Shotguns

Walking up the lane above the village on a Sunday morning in winter always feels a tad apocalyptic.
It's the distant " putt putt" sound of shotguns being fired off with gay abandon beyond the next village of Trelogan . The sounds echo around the small basin of hills which lay around Trelawnyd and provide an uneasy backdrop for a peaceful walk.
I'm not sure it is a wild bird shoot or a shooting range which is at the centre of it all, but it always reminds me of those BBC reports from the Bosnia Conflict of 1992.....the reports always reminded me of rural wales in winter.
Beyond the village there is a small 18th century house. I often see the homeowner sitting quietly at the front window. Often in the darkness of this winter's daytime, she will sit in gloom without any light to lift the muggy weather , but she will wave back when I initiate a greeting of a nod or wave.
Trellis ( the artist known formally as Mrs Trellis)  told me she is suffering from early dementia, yet still lives alone despite a few episodes " upset" where neighbours had been involved to reassure her that intruders had not entered her home and were hiding.
I saw the lady today, standing at her garage door. She was holding the collar of her dog, an old collie who had been bitten by Maddie our ageing Scottish terrier a few years back ( I tell you this only as a bit of background colour)
I waved and she waved back just as flurry of shotgun " putts" bounced around the hillside and I called out a slightly mock exasperated " there's no peace is there! " almost in what I hoped was a reassuring way.
The woman raised a finger to her lips to shush me  and said nothing before closing the garage door slowly.
The whole thing slightly unnerved me

It's Grim Up North

It's cold and wet
The rain hasn't stoppd for what seems like an absolute age.
Apparantly one small Welsh village in Pembrokeshire called Eglwyswrw, has had rain
everyday ,for the past 81 days!
It was so miserable this afternoon that even the geese were sitting inside their house when
I went to lock them up.
The log burner is lit, and we are having Indian for supper.
The Prof is in his arm chair covered by a warm throw
"Aye...it's grim up north"

Guilty Mary

Mary is going through her " chew everything in sight" phase. The other dogs have to have their collars removed whilst in the house, unless they are destroyed and electric plugs have to to be now put out of reach after her near death experience with the chest freezer electric plug, which she suddenly attacked out of the blue and severed totally. How she didn't get electrocuted bugger alone only knows. ( I was rearranging the kitchen at 1am so that the freezer food didn't defrost)
This morning she managed to pull William's harness through the bars of her crate and has chewed off its catches and another zip from another scatter cushion now lies on the living room floor.
" It's a phase" I told The Prof after he returnd from London late last night
The Roger Moore eyebrow has never seen so much action.

It's All Death Today

Alan Rickman

Was never better than he was in the role of the gentle colonel in 

Sense and Sensibility

A lovely actor  

" Death At Home"

The other night I had to break sad news to someone over the phone.
I had to inform them of the sudden death of a loved one.
I've done this many, many times over the years.
and it's never an easy job.

Shock is a strange phenomenon. You never know just where it is going to go when it hits and I was reminded of this when I read a rather moving post from Rachel's Blog last night entitled " Remembering Death At Home"
http://roadtokazakhstan.blogspot.co.uk/2016/01/remembering-death-at-home.html

When I was around 16 our paternal grandmother came to live with us. She took over our second living room and was cared for by my mother as she was increasingly forgetful and frail.
Her death one winter's afternoon came as a surprise though not a shock to my sister and me but to my father it was strangely devastating. Moments after her rather peaceful death and with the house full of relatives he tearfully rounded on my mother and screamed " You've KILLED HER...YOU'VE KILLED HER,"
I had never seen anything like it before and I remember standing there in the dining room rather dumfounded by his outburst -looking at my mother for a lead on the whole thing.
For a moment there was silence,
then,  I remember her lowering her eyes slowly with the stinging hurt.  She said nothing at all as my father was led away and relatives whispered " he's in shock, he doesn't know what he's saying"

It was my very first taste of how death can affect people.

Conflict

Contrary to what you may think,  I am not a lover of conflict.
Having said this, my post of a few days ago is a testament  to the fact, I often can't shut my mouth.
Whatever!
I've had a shitty conflict filled day today.
So much so, that I've lit the fire and locked the doors.
Crap tv is the order of the afternoon.

After leaving work this morning I was called an " arsehole" by a fellow motorist who wanted my vacated parking spot quicker than I wanted to leave it, and when I eventually got home and walked Mary and William around the village, I was berated by the owner of the staffies ( see previous post) for threatening him the other day.
Now I don't mind indulging in a lively debate in the street, but being bellowed at by someone in trackie bottoms after a thirteen hour night shift , is just one step too far. I tried to point out that he himself had commented that one of his dogs had escaped his garden, but I think my previous day's comment that if his dog attacked Winnie then Winnie would have come out the victor, was seen as a direct threat....anyhow the screaming fit must of amused the fifteen or so secondary school pupils who were all waiting to be picked up by the school bus.
Nothing ever happens in Trelawnyd at 8.30 am.

I had three hours sleep then was up again ,walking the short legged dogs, this time off the lead on a public footpath George woofed at a passing jogger and as he jogged after him for a few steps the very elderly , lycra clad jogger ( complete with overly trendy cap and bluetooth earpiece ) growled ,
" I 'll kick him in the head if he comes near me"
Now I  am slightly ashamed that I counted this with a robust, nay thundering reply of " and I'll kick you in the head if you go near him YOU KNOCK KNEED FUCKING SKELETON!"

He merely flipped me the finger...the twat.

Anyhow, I know it's not healthy, but after dropping the dogs off, I got out the car and drove up to Macdonald's . In lieu of an emergency scotch egg, I bought myself a cheeseburger, fries and coffee and ate them in the car park. The teenage server was very sweet. She told me to " Enjoy" my lunch with a big smile........
And do you know?
I bloody well did.

One arm Joe

I have just taken the dogs out and fell over a lead breaking my last pair of glasses

I broke a pair last night too....good job they are only 1 £ from poundland

Hope I get a sedated and ventilated patient tonight

It's not very professional having one arm to your specs

Hey ho

Sniffing Cancer

Being a gob-shite can have it's benefits.
Last night I received a chatty phone call from the owner of the miniature chicken coop .
Luckily my diplomatic note had not elicited a " fuck you" response , it was quite the opposite.
After a friendly chat, the bloke took me up on the offer of a run AND an old hen house and will come to give them the once over a little later in the week.
Result!
I get peace of mind, he gets a free coop and the chickens get a proper home.

Anyhow, today's post is revisiting something that happened a couple of weeks ago. I had almost forgotten about it but was reminded by watching the brief tableau of  Albert with his nose inside one of Winnie's ears  The cat loves a good long sniff when both are lying on the floor.
It's one of their many bonding moments.

Anyhow, the situation I am referring to was a brief meeting between Welsh terrier and country rambler. I had tied William and Mary to the field gate and was busy distributing a large bin bag of donated bread to the the geese and the sheep ( every week the DIY lesbians from Prestatyn drop off the bread as a gift but that's another story) ANYHOW, a group of ramblers walked up the lane in the rain and three women in waterproofs stopped to make a fuss of Mary.
I walked back to the gate to see Mary going all goo-goo eyes with two women whilst the man of the group was gently patting a calm smiling William on the head and as I came close I heard one of the women say " Brian he's sniffing your cheek! "
William seemed intent on something. He was stretching his head towards the man's face , very much like he does with me when I have spare food stuck in my beard, and he was sniffing very hard.
The women seemed amused and surprised by this and it was only a second or two later that I realised just why, for when the man straightened up and pushed back the hood of his coat, I could see a very fresh skin dressing over a mark on his cheek.
" he knows what you've had done" one of the woman said laughing gently  " Isn't that strange?"
The man bent down again and again William sniffed hard at his cheek
" I've had a skin cancer removed last week" he said in way of explanation .
Clever things dogs.

Gentle old William