The first entry Carrot Miranda
The International Novelty Fruit/Vegetable Competition
Yesterday the schedules for the Flower Show arrived from the printers, I cannot believe another year has gone by so quickly.
This year we have elected for a gentle duck egg blue.
Now Going Gently readers have always been welcome in joining in with the Trelawnyd Flower Show and they can and indeed have entered many of the classes outlined in the schedule
But from last year they, AND THEY ALONE have their very own class and competition in which to enter and that is the Novelty vegetable ( and fruit) photo class!
Now, for those that don't know ...all you have to do is to design you very own novelty vegetable or fruit creation. It could be an animal, or a monster, an inanimate design or anything from your imagination !
They can be as simple or as complicated as you like ! You photograph it and then send me the photo via email to me ( email jgsheffield@hotmail.com)
The winner and runner up will be sent their own special certificates and rosettes!
We received over 80 photographs last year, so it would be lovely if we could have 100 this year!
A Big Heart
Dogwalking allows you to meet people.
Names and detailed information are generally never swapped but often you get to know details of pet names, dog ailments and the like.
Yesterday was a case in point.
The woman with her fashionably cropped hair is garrulous and friendly, she has a distinct Lancashire accent.
I've met her once before and I remembered that she had an elderly bull mastiff with a serious bulldog like expression.
I liked the way she described him as " dim but sweet"
This time she was alone.
Her boy had died a few weeks ago.
The woman knelt down to pet Winnie and as if by magic Winnie hauled herself up , with her massive paws on the woman's knees and placed her big head over the woman's shoulder in what can only be termed as a bearhug.
It was almost as though she knew the woman was grieving.
" oh I so need that" the woman said through tears
And she buried her head into Winnie's neck
I walked on a little letting the old bulldog do her work.
and felt incredibly proud of her big heart
Names and detailed information are generally never swapped but often you get to know details of pet names, dog ailments and the like.
Yesterday was a case in point.
The woman with her fashionably cropped hair is garrulous and friendly, she has a distinct Lancashire accent.
I've met her once before and I remembered that she had an elderly bull mastiff with a serious bulldog like expression.
I liked the way she described him as " dim but sweet"
This time she was alone.
Her boy had died a few weeks ago.
The woman knelt down to pet Winnie and as if by magic Winnie hauled herself up , with her massive paws on the woman's knees and placed her big head over the woman's shoulder in what can only be termed as a bearhug.
It was almost as though she knew the woman was grieving.
" oh I so need that" the woman said through tears
And she buried her head into Winnie's neck
I walked on a little letting the old bulldog do her work.
and felt incredibly proud of her big heart
The Salesman ( and Auntie Glad)
I can't remember ever watching an Iranian movie, so I was awfully glad to catch a showing of The Salesman at Theatre Clwyd yesterday.
It proved to be an excellent watch.
Rana (Shahab Hosseini) and Emad (Taraneh Alidoosti) are an intellectual and arty married couple living in Tehran. He is a teacher of literature and both are actors in a fringe theatre company which is staging rehursals of Death of a Salesman.
Having to leave their apartment ( under threat of collapse during a frightening opening sequence) the couple take over the rent of an apartment formally frequented by a prostitute and their life together come to a dramatic and unexpected turn after Rana is assaulted by an unknown former associate of the former tenant.
Almost seamlessly, the drama slides from the interesting story of the domestic life of the Iranian middleclasses to a much darker story of revenge and lost trust as Emad searches for the assailant amid unspoken worries that Rana perhaps knew more than she is admitting to.
During his investigations, things get seriously embroiled and confused with parallels made between Emad's stage persona of Willy Lomax and his thwarted, impotent feelings as Rana's husband and all this done with the subtle yet interesting insights into the Government censorship of literature and theatre and the general attitude towards women in this world where an Iranian actress playing a goodtime girl in an Arthur Miller play has to wear a red hijab and floor length coat to signify her character!
Alidoosti is impressive as the husband who cannot quite deal with the emasculating nature of his wife's attack and Hosseini matches his performance as the wife who is initially shamed by events but who is ultimately disgusted by her husband's need for vengeance
8/10
***********************************
Now I can share some news of Auntie Glad, who has been moved much nearer to home after " going walkabout" from her previous care home. The village jungle telegraph ( which according to Gladys' daughter is more effective than anything the CIA could ever find out) told me yesterday that the move was imminent and now Gladys is living in a home in Prestatyn, a town only a few minutes away!
Visiting her will be rather melancholy for me as the care home is the one my mother died at fifteen years ago.
When Did You Last Cry?
Yesterday I went to Theatre Clwyd to see the Iranian drama The Salesman which was a cracking movie and one I shall review later. Beforehand, however, I sat through the preview of the Lasse Hallstrom film A Dog's Purpose and found myself tearing up.....At THE PREVIEW!!!!
The film doesnt look very sparkling, but I know that the sentimental romp where a sucession of dogs die and get reincarnated would literally have me in the funny farm.
I won't be going to see the movie!
I cry easily. The older I get, the less control I seem to have over my tear ducts. Surprise reunions on tv shows, animal hospital stories and even sad music can now set me off, so I cannot be that surprised to start blubing at a 3 minute preview! My father cried easily and often, perhaps it's in the genes!
When did you cry last?
I'd be interested to know
Altruism
The Prof is working away and left home at an ungodly hour this morning, I couldn't face driving so told him I would catch the boneshaker minibus to town midmorning in order to pick the car up from the station.
The £2.90 bus fare is worth the lie in.
As I was waiting for the bus, I spied a guy collecting litter from the village pavements, I presumed he was a council worker.
The man said hello as he passed and then I realised he wasn't a council worker but just a regular bloke collecting rubbish from a country village!
I snapped a photo of him, as he continued his presumed voluntary work on the grass verges.
I am a firm believer of true altruistic behaviour. I think it is something that should be encouraged by parents of children and by teachers with their students at school. It should be the expected norm and not the pleasantly surprising exception to it.
We all need to give something back to our communities. And that gift should hold no strings.
Many people think that they are altruistic, but often their kindnesses such as a charity donation, a text to comic relief or a couple of pounds given to Big Issue salesman are only a second lasting quick fix.
Altruism takes effort, time and energy.
Collecting rubbish from the side of the road for no thanks is true altruism.
The £2.90 bus fare is worth the lie in.
As I was waiting for the bus, I spied a guy collecting litter from the village pavements, I presumed he was a council worker.
The man said hello as he passed and then I realised he wasn't a council worker but just a regular bloke collecting rubbish from a country village!
I snapped a photo of him, as he continued his presumed voluntary work on the grass verges.
I am a firm believer of true altruistic behaviour. I think it is something that should be encouraged by parents of children and by teachers with their students at school. It should be the expected norm and not the pleasantly surprising exception to it.
We all need to give something back to our communities. And that gift should hold no strings.
Many people think that they are altruistic, but often their kindnesses such as a charity donation, a text to comic relief or a couple of pounds given to Big Issue salesman are only a second lasting quick fix.
Altruism takes effort, time and energy.
Collecting rubbish from the side of the road for no thanks is true altruism.
Pompous Arsehole!
Twenty five or so American Mormon visitors filled the Churchyard this afternoon as the dogs and I walked back from the new cemetery beyond my field.
They all got off a coach parked up on the main road by the school.
I stopped to ask them if I could help them with any questions on the history of the village as many were looking for the graves of their ancestors with the name of " Parry"
I love feeling important!
One lady listened to me spouting forth on the history of the village to a group of bored looking fellow yanks and then asked politely if she could take a photo!
" if you like" I said thinking of a pose I could strike which would inform them I was " professional and dignified and which wouldn't show my double chin"
She smiled her thanks, clapped her hands in excitement and took what seemed like a hundred photos of each of the dogs!
That will teach me!
The Pleasures Of Cheap White Bread
oh Lord, no posts over the weekend! That's not like me. We had a busy day on Saturday then I was working all day Sunday which was followed by a twilight shift at Samaritans . I didn't get home until 1.30 am, tired and somewhat jaded only to be faced with the body of a rabbit lying headless under the catflap.
I've counted just three adult rabbits on the field this morning. The only survivors of the myxomatosis plague of last month.
Anyhow, I caught neighbour Betty standing at the field gate when I returned home from dropping the Prof off for his train journey to Cardiff. She was waving two pieces of cheap white bread above her head like an elderly semaphore enthusiast.
This happens a great deal from time to time, especially as several locals now understand just how much the sheep adore these delicate morsels. All it takes, with one or two wafts of a slice, and both Sylvia and Irene bust an absolute gut to overcome their natural shyness to gallop up to the gate in order to coyly accept the offering and chomp away with eyes closed in happy rapture.
Animals like people, love a treat.
For George it's miniature cocktail sausages whereas William will go weak at the knees over a cheap spar meatball.
Winnie having eclectic tastes, prefers roast beef and lamp shank. ( and there is a facebook video doing the rounds with my friend Greta and her husband feeding her such tidbits with a fork at the dinner table!)
I still go weak at the knees over the mere glimpse of a scotch egg whereas the Prof especially loves a cheesy ball!
( make of that what you will)
Anyhow back to cheap white bread!
I adore the smell of it, and the way that you can reduce it to dough just by pressing it hard between your fingers! It reminds me of those 1970s Fridays at my grandmothers' where jam sandwiches made with baking margarine and strawberry jam and a cup of sweet tea was the order of the afternoon!
Baked beans always tastes better of toast made from cheap white bread!
Try It and you'll see I am right.
Pippa, from the Rectory, often comes around with all sorts of designer rye bread and hard as rock expensive French baguettes for the sheep to eat and they nibble on her offerings with a politeness bordering on boredom. Betty's cheap crusts go down so much easier.
My sheep are like me, they are easily pleased.
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