunflower scarecrow and a massive chocolate cake.
It was a lovely gesture
It was an incredibly busy shift and the chocolate cake was left uneaten until one of the junior doctors who hadn't stopped for hours took a massive bite out of it.
I'm off to bed now.....the Walking Dead will have to wait.
I'm so tired ..my eyeballs hurt

Old Ladies At The Window

We bought the cottage back in 2005.
There was a great deal to do, to make it look like a period property as the previous owners had put in laminate floors and had pulled out the living room caninets, fire surround and bannisters, so we lived in another cottage in Meliden until the work could be finished.
Almost daily,I would come up to Trelawnyd to paint and to supervise our joiner, who was notoriously slow ( but good) at his work and I remember one afternoon as I was painting our bedroom ceiling, hearing a noise by the front door.
I walked half way down the stairs  and looked over the banister and saw two old ladies peeping through the living room window.
I didn't disturb them but watched with interest as they pointed at various points of interest around the room and I only darted down the stairs and out through the back door when they ambled off back towards the village.
By the garden wall , I introduced myself, and there was much nodding smiling and slightly embarrassed Welsh hellos. The ladies, I was told, were lifelong friends Gwyneth Jones and Olwena Hughes and that in around 1930 Olwena had been taught the piano in our cottage front room!
I found out much later that the village gossips had been working overtime and that everyone knew tgat a doctor and a nurse ( both men!) were moving into the cottage. I was also told  that locals like Mrs Jones and Olwena had often popped down to see what we had done with the place.
Over the years, like most of the Grey hairs from the village, Gwyneth and Olwena became a regular backdrop to our lives here. On our very first open day they very slowly led the small line of villagers who walked down the lane to support the event. A scene that had me misty eyed, in it's pure cinematic impact.
Their arrival reenforced our acceptance into the community.
A few years ago Mrs Jones sadly died of a stroke and Olwena's health deteriorated to such an extent that she gave up her bungalow on Bron Haul to live in a nursing home towards the coast. It was here that she in turn died only a week or so ago.
Today is her funeral and I shall be going to pay my respects . I've cleaned the church in readiness and brought in some miniature daffodils to cheer the place up a bit , flowers which I suddenly realised had to be removed to the vestry as there is a " no flowers" rule in Church before Easter
I'll leave you with this small video of the pair of old friends, which I took several years ago now.
I had been asked by a blog follower to post a video with a couple of villagers talking welsh on it, so who better than Olwena and Mrs Jones.
I asked them to chat about a belly dancer , that had been asked to perform at the Friendship group meeting the previous Thursday but the pair  decided to chat about something much more interesting ( the story of how another local man had experienced a bad fall at home)
It's a very Welsh thing talking about a misfortune

" Hold The F*#king Ladder!

" keep your feet on the ladder!"
" I am!"
"Keep it still"
" I'm NOT MOVING"
" All this should have been done last year!"
" DON'T START!"
" I will if I Want"
"Don't pull that bit!!!!"
" I KNOW!!!!!!"
" I'm just saying!"
" I'm getting ANNOYED!"
Etc etc etc

Ahhhhhh the bliss and peaceful banter when husbands decide to cut down some of the overgrown honeysuckle around the front door and guttering.
He's now gone off to Church
I'm lying down in a darkened room

The honeysuckle covered inscription over the front door

It says

In vino veritas

( in wine there's truth)

1674

The "Slippers Of Sex"

24 hours ago , I was sipping white wine spritzers with friends in a nice sophisticated wine bar.
Tonight we are watching some weird shite on tv where a group of " normal human beings" are being hypnotised for the sake of a cheap laugh.
To complicate matters Chris has been wearing Mrs Hopkins' slippers.
Now these slippers , are not just a fashion statement , they are the object of a certain bulldog's " self pollution" behaviour and once worn seem to drive Winnie wild with desire when she is " in the mood"......( I think they are long overdue for a soak in some detergent)
Chris has now dubbed them " The Slippers of Sex"

There's a general understanding that they are not to be worn when we have visitors

Pouring Nu Home

The Leopold Hotel in Sheffield is lovely ( see above)...and right outside ALL BAR ONE, our old stamping ground in Sheffield....it's 1.28am and I feel sober! ( a first for a Sheffield visit)
I have just poured Nuala into her room after she had a somewhat energetic fumble with her peanuts and olives at the hotel bar....(.she was pissed as a fart!)
We caught up with old friends......Some we haven't seen for 20 years.....and we shall have a post-mortem of the evening over a late breakfast
By the look of Nu when I left her.....it will be a very late breakfast
Hey ho

Eclipse

I would like to say that  the pavements of Trelawnyd were thick with open mouthed locals gazing up at the sky this morning, but the truth of the matter was that only Barbara Parry could be seen by the village green, gamely pulling at her unfeasibly large shopping trolley.
Down at Bwthyn -y-Llan, it was just me and the neighbours who were watching the skies

 With the help of a large welding mask, we " enjoyed" the event

 And had a lively discussion about how Prehistoric Trelawnyd folk could have dragged local virgins up The Gop for ritualistic sacrifice during eclipses in history.

Almost dark