Spectre

I had big hopes for Spectre. From the publicity, the talk shows , the gossip and the hype, I understood that the franchise was due to leave the seriousness and the fragility of Bond from "Casino Royale" and the rollercoaster ride that was " Skyfall" to become something that was a little more wisecracking, frivolous and a homage to all the other Bonds that have gone before.
So we had the spectacular chase sequence in a tropical parade ( an amazing tracking shot in and around the " day of the dead" celebrations in Mexico), a fluffy white cat, the helicopter and inside a sleeper train fight, the exploding secret lair and even jokey Italian extra over reacting to the obligatory car chase, and although it looked marvellous , dramatically it left me totally cold .
Casino Royale's Bond was so much more interesting.
7/10.

A Bit Of Friction

Trelawnyd isn't " Walnut Grove" or " Walton's Mountain".....even though I often give the impression that it is. Historically it is a working class Welsh village that has it's spats and fall outs like any other community and it may come a surprise to a few when I say that there is at least one village character that I would find difficult to piss on if they were on fire.
Oh of course I WOULD piss on them....it's only a figure of speech, but I guess you get the gist of the matter.
Now we share a tight lipped " hello" on meeting, but I am still sure it was them that reported one of my village fete . " open allotment days " to the district council on " health and safety " reasons. This anonymous whistle blowing necessitated a red faced official visiting the field before the day to check if I had completed the relevant risk assessment paperwork.
" Someone doesn't like you" the council clerk said in way of explanation " we get a lot of these kind of petty reports "
The Red Faced Welsh farmer gave me some advice at that time....
" Get proof if you can....always get proof....... Failing that give ' em a hard smack On a dark night"

The RFWF centre at the Jubilee Carnival

When the Red Faced Welsh Farmer was alive, things in Trelawnyd were much more exciting. He would delight in stirring up the Community council meetings with robust tails of political and personal shenanigans whilst bellowing like Robert Newton in Treasure Island.
He made enemies as easily as he made friends, and the dry -as- a - nun's - chuff agendas were delightfully colourful when he was alive.
Cross the RFWF and you risked getting a punch in the face....but you always knew where you stood with him.......it was a testament to him that when he died, the large church as Bodelwyddan was over filled with hundreds of mourners.

There is still a group of characters in the village that would stand by your side in a fight. Wise, measured individuals who would and do " have a word in an ear" if the need arose. Luckily for me, I think, I stand in their corner

I was thinking about this when I was passing the untidy house with the black bin bagged windows in the centre of the village today. Two staffy crosses were loose in the garden and both were barking loudly behind fences that didn't look too safe and an unseen character was shouting at them to be quiet. I hope that the new family integrate themselves into the community .....for there has been friction before with inner city English families being " parachuted" into quiet areas of social housing here with interesting results......

Luckily " The word in your ear" approach seems to have worked wonders when antisocial behaviour reared it's ugly head.

See...its not all scones and bara brith! 

Mary...A Review

Frances asked for a "Mary" update the other day so, I shall give you all a brief synopsis of how things are going.
Her entry into an established pack has been an interesting study in canine psychology

Yesterday Mr and Mrs B from around the corner called in to be introduced and after five minutes left with their nerves in tatters after Mrs B's handbag had been relieved of a packet of tissues, a pension card and a slightly shopworn pink plastic hairbrush.

We all had forgotten just how overactive puppies can be.

Mary is bright little spark.
Like most puppies she constantly pushes the boundaries with the other dogs, but cleverly she just reigns in her silliness  so they don't lose it totally with her. William and George will cuddle up regularly but are too middle aged for puppy play, and both can find places to disappear to when baby teeth get a bit too sharp.
Even Winnie , who seems to be Mary's favourite plaything, has gone up a gear, and  now will allow the puppy to chew and pull at the fat folds of her face for hours at a time without raising one eyebrow in protest.
To repay her, for her stoic behaviour, Winnie has now been allowed to sleep on the living room armchair at night.....a huge step up from her bed on the kitchen floor.

And what about Albert?
Well Albert has taken all of these changes in his stride. He doesn't suffer fools gladly and has boxed Mary's ears on more than one occasion..apart from that , he has refused to let his routine change in any other way.

And what about me?
How have I coped with this little scrap of terrier energy?
Of course, apart from tutting over the odd shitty pile of turd lurking on the carpet, I have to share with you all that she has been a delight.
She has been a delight , because right from the very start she has been a daddy's girl.
Meg will never be forgotten.
But the physical vacuum left by her death ( and it was almost painful in it's absence ) has been filled somewhat for everytime I sit down, a little bundle of black and tan fur is pressed tightly into my lap. 

Hell And Tinsel

I hate shopping with a vengence

and I hate shopping in garden centre Christmas display areas even more

To me they are as pointless as a spare dick at a wedding.

But every year I subject myself to the annual "collection of the decorations"

in order to send some dear friends and my mother-in-law a load of 

old tat that they can hang on their trees and loop in front of the windows.

It's become a bit of a tradition.

Today, I subected myself to a half hour amble around the vast winter wonderland

at the local garden centre and I wasn't the only one.

The place was heaving with mostly middle aged and elderly women, most of whom 

looked as though they were enjoying themselves immensely.

The largest group were clustered around a dancing father Christmas who was bouncing around 

to the strains of " Jingle bell , jingle bell, jingle bell Rock"  

They were laughing like loons , and as I mused over whether to buy an obese smiling woollen turkey who was waving a sign which said " I love Christmas Pudding"

I caught the gaze of the only man in the group who looked painfully bored with

the whole sorry spectacle.

He mouthed the words " God help me" at me as the women continued to cackle  

And I gave him one of my most sympathetic smiles

Walking Dead Episode 4 .....Hope!

Sometimes The Walking Dead is sort of short on hope...this is especially true recently as we still don't know what happened to poor old Glen and the herd drovers are still out on the road...... Ok Maggie is still flying the flag for blind positivism and even Daryl may be leaning towards the philosophy of gay nice guy Aaron, but with the massacre of the Alexandrians last week....everything is still feeling rather bleak.
This week we follow Morgan's back story and It's an interesting, quieter take on redemption, as when mental illness really takes hold, he is shown compassion, and hope by a gentle stranger who sees this strange new world with a bite of intelligent psychology.
Its a clever and gentle episode
Rick remains all spiky toughness......in his leadership followed by Abe and Second lieutenant Carol
But it is Morgan who holds all the humanitarian cards me thinks....and it is him and his followers that hold the hope
Mind you.. The wolf in Alexandria .......will kill someone special...mark my words x

Humm and for the first time in the Walking Dead ..post traumatic sress disorder has been addressed

First Timers

" How fantastic is that?" I shared with a wonderfully smiley nurse called Rachel yesterday when I performed a routine pregnancy test at work.
" I've never done one before" I told her, a fact that couldn't have come as much of a surprise to anyone who may of known me.
I love the fact that " first times" no matter how inconsequential that they may seem at that moment, can be viewed as a cracking new experience.
" Cracking " can mean good or bad

What other " firsts" can I remember?

•   My first foreign holiday  ( at the age of around 8- with my mother to Lorett de Mar) a 1970 package holiday has never been so exciting ( the tiny & cigarette filled holiday jet filled) and so banal .( cheap Spanish tat)
• Being left at home alone at the age of 12 for the first time without a babysitter!
• Having my own cheque book ( a nat west one with pictures of animals on it) back in 1980
• Losing my virginity ( to a girl) in 1979 ( wot just happened?)
• Seeing the New York skyline for the first time at night on a snowy evening 
• Passing my driving test at 18
• Seeing the body of my grandmother after she had died in our family home
• Buying my first 45 record from The Prestatyn Record Shop ...Beg Steal and Borrow by the New Seekers
• My first West End musical - I went down to London alone around 1980 to see Evita
• Kissing a man for the first time ( Roxy night club in York ) he had a beard!
• Watching a baby being born ( Jessop's Hospial Sheffield 1989) a baby girl called Harley Davidson
• Walking into my first mortgaged home 52 Providence Road Sheffield in September 1989
•  Signing the marriage register, thinking "how amazing is this" 
• Flying over the Sydney Opera House in a miniature helicopter
• Watching the amazing emergency treatment of a drive by shooting victim in a Pittsburgh E R 
• Being given my first dog ( Finlay) for my 40 th birthday
• The Walking Dead episode 1 - Rick getting swamped by the herd whilst on his horse
• Climbing out under the wing of a small plane during my one and only parachute jump
• Seeing ECT administered for the first time
• Realising that people die ( crying in bed when I was around 7)
• My first Christmas with the Prof ( when he bought me a sugar bowl
  
  

No posts tomorrow

Long day in the hospital then Sams shift until 1 am

The Prof is on puppy watch/training

God help him

Hipsters

This photo selfie amused me no end yesterday.
It's a photo of two strangers who met on a flight to Scotland when they found themselves booked in adjoining seats.
Two ginger haired,  bearded hipsters that could have passed for twins.
What are the chances of that?
I like the " hipster" look
I'm far too old for it...and anyway skinny pants would be a fashion faux pax in our house..what with my Beyonce arse and fat thighs.
The other morning, I mused that if I had ever followed a trend in my youth, then in hindsight I would have followed the hipster route rather than the monstrosities that I found myself wearing in the 1980s.
From 1983  I once wore a blue mottled round necked jumper continuously until 1985....and I only stopped when the bloody thing literally fell apart.
I was never blessed with any fashion sense.....my sister inherited my share.
When I ambled around Byron Street, daydreaming what it would be like having a neat, perfectly combed haircut, a sculptured beard and trendy duds, a fantasy that was broken when I spied Bethan Jones who was decorating her hallway.
We chatted about wallpaper for a bit and it was only when I walked off, did I realise that my pyjamas were sticking out from under my combat trousers and there was a load of dried egg crusting up my goatee.