Robert Vaughn

Vaughn 2nd from left in 12 Angry Men

I'm in the bath.
I've left The Prof in bed, he's muttering about the new Vice President elect, who is a known homophobe..I've had enough of bad feeling and elections and feel a tiny bit more optamistic after watching a dignified and entertaining Henry Kissinger being interviewed last night about the Trump debacle
His " this too will pass" view poured some oil on some waters for me.

Two years ago I took my best friend Nu to see Twelve Angry Men . It had a short but successful stink in the West End, and featured that old suave sixties star Robert Vaughn in the fairly small role of Juror 9 ( The old man ) Vaughan was obviously enjoying himself and ar the curtain call, I noticed with some amusement just how he larked around with the younger and more serious actors. He was 81 then,
Hollywood didn't really know what to do with Vaughn which was a shame, but he was a successful actor for over 50 years appearing in The Magnificent Seven , The Towering Inferno, Bullet and of course The Man From Uncle as well as literally hundreds of tv shows.

He had a twinkle in his eye, which was very evident to me in Angry Men .
It's sad that he has gone.

A Blogging Phenomenon

Much has been written about how  anonymity breeds trolling behaviour on the Internet. Like road rage which flourishes inside the confines of certain people's personal car spaces, bloggers who take shelter behind pseudonyms and fictional characters may often challenge, and bitch and argue and debate with their fellows where, if they met them socially, they would keep their mouths politely and very firmly shut.
It's an interesting phenomenon to be sure.
I've noticed certain bloggers seem to delight in sucking the life blood from any blog entry by consistently arguing the opposite point of view. You can almost set your watch by them .
Is it a case of familiarity breeding contempt ? Genuine irritation? or a sense of entitlement
I am not quite sure
Perhaps someone out there can enlighten me.
Part of the problem , I think, comes from the written word itself.  Like texts and particularly emails , it is easy to misconstrue the meanings and emotions behind a comment, especially one tapped out quickly three thousand miles away.
The answer, like most answers lie within a mash up of all of the points above.

I'll leave you with a morning photo of me and Mary..........

Auntie Glad Catch Up

Another miserable and depressing day of rain started with a mega downpour at 7 am. I was already soaked after walking the dogs, so I guess it didn't really matter me getting drenched again when some frantic honking from the geese got me racing over to the field with a torch.
It wasn't a fox that was bothering them but a collie dog, which I caught peeping through the goose house window. He ran off towards the livery stables after I yelled a sharp "getaway ! " 
The rest of the morning was filled with shopping, buying some adhesive to stick down the loose bath surround, meeting a sad work colleague for coffee and calling in to the feed wholesalers to buy layers pellets.
On the way home I called into see Auntie Glad.
One of the care home staff told me that she was " quite confused today " but I found her as sprightly and bright as ever even though she later insisted that her husband Bob Railway was still alive and in the next room .
Gladys told me that she had been booked to make her famous scones that afternoon, then waved her arms angrily at some of the other resident ladies who were sat, sleeping off their lunches in the day room. " They are a miserable lot, always complaining about the food!" She snapped " They make my blood boil "
The one thing Gladys hates above anything is ingratitude .

She took me to her neat little room, where I read out the Parish Magazine to her and she recounted recent visits from Christine (Chapel House), the vicar and from various members of the male voice choir before letting the conversation fade to old times and vague but happy days from years ago.

As she walked me back to the day room a cheerful young woman in an apron called her over to a table on which was sat a massive mixing bowl full of flour and sultanas " I told you I'm making scones this afternoon " Gladys chirped brightly " we shall be having them for tea!"

Take Me Home

It's Just before bedtime and as I've been listening to YouTube videos 

George tottered over and climbed into my lap, 

And rested his old face next to mine, 

His behaviour kind of went with this song 

A panacea to all the hate and disappointment of the day

Iago was right

It's a miserable morning on either side of the Atlantic today.
I won't bother discussing the new leader of the free world
The whole thing beggars belief.
But , hey...I don't live in America....

Today's Going Gently is about jealousy.
Jealousy in a relationship.

Occasionally I meet a friend in the village for lunch.
She makes homemade bread, or soup, or cake and I bring an hour of silliness  .
It's a good deal all round.
I have noticed, however, that every time we are sat at the kitchen table, the phone will go and her husband will there catching up with a snippet of news or a job that needs sorting.
Recently I casually asked if he was bothered that I occasionally popped in for a chat and my friend replied " oh no, he always rings me during the day"
Something in what she said and how she said it triggered a tiny alarm bell in my mind.
" Is he jealous? " I asked her
The grenade had its effect and the words tumbled out
Apparently her husband had always been jealous. He often sulked for days if my friend went out on an evening with friends, so much so that she no longer leaves the home without her husband on her arm. Male colleagues were often viewed with suspicion and bad mouthed constantly and often when my friend  was out working she felt obliged to call her husband to " check in" so to speak.
This all had been going on for many years.

I leaned my elbows on the kitchen table and uncharacteristically for me , I said very little  as my friend's conversation ran down like a clock. I think this was the first time she had shared this information .

" I know....you make the life you live " she said finally
And I nodded taking a final sip of my coffee

Changing The Subject

Changing the subject

The Prof has always wanted me to be able to dance with him

I have two left feet

I wish I hadn't 

I am very aware he used to be a professional dancer in his youth

But I am sure that One day we will dance together like Fred & Ginger

Just the once

Bad Mothers

I only posted this photo as it pleases me

There are rules in society ......one of which is that you don't swear at parent in front of their child.
I broke that rule today
I was driving in Prestatyn and was turning into Princess Avenue from Ffordisa at around 1pm when a small child on a very small bike shot across the road in front of me. He appeared out of the school gates of ysgol y Llys and a woman on a mobile phone was following him and as I stopped suddenly she ran forward grabbed him and waved a hand at me in a kind of acknowledgement.
I wound down the window and yelled angrily  " I could have killed that child !.. What were you doing? "
The woman glared at me, shook her head and told me to " fuck right off!" before starting after her son. She never once put down her phone!
My blood pressure went well over 200 mm of mercury in 1 second flat
And what did I do, whilst stopped in the junction of a busy Welsh Street?.......I'll tell you, I did what I normally do in such circumstances
I resorted to abuse.

" YOU'RE A BAD MOTHER WITH FUCKING CHEAP SHOES"  I yelled after her with some gusto

Monday Night

Autumn is here.

The fire is lit,

Mary is licking the insides of Winnie's ears and has been for an age

I'm Waiting for The Walking Dead

Mrs Trellis bought me a homemade scotch egg this afternoon,

Just the one wrapped in foil

I'm sorry to say it was bloody awful 

No one tell her.