Hello, Hello.......Hello

Message to self don't ever put the words " mature police woman" into google search...........my mind and eyeballs have just been well and truly boggled!
Dirty Bastards!

Anyhow as I was looking for an " appropriate" image to support today's blog ( I had to, in the end, settle for a somewhat enhanced photo of Angie Dickenson from tv's Police Woman) I was thinking of that old hackneyed phrase " you can tell you are getting older when the policemen look like teenagers"
Well, I was only thinking of it, after meeting our latest community Policewoman who ambled down the lane on one of her " high viz" afternoons .
Now I was thinking of the phrase in a slightly ironic way, as our community constable looked a bit like my mum!
Now when I say my mum, what I mean to say my mum circa 1980 when my mum looked older than her 55 years ....As we were chatting, I couldn't help thinking about the question of could this lady hurl herself over garden fences in the pursuit of local ragamuffins who had taken a local ford fiesta out for a joyride. True she looked as though she could hold her own in a pub fight.....but to be fair , my mother could of done that well into her seventies.....despite being a chronic bronchitic
Now , dont get me wrong, I applaud older people being conscripted into the police. Their skills , especially those of " people reading" are often second to non.....
I'm only worried about an osteoporosis work injury

Swan Song

If I died suddenly ( in say a scotch egg hold up shoot out or an out-of-the- blue bulldog sex frenzy accident ) who would actually " own "   the eight years worth of Going Gently?
Could my next of kin ask for access to it? would it be immortalised as it was like a book on a dusty library shelf or would blogger eventually deactivate the pages as Facebook has just done on an 18 year old cancer victim, much to the horror and upset of her mother who had password access to the
Account?
It's an interesting modern day conundrum
What happens to our on line lives when we die?
Facebook, pay pal, bank accounts, in the cloud photo albums, library music, blogger, emails,
Who " owns" it all when we shuffle off is mortal coil?

Years ago, I used to follow an Australian blogger called John, who used to blog about living in the Australian countryside. It was a bit like Going Gently but with wombats .Quite suddenly, his health deteriorated drastically to such an extent that it was clear to everyone that he wasn't going to blog in the following year. In actual fact John sadly died a few days later and one of his last posts he stated that his wife or daughter would write a few words on the blog if he was incapacitated to do so.
That never happened, and the blog remains there in the ether of the internet, hanging and sort of unfinished.
I sometimes pop over even now to see if anything had changed.

What would you want to happen to your blog after you die?
Delete?

Egg On My Face

It's the biggest gig of the year in Church today, so Chris was up early setting up for the stand in vicar, who apparently is rather old and frail.
I'm looking forward to hear if there are disasters afoot

Btw You can tell it's Easter as some kind soul had given the sheep some stale hot cross buns to eat, I wondered who it was for there was also an uneaten battenburg cake on the field...Apparently Sylvia and Irene don't like marzipan.

As a treat Chris made me my favourite breakfast IN BED - a runny fried egg in a toasted bagel sandwich, which I demolished still lying  in the supine position! It was blissful

I want a lazy, pottering type day today....

Anyhow I was just putting the " pillow of porn" and the " slippers of sex" in the washing machine on a cool wash ( see previous post for an explanation) when there was a sharp knock on the window.
It was a cheerful walker out with an equally cheerful terrier who wanted eggs.
" I haven't got one" I told him honestly
" I know you've eaten them all!" He quipped pointing to my chin

I'm such a let down

I have always had this ability to cover myself and/ or my person with uneaten food. It is a skill ai have honed ever since I was old enough to wave a plastic spoon around.
My "piece de resistance" messy eating story happened when I was in the middle of a savoury pie eating frenzy on the busy train from Oxford to York.  I coughed then sneezed right in the middle of my second pie and unfortunately splattered two elderly bachelors who were sitting opposite with pork and cranberry filling.
In my experience you can only achieve a more destructive effect when sneezing whilst eating cornflakes......and I've done that too.....
Many times........
Hey ho

The Easter Lilllies in the East Window

The Pillow of Porn

Not much happening tonight

Chris went to Church

I've been watching Eurovision past winners on youtube

And Winnie

Well Winnie has been rubbing her fanny all over the new bulldog cushion

She now has her own sex toy
It's all got rather unsavoury
We've had the infamous slippers of sex
Now it's the pillow of porn

Anne-Marie David ~ 'Tu Te Reconnaitras'

I really enjoyed Graham Norton's homage to Eurovision last night....it couldn't have been any more camp if Diana Dors had been wheeled on in a pink jumpsuit by four naked musclemen.
Anne Marie-David, looking fab reprised her 1973 hit " Tu Tu Reconnaitras"
I loved it.

Well Done

My twin sister works for a big company and today she has just won the " colleague of the year award"
How good is that.....?
In this age of targets, figures, and profits, she has quietly supported her fellow workers by never throwing a sickie, completing her work diligently, changing her shifts at the last minute and always supporting the high flyers with being in store, on time and with a smile on her face.
Congratulations Janet......
The oldest worker in store...and now, obviously one of the best

Sugar Or Saccharine?

It's a damp and rainy Good Friday here. 

As a treat we are having fish and chips for tea

We bought some designer cutlery yesterday which will replace the eclectic  mixture of ikea crap and 1940s bone handled hand-me-downs we have been using for years....

We both decided that we felt very grown up having proper tableware!

The dish is another wedding gift to ourselves

Anyhow

 I've often been accused of portraying village life in an unrealistic and somewhat saccharine way. Perhaps I am guilty as charged .
But I don't really think so.
A few late wedding gifts are perhaps a case in point.

They could be twins

 The bulldog cushion dropped off by Eirlys & John , who live at a farm on the other side of the
village proved to be a big hit with a certain dog in the cottage and when I was on the phone to another Trelawnyd-ite , who was in dire need of some phone TLC a somewhat strange but typical message "
appeared " magically on the answerphone
It was as economical as it was clear
" Auntie Glad here..........SCONES,"
I dutifully called in with a pocket full of goose eggs for her, half an hour later, only to find her laughing at the fact that she had forgotten to add sugar to the scone mix.
" They are not my best specimens" she quipped " so, Ive added a jar of raspberry jam to compensate"
When I got home, I found a handwriiten card hidden away amongst the goodies

In it was £30 and the words " wishing you Both good Health and happiness"

Life in a village can be lovely if you meet the right people!

Albert

We have spent the day in the city of Liverpool, spending our wedding gift vouchers at John Lewis.

After a great deal of debate we decided to buy some cutlery.

Which is very grown up of us both me feels.

Anyhow I am late blogging today.......and that is why!

I promised Scottish Andrew that today's post would feature his favourite Going Gently character

So here is a brief history of Albert The Cat

Albert on his arrival to Bwthyn y llan

In the Autumn of 2008 on a whim I drove into the animal rescue centre at Dyserth and asked a remarkably wizened old lady with an unlit fag hanging out of her mouth if she had any cats who could hold their own against a quartet of terriers. She told me that she hadn't but took my telephone  number " just in case"
That very afternoon she rang me
" we've just had an older kitten brought in by a woman with two staffies" she rasped
" He's a feisty little bugger".
I called down to the shelter later that day and literally minutes after seeing him, I took possession of a tiny wide eyed black kitten with a sad history.
Albert was the only survivor of a littler of feral kittens . His mother had brought them up in a farm outbuilding next to a busy road and had herself been killed the day after Albert's brother had been knocked over by a milk lorry.  Albert and his sister had carried on in a fashion through the charity of one of the farm workers. It was the farm worker who had rescued him after Albert's sister was killed on the same patch of road.
It was the farm worker's wife who had re homed Albert after one of their staffie crosses had taken a dislike to the kitten.
The sob story was worthy of Walt Disney's BAMBI.
Albert arrived wide eyed yet remarkably calm, and set up home inside a cardboard box placed carefully on the dining room table. For six weeks he lived on the table and on the kitchen cabinets without once setting a foot on the floor ( even the cat littler was placed out of dog reach) and for six weeks he drove the dogs mad by remaining just that bit out of reach.
The resulting hysteria bubbled just under boiling point as the terriers lived in a permanent state of cat arousal
It was a long , long month and a half!
Then it all changed.
For one very cold night , he left the safety of the kitchen table and took his place in front of the fire with the other dogs.
And nothing was ever said about this sudden assertion .

For seven years now Albert has been a true delight.
He's been knocked over by a car , breaking a leg, (which he still can't bend properly)
He has killed hundreds of rabbits, mice , small rats and birds
and he has gone out of his way to be an active  part of the cottage dog pack spending a few minutes every day head rubbing each dog in turn in happy recognition of a friend well loved.
Albert is a constant backdrop to the more boisterous animals at the cottage
But he is as necessary to the running of the place as oxygen .