Idiot

A very nice inspector for the RSPCA came around this morning as I was making parsnip soup. She had reports of an " umkempt goat" being dumped in a field.
After we popped over to the Ukrainian Village she was happy that Irene, was not unkempt, dumped or even a goat!
I have no problem with well meaning people worrying about animals, even though they don't understand Scottish sheep look scruffy when moulting
The inspector said she would try and help me find a field mate for Irene.

I always feel very guilty when I deal with officials in uniform.
I can resort to babbling when stopped by the police , (which has happened several times when I have driven home late after Samaritans ) it's a false guilty/ nervous kind of thing!
The RSPCA inspector was lovely and was busily kissing Winnie on the Forehead as the terriers crowded around her but I still found myself admitting to her that when I was eight I poured peppermint essence into our pond which killed all of my mother's goldfish!
Huh?

Remembrance Sunday

I was reminded of this wonderful talking heads episode of the BBC series Queers today
Wonderfully moving...stick with it..it's worth it

Murder

Kenneth Branagh makes a rather good Belgium detective in Murder on the Orient Express.
He has a certain twinkle in the eye and a steely kindness which was sadly lacking in Albert Finney's 1974 overblown creation . I liked him
The film is ok. It's not as good as the " original" but it passed muster with nice performances from Branagh and Michelle Pfeiffer as the wisecracking Mrs Hubbard. Unfortunately most of the cast don't have any time to flex their dramatic muscles and so the talents of Manuel Garcia Rulfo, Judi Dench and Olivia Coleman just stand around looking worried.
I found myself missing Ingrid Bergman and her " little brown babies!" 
Oh , and I hated that the closing credits featuring the magnificent train disappearing into the sunset was spoilt by the now obligatory modern day power ballad hoping it will win an oscar for best song.

Diary Of A 1950s Welsh Housewife

I get up before the Prof and make sure I am neat and tidy for the day ahead.
I check my reflection in the bathroom mirror before anything else
Hair perfect....make up discreet .....apron straight!
Now to prepare breakfast.
The Prof has his boiled egg and soldiers in bed with a strong cup of sweet tea, he is reading Boffin's Weekly.
I wake the children. They are such naughty children too as none of them want to get out of bed in the mornings! No pancakes for Winifred this morning as I notice she has put on too much weight recently. An extra few laps around the hockey pitch is the order of the day me thinks.
Men don't want to see extra large knickerbockers airing on the clotheshorse do they?
That sort of thing gets their roving eyes started .
After checking that William, Mary and baby George have washed behind their ears, it's a brisk walk around the village before breakfast and out they go to play.

I need to get cracking with my chores.
After quick race around with the old ewbank and some elbow grease with a duster and the house is looking all spick and span. I change into a clean apron and bang out a dozen jam tarts and meat pie before running hubby a nice hot bath.
I've already laid out a fresh cardigan for him to wear.
While he soaks I pop on my coat and hat and picking up my wicker basket I trot to the village shop.
Mrs Trellis is buying her usual quarter of tea and a French fancy as I wait in line.
Tut tut tut I think , " a moment on the lips a lifetime on the hips !" But I say nothing...I'm far too nice.
Mr Jason the shopkeeper gives me a wink and says he's got a Cumberland sausage just in with my name on it, we laugh gayly.
I politely refuse Mr Jason's sausage and purchase instead three slices of ham and a tomato for the Prof's tea. Keeping your man fed and watered is the sure way to maintain a happy marriage my
mother always told me....oh and acting like a right whore in the bedroom helps a bit too!

To be continued......

Sandwich

The Prof was attending an awards do and asked for me to pick him up at 7.30 .
He said we would go out for dinner.
I scrubbed up, donned my New York duds and was about to drive the 20 miles to meet him when I got the message
Awards overrun won't get out until going on ten pm
At 9.45 I was eating a service station coronation chicken sandwich in the car park

Susan Hayward

This is for a friend who is having a shit time

With much love

Frank

When I picked up William and Mary from the kennels I had to wait for a while in the farm courtyard for the kennel owner to be free.
William was trotting around like a puppy with a squeaky toy in his mouth and shadowing him was his " exercise mate" , a very elderly black Labrador . I was told the two dogs had " made friends" during William's stay.
The Labrador ambled over to lay his muzzle into the palm of my hand, and I could see that like William, he was a gentle old soul.
" He's been with us over a year" the kennel owner explained as she tried to catch Mary " His name is Frank"
I asked about Frank's story as he turned to William to lick his blind eye gently and it was a sad one.
Frank, was the apple of his owner's eye. She doted on him ever since he was a puppy and the two were apparently inseparable.
When the owner became seriously ill, her husband , through necessity , had Frank boarded for a while and when his wife died suddenly , he asked if the dog could stay a while longer.
Now grief is a strange affair for many people to deal with and the kennel owner explained that husband could not emotionally cope with the dog at home , a dog that was adored so deeply by his wife.
And so he was sent away like a child at boarding school.
" The owner is totally stuck" the kennel owner said sadly as Frank and William tottered around together " He's too riddled with guilt to rehome Frank and too brittle to have him home.....and so he stays here with us" 
Frank smiled like only labradors can do
And I felt awful taking William home

Souvenirs

The cottage is more or less Silent this morning.

No taxi horns, no police sirens, no bustle, no clatter.
All I can hear is Winnie's rasping snores and the crowing of the bachelors as Mandy from next door feeds them and Irene  stale bread.
The dogs and Albert are reunited on the duvet and are all fast asleep.
I'm washing and packing away the contents of the kitchen cupboards today in readiness for the new kitchen.
No radio, no music and no noise.
Everything is nicely zen.

The Prof and I have a tradition of buying Christmas decorations from New York
This time we have gone Camp " Opera" and oh sooo Gay
With The Queen of the Night from The Magic Flute and Clara from The Nutcracker

I placed them on the mantlepiece to look at for a while before getting cracking on washing and packing away the glassware.
Back to normal