Operation Dog Snot Removal

The spare room in the West Wing has been spring cleaned in readiness for the mother in law's arrival.
It didn't take too long, the room is the size of a nun's cell.
I've bathed the dogs , bought more scented candles that would sink the Queen Mary and am just in the process of washing the fanny stains from the couch throws.
My life is one heady whirl of excitement......the Prof is wisely working away until tomorrow night

Tap.....Tap......Tap

Something was bothering me this morning.
It wasn't the news of the awful bombings in Belgium....... we seem to be getting used to these atrocities in this very small world, no, it was a small little moment of helplessness that has prayed on my mind.
Every morning Mary and I march out on our two mile power walk. It's a round robin where we walk through the village up to the newly refurbished garage shop ( Gay Gordon told me rather breathlessly that they NOW had a bigger selection of proper foodstuffs AND electric doors!)
We then walk up Bryn y Odyn , past a few cottages and a farm  then around the base of the Gop hill at the top of High Street and then back home.
It takes half an hour when Mary is behaving.
Yesterday we had just reached the halfway point when I  was stopped by a very sharp tap.....tap.... tap.
In the silence of the lane the noise came again and I looked around to see where it could be coming from. We were stood next to a small holiday cottage and when the tapping sounded again I followed Mary's gaze as she looked up to one of the bedroom windows .
There standing on the inside window sill was a huge black crow.
The crow looked down at us for a moment and struck the window pane with another three sharp taps with his beak.
It looked as though he was trying to get our attention.
The cottage was shut up , locked and heavily alarmed so I was at a bit of a loss of what to do, so I marshaled Mary and walked to the neighbouring farm only twenty feet or so across the lane.
As we disappeared from the crow's sight, the tap,  tap, tap on the window became a little more frantic
And this bothered me even more.
I found the farmer who told me that the cottage owner lived in Manchester and seldom came over, but he promised he would search for the owner's phone number and would ring him for instructions on what to do.
The thought of this bird effectively trapped inside a lonely cottage bothered me and I shared the story with Mrs Trellis when I passed her further down the lane.
This morning there was no sign of the crow . I checked through each window and tapped on the panes to encourage him to reply if he was still there but the place seemed quiet and still.  I did notice that several of the short net curtains framing each window, upstairs and down  were in disarray.

I came home to start operation dog snot removal  ( mother in law arrives in a day or so) only being interrupted by Mrs Trellis who wanted to drop off a chocolate Easter Bunny for  me and the Prof.
She asked me about the Crow.
" He was asking for your help" she noted brightly
That made me feel worse.......

The Walking Dead ( spoilers)

We needed a psychiatrist too!

Oh dear.....The Walking Dead is drawing very slowly to the end of season 6 and the writers are fucking things up, just a little, just like they did in season 4. Judge Judy had it pegged right when she said -if it doesn't make sense ..it's not true! And that's very true of the script of the Walking Dead ....if it doesn't make sense then we the audience just don't believe it! 

Simples!

Suddenly Carol has gone all introspective and has left Alexandria ( duh...like well....just....duh?) Poor lumpy and interesting Denise got to say insightful things to Rosita and Daryl , then got crossbowed in the  eyeball and Eugene got to bite some guy's balls off.......but not before he and Abe had a rather long overdue and rather impressive falling out.

Oh dear............I am getting worried about carol's future from tonight......I have a feeling the season's finale will be hers too! Hey ho

I will end by bigging up a little seen British thriller that I saw on tv last night. Towerblock is a dark and violent thriller which has 15 tenants of a London High-rise at the mercy of Mystery sniper. 

The story has more holes in it than a lump of Swiss Cheese and the narrative peters out well before the end but generally the tension holds up throughout the film, especially as twelve of the fifteen die rather unfortunate deaths and the performances are pretty impressive, especially the over the top but truly electric turn by Jack O'Connell as the roughest of rough diamond thugs who helps the survivors beat the sniper

Towerblock.....

Coal Men Kisses and Mrs Frazer 's Eggs

Kissed and coal dusted this morning

Already this morning I have had three knocks on the kitchen window.
Two were from people wanting eggs, one was from the coal men.
The coal men wouldn't come down the path until I had reassured them that Winnie was not dangerous.
I told both men that she wanted them to kiss her, and as she blew mew-mew lips at them as she stood against the wall both men dutifully bent down and kissed her. She is now covered in coal dust.
Anyhow I digress.
The big news of the morning is that the new hens are now laying well. After a bit of Miss Marple sleuthing I tracked one particulary large grey hen to one of the old delapitated hen houses in the centre of the field and there found 36 eggs! So I am now pleased that I can now start selling the occassional box to the villagers again.
After making Bubble & Squeek, I boxed half a dozen up ready for Mrs Frazer to buy, she has been after my eggs for an age now.
Mrs Frazer is another of my favourite village characters, for she is the nearest we have to a lady of the manor. I say this with some affection, as she doesn't have any airs and graces , but her slightly gung ho! "Spirit that won the war" attitude to things always reminds me of the Marie Lohr character in the movie Went The Day Well ....(she was the lady of the village who sacrificed herself by throwing herself on a grenade when those evil Germans tried to kill the village school children of Bramley End.)
Mrs Frazer lives in the large rectory in the village. She is well read and educated and loves to stop for a chat when out for a walk with her dogs. She seems equally comfortable with a glass of champagne in one silk gloved hand and a loo brush in a rubber gloved other!
This kind of lady reminds me of the tupperware loving Queen on a Balmoral picnic.
They are a rare breed
Mrs Frazer , is strident and opinionated and calls a spade a spade. She also will keep you talking for the longest of times, puncuating conversations with a laugh that can be heard three streets away.
On her walks, if all, of our neighbours are out gardening in a row down the lane , then the laughter and chatter will continue for an hour or so all told.

Mrs Frazer of Trelawnyd

Sunday Service

Let's change the subject

Ok, distance shots for sure , but if you look  closely you can just about get the gist! The Prof is leading the procession to the ancient 13th Century prayer cross in the ChurchYard ( in the natty red)

You can easily make out the Bishop, for he has the old fashioned rotund look of Hattie Jacques- he looks like a galleon in full sail.
( you can also make out the deminuative Auntie Gladys second from the right)

Rewards

Sunday jobs for me, finish at around 1pm. The Prof has breakfast in bed, the dogs now have two walks ( a long march for Mary) and a shorted more sedate amble for the old guys. The field animals are fed, the Wreck of the Hesperus which is the kitchen is cleaned , the bed is made and the hoover is trundled out......then lunch is prepared.
Then I sit and read with a coffee.
This is my reward.
We all run on rewards me thinks
And I am getting better at the reward thing......not always using food as thanks for a job well completed.

Now my mother's reward when finishing the jobs of the day was gin. This never worked too well when her rewards were awarded a little too early in an afternoon.
That meant tea time was a sombre and rather quiet affair with mother asleep on the couch.

I think it's the order of the vintage crockery upon the gingam tablecloth on the side that made me recall this somewhat melancholy memory, a little stab of a sharp knife on an otherwise bright and light spring day.
Funny what you remember isnt it?

The Bishop Comes To Town ( and other stories)

The Bishop out for a quiet walk in his gardening clothes

The village church has a big gig on tomorrow- the Bishop is comming!
The Prof is over there right now having a rehearsal with the vicar, he will be wearing his glittery cassock for the occassion ( The Prof that is) The vicar, I am sure will be in his best Shirley Bassey number.
The village Church going ladies are all over there too, titivating the greenery on the altar and giddy with excitement and you will glad to know that Gaynor, the mad organist has finally obtained a large bunch of pussy willow for her Prize winning display.
I do hope the Bishop notices.

Gaynor's Pussy ( Willow)

I am feeling rather satisfied today, that's because we have just been out for a very nice lunch at Bryn Williams' at Porth Eirias. North Wales has very few classy " urban feeling"eating places and this restaurant which overlooks the sea at Colwyn Bay has a nice and lively vibe about it.
If I was honest, I do occasionally miss a slightly "on-trend" and busy city eatery.

I am also,satisfied  because I have just enjoyed a podcast of the radio 4 interview show  Chain Reaction which featured Victoria Coren-Mitchell interviewing Sandi Toksvig. It was a pure delight, as both women are fantastically funny, warm and articulate human beings......if you get a chance to listen to this programme, do so, it will make you smile.......broadly.......well it made me chuckle....mind you, I was giving the toilet bowl a rather brusque seeing to with the bog brush at the time.

Talented and funny Coren- Mitchell & Toksvig

It's now 4pm and the Prof is still practising his Bishop curtsy , so I shall light the fire and enjoy the silence of the cottage before taking a feather duster to ourexpensive antiques!
Having said this, Mary is busy kicking fuck out of the kitchen catflap for some unknown reason so I shall have to drag myself out of this armchair to rescue it .

There's no peace for a terrier owner

Hey ho

Easter Shit!

Easter Shit from Sainsbury's

We've gone all American at Easter all of a sudden.
When I was a boy, British Easters,used to mean cheap Easter eggs from the supermarket, shit tv and sombre church services
Now it's all friggin Easter Bunny, egg hunts , pastel colours and a big leg of lamb with the family.
My mother- in- law arrives next week, and on Easter Sunday, I will arrange for her an Easter chick and bunny hunt ..........
I bought the above monstrosities for her this afternoon!
I'm 53!, she's 70 .....hey ho