Multi Tasking and Winnie Goes AWOL

Something always gives when you are multi tasking.
Feeding dogs, putting up a curtain pole, browning chicken skins to garnish dogs' dinners, preparing chicken casserole, picking logs up, flirting with Mandy next door ( she's just had a new " big hair"  change) Mary's ear drops, shit......no onions for casserole, so hurried trip to shop, remove old shelving from airing cupboard, tidy away excess laundry into space saving " suction bags" ( great fun) hoover mummified mouse from under the bed......
I was hoovering the office carpet when there was a loud knock on the front door.
When I came downstairs a young farmer type was standing in front of the window
" Have you lost something? " he mouthed and I gestured for the man to come round to the back door where I met him at the garden wall.
He pointed to his tall pick up parked by the side of the cottage.
Sitting happily in the passenger seat with her big paws up on the dashboard was Winnie.
" I saw her down by the water treatment" he told me " she got in straight away when I stopped"

I was baffled.
Apparently after I had given her her dinner, Winnie had taken herself off for an uncharacteristic wander. She had slipped through the open gate (!) and had marched off for a mile down the lane. The farmer had picked her up  when she had decided to rest , like an ugly and exhausted  hooker on a small grass verge and  had driven the length of the lane ( some three miles) in the search for her home. Finally he stopped a woman outside her house. who recognized Winnie and she told the farmer where she lived so kindly he brought her home as she happily enjoyed her impromptu country drive.
" She's a friendly big thing" the young man said opening the truck door
" Did she try to kiss you?" I asked him as Winnie reluctantly scrabbled down.
" No......but she HAS eaten half of me crisps!" He replied.

Slapped Hard With A Velvet Glove

Hollywood Royalty Meryl Streep flexed the most dignified part of her speech giving skills last night with the most effective of put downs against Donald Trump.
Stating that his mocking of a disabled journalist was something that " broke her heart" Streep, in the hushed motherly tones added

"It was that moment when the person asking to sit in the most respected seat in our country imitated a disabled reporter, someone he outranked in privilege and power and the capacity to fight back. It, it kind of broke my heart when I saw it and I still can’t get it out my head because it wasn’t in a movie. It was real life. And this instinct to humiliate when it’s modeled by someone in the public platform, by someone powerful, it filters down into everybody’s life because it kind of gives permission for other people to do the same thing.

Disrespect invites disrespect. Violence incites violence. When the powerful use their position to bully others, we all lose"

The only reply Trump could think to give was to call Streep " overrated"
That comment alone proves to the world that he is an arsehole! 

Reality Not Frivolity

The Prof has been put on the train to London. I am sure he will enjoy his pristine boutique hotel more than usual, for I have just been merrily cleaning up , deep dark blobs to bile from the carpets.....old George occasionally suffers from bilious attacks, especially if he is late for a meal, it doesn't happen often as I am fastidious about him getting his meals on time.
I was somewhat fed up this afternoon but cheered myself up by buying cushions and egg cups from a garden centre in Chester ( I'm easily pleased)
Tonight I am going to start to read my Christmas gift from my father-in-law

Crush II

Lazy post two!
It's fun
Who is your present day crush?
Mine?
Cy Owens " The Force Essex" ( tv reality cop show)

First Crush?

lazy blog today
Who was your first cinematic/tv crush?
Mine?
Clint Walker

Brain Storm

The broiler " ghost" hens sunbathing

We take so many things for granted.
Last night I watched a Sky documentary which was rather ho-hum
The presenter, however, did allow himself ,  a moment of gushing, after a group of India women, resplendent in their multi coloured saris, walked into view upon a barren and sunbaked landscape and his emotional reaction to such a visual experience proved to be a rather moving experience.

Here are a few of mine, brainstormed during a wet and cold walk this morning

• Being present at scores of patient deathbeds, watching a fellow human being taking their last breath on this planet.
• Looking at Sheffield's Skyline on a cold night from the roof of the city's Cancer Hospital
• Witnessed four hens corner, attack and subsequently kill a crow who had been stealing their layers pellets.
• watched twins being delivered by emergency Cesarean section. 
• Winked at by a handsome Yorkshire policeman when he was on duty
• Taking in the vast and graceful Sydney Harbour for the first time on a sunny Sunday afternoon
• Sitting through a maths class as a giggling twelve year old in front of busty Mrs Fielding who had two buttons of her blouse undone.
• Driving into New York City at night for the first time.
• Watching an emergency doctor perform internal cardiac massage
• Being the only human watching four dogs galloping happily on an empty beach
• Over an hour lying in warm grass, watching six abused factory broiler hens finally leaving their hen house ,to sun bathe for the very first time.
• Seeing my husband smiling so uncharacteristically during the entirety of our wedding.

My New Co Pilot

Eighteen months ago Meg died.
I spent more time with her than I did with my husband and her absence literally broke my heart as we all know that hearts can so easily be damaged by the all encompassing love only a dog can give a master.
The Prof saw the void that Meg left and like all concerned husbands who wanted to heal an awful situation, he was galvanised in the attempt to fill it with the impulse purchase of a new puppy.
Mary subsequently arrived with a bang.
A year later, I now have a new co pilot.
When I sit in a chair, she is by my side in a heartbeat. When I have a bath, she stands guard at the bathroom door and when she gets the chance, after the first dog walk at dawn, she curls up into the lie-in bed, her face tucked up under my chin like a baby rabbit with it's mother.
Of course all this says more about me, than it does about her.
For I am never alone, even when I am enjoying a satisfying number two with the paper.

A " Field Of Dreams " Moment

My family often nag me to amalgamate the better parts of Going Gently into some sort of bestselling paperback. The Prof says whimsy sells, and I guess he is right given the plethora of " heartwarming" and " uplifting" tales of life changing encounters middle aged pongos like myself experience when lifestyles change and temple hair is lightening from brunette to a gentle grey.
On the way to the panto the other night, my sister remembered what I call a " Field of Dreams" moment which she said would be a " Satisfying " denouement to the chapter where two middle aged gays first moved into a tight knit Welsh village!
Nine years ago, I held my very first " allotment open evening" It was on the back of similar open evenings my sister organised at her own town allotment, where friends and family had the opportunity to survey  her vegetable beds, have tea and cake and make a contribution of a charity of her choice.
My first allotment open was a small affair, but it was important to me as I left several hopeful posters around the village inviting everyone to attend. Attendance by the Trelawnyd-ites meant everything and as the 6 pm opening deadline loomed close, My sister remembered me gazing up the lane in a sudden downpour of summer rain, worried that no one would come.

I should not have worried ...for the " Field Of Dreams " moment arrived as powerfully as anything ever seen in a sentimental movie or tv series! the only thing that was bloody lacking was a sudden swelling of a musical score, for at exactly 6 pm and led by Auntie Glad hidden underneath an oversized umbrella, a long line of village characters weaved their way down the Church lane towards the field to support the event.
It was a real Hollywood moment amid the wet grass and Slightly damp Victoria sponges.

Perhaps, my sister is right. It is these kind of moments balanced with the sadness of those normal life dramas that make a story readable and accessible to all. Light and froth peppered with emotional romps......perhaps that is the formula..

Anyway over to you all.....you all, like me, have a book inside you......if you eventually write it, what would be your " Field Of Dreams" moment?
I'd be interested to know.