Morning Walk

I met an Australian woman today, she was called Helen and she hailed from the wonderful sounding city of Bunbury which she reliably told me was a good cycle journey south of Perth.
Ellen was cycling around Britain. She had survived a bout of cancer, had recently divorced her husband of twenty five years and was hoping to write an account of her "adventures" here in the UK
I gleaned this much about her within two minutes of meeting her.
She wasn't a shy  gal.
I asked her if she had experienced many "adventures" in Wales so far and she laughed lustily
" It's all been a bit dull" she confided " But that's the Welsh for you!"
Her next port of call she told me, was Chester, then she was hoping to cycle up towards the Lake District, before experiencing Scotland.

All this took place on the local cycle/walkway and our conversation started after She had asked me if she could photograph the dogs three of whom where sat quietly with me on a bench overlooking a view of the coast. She had lost her dog in the divorce she told me " but had kept the house!"

Another couple of cyclists joined then stopped and were ushered into her conversation so I left them to it. Before I moved on, however, she asked if I wanted a copy of the photos so I gave her my email address and wished her well.
When I got home, two photos were already waiting for me.

The Girl On The Train

The Girl On The Train is an interesting movie that on the surface just looks like a classy, well made and rather clever whodunnit, which of course, it is.
This mystery drama, however is so much more as it is essentially the story of three women, who all are on a circular kind of story which may be subtitled  " I 'm not the girl I used to be"
It's the tag line which bookends the entire movie.
All three characters embark on life changing ( and in one's case life ending) journeys which centre around grief, depression, self deception and addiction themes so much more interesting than the usual murder thriller......
I cannot say much about the storylines, without spoiling the whole piece, suffice to say the movie is totally owned  by Emily Blunt as lead character Rachel, an unsympathetic alcoholic on a self destructive and psychologically needy romp.
It's a performance worthy of an Oscar nomination for sure.
8/10

Unbelievable

I was astonished and somewhat saddened to hear some of the second presidential debate on the radio this morning. Clinton seemed more dignified than Trump, but the name calling and " adult themes" seemed more in place in a pub brawl rather than a discussion of who will rule the free world.

Trump is no statesman. He will never be one. If elected he will embarrass America with all of the dumb-ass skill of a drunk at a wedding reception. 

He is a redneck. A shouter. A bully.

and worst of all ,

He was rude and discourteous

I was thinking all this when I listened to radio 4 on the way homes after work early this morning.

I was thinking  this in Sainsbury's when I was buying cheap white bread for the sheep.

and I was thinking this as I was driving back up to the village. 

At the Dyserth shops, morning gridlock, a woman driver didn't give me the right of way and a shouted out a lusty " you twat! " as she drove past me oblivious she had blocked the road completely

Trump would have approved! Me thinks .

Bramley End

Trelawnyd is as real as the village of Bramley Edge.
For those that are not aware, Bramley Edge is the character driven village from the wartime movie  Went The Day Well. The village that decided to fight back after an invasion of wartime Hun dressed as plucky British servicemen.
Going Gently  is one such reality
It's how I choose to see the world, and that view has amused me for years now, until recently.

Friday I considered bringing Going Gently,,to a timely end . I share this just as information as I have no desire for a plethora of messages to be left asking for more stories of birds in cake tins, sexually promiscuous Bulldogs molesting the vicar and nutty locals do nutty things with all the regularity of a 1970s sit com..

I considered ending the blog for all of the reasons people end blogs for.
You all know the reasons, some of the negatives were beginning to overshadow the positives.
Trolls and fruit cakes with their own agendas, Facebook ( now deleted) and pressure to " perform" all added their own pressures and irritations.

But ten years of keeping a diary in this bizarre and unique form does count for something, I guess..
and for the most part it's been a joy to be here, and that's what I need to remember.

Speak Tomorrow
Hey ho

Scared Mary

The Prof is out with his brother tonight down in Kent
I am watching the zombie film Daylight's End on full blast.
Mary has been upset by all the undeads'  growling
And is sat with me like a child frightened by a storm

Even Lighter

A couple of miles East of Trelawnyd is Gyrn Castle

Pat the Animal helper and I went to visit Auntie Glad this afternoon.
It was ( and is) a sunny afternoon and the nursing home's chickens were out in force pecking around the grounds.
As usual Gladys was dressed neatly in a simple striped dress and matching earrings and as usual she was bright, active and chatty.
She took us to her room, which had a small photograph of herself on the door
" This is my home now" she said without the slightest hint of self pity " You just have to get on and enjoy things don't you?"
She was  vague and forgetful for sure , but her innate good humour shone through any possible sadness Pat and I were feeling.
This was how things were to be...plain and simple.In Gladys' book, you were grateful for everything

She remembered some who had visited her from the village and laughed when I asked if any of her congregation had seen her
" The vicar doesn't visit his flock" she said wryly " He doesn't do house calls"
We let her wander with her memories in between telling her of village news, and she enjoyed telling us of how she was a maid in the local big house of Gyrn Castle when she was a young woman.
" we had to be in for 10pm if we ever went out at night" Gladys recalled her eyes shining
And " Lady Bates would be waiting for us " Under the bacon " to check we got back on time"
" Under the bacon?" I asked " what does that mean?"
and Gladys explained that the joints of bacon were always hung in the hallway above the door. Hence Lady Bates was " under the bacon"
We stayed an hour of so, chatting and laughing and before we left Pat asked her if there was anything she wanted. In typical Gladys style she said " I just need a few jobs to do, I cannot be sitting down all day"
We promised to bring her some polish and dusters next time we came .
There wasn't a hint of sadness about this visit.
Both Pat and I remarked about it on the way home.

Gladys just isn't the sort

Lighten

And to lighten the mood