"Do Not Send us Astray"- The Walking Dead ep13

Slumber party gone wrong

The worst part of episode was when my favourite redshirt Tobin ( Jason Douglas)killed the sassy foul mouthed doctor from Kingdom, she..( Peggy Sheffield) would have made an interesting  new character.. It was a great moment of complete mayhem when the injured Hilltoppers succumbed  to their infected injuries and ran amok amongst the sleeping survivors..it was just like old days!
Ok ok it was a rehash of the prison flu episode, but I didn't much care.
It was back to the Walking Dead of old.
The Hilltop fended off the saviours but at a price. Henry and Morgan played silly beggars. Pretty
New Yorker saviour Alden switched sides to the good guys ( a new eventual Maggie love interest 
perhaps?) and Tara realised that Dwight May have saved her life.
This episode was set at a cracking pace.......8/10
Loved it

Tobin, not at his best

Operation Dog Snot Removal

Spring Cleaning!

Epic music blasting out

Too much strong coffee causing slight jitters

Dogs safely in the garden ( with Albert)

Living room furniture on the window ledges and outside the back door 

Coal dust, soot, dust and dog hair sucked from every nook cranny and orifice 

Throws, blankets and patchworks all hand washed and are hanging from the field gate in the lane.

It looks like we have had a flood.

A neighbour passed and waved

" I see your mother in law is about to visit !" They noted.

Bookends and Staffordshire bits drying on the draining board

Almost Easter

"Beejesus we're blessed are we not?"
So called out the hefty Irish horsewoman on even a heftier horse this morning as the sun shined and the skies around Trelawnyd remained a bright comforting blue.
I passed the woman on the road climbing the Gop we nodded in a friendly manner as we have passed each other several times before. She has a brusque warmth that I like

Everything seems a bit brighter this morning.
The Church was gridlocked with cars and I could just  hear the singing of a hymn as Trendy Carol's dogs bark at a passing mongrel.
It's a big gig today for the vicar
We are having lentil and pepper soup for lunch.

Violence On Stage

I've not had time to blog today
I've not had time to bathe Mary smelly fanny ( mother in law coming to stay in days and " Operation Dog Snot Removal" has not been initiated as yet!)
I've not had time to fix Mrs H's tablet as promised.
I've just not had time.

I treated the Prof to tickets to see the old chestnut that is Noel Coward's Private Lives at Theatre Clwyd tonight. It was fine, sparkling Coward in fact , but the climactic slap fest between Amanda ( a great Helen Keeley by the way) and husband Elyot seemed just a tiny bit uncomfortable for a modern audience to laugh at without reservation.

I think we are still programmed to react to physical violence when we see it in the flesh so to speak. Satatized violence ( on screen and tv) can feel cartoonish and unreal to most of us ( except the gentle natured blogger Raymondo perhaps) but a stage sock in the mouth can feel very real , even though it's played for laughs on a theatre stage.

It's just a thought at the end of a busy day.
Thank goodness we didn't go to see who's afraid of Virginia Woolf?

Shuttlecocks

I played badminton with the Prof tonight.
And despite wearing my Rosie O' Donnall sweatpants ( a necessity to hide my spotty knees). A bout of tennis elbow, residual bladder instability and flatulence
I won!
Figure that one out Sherlock.
There's life in the old dog yet! 

The Best Bit....

.........of today?.......

Sitting in the living room armchair in the afternoon sun with a sleeping Mary....waiting for the broadband hub to be delivered

A bit of lightness

Sundays

The Gray family circa 1963 , Andrew is on the far left , I am the baby on my father's knee far right

I met my sister in law for lunch today.
It's a habit we've got into since my brother died
I can't believe it will be seven years this December.
I can't quite remember just how the subject arose, but over a pulled pork pannini ( try saying that when you're pissed!) she mentioned that my brother hated Sundays with a vengeance.
She also admitted that she never quite knew just why.
I knew why.
Sundays were rather hateful, wasted days growing up.
They were filled with parent lie ins ( and hangovers) over cooked roast dinners, long boring sits in front of crappy tv and cold Sunday tea times listening to song something simple.
A Sunday drive out was unheard of. I don't remember picnics or walks out ( except the ones with my elder sister), there were no seaside jaunts, Church visits or zoo trips.
Pre lunch my father would retire to the fraternity that was the local Conservative club while my mother boiled the fuck out of mashed carrots and we children were happy that he brought home the Sunday treat of a block of Neapolitan ice cream.
My sister in law probably still cannot quite understand my brother's hatred of Sundays.
Her childhood was very different to our own.
I understood it, perfectly

Have you ever hated a day?

Ngā mihi Māhāna

I have returned to blogging earlier than I thought
And I have some kind words from a Maori follower to thank for it!
They reminded me of the kindness of bloggin and bloggers
Kindness that was added to by the majority of comments of the last two blogs.
Hamitana, you are a star

"I hug with my Maori Soul; I smile with my Maori Heart; I laugh with my tummy; I think with my Hands; I speak with my Eyes; I listens with my Maori Mind and, abundantly Love with my Everything"