Bleeding Fat Flaps

The  cottage smells strongly of TCP.
The casualty?
Winnie's fat flaps.
At least once daily since she arrived Mary has delighted in swinging herself around by Winnie's facial fat flaps.
Winnie, a veteran of a dozen puppies or so, has so far put up with this dreadful and obviously painful activity with amazing alacrity. So much so, that even the Professor ( who is not a big bulldog fan) will hastily intervene when a particularly large mouthful of face has been dragged  about the living room by needle sharp little teeth for what he deems to be an excessive amount of time

Today I felt some TCP and TLC was in order and Winnie was asked to lie on the sofa, in order for me to assess the damage.
Winnie secretly loves this attention and I haven't seen so much drama queen activity since The Professor found a headless rabbit corpse at the foot of the stairs.
With her left paw held aloft she will moan ever so gently as I tab away at her sore bits, occasionally opening her eyes to check if and when another dab was on the cards, so much so that when it finally arrived she would lick her lips noisily in contentment.
If, however, I was slow at administering the aforementioned swab, then she would  wiggle a pudgy outstretched paw in a frantic circle , a signal for me to hurry up and get on with things.

She was obviously enjoying herself.

That was half an hour ago, and she is still lying on the couch now, her head thrown back on the cushions like Scarlett O'Hara after a busy night.

Divas........two in one small cottage....its somewhat crowded.

Mid Season Finale TWD

The first four episodes of The Walking Dead have been crackers. The last four slightly less so, and I think the problem the show right now is that there is at least 30 characters to deal with, rather than the usual 15 or so. 

Subsequently the show suffers from judicial editing ( to reduce the storyline to the manageable 50 minutes ) and the absence of liked characters for long stretches of time.

Out of the new characters , I kinda like the scared little boy Sam ,the boy that spends his life hidden away with  his toys in fear of monsters, the best .With his bad hair and bad complexion he is a baby Eugene in the making and his relationship with the scarred Carol Could be a wonderful storyline if the scriptwriters had enough time to explore it.

Sam loves Tiny Tim " tiptoe through the tulips" 

I doubt they will, as the last time we see the little tyke is him mouthing " mom" after a small group of Alexandrians are surrounded by walkers in the last seconds of the show. 

So Sam is a gonner , and hopefully so are a score of the more boring characters ( Eric, Olivia, Jessie, Ron, Enid , Father " Yawn" Gabriel and  Morgan ) natural selection within the cast.........a necessary evil in order to let the others shine a little more .

And so as we head towards the second part of the season in February ( February!!!!!!!) lets have less characters and more drama...the remaining  actors we have are quality material.

Is this the new Negan? 

He's rather attractive !

Testosterone

Sometimes a man's gotta do, what a man's gotta do.

He has to flex his caveman muscles to protect his home and family from the elements .

He has to collect his tools and bang nails into wood!

He has to unleash his masculinity and ingenuity

with carpentry skills that old pioneers of the far West used to build their 

log cabins and repair waggons on their historic journey across the prairies.

With blistered hands and sweaty brows, men have had to ignore tiredness and sleep deprivation 

The job just has to be done!

Yeap.........you've guessed it

I've not only gone and replaced the broken cat flap!

Way to go big guy! 

A Catch Up With Auntie Gladys

The wind can roar up the valley from the West with terrific force.Our little group of five houses are located at perhaps the lowest and most sheltered part of Trelawnyd whereas the dwellings up High Street and beyond face the full force of the elements.
This morning the only person out in the gales was Auntie Glad. I caught her battling her way to church and managed to stop her along London Road to remind her that the service was in Dyserth today. She was annoyed that she had forgotten.
I have not seen Gladys for several weeks, so after taking the dogs home I called around with a few mince pies wrapped in foil and she reminded me as soon as I arrived that I was late booking a Flower Show Committee meeting . " We need to crack on" she chided me gently.

We  can all learn a great deal from people like Gladys. She is a woman who takes joy from simple things. The table around which we sat was spotlessly clean as was every small red tile on the kitchen floor. A pork chop , roast potatos and veg smelled lovely from the aga's warming oven and although she probably couldn't see them clearly, a small bunch of flowers sat cheerfully on the windowsill.
It is a kitchen I remember from my early childhood. It is a grandmother's kitchen.

We chatted for a while.
We booked the committee meeting and she told me of her forthcoming holiday to Llandudno for a five day " turkey and tinsel " break.
She complemented The Prof on his powerful readings in Church and she told me about her grandson's new home " somewhere near London" but most of the conversation was centred about our news and our lives.
It's that "interested"  nature that keeps her so vital.

She posed for an official Flower Show Committee photo which will take centre place in the publicity posters of Next Year's Show whilst telling me of some friend's invitation to have her visit over Christmas.
" They insisted that I go" she laughed, " They really want me to be there" and as she smiled and clapped her hands at the prospect, I didn't doubt that fact for an instant.

The wind up the willows

The Atlantic storm " Fanny" or whatever is her chosen name THIS week had hit our part of the world with force overnight with  60 mile an hour winds. The Prof is working in his office and I am hiding away in bed with William ( his treat as he has been " babysitting " Mary all night in the kitchen.)
The wind is whooshing through the cottage with a vengeance as Scary Mary, in a fit of wanton destruction , has demolished the friggin cat flap.
The place is like a friggin wind tunnel what with these ice cold Westerlies shooting through our passages
I'll buy and fit a new cat flap tomorrow....I cannot face another shop today. On night shift.

Hell

I'm exhausted.
Christmas Shopping with the Prof!
He loves it.
I hate it.
Chester was a nightmare of seasonal plastic bags, tired middle aged men standing outside clothes shops and couples arguing " well I think your mother would love it!" at the nightie counter in Marks.
The children singing carols right next door to the Salvation Band was all a bit much
" Is it December yet? " I shouted, but my cries were drowned out by hundreds of tired feet on cobblestones.
Thank god we went to Waitrose afterwards.......some semblance of order and sanity and not a commoner in sight

Adele

I'm loving Adele

She's 27

Dresses like my mum did in the 70s 

And is as nice as pie

Fanny Washing

Fanny pristine and gleaming

I understand that I make Trelawnyd sound a little more exciting than it is, what with escaping geese and colourful characters at every turn. The truth is, that like every community on this black Friday, Trelawnyd plods on at it's very own pace.
This morning was spent cleaning out the duck house, puppy lead training, housework and "Fanny" washing.
I was just hoovering Fanny's back seats when a spontaneous round of applause broke out by some neighbours out for a walk. The sight of me actually caring for a car , let alone polishing it within an inch of it's life is still somewhat a rare event here . Everyone I see in the village has commented just how neat Fanny is ......but I am sure most miss the petrie dish that was the old Berlingo.

This  afternoon I have sorted a load of washing out ( how exciting), bleached the bathroom and  made deep mince pies with some donated mincemeat ( thanks Rosemary) whilst listening to classic FM
It has been a relaxing afternoon.

With the cottage peacefully quiet.
The only thing to be heard over the sound of Paganini was the good natured bickering between Mary and Winnie as they fought for possession of an old plastic hairbrush.

This went on for well over an hour