Hear All About It.

Four out of five cottages lie empty on High Street

Village Elder Islwyn was out and about this morning.
He and his brother were out with their wheelbarrows doing jobs about the village.
Winnie and William saw them coming and both sat down in the lane, they knew a long chat was in order.
I like bumping into Islwyn, for there is no one in Trelawnyd with such a forensic grasp on local news.
He doesn't do the " Victoria Sponge" news , like the stuff I collect.....oh no...Islwyn has a firm grasp upon the " underbelly news" of Trelawnyd.

He told me about the recent break in robbery at the pub, the apparent disappearance of paving slabs from the Churchyard ( wheelbarrow marks in the grass! ) as well as other more juicy gossip snippets that are a little too personal to share here.

I told him that the village seemed quiet at the moment as many of the rented properties and those for sale are presently empty and he agreeed. I counted at least 16 cottages and houses within a three street radius of the village green.
Such is the slump in the housing market at the moment.

Anyhow our conversation was interupted by a phonecall to Islwyn's phone. Probably another  intel source ringing in with some news! The dogs clambered to their feet and we left him to it.
The village was quiet save for some irate shouting coming from the house which formerly had the bin bagged windows.
Hey ho

The newly renovated houses next to the village hall...still empty 

Trelawnyd from the East

The Walking Dead Ends

Team Rick is in trouble.

One out of eleven of our best loved characters has been killed tonight and we don't know who.
We know Rick and Carl are safe ( Negan eluded to this) so it's either Aaron, Eugene, Rosita,Maggie, Abe, Sasha, Glen, Daryl or Michonne who gets the bat to the head.
I won't dwell too long on all this, suffice to say the finale was much better than I was led to believe
And at least Carol makes it into next year........
Roll on series 7......

Mondays will be soooo bland from now on.
( just before it started, The Prof gave me a kiss on the lips, pulled my hoodie over my head and told me with a raised Roger Moore Eyebrow that I was a  geek! 

Goose Gone

Russell

There are times when I miss that old pirate The Red Faced Welsh Farmer
He was always cheerfully there when I needed support at the more unpalatable aspects of keeping animals.
He once left his tea warming under a plate on top of the aga when I needed someone to dispatch the sexually amorous Boris when he went off his feet ( for those that don't remember Boris was my first turkey who had stalker  " issues" ) and when I needed a friend to teach me to cull a particularly aggressive drake in the duckhouse , he was there with a Long John Silver " arrrrhhhhhhhhh"  and a murderous look in his eye!
Alas, he is no longer around to help a somewhat ineffectual wildfowl keeper.

Today I needed to cull an old gander. His name was Russell and he was totally off his feet and unable to walk. He was lame when he arrived several years ago now, and his arrival was a product of a conversation I had with two visitors to the new graveyard.
They had hoped I would agree to take him..........which was lucky as he was sat in the back of their car, strapped untidily into an old sports bag!

But now, the old guy has gone " light" and a totally disabled gander is not fair to keep, so I separated him from the girls and led them slowly  away to the upper field to feed on cheap processed bread.
Russell was light and quiet  as a hen when I lifted him up to walk to a secluded spot down by the old pig pen. It was sunny and bright this afternoon.
And as we went the three anxious female geese stretched their necks through the wire fencing and honked a loud and rather worried chorus as we disappeared from view.

The three female geese 

Hey ho

Not much to say today, worked last night am working tonight too

Off to bed

Dreaming of Jurassic Dreams

A Quiet Case Of Abuse

Abuse in designer middle England, the Titcheners

The slow burn storyline of the domestic abuse between upper middle-class Rob Titchener and his emotionally fragile and rather bland wife Helen is presently weaving it's way to what seems like a dramatic climax in Radio 4 's The Archers.
For nearly a year we have heard Rob chip away at Helen's self esteem, whether it be a simple comment on the suitability of her dresses for the Hunt Ball or the more moustache curling assertion to her family that she is becoming more mentally unstable before the birth of her second baby.
The pattern of abuse is well known to many at it involves isolation from family and friends and the gradual dominance of all decision making within the home and although the "pulling of wool over the eyes" of Helen's usually astute and somewhat cloying family seems a step too far down an unbelievable narrative, the storyline has been, for The Archers, somewhat of an earnest and realistic portrayal of domestic abuse.
Timothy Watson, brings a cut glass whispering menace to the damaged Rob ( recently we have met his equally soft spoken and manipulative mother Ursula so we know were he gets it from) and although the usually self righteous and whinging  Helen ( played by Louiza Patikas) is not my favourite character , her decent into silent victim has been such a boost to the soap which in recent times  has become somewhat stale.
Wisely The Archers' scriptwriters have brought back the ever chipper Kirsty ( Annabelle Dowling ) who has seen through Rob from the start. This week she has provided Helen with some practical support in the guise of a mobile phone of her own ( with credit!) , the number of an abuse charity, and most importantly the idea to discuss things with Rob's first wife, Jess, who went through all the same behaviours, and escaped, this has proved to be a valuable lifeline for the haplass Helen and in the case of the meeting of the two Mrs Titcheners, a surprisingly moving piece of radio.

I Hate Puppies

I don't love puppies.....I never have.
Sure I like them...who wouldn't? But I don't love them....
Puppies are programmed to get on your tits!
The Prof knows this and the other night asked me if I loved Mary yet.
I think he kind of knew the answer as she was curled up, under my chin.....in the position Meg always assumed towards the end of the day.
Mary has lost much of her puppy silliness. She remains over active for sure, and is still mouthing at the other  dogs and the odd cushion zip, but ever so slowly her personality has started to emerge.
She is bright and friendly with other people and other dogs and is astute enough to cuddle up to George without trying to grab his Australian bandanna. And unlike Meg there is not an ounce of bad temper in her. Mischief yes, bad temper..no.
This afternoon , I have not been feeling 100% , so sat in the warmth for a quiet  half hour.
Within minutes Mary had joined me.....and we watched the rain together, my chin resting on the top of her head.
Hey ho

Corporate Jonney!

I wanted to demolish several of the old hen houses today. The bonfire at the bottom of the field needs adding to before I set fire to it and Pat the animal helper will be donating her garden waste to the collection this afternoon. Her garden is the best in the village!
I won't have time to get dirty today
For today I am playing a " corporate husband"
The Prof is head of the Health Sciences school at the University and from time to time will have meetings where I am expected to attend.
My job, is to scrub up, smile, add an occassional witty/ intelligent remark to a conversation which is generally over my head and remember not to splash gravy down my front.

Today it's a meeting over lunch in a very nice restaurant.

I am reminded of a University " do" I was invited to way back in our Yorkshire days. It was at the University social club event which was populated by the gliterati of Sheffield academia
Like any group of like people that work together, shop talk was the order of the night, and after two hours of listening to " research talk " I was ready to batter a nun to death with a chair leg.
One Professor was exceptionally boring, and so, in between bouts of "research this"  and  " academic study that" I took the opportunity to sneak to the bar for an emergency gin and tonic.
At the bar was a sympathetic looking , rather chic lady in her sixties and I couldn't help confiding in her just how bored I felt.
" The old Prof over there is banging on like a good 'un" I ventured " he's boring the fucking tits off me"
She patted me on the arm in a supportive way
" You try being married to him...I've had to put up with it for forty years"

Yes...no gins for me today!

Anyhow, I will leave you with a tiny bit of Trelawnyd surrealism .
In the spring sunshine, I heard the dogs all trying to retrieve something from atop the garden wall when I was sat with my morning coffee
Someone had dropped off a neatly wrapped panettone without a note presumably a gift for the hens and sheep!

Mary In The Vestry

Sorrel went home this morning and the cottage reverted back to a " cottage of dogs" . I caught up with a few jobs, then penned a brief thank you to Gaynor the Mad Organist for the easter eggs she sent to The Prof and I . I planned to pop the note under the organ keys cover before I cleaned the church today.

It was a joy to be in Church as the whole place felt heavy and heady with the smell of Easter lilies. 

I took Mary with me and tied her lead to the vestry door as I hoovered and dusted and everything was strangely silent when I finished , so I sat in the semi darkness like I always do and daydreamed for a while.

I reflected about a few things in the quieness and the peace.

Things that blogs really don't need to hear about not on a sunny day

And I only got up, when I  could hear Mary happily emptying the contects of the vicar's  waste bin all over the vestry floor.,like a toddler thundering through her toy box