Red Handed

Some of the stolen daffs! 

I was caught stealing this morning.

It all took place during a particularly heavy downpour which the old dogs and I got caught in after delivering a cheque to the trustees of the village hall. The cheque was a donation towards the Hall's decoration from the Flower Show committee, part of last year's donations ...and it was the only dry thing on me when Jean Smith opened her door to receive it. 

She offered me a spare coat, but I told her I was beyond caring, which was true. By the time we got back down the lane we all looked as though we had been thrown into a swimming pool. 

Now the piece of land behind our cottage has recently been sold. It is also covered in daffodils, survivors of the recent land clearance, so realizing that I couldn't get any wetter, the dogs  and I traipsed onto the plot and I helped myself to the flowers, something I have done for the past decade.

I had picked around two dozen daffs when the white van bounced through the gap in the wall and a middle aged guy sat in the drivers seat and frowned at me.

Red handed I decided to front it all out so I waved the flowers rather gaily at him and walked over as he got out of the van.

"Are You the new owner ? " I asked

" I am " he said

" I'm sorry but I've been stealing your daffs" I trilled lightly

" So I see" he answered without smiling.

It was all rather awkward for a moment until Winnie, who was sick to the back teeth of getting wet, pulled herself free of me and marched quicksticks off the plot into the direction of home with all of the grace of a pygmy hippo!

" She's a big girl" the man noted as she thundered past and as I agreed, I could see that the ice around the stolen flowers had suddenly been broken. 

A good job I thought later, upsetting neighbours is never a good idea.

 

Bollocks!

Sorrel gets somewhat nervous when negotiating trains home, so as the 10.04 virgin  train to London arrived three minutes early I got on with her to help locate her seat.
The fucking train left the station at 10.02!
The two elderly ladies sat across the aisle hooted with laughter when they realised, so much so that I nearly punched both hard in the face for their trouble.
I pressed the intercom to the driver which is located above the door but nothing happened. The train roared on, Sorrel looked more anxious and the two crones cackled harder with laughter.
Things got worse as after I disembarked at the next station, I missed the train back because, in the wet, as I was running down the steps of the pedestrian bridge, I lost a croc which slithered underneath the wooden decking.
A fat lady on an invalid scooter kindly lent me her crutch to fish the bloody thing out.

I'd left my coat in the car back at the original station and noted then that I had not bothered to buy a car park ticket before as I thought I 'd only be at the first station for a minute or so.

It then started to rain heavily!

Being Caught Unawares

In just a few days we have celebrated Mothering Sunday and Sorrel's birthday.
It's kind of " mother" overload, which is strange as my own mother died back in 2002.
Last night we all flopped in the living room to watch tv after a rather impressive meal out at the Chester  Grosvenor. The channel 4 documentary 24 Hours In A&E was on which proved to be somewhat of a busman's holiday for me and a rather gruesome spectacle for Sorrel.

One story featured a " before and after" moment with a prickly and somewhat lonely old lady called Wendy who had shattered her ankle after falling at home.

She was feisty, opinionated bordering on rude, brittle and at times incredibly vulnerable as we watched her negotiate the frightening world of being a patient.
Dovetailing the shots of her medical care, we got to glimpse the " real"  Wendy. Her hair brushed up and back, a neat little pullover covering thin shoulders, she talked about her previous two husbands with a mixture of righteous indignation and sad regret and tempered this with the brittle repartee so evident in her casualty clips.
It was clear that she had probably given the producers a run for their money.

It struck me that I was, in fact, looking at my mother, and immediately I told The Prof and Sorrel so for the similarity between Wendy and my mother was so striking that I was amused, and suddenly rather moved by it all.
I had literally seen a ghost and although I made light of the programme, and the similarities between Wendy and my mother, I found myself turning my head away from the rest of the living room............... with my eyes gently stinging.

" Beach Balled sized Lady Nuts"

Things are cranking up nicely towards next week's wartime finale as The Walking Dead's narrative underlines that no one is "mr nice guy" in this brave new world.
Oceanside is nearly on board with " Team Rick"
Sasha is down but not out
Rosita has brought Dwight back into Alexandria to help,
Eugene is an asswipe
And a ton of redshirts are being set up to die next week, which is a shame as new characters such as Oceanside's resident dyke Beatrice and Polynesian Cyndie are rather more interesting than some of the main characters like Aaron and the vapid Eric.

Cheap Date

Dipping crackers into cream cheese and leaving crumbs
Farting loudly in the bath and enjoying the increase of  the foam layer.
Sucking chocolate from a chocolate finger
Popping bubble wrap,
Sitting in the dark with a layer of thick face cream on
Burping after too much diet coke
Lying in your own field looking up at the sky,
Reading the news during a long bowel movement on the loo,
My queeny toy being watched very closely by an interested bulldog
Mushy peas on toast,
Realising that you are the only person in the cinema
Having your toes licked by a dog,
Tinned peaches and evaporated milk,
Sex
Clean sheets and cool pillowcases,
Singing,
Laughing at a private joke,
Lying in bed after a particularly horrendous night shift while your husband and mother in law are out shopping for the day


All nice things that cost next to nothing

Wandering Lonely as a cloud.

Sorrel amid the daffs

The meadows at Bodnant Gardens are filled nose- to- nipple with yellow daffodils, which is a stunning sight when viewed in situ so to speak.

It's A Knockout!

Between Winnie and Mary,  Sorrel has suffered the onslaught of cups of coffee knocked from hands, masturbation on slippers , giant paws bashing perfectly well coiffured outfits and food stolen from plates when her  back has been turned..
At various points in the day,loud  shrieks can be regularly heard as Welsh terrier gleefully ambushes old lady as she potters around at her ablutions.
It's great sport!
Sorrel is not really a dog lady

I shall leave you with this old blog post from a few years ago...I know it's lazy blogging but it made me laugh when I re read it....it kind of captures Sorrel so well
Enjoy

The Prof made himself comfortable as Sorrel and I had a chat about nothing....these "nothing"conversations drive him to distraction.......which makes them even more entertaining.
Sorrel " I love slices mango and melon"
John: " Do you?........I am a bit partial to pineapple chunks myself"
Sorrel: " Really?"
The Prof " harrumphs" at this point.
John " yes......especially tinned pineapples"
Sorrel" thats strange, I would have thought you'd go for fresh

Brief silence

Sorrel: " Do you like raspberries John?"
John " I've gone off them a bit "
Sorrel " hum"
John:" they are a bit bland, the ones from the supermarket"

Sorrel " What about strawberries?"
The Prof then sighs very loudly and shifts in his deck chair
John" Oh I love stawberries ! ........"
Sorrel " I love them too"
Prof ( under his breath ) " oh For fuck's sake"

Long silence

Sorrel " John......what Are your thoughts on passion fruit?"
The Prof screaming into the wind " OH MY GOD........I WAS ADOPTED!!!!!!"

Mother In Law " sitting"

Selfies on Llandudno Pier