Ground Zero Remembered

I meant to post this yesterday.
A few months after 9/11 the Prof and I went to New York
We remember this church so, so well......every railing covered in homemade posters calling for the return of loved ones home.
So, so....so sad 

Rule Britannia

What is it with ladies of a certain age and national flags?

For several years now, the BBC have organised  three Proms in the Park classical concerts that run simultaneously to their daddy at the Albert Hall in London.
This year Colwyn Bay ( which is just down the road) was the Welsh venue, alongside Belfast and Glasgow, so we took our flags , picnic hampers, champagne and blankets to watch the fun.

Now for those that don't know The Last Night Of The Proms is a slightly tongue-in-cheek , undeniably patriotic gallop of a concert, where the audience ( high on good nature and/or  wine)  participate in rousing renditions of British sea shanties, a flag busting Rule Britannia and a tearful There's no place like home. 

The principality concerts tend to be " more inclusive" in nature, what with " pop" singers doing their own hits - backed by a BBC Symphony orchestra but there was plenty of classical turns to watch and enjoy even if the Prof was nearly apoplectic with rage as the Welsh Concert didn't feature Land of Hope And Glory. 

Everyone likes a big finish! 

My sisters ( one in her fifties and the other in her sixties) did what any self possessed British matron would do at the Proms after a couple of glasses of champagne, they spent most of tne second half of tne concert running amok with two oversized flags trailing behind them.
Their interperation ( through the medium of dance and semaphore) was particulary evident during a classical version of Pharrell Williams' Happy and Quincy Jones'  soul Bossa-Nova from Austin Powers! where they cantered up and down like two over excited shetland ponies trailing their harnesses behind them

More Flag Waving

The Prof and sister Janet

Husband & Husband

Budgies

The post decorating cupboard sort out can be incredibly therapeutic.
I finished replacing the front room furniture around 10 pm last night, and enjoyed titivating as The Prof hid upstairs out of the way.
I found these two alabaster budgerigar bookends  hidden away at the back of a bookcase and brought them out so their faces could see the sun.
I am reminded of something my sister says about antiques
" You never really own an antique" she said "you just look after it for a while"

The Subject Is Sex

I was brought up in a household that never mentioned sex ever ! 
It was a secretive unmentionable
Sex education , for what it was worth, was left to a banal 1970s school curiculum, discarding porn magazines found on the Prestatyn sandhills and playtime gossip.
But like most late baby boomers we got by somehow...despite everything.

I worked a shift at Samaritans last night until the small wee hours, and as uaual my collegue and I were on the recieving end of a score of sex calls . It's a shocking statistic , but it is common for the highly trained dedicated  SAM volunteers to be subjected to masturbating callers, sexual fantastists and others who feel they have no other outlet than calling a stranger, and blocking a helpline designed to help the psychologically distressed.
My colleague and I wondered just how many of our callers had upbringings where sex was secretative and dirty or who lived lives of sexual isolation and longing.

Now in my fifties, I think I have a healthy view of sex.
I do feel it is a private subject, but I am  no prude when it comes down to a bit of rumpy pumpy
I have worked as an advocate for sexual health with spinal cord injured men.
I have " counselled" and supported men with sexual dysfunction
And I have lived with a sexually lacivious bulldog for several years without too much blushing.

But I must admit, that at midnight after a long and busy day painting walls a rather sweet shade of apple green.
The breathless voice of a middleaged man  whispering the words " I'm touching myself through lace fronted panties"  left me all a bit cold!

 

No Painting, Mrs Simmons and Police Porn

It's lunchtime and still I have not got around to painting the remainder of the front room!
I was up at 5.30 taking the Prof to work in order to be around for 7 am ( the earliest time when the new fridge was being delivered)
It duly arrived around 10.30 and we had the usual performance from Winnie as the two delivery men were " encouraged" to make a fuss. One gave her a big kiss on the chops which sent her into paroxysms of delight........she's sulking now because no one else has knocked on the door!

So we have a fridge now......the Prof's life is no longer shite!
I've done some shopping and filled the fridge , then dropped Mary down the lane to Trendy Carol's house to play with her Welsh Terrier Bitch Seren ( see video)

I thought with Mary occupied I could then get on with painting unhindered.
Wrong! 
I had just reached the gate when I spied Mrs Simmons walking down the lane.
She waved for me to stop.
" Bob's gravestone has been put in the churchyard" she said " I wondered if you would come with me to see it?"
It had been a year since I read the eulogy at her husband's funeral service.
The stone and inscription on the gravestone was simple and fitting and I told Mrs Simmons that as we
Stood amid the graves looking at it.
She can talk the hind leg off a donkey can Mrs Simmons , so as nice as she is, I was glad to see police  personnel Ian and Jo walk up with their greyhound in tow for they took over the conversation nicely.

Anyhow speaking of the police, I was spoilt last night with a difficult choice of tv viewing/ radio listening. We had got back after a rather good Thai meal out when I realised that I had not see Bake off or listened to day three of Helen's trial in The Archers.
There was also a new reality cop show on sky ( The Force -Essex) to give the once over to
(The Prof always raises a Roger Moore eyebrow when reality cop shows come on the tv....he refers to my drooling addiction to men in uniform as Police Porn! ) ...oh.....and it was the Opening Ceremony of the Paralympics to watch.......so I was spoilt by choice.....
In the end I watched and listened to all four, so I didn't get to bed until the small hours.

And you wonder why I haven't lifted a paint brush up yet!?
I'm bloody knackered
Hey ho!

Student Mike leaves the bake off tent!  

But it was Tom who made a loaf in the shape of a penis!

Big bearded cops in Essex..what's pornagraphic about that? 

Yuk yuk

I recognised two of the  team GB wheelchair competitors 

From my spinal injury days

Order And Chaos

For the first time in an absolute age I looked after a sedated and ventilated poorly patient last night.
It was a huge change from the rough and  tumble of caring for a personality disordered, confused and violent post op patient or an over stimulated  autistic boy with a new tracheostomy.
Ventilated patients with all of the pumps and gizmo's that go with the seriously ill have to be nursed with strict orderliness and discipline.
It was nice to be so disciplined ..it was all very Zen.

It's not like that at home at the moment.
I'm in the middle of decorating , and the front room looks likes a bombs hit it, what with furniture piled high in the centre of the room.

The Prof had left the dogs have the run of the house when he left for work earlier and Mary had emptied the airing cupboard of its contents, scattering linens across the landing
Oh and I noticed that old William had backing into my one freshly painted wall by the stairs and had left a sloppy turd out in full view after being home but a couple of minutes
I left everything where it lay, filled my American coffee cup with blissfully hot strong coffee and took myself off to the field which was bathed in warm, early morning sunshine.
There , in full view of the road, I lay down amid the sheep, hens and geese and just gazed up at the clouds in the soft blue sky.
There is No mess and disorder in skywatching.

Trial

This week, it's the trial !
The Middle England  collective are all putting down their supper dishes and are pouring glasses of a nice red in readiness  for the vapid Helen Titchner to give her evidence in her trial for stabbing the moustache twirling Rob .
The Rob/ Helen storyline of the radio 4 show The Archers is now drawing to a close......I've just listened to the " rape revelation" while waiting to do an extra shift at work!
The coffee room was silent listening to the drama of it all!

What The Hell?

 I just grabbed a clean T shift from the knicker drawer last night

I didn't notice which one, I was tired , I'd been decorating all day.

This morning I had a rather odd conversation with Basil the farmer

who was too poite to ask about it,

But his eyes kept dropping down to my front! 

In a " what the hell?" Kind of way