Series 1

With Series 6 not starting until October

I was excited when I saw series 1 repeated on sky!

I had forgotton just how good characters Jim, Moralas and Amy were

Hey ho

Iola, Lentil Dhal, Stolen Sweet Pastry, and a deflated Custard Tart

It's going a missmash of a blog today.

A missmash sort of day it has been

Yola's Father I.P.Jones

This morning two ambling figures were spied walking back from the old shop along London Road. Both were pushing those strange looking mixtures of zimmer frane and shopping trolley, so their progress was incredibly slow and deliberate.
I crossed the road to say hello and strange as it sounds also a final goodbye for the couple are due to leave Trelawnyd very soon.
I first met the Endres when I was collecting information on the History of the village.
( see http://trelawnydhistory.blogspot.co.uk/2011/06/mrs-iola-endres-nee-jones.html)
 Iola Endres is one of the last of Trelawnyd's Royalty still living in the village. She ran the village shop as her father had done for many years and knows the history of the place inside and out. Now, after a period of ill health her and her husband are off to live near her daughter in Manchester.
I wished them well, but it wasnt a happy encounter.
Back home I made a lentil dahl for supper

Then made a batch of sweet pastry , half of which was stolen from the kitchen table by Meg. Who is now sleeping it off on the living room arm chair
No doubt we are now in for a night of THE SHITS!

Meg nursing a dickey tummy

I made another batch in a rush in order to bang out a custard tart
But the effing thing leaked in the oven , leaving a tart only 4 mm thick!
I salvaged two wafer thin wedges and later will take them up to my friend Bob ( the ex poultry farmer who taught me how to " neck" a  chicken) who has just come out of hospital.
Mind you, looking at the state of the slices , I'm not sure I'll bother

Oh the shame!

They look as though Ive sat my arse on em

Love Is Strange

Few movies about life have at their heart a stable and loving relationship , for angst often is mistaken for a more cracking cinematic drama than everyday, " mundane" love.
"Love Is Strange" is therefore a rare beast, for at it's heart is a stable, loving and totally believable love affair between fifty something music teacher George ( Alfred Molina) and seventy something artist Ben ( John Lithgow).
We first meet the pair on the morning of their wedding as they bicker and spar in their Manhattan apartment and from the get go the film captures perfectly that every day ease long term partners possess in bucketfuls. It is clear that this movie isnt after histrionics and queeny drama.

Through a series of beautifully shot scenes,all bookended with George's students' Musical set pieces, the film follows the couple's unexpected separation. for after their marriage George is fired from his catholic school job and the pair have to sofa surf at friends' and family's apartments for a while when their own home is put on the market.
Through problems with personal space, moody nephews, exasperated nieces ( a great understated performance by Marisa Tomei btw)and claustrophobic new living places, Ben and George's relationship remains strong , affectionate and unwavering and it is clear that the audience really longs for the time when their pair finally get together, such is the winning performance by Molina and Lithgow....
It's a wise and lovely movie.
8/10

Pantyliners and Other Stories

I've been on the doctor/ pharmacy and supermarket run for and with an elderly neighbour this morning.
Not too much stress, just a bit of sitting around reading crap magazines in waiting rooms and a rather irritating moment in Sainsbury's trying to buy just one beefburger!
I had zoned out completely by the time I was waiting for some antibiotics at the chemist, so I found myself standing in front of a set of shelves just staring into space at the multi coloured boxes and packets without actually seeing them.
After a few minutes the lady on the till called over without a hint of irony
" were you AFTER  panty liners sir?"
And with that jolt, I suddenly realised I was in the sanitary towel aisle!
" No.....I'm just looking" I replied without thinking
JUST LOOKING? .......what am I?  a friggin pervert?
I shouldn't be let out in public sometimes

Light & Shade

Light and shade,
Light and shade.

Early this morning it was a silly tale of emergency scotch eggs.
This evening it is a sad telephone call from a fellow Trelawnyd-ite about a dying partner
Life turns on a dime....so often
Does it  not?

I Need One .......I Want One........GIMME ONE YOU BITCH!

It's been four weeks since I've had a bit

Four weeks of abstinence.

For a month , I've not touched one, caressed one......enjoyed one

I've been strict with myself....saying that I can cope without the indulgence

How wrong was I to say such a thing.

At 1800 yesterday, I was 90% of a way through a hospital shift when I spied a visitor eating a mini scotch egg.

I could of cried.

I said to my colleagues that I could have killed a nun for such a morsel and all they could dowas to shrug their shoulders.

No one knows a scotch egg addict than another scotch egg addict eh?

Anyhow I battled on

After I got home, I walked the dogs, kissed my husband and then went to Sams for a shift

At 12.45 am   I told my co worker that if I couldn't find a scotch egg I would die

" stop off at the service station in Rhyl on the way home " they suggested

I stopped even though the place was deserted

The service station was only open to payments through a small metal slot..so I begged the spotty youth on duty to find me a scotch egg as quick as he could

" I think we only have only have individual pork pies" he chirped obviously unaware that I was about to kill him

" I need a scotch egg" I begged " just the one......please go and look again!"

He did....thank God

After an age he returned with two scotch eggs in individual wrappers

" one expired yesterday" he said helpfully

" I don't care" I shouted, " bung 'em through the slot"

They tasted like cardboard nectar
Don't tell the Prof
The Roger Eyebrow would be raised well above his head

Bet Roger Moore never said Hey ho
Hey ho

Normal Service Will Be Resumed

The Prof and I are having a lazy day today
Tomorrow he will be writing something profound in his office
Tomorrow I will be working a 12 hour day shuft on ITU followed by further 3 hour Samaritan shift
I'll be back on blogger on Monday
Hey ho

Talking Heads

In September, I fly to Australia on my own. There I shall meet up with The Prof in Sydney , who will have been working in Melbourne then sailing around the Pacific with some friends.
It sounds all very cosmopolitan does ot not?
It's a long time since I travelled long haul on my own. I've only done it once before, and that was when I took myself off to Seattle on a whim many years ago.
I don't remember much about that trip now, except that the city was wet, cold and rather glum but on a brighter note the sour dough chowder, as I recall was mighty fine.
I ate a good many bowls of it too.
Now, I don't mix well when I am on my own and apart from service people, I dont think I spoke to a living soul until I found myself sitting next to a 30 something Japanese/American woman in a lighthouse coffee shop.
With typical US directness she told me that her name was Hisoka ( which means Shy) , that she was lecturer at SeattleEU and that she was waiting to meet a nice girl called Jane for an important second date.
She was also the very first person that I told I was gay.
I shall always remember it, for even though I was in my twenties , it was a real  red letter day experience, for it was the first time that I had verbalised something so important to me which turned out so wonderfully inconsequential to her.
We talked for an age, and in those pre mobile phone days, Jane had to ring the coffee shop manager to inform Hisoka that she would be late, which was lovely for me, as I talked and talked and talked about all those gay things, I never had the chance to do before.

When Jane, eventually arrived, I politely took my leave. But not before Hisoka pulled a book out of her handbag. " I love these stories" she said " please take it!" and she gave me a rather battered copy of Alan Bennett's " Talking Heads".
" I love British humour" she explained sweetly.

I found the book today when I was cleaning out the bookshelf today.....funny what you are reminded of eh?