Bend The Knee

Game of Thrones started as The Walking Dead did, so I didn't bother with this medieval, ever changing feudal epic. However , late in the game as season 7 got underway, I have started to watch this strange story of nine communities who are essentially fighting for power on a big island.   

I have no real idea of who is what and what is going on, but I have worked out that nice guy with a Sheffield accent is fighting a short haired bimbo Queen as  a  Hitchcock blonde lip quivering , dragon loving Queen puts in her twopenneth worth as a French midget, and a cast of forty well know British thesps flounce around in dark colours.

Everyone is playing power games, there are tits aplenty and the production values are pretty good.

It will do until the superior Walking Dead returns

Liam Cunningham , a guilty crush

Dragon and Sheffieldier Jon Snow

Flies On My Teeth

I didn't get to bed until 2am this morning and so didn't manage to take the Prof down to the station for 7 am.
" I 'll bike down to collect the car later" I told the Prof sleepily " It's all down hill" 
Mid morning I set off on the 600 foot drop to the coast.
Pippa, the doctor's wife was somewhat open mouthed when she spied me cycling up the lane,
" You! On a bike?  ! " was all that she managed to say as I wobbled past
"There is no end to my talents!" I called out, unable to take one hand off my handlebar.
Jason the affable despot , makes all this cycling lark very easy, I thought, but he has the physique that actually suits Lycra

A few minutes later I realised just how difficult cycling on a busy A road is! - especially when you are hurling downhill with a fixed smile on your face ,  the wind whistling up your shorts leg.and farm lorries roaring up behind you.
Mrs Trellis with Blue, her greyhound by her side passed me in their little red car halfway down Dyserth Hill and she beebed her horn merrily as she shot past me.
I'm sure she was laughing at the way I was weaving too and fro around the drains and KFC wrappers.

My nerves were in shreds by the time I reached sealevel

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