Grandma

With The Prof away, and with an early evening to fill, I took myself off to the cinema.
There were only two other customers in the theatre ( just the way I like it) so I could settle down to watch the fairly unlikely but passable comedy/drama " Grandma"
In Grandma, old Trouper Lily Tomlin gives the title role some welly. She plays Elle Reid, an acerbic, feminist, lesbian writer who has seen better days. She is estranged from her daughter ( Marcia Gay Harden) , has just finished with her latest girlfriend ( Judy Greer) and has not gotten over the death of her long term partner Violet but steps up to the plate when her teenage grandaughter (Julia Gardner) turns up needing money for an abortion.
The gist of the story is somewhat tenuous as it involves Tomlin and Gardner traipsing around Los Angeles bumming money from a selection of Elle's old friends. Of course being a foul mouthed old terrier, she causes more problems than she can solve but eventually a kind of peace is forged between grandmother, daughter and grandaughter
It's an interesting film, for given it's brief running time ( under 100 minutes) it is able to cram in a whole lot of backstory between the characters, which includes a rather surprising turn by old cowboy Sam Elliot, who gives a rather moving performance as Elle's first husband, a man who never got over the break up with a lesbian he was clearly very much in lovewith
The film has plenty to say about love, death and relationships but it is the study of Elle, a woman who has battled with everything and with everyone during a militant, cause driven life which makes for an interesting twist. Tomlin's Elle is a difficult and at times unlikable woman. She pours coffee on the floor of a coffee shop for no good reason except she didn't like being told off for her explicit mouth then can turn on a kind of vulnerable charm when faced with the parents of her ex girlfriend it would be interesting to know just how much of the actress is in the character.
Though not a belly laugh movie, Grandma is amusing and worth seeing for Tomlin's sock-it-to-ya performance alone.
It always has surprised me just how few movies Tomlin has actually made.....I guess Hollywood just didn't know what to do with her.

Au Font Du Temple Saint

Today's blog was triggered by listening to a re run of radio 4's "Desert Island Discs" where old Kirsty was chatting to he bloke who wrote the novel " Brooklyn"

In 1987 I was living in the city of York, and while working as a psychiatric nurse, I was adopted as a fledgling gay best friend to an older and much more cultured occupational therapist called Ally. 

One of the first things she " introduced" me to was live theatre and early on during our social relationship she took me over to the Theatre Grand in Leeds to experience my very first opera.

The production was Opera North's version of The Pearl Fishers

I remember to this day the experience of my very own " Pretty Woman" moment  when " Au Font du temple saint" , the famous " friendship" duet between fishermen Nadir and Zurga , belted out around the auditorium. 

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up in a moment of pure pleasure

It wasn't a mere " I love Opera" moment 

But it WAS a red letter " growing up....there is so much more to life " moment. 

What was yours?" 

Secret Feeder

My old muckers Stephenson & Rachel are down in the dumps because of the weather....having said that Rachel got two dozen comments after a one line comment about rain......go figure.....
So in an effort to brighten the mood, I posted the previous energetically rude video ( which I found a delight) and now I shall talk about obesity in cats.
The other day The Prof lifted Albert onto the kitchen window ledge where he always eats his kitty nibbles and remarked pointedly that the long suffering Tom was " piling on the pounds"
I hadn't really noticed before, but on closer inspection there was no denying that Albert had indeed " filled out" from his normal " Sammy Davis Junior" look.
Now, he's not been eating more than usual at home, nor has he been killing rabbits to scoff ( he usually enjoys an extra  meal of adolescent bunny every spring time) so after a few moments contemplation, I came to the only logical conclusion that Albert was being fed by one of the neighbours.
This morning I decided to find out who is was.
I fed the dogs as usual ( which is a remarkable bunfight in itself)  and pointedly ignored Albert as he
stood impatiently waiting for his breakfast on the kitchen table. (My idea was to leave him hungry to see if he would bugger off to whoever was supplementing his diet.)
I fed Winnie, Mary and George then spooned William's expensive wheat free food into a bowl with Albert giving me the evil eye from the table top, and as I pretended to do the washing up ( ignoring Albert's paw tapping at my t shirt) he let out a snort of disgust and stalked off out of the cat flap.
I followed at a safe distance.
Albert walked down the path, through the gate and across the lane and I watched as he scooted up the six foot wall into the Churchyard.
Crouching, I pegged it up the lane and up to the Lychgate, just in time to see him slipping under the Rectory gate. I thought, then that I had got him, for he was either heading for Mrs H 's Bungalow, Wendy's Bungalow next door or to the Rectory itself.
I followed as it started to rain.
I crept down the path with my hoodie up and caught myself peeping over a succession of garden fences before realizing that I must have looked like an overweight burglar, but I thought that I would persevere even though I was soaked through.
I lost sight of Albert at the same time as Pippa's dogs started to bark at me from the Rectory dining room window, so I jogged back down the path to the Church where I promptly slipped on a wet Gravestone which had been placed flat on the ground, and rolled into the grass like a fat pudding.
Thank god no one saw me . I shot to my feet and feeling somewhat defeated and very wet and muddy, I returned to the cottage, non the wiser.
When I opened the back door, I was surprised to see Albert already standing on the kitchen worktop.
He was enjoying the last bit of William's expensive hypoallergenic food I had left out.

I wish I was Her

I know she's paid to be rude,

But I oh I sooooo love her

Undercarriage Stress

The Prof is away for three days, so I decided to go to the cinema this afternoon

Just as I left, I remembered I needed corn for the geese, so forsaking 

my trip to see " Joy " 

I went to the feed wholesalers instead.

There's a big cheerful lump of a guy who works in the warehouse and

showing off a little I reached the 25 kilo bag of corn just before he did and "expertly"

threw it rather heavily over my shoulder. 

As I did so, I let out the loudest of explosive farts.

You know the type.....one that couldn't of been restrained with a just a clench 

The workman laughed once and called out a hearty

" THAT'S EMBARRASSING " and I tottered away masking my shame with a brusque 

call of " It's my age" 

( it's actually my 38 inch waist)

Sun

We had a few moments of blue sky and sunshine today and the mood of the villagers responded accordingly as the numbers of dog walkers doubled and people chatted on open doorsteps and on the green outside the pensioners' bungalows.
Trellis' new Rayburn is smoking a little too much, Pippa is a grandmother again and Podrick the black Labrador puppy battered Mary with his big fat paws on High Street.
Bethan shouted " Happy New Year " at me through the window as we passed Byron Street and the man who lives on well street who looks like the theatre producer Bill Kenwright, came out of his cottage to greet Winnie . ( he has a thing for her according to his wife)
I bumped into Jackie from Maes Offa , who told me that the Memorial Hall post office was re opening albeit for a couple of hours next week which is good news and I promised Mrs Jones that I would sit in with her hubby while she goes shopping next week. He's now attending the memory clinic.
Auntie Gladys was out so I couldn't book the first Flower Show Committee meeting of the year, I'll do that tomorrow.
The dogs have been bathed and all the Christmas decs taken down.
I'm out tonight so the Prof has to make his own tea.
I did however make him a custard tart with an excessive pastry rim.
It's all go

1000

Sometimes I have the fantasy of writing a book. 

It only happens when I read something like that I've had over 3 million pageviews

 I then realise that stats numbers seem to be all bollocks as

much of their numbers are automatically generated!

 And I also remind myself, I haven't the talent of Rachel or Tom Stephenson

for they write beautifully

I would however like 1000 followers instead of 917

I am shallow enough to want

 a nice round figure

A Village Of Dogs

There is a another list of village characters in Trelawnyd. So far they have only been mentioned in passing , for the likes of Gay Gordon, Trellis ( the artist formally known as Mrs Trellis) and Jason the affable despot  have all taken centre stage On Going Gently. But living in the 200 odd houses within the village boundary at least sixty varied dogs share their lives with a cross section of Welsh villagers.

Firstly, there are the rural working and farm dogs, many of which are alert, on edge and protective of their owners and land. Farmer Basil's dog is a case in point here, for he sits sharp eyed next to his master in the farm pick up ready to snap at any untinking passer by who ventures a hand through the window.
Farm dogs are not like home dogs, they cannot be treated the same.

There are dogs that never seem to be walked  like the two aggressive staffies that reside in the bin bag windowed House and the ones that you meet every day with their owners trotting energetically in the wet lanes and streets. Trellis' whippet, Blue and the police house's Lilly both sport natty coats when  out and both stand gently and quietly by their master's sides when I come trolling up with our pack.
Things are much more frenetic when we meet Pippa and her mongrels and Terry from the flower Show and his pugnacious Yorkie, then both sets of dog packs  yap and bark at each other with some gusto. Dogs on leads love to play up loudly, I always think.

Two lovely looking Scotties live on the new estate, and a proud English bull terrier will always say hello with a confident and smiling good nature  on the few times we meet up .
I always smile too, when the nervous Shih Tzu , who is owned by the old guy from the pensioner bungalows , sees us when he is trotting around the concrete paths . He disappeares inside , as quickly as a Mexican extra from a Spaghetti Western.

Another Welsh terrier , called Seren , can be often seen perched on the knee of  Gwyneth in her electric wheelchair and the lovely Black Labrador puppy Podrick is out everyday being trained by his conscientious  owner .

Winnie is the only bulldog in Trelawnyd by the way.
60 odd dogs in a tiny village
Says something for the power of dog friendship eh?