Rats In The Garden

The Prof has an optic migraine today and is doing his Blanche Du Bois impersonation by lying weakly   in quiet parts of the cottage.
Mary is spending most of her time gazing longingly out of the living room window in the desperate hope of seeing some baby rats. A family of eight have been living in the field wall and the day before yesterday they entered the garden en masse to steal the bachelors' grain supper.
Unfortunately I had to deal with them, as they are too close to the little knot of cottages this side of the church, but Mary never forgets and is seeing baby rats where baby rats are not to be found so the vigil continues!

With the Prof out of action, I have given the living room a spring clean and made him a cheese omelette for lunch which he just managed to polish off.
Lying under a heavy wool throw, he whispered a weak " I think I could manage a little homemade cake!"  before he fell asleep. So I knocked up a batch of mini coffee cakes as Mary kept a look out for baby rats in the garden

I spoil that man

Blog Loyalty

For a while tonight I have been scouring Going Gently's archives to find out just how old The sheep are. It took a while but I found the information I was looking for , but not before I caught up on some blog comments from years ago!

We have been together for a long time, I think, my blog commentators and me!
Months have flowed into years and years into a decade and from  all corners of this very small world have come pearls of wisdom, pithy asides , and the odd lunatic remark from a whole series of bloggers, fans, mildly interested friends and some downright loons .

Many characters, such as the the delightfully anarchic Hippo Tom,   I noted, have faded gently away but many of you have stayed for the duration........at my funeral I hope there will be a bloggers' set of pews......crammed to the gunnels of middle aged ladies that lunch,  small holders, retired teachers , zombie fanatics, dog and chicken lovers, an oddly magnificent artist or two , a few belligerent drunks, a gaggle of bright homosexuals and the odd lesbian and at least one transAtlantic knitter.......

Thank you all x

Knicker Grabbers

The Prof and I went out to a dinner party last night.
This seldom happens nowadays and it proved to be a real treat.
One of the guests was a fabulously dressed elderly lady from Henley-on-Thames.
Many years ago she  had been " high up in ladies underwear", and still sports her trademark theatrically swept up hair which made her resemble Patsy in Absolutely Fabulous. She also had a very, very bad hip which she was waiting to have fixed.
The pain from her disability was profound and upsetting to watch.
After dinner our hosts presented the lady with some gifts for her birthday and one gift ,a pair of plastic grabbers, was received with much hilarity.
The lady marvelled at this simple little invention .
Rubbing her bad hip she cackled with laughter
" I can now, after so long a time,finally  get my knickers on"  she announced
And the table gave her a round of applause

A Game When Out For A Walk

Easter cards
Milkmen
Library books in big print
Wrestling on television
Garfield
Pekinese dogs
Cream horns
Brawn
Sweet shops
Antimacassars!!!!!!!!!!
Moria anderson
Camp Coffee
Bibles in hotel rooms
Boys playing in the street
Habitat
Newscasters behind a desk
Hairnets
Proper telephone boxes
1930 metal window frames
Gypsy tops
Furry dice hung from a car mirror
Cheese and pineapple chunks together on a cocktail stick
Small boxes of jelly babies
Puppies in a pet shop window
Hand written letters
Espadrilles
Doillies

Things you don't see a lot of nowadays

Bike Fart

Earlier this week,I fixed our bikes and fitted a bike carrier onto the boot of the car.
Last night The Prof and I took to the road!
Now a year or so ago I was at least 32 lbs heavier, so last year's bike rides were a chore, especially as The Prof was and is a great deal fitter than I but now I am somewhat fitter so can keep up with the pace without looking as though I am just about to suffer a stroke.
Yesterday morning I took my bike out alone and cycled perhaps five miles down to the coast town and back. It was a practice run for the evening trip and I was pleased that I managed it with only one minor mishap!
At the end of the walk/cycleway there is a dogleg barrier,( one that is designed to stop motorbikes from getting on the track) and because of that fact that I find it hard putting my feet on the floor while sitting on the bike, I " tottered" around the barrier like fat ballet dancer while a woman and two kids waited for me to squeeze through!
Feeling virtuous and somewhat over confident after the two mile uphill slog, I pushed off on the peddles like the professional cyclist that I am not and let out what can only be described as a mega fart as I did so!
I didn't look back at the woman and her kids.
I didn't have the nerve

Is That Your Cat?

" Is that your cat?"It's the second most popular statement question I am asked when I go out for a walk.
The first being the now irritating " You have your hands full there" when anyone spies four dogs being walking from one hand.
Unfortunately, the "cat" comment is becoming more frequent.
I say unfortunately, as Albert is much bolder for some strange reason and is now trying to accompany us on nearly every walk around the village a fact complicated by the sometimes busy A road which bisects Trelawnyd into two.
Cats possess little to no road sense in my experience.
Yesterday a woman out with a Jack Russel spied Albert as he gently limped his way after us down the lane. As her dog went hysterical at the sight of him and after she had pointed at him, saying to me " Is that your cat?" , Albert quicken his pace and confused the woman and her dog into silence by slinking into the pack next to William and Winnie. It is a ploy he often uses to pull a fast one on a potential enemy but when say, a farm lorry or car appears on the lane often Albert will then panic bolting for the nearest gap in the hedge or driveway as I am forced to wave down the car with friendly " watch my cat is in the road" comment.
On the main road, with often speeding cars wizzing past , a madman with four dogs mouthing " watch my cat" at the incoming traffic is unsurprisingly ineffective, if not purely dangerous !
Of course all Albert wants is to be one of the gang.
But joining gangs can be fraught with danger!

I locked him in the Prof's office this morning before we all trouped off for a walk

Man In An Orange Shirt

Steve and Adam/ Thomas and Michael

The second and final episode of Patrick Gale's Man in an Orange Shirt aired last night and the narrative was brought up to date with the story of Adam Berryman the gay grandson of Michael Berryman whose tragic love affair with painter Thomas March featured in episode one.
Adam ( Julian Morris) leads an unfulfilled and secret sex addicted life until he meets the more grounded and confident Steve ( David Gyasi), and as the two men renovate the family country cottage, the ghosts of the March/ Berryman relationship come to light with help from Flora, Adams' bitter grandmother.
This updated version of the first film is a gentle and at times incredibly moving reflection of a modern day relationship. The threat of  prosecution and shame faced by the wartime lovers do echo in the modern storyline but  have been changed into problems of anonymity, shame and the overuse of sex addiction phone apps. Essentially and not surprisingly the final conclusion underlines that most people, whatever sexuality they possess just want the everyday things in life , a conclusion that isn't really rocket science.
The reading of a wartime love letter was a lovely moment with Steve and Adam feeling the words which described how important the mundane things in life were to the closseted gays men of sixty years ago...the sweeping up of leaves together, the making of tea, the washing up of the dishes...........


I was reminded of a similar moment recently when after a very minor row  I placed a plate of avocado on toast  by the side of a silent  Prof. Twenty minutes later all was well ........... the plate was empty....

Adam ( Julian Morris) and Grandmother Flora ( the glorious Vanessa Redgrave)

I

Fantasy

When I officially retired , last Monday, I indulged myself in the briefest of fantasies which featured an occasional lie in, under a warm duvet.
Fat chance.
It was warm in our bedroom this morning around dawn and so I slipped a thigh from under the covers in order to fall back to sleep. Moments later I awoke to the not unpleasant but certainly rather surprising sensation of a feline tongue energetically licking my left buttock.
No lie in today then I thought
I've already walked the dogs, collected bread. Taken The Prof to the station and am in the process of hand writing thank you cards to the Flower Show Committee before I make the bed and take the car to the garage.
It's not even 7.30 am