Rachel's slightly controversial novelty veg photo entry
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jgsheffield@hotmail.com
Shit In A Pot
One of many broods of indian runners in the kitchen
Yesterday evening I received a phonecall from a woman who needed some advice about ducklings. Her son had brought home four and she was in a pickle of what to feed them and how to keep them warm.
I gave her the info she needed ( scrambled egg is a great stopgap for hungry ducklings) and wished her well.
Ducklings are notoriously dirty little creatures , I warned her, especially if they are kept in the house. They have a somewhat annoying skill of flinging shit with their feet and it is easy to catch salmonella from them, if you don't wash your hands properly.
Nine years ago , after a particularly nasty bout of diarrhoea, I had to take a stool specimen into the labs at work to see if I had caught a nasty bug from my own ducklings who were being nursed in the dog crate in the kitchen. The sample was " placed" in a small plastic specimen jar and was neatly labelled with my name, nhs number and the words faecal specimen on the side. I placed it on the dashboard of the old berlingo and went out to complete a few jobs.before setting off for the hospital.
Now, I had forgotten about the container until I had stopped to let Olwenna Banks Hughes and Gwyneth Jones into the car. The two old ladies had walked along London Road a way and as Olwenna's fat ankles looked even more swollen than usual I offered them a lift home.
As we turned up High Street, the stool sample rolled noisily along the dashboard from its resting place, first one way then the other and both old ladies stopped their chatter to silently watch it on its journey underneath the windscreen.
I said nothing and neither did they.
The " shit in a pot" incident was never referred to again
Ball Trouble
The woman involved is usually rather aloof.
She's tiny and skinny and never says hello but always pats Winnie when they pass each other on the walkway.
I noticed that she always wears large sunglasses even in bad weather.
I'd say she was approaching 70.
As usual she had a chirpy, long legged mongrel with her and today she was swinging a ball which was attached to a wide plastic handle.
I was daydreaming so only realised that there would be a problem seconds too late, as moments after our paths crossed I turned to warn her not to get too close to Winnie with the ball.
For Winnie adores balls.
As I turned I saw the woman merrily swinging the toy for her own dog to play with and like lightening Winnie jumped up and grabbed the ball in her fat and very powerful mouth.
The woman pulled back on the handle.
Winnie pulled harder.
And without , even a pause the woman flew through the air like a rag doll and landed with a splat on the path.
I almost laughed at the very cartoon nature of it all, thank god I didn't.
I don't think she'll sue, and she did wave me away after I offered to pay for any damage to the sunglasses ( once we eventually found them) but at least she let me dust her off briefly and check her for hip fractures.
She's tiny and skinny and never says hello but always pats Winnie when they pass each other on the walkway.
I noticed that she always wears large sunglasses even in bad weather.
I'd say she was approaching 70.
As usual she had a chirpy, long legged mongrel with her and today she was swinging a ball which was attached to a wide plastic handle.
I was daydreaming so only realised that there would be a problem seconds too late, as moments after our paths crossed I turned to warn her not to get too close to Winnie with the ball.
For Winnie adores balls.
As I turned I saw the woman merrily swinging the toy for her own dog to play with and like lightening Winnie jumped up and grabbed the ball in her fat and very powerful mouth.
The woman pulled back on the handle.
Winnie pulled harder.
And without , even a pause the woman flew through the air like a rag doll and landed with a splat on the path.
I almost laughed at the very cartoon nature of it all, thank god I didn't.
I don't think she'll sue, and she did wave me away after I offered to pay for any damage to the sunglasses ( once we eventually found them) but at least she let me dust her off briefly and check her for hip fractures.
Film
I was thinking about my love of cinema this morning and where it all came from.
Visiting the cinema in the 1970s could have been viewed by some as a rather dismal activity. The decade was not known as an uplifting period in movie history as some of the bleakest films found their way to the screen (Straw Dogs, Clockwork Orange,Dog Day Afternoon, Taxi Driver and One Flew Over The Cuckoo's nest) yet as a baby faced adolescent I was spared the trauma of trying to get into see an "X" certificate movie.....favouring the more teen friendly "A" and "AA" movies..............so of course we had the plethora of disaster films of the mid 70's to enjoy, as well as the likes of Jaws, BugsyMalone,The Omen,The Spy That Loved Me, Close Encounters and Alien)
The cinemas were large cold, uncomfortable orange and beige places that smelled of cigarettes and damp, but I loved making the effort to go to Rhyl on the bus to sit though a matinee by myself, the trouble to go the four miles, really made the ritual worthwhile.
There were always two features on offer,and always an ice cream lady with proper ice cream and wafers all set out in a box strung around her neck. (I never had the money to get an ice cream!)
Matinees were almost deserted every time I went, so even to this day, there is something quite reassuring and familiar when I am surrounded by empty seats and all alone in the dark, the lighter side of seventies movie life (remember the 1970's was a bleak economic, news worthy and political time), could wash over me.
This love of film fantasy has continued to be an important part of my life today. Love of the technicolour epic continues ( and always will do), but thankfully my cinematic interests and experiences are now wide and varied!
The ritual of choosing the film, the paying for the ticket and the sitting down in a chosen ( and quiet) seat remains a joy and this evening if I go and see the biopic Churchill, my experience will be as fresh and as enjoyable as my 1974 trip to see The Poseidon Adventure!
Lard arse
Stan stopped me today with a cheery " I was telling my Kit only yesterday that you've lost some weight ....you look better for it too....you were starting to waddle!"
I smiled weakly
He was right....I had started to waddle.
I am beginning to feel the benefit of no scotch eggs, those daily long walks with Mary and the weekly drive to Holywell for weigh in at fat club.
So far I have lost 32 lbs!
" Thats the equivalent of sixteen bags of sugar! " so screamed leader Joanne at Fatclub amid ooohhhs and arrrhhhh from the seated masses...but I find it more astonishing that it is the exact weight of William! A dog that I would have difficulty carrying for more than 50 yards!
No wonder I had found it hard reaching the bathtaps whilst having a bath!
Now I can reach those taps without rocking back and forth like a waterlogged Buddha
I can now march those two miles with Mary without gasping and farting
And I can get into my underpants without the usual hopping around and overbalancing.
My treble chin has now become a double chin.
And my non elasticated pants have now been dusted down to be worn.
I have 28 lbs to go!
How could I have got so big!? I ask myself now
The answer is an easy one....
I ate too much shit!
Pass A Tissue
Anne Dorval as the heart recipient
It chronicled the story of the transplant of a heart from donor to recipient ...now
I have been involved several times in the harvesting of organs .. so the movie intrigued me
One scene, where a heart failure patient sleeps alongside her distraught lesbian lover ( who just happens to be a concert pianist ) I found especially moving and I had to smile that as I blubbed quietly in seat D13 a woman who often sits in C12 ( that I nod to but have never talked to) silently passed me a tissue over her shoulder!
Jamming My Head Through The Conservatory Window
- The hot and humid weather is proving somewhat troublesome for some. After Church on Sunday Trendy Carol ( dressed in a flattering floaty trouser ensemble) stopped by to ask if I could check on neighbour T, who had suffered a "bit of a do" on one of the back pews and who had taken his way back home. I immediately popped down and worryingly got no answer when I knocked on the door. Seeing the conservatory window ajar, I managed to climb up onto a wall and jammed my head through the gap and proceeded to call my neighbour's name and shouted to see if he was ok. Getting no answer and all very hot and very sweaty I circled the bungalow trying to force open windows and doors. It was a good job that my burglary skills are pretty shit as I found out soon later that neighbour T had been enjoying a large roast lunch at The Crown!
- The Flower Show meeting went smoothly on Monday. Matriarch Irene has agreed to take over Auntie Glad's stall and after last year's initiative of sandwich making went somewhat flat the committee will stick to selling homemade cakes as refreshments.
- Can all cup winners return their engraved cups asap thank you!
- Apologies to the blog fan who knocked on the window yesterday with her somewhat colourful daughter and her boyfriend in tow! I should have offered you all a cup of tea, but I was frying meatballs at the time....it was nice to meet you.- apologies again for Winnie's lascivious behaviours and forgive me but I never asked your name...please comment if you read this so I know who you are!
- Thanks for the latest novelty veg photo! Zombie potato! ( jgsheffield@hotmail.com)
It's so humid today..I am presently lying on the chaise longue wafting myself with a limp bit of lettuce
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