For Joe And Kerry

who lost a dear friend on Tuesday

The Power of the Dog by Kipling

There is sorrow enough in the natural way
From men and women to fill our day;
And when we are certain of sorrow in store,
Why do we always arrange for more?
Brothers and sisters, I bid you beware 
Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.

Buy a pup and your money will buy
Love unflinching that cannot lie
Perfect passion and worship fed
By a kick in the ribs or a pat on the head.
Nevertheless it is hardly fair
To risk your heart for a dog to tear.

When the fourteen years which Nature permits
Are closing in asthma, or tumour, or fits,
And the vet’s unspoken prescription runs
To lethal chambers or loaded guns,
Then you will find – it’s your own affair, –
But … you’ve given your heart to a dog to tear.

When the body that lived at your single will,
With its whimper of welcome, is stilled (how still!),
When the spirit that answered your every mood
Is gone – wherever it goes – for good,
You will discover how much you care, 
And will give your heart to a dog to tear!

We’ve sorrow enough in the natural way,
When it comes to burying Christian clay.
Our loves are not given, but only lent,
At compound interest of cent per cent,
Though it is not always the case, I believe,
That the longer we’ve kept ’em, the more do we grieve;
For, when debts are payable, right or wrong,
A short-time loan is as bad as a long –
So why in – Heaven (before we are there) 
Should we give our hearts to a dog to tear?

Repeat Performance

For Ellen

Ocean's Eight

The film begins with a white faced Sandra Bullock in prison fatigues talking to camera.
She has lank dark long hair and is botoxed to buggery
My sister turned to me and whispered " Bloody hell It's Michael Jackson!"
Unfortunately Bullock does indeed resemble the plastic pop star and her expressionless face takes something vital away from this the latest of the " Ocean" comedy heist franchise.
It's hard to make a good comedy when the leading lady looks somewhat vacant .
Which is a shame.
Having said that Ocean's Eight is what it is.......it's an entertaining heist romp with a star cast of female crooks stealing the diamonds from a greedy old fashion house that can take the loss. The " ladies" are therefore all sympathetic Robin Hood types and although Bullock is no charm filled George Clooney you do end up rooting that the gems are indeed swiped from the bad guys.
As the complicated and totally unbelievable heist plan is uncovered we meet the mixed bag of lady criminals recruits.   Helena Bonham Carter ( looking like the wreck of the Hesperus) , an underused Cate Blanchett, Rihanna in dreadlocks et al all have their brief parts to play in the comedy romp but surprisingly it is Ann Hathaway as a not-so-dumb superstar actress who showcases the robbery diamonds and James Corden as an insurance investigator who turns up at the end of the movie who shine above the ensemble performances. Their turns are naturally funny and satisfying.

Ocean's Eight is a light , frothy romp. And at that level, it entertains.
7/10

Sulky Bitch

I was completing some paperwork and videoed her as I was doing so.

She wasn't happy at being ignored

Bulldogs cannot stand being ignored

Constants

My Sister Ann Williams BEM ( British Empire Medal)

I have known my sisters for 56 years.
56!
It's the longest relationships I've ( or they've ) ever had.
I'm sure that Ann won't mind me stating that she is 70 this year, actually her birthday is next week and she has arranged an open house celebration at a shabby chic hotel in Sitges to mark the event.
Circumstances meant that we were unable to go, but finally after a bit of wrangling and some   Herculean easyJet Internet work I've managed to sort a flight and have organised a whistlestop jaunt to Spain .
My entire family will be there the day I go and it is right I am there to raise a glass to a family matriarch who has stood in my corner for over half a century. 

Never Enough

EveryONE has a story

The other week I saw teenage boffin out walking with a young lady, they were ambling down the lane chugging beers as they did so.
I waved from the car!
Last night when messaging the boffin about prospective dog sitting I asked him about her
"I KNEW you'd be itching to ask me 😂😂😂."
Came the reply!
I'm such a transparent nosey old git!

Everyone has a story to tell.
Everyone.
And we often forget that, so obsessed we are with our own lives, and the lives of celebrities and the famous.
Mrs A stopped by the kitchen wall yesterday. She marvelled at a deep purple clematis flower that was growing over our back shed.
" Many years ago I once went to a dance in Mayfair with an officer of the Coldstream guards and wore a flower like that in my hair" she remarked rather wistfully
" The Guards'  motto rather suited him" she added with a sly smile " it translates from the Latin as second to none "

Like I said....everyone has a story to tell
You only have to ask.....
I cut her a flower and presented it to her over the wall.....

Everything Has A Story

I started full time paid employment in the September of 1980 when I was just 18
I was a junior bank clerk at the National Westminster Bank in Rhyl.
I was a terrible employee, but I was popular enough with the junior staff, a big bunch of youngsters who worked behind the scenes in the machine room.
In October 1980 I received my first pay cheque
And what did I buy?
A CB radio? A new grandad shirt?. Brand new furry seat covers for my Austin 1300? The latest Yazoo LP?
Naw
I bought a Carlton ware 1930s lobster fruit bowl

And I was pleased as punch with it

Postscript 
On Friday I received a fuel delivery from our local coal merchants. As the delivery guy stopped to present me with the invoice he noticed the bowl on the kitchen counter top and said pointed to it saying " I like that!" It was only then I realised I had owned it for 38 years