Single Walking

I was tempted to leave yesterday's post as it is, uncluttered by the thoughts from today.
I can't tell you how moved I was, surrounded by the snippets of the personal- names and locations of the great and the good and it's wonderful to think that several hundred of us pop back and forth in order to share the thoughts of someone we are never destined to meet.

Mary and I had our lunch on Colwyn Bay beach again this afternoon. We shared a ham baguette from Bryn Williams 'and she shared a water bowl of a large hot black Labrador who we passed lying under the shade of his owner's 4x4.
We walked the length of the promenade and back.
I always think that I look safer walking a dog. I have the rather odd impression that people think a single middle aged man walking alone is someone to be suspicious of in some way which I know is a discourtesy to single middle aged men everywhere.
I think a jaunty Mary offset my jaunty second best Walking Dead T shirt today and
It amused me that when we stopped for coffee at one of the promenade cafes a large biker type called out a lusty " Daryl Dixon is the best" as a passed by him and gave me a high five.
Mary woofed at him as he did so.

where are you?

Hot at 7 am...Mary and Albert watching rabbits

I couldn't sleep and was up by quarter to seven. It was almost too hot for the older dogs to have a walk even then, so I left them to potter in the garden whilst Mary and I did our power walk circuit .
I've made a pack lunch of fruit salad and ham  and Mary and I will go for a picnic on Colwyn Bay beach later to watch the world go by.
I caught up with Mr A on the way for eggs. ( I will have to call him Mr A as although we have chatted for a few years now, I still dont know his name)  he complemented me on posting the Keala Settle  video yesterday and asked just how he could comment on a post thinking only ' invited' people could say anything.
" you have commentators from all over" he observed " I like the thought of that!" 

So for Mr A, who is not au fait with bloggers and blogging, please tell him where you are in the world!
Ps there is another link below the comments to see the latter comments x

Building

Building on a sense of positivism , I found this video on YouTube.
Not seeing the movie The Greatest Showman yet, I was still aware of this song which has become the film's anthem.
This video is a presentation of the song for the first time with the film's singing cast, and it's a revelation to watch.
The energy, the emotion and the fact Hugh Jackman cries make it a special moment all caught unexpectedly on camera
Enjoy

A Bit Of Colour

Ive just re read this morning's post.

All rather glum ain't it?

So I've now given you all a choice.

Read about a violent, but stimulating movie

Or look at the white and bluebells in the grass verge of the lane

And enjoy Mary biting hell out of Winnie's porky leg

As bulldog absolutely adores a bit of rough and tumble

Life is sweet once we look at the nice things

You Were Never Really Here

The Scottish film maker Lynne Ramsey has produced a violent and nightmare world in her latest feature You Were Never Really Here. It is a world inhabited by Joe ( Joaquin Phoenix) a traumatised veteran haunted by the fleeting memories of childhood abuse and sickening battle field trauma. He is a lumpy , pain filled mess of a man who earns his daily bread by being a hired gun, a hit man, a killer, but he is a killer who comes home to an elderly frail mother ( nicely played by Judith Roberts) a relationship of his  which has retained its warmth and humanity.
Joe has a death wish. We glimpse his inner pain through little moments of despair, a look over the high rail of a railway station, a revisited childhood moment in a closet where a plastic bag over the head shuts out his father's wrath, but the bond with his mother keeps him going, until his latest " hit" drags him into the dark world of child prostitution.
He is hired by a local senator ( Alex Manette) to retrieve his fifteen year old daughter Nina( Ekaterina  Sansonov)from a high class brothel and in the bloodbath that ensues, Joe has a chance for some sort of redemption amid the chaos.
This is a very violent and disturbing film which under Ramsey's flair for storytelling is at times an overwhelming bit of cinema. The cinematography drags you into Joe's haunted world where a sudden sound drags him back into childhood violence or a stranger on the street suddenly morphs into a terrified refugee. After one particularly bloody shoot out Joe lies down next to a dying assassin and holding hands they whisper the words of the song I've never been to me which is playing on the radio.
It's a surreal but terribly poignant little scene the likes of which are peppered unexpectedly throughout the film
Phoenix is impressive as Joe. He dominates the screen time with his overwhelming sadness and when at last there is a small glimmer of hope for him, he breaks your heart with his subtle, pained performance.
This film is not for the faint hearted, but it's worth a look if you are in the mood .9/10

Like Gypsies In The Night

The Prof is away writing for 5 days and I am left to my own devices.
Fat club this morning then lunch with a friend ( home made bread and cheese) - I gave up trying to calculate the points after the first glorious bite !
I was late to lunch because I was talking to a dear friend in a layby off the A55
I say talking........I was actually just listening.
Listening to just how awful chemotherapy can be.
The nurse and friend in me just wanted to hug the pain away but that would not validate just how awful the experience was for my friend to experience.
Listening to each sad, nauseating moment was the order of the day.
The experience needed validation and the description was every bit as poisonous as the toxic chemicals pumped into his body.

No Roots came in the radio after the call had finished..the conversation and song now intertwined forever

Birthday

It's the Prof's birthday today,
and as usual he's got the 7 am train to work.
There is a small pile of cards on the bookcase in the living room awaiting his return and later we are having an Indonesian meal out to mark the day.
It's not my place to let you all know just how many he has celebrated over the years.
Suffice to say that it's the 18th of his birthdays  we have marked together
A great deal of water has flowed under a large number of bridges over that time.
I hope there are many more bridges to negiotiate before we finally reach the sea.

Georges Bizet: L'Arlésienne-Suite - Farandole

This piece of music reminds me of Trelawnyd, more than any other I can think of.
Wherever I am in the future, it always will, for in my mind it is the musical accompaniment to a "cinematic" moment ten years ago that lifted the heart more than any other.

We were fairly new to the village then, and in conjunction with an event my sister had planned, I had organised my first allotment open day for charity.
It was a small affair, and certainly wasn't as robust as my later, larger events, but my vegetable beds had been tidied up within inches of their lives, cakes and tea had been prepared and flyers had been circulated around the village with a typical anxiety that centred around the worry that no one would turn up.

I'd arranged for the open evening to start at 6pm, and minutes before time I remember standing by the field gate in a sudden downpour of summer rain.
I know I felt distraught and upset as I couldn't then imagine anyone turning up when the grass was sodden and the skies were slate grey.

When I remember this moment, the Farandole's uplifting violins suddenly enter my psychi. The music echos my feelings at the time as when I walked up the lane to look towards the Church in the hopeful expectation of seeing at least one local turning up to my event , my heart leaped as suddenly I spied a long and steady stream of villagers, led by Auntie Glad (under a massive umbrella), all marching down the lane towards me.
The music now accompanies that cinematic moment in the film clip of my memory.
And I smile gently  as I remember it.