The Dinner Party

I think I cracked a rib in yesterday 's fall.
Last night I spent a good hour in a hot bath in order to relieve the pain then had an awful battle getting out again so severe it became.
Luckily one of the villagers I know well is on strong painkillers, so after a minute's phone call and a brief walk in my pyjamas, I dosed myself up with some dihydrocodene  and then went to bed
Dorothy slept a millimetre away, with one guilty eye open on me  all night.

I still feel bloody sore this morning, but forced myself to go out dogwalking which was fortunate as
I bumped into Bernard-the -German who lives on Maes Offa
I say fortunate as on Friday I am hosting my first dinner party ( my first as a single person) and am in desperate need of professional cooking advice.
Bernard- the-German is a talented self taught cook who will share a full recipe anytime and anyplace and so in just two minutes flat I had been given a robust Spanish recipe for a chorizo chicken type casserole and was offered a black pudding alternative before I gave my excuses and moved on.
( he approved of my starter of homemade chilli squash soup with homemade sourdough)

The dinner party is in fact more of an evening supper for friends but this small event signifies something quite subtly important in my journey back into the singleton world.
It's a large step back into normality.
My guests are a gentle Italian academic and his warm and interesting wife and Chic Eleanor from the other side of the village,  so I'm in good, warm loving  hands.
Chic Eleanor texted me yesterday " Darling John , I can't wait to see you!" 
She's a sweetie!
I'm looking forward to see her and my other friends too....

Today is operation dog snot removal
Hey ho

Aches &'Pains

I took a tumble today.
Dorothy ran in to me on the beach and next thing I remembered I was face down on the sand smelling of shite.
The dog poo bag in my pocket had burst in the fall and I was winded
Bless she did look concerned

That was six hours ago and I'm home and now aching like a tart at the end of her shift
I can hardly get out of the armchair which is next to the fire.
I've read all afternoon though
A real rare luxury for me.

Hallelujah, The Fat Pony and open flies.......

I've had a lovely day.
First off came the chimney sweep.
I had swept the chimney myself but it had continued to smoke, so I got a little chap in to finish the job properly.
He came a year ago and fell in love with Winnie then, so it was lovely to see her lying next to him with her sleepy big head resting on the calf of his boiler suit as he beavered away.
I met a friend for brunch ( a glorious corned beef hash at "y Shed " ) then left him in a rush in order to meet my sister's at pottery class.
My pony was fired and glazed and looked mighty fine with his proud head, so I made Albert a selection of painted food bowls as Janet glazed her pieces and Ann threw some more pots on her wheel.
We've all loved our time with clay.

Tonight was choir and for an hour we all grappled manfully with Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah as Jamie ( sadly sans his 1940's RAF moustache )bounced around with his flies open.
I did notice at first, but soon forgot, ( I got lost in the practise and anyway didn't want to be accused as being a crotch watcher!!) Thank goodness for the quick thinking Hattie who had the prescience of mind of sending his music iPad the needed " your flies are open!!" message

I saw Trendy Carol too.....she thanks everyone for their kind wishes in the previous post!
"They were kind and they helped" ...she said 

Seren

At teatime there was a gentle knock on the lane window
It was Trendy Carol and her face had crumpled up like old newspaper
Her poorly Welsh Terrier Seren was no better and she had just been asked to make the decision all pets owners dread
It was time to say goodbye.
Carol had that faraway lost look of the shocked
So I suggested that I take her and her husband to the vets ten miles away.
I am glad I did as the waiting room was filled with bright eyed and yappy  patients which were too much for Carol to bare. I waited in line for the appointment to come
Whilst carol and her husband waited outside .
They didn't have to wait long.

A dog's death has a special power about it.
There is something quite special about just how, once owner and dog are reunited, a certain peace descends .
All the dog can see and feel is the presence of the pack .
The alpha is back in charge.
The immediacy of the moment taking over .
It's lovely but heartbreaking to watch as the dog has no real concept of the reality of the moment.
And so minutes after we arrived
Poorly Seren gently folded into Carol's lap little a sleepy toddler would do at the end of a busy day and all Carol could feel was the oh-so-familiar warmth of a Black and Tan body on her own

A Difficult Brexit

The abandoned cockerel was rehomed today.
He remained incredibly bad tempered and I had to employ the duck egg blue oven gloves again, to manhandle him back into his cardboard box, so violent was his spur covered karate feet..
An old chicken experienced contact of mine had agreed to take him on and half way to his farm this morning  ( and on the A 55 expressway) the bugger started to kick his way out of his original cardboard box, much to the hysteria of the dogs who where bunched fearfully together in the opposite side of the back seat as the cockerel bellowed like bull.
I was forced to pull over in St Asaph and after a brief struggle I managed to hobble the cockerel with a dog lead then quieten him by pulling a hastily removed sock over his head.
He looked like the oddest of kidnap victims by the time we got to our destination
"Has he a name? "the gentleman farmer asked as he gave me my sock back with a look of incredulity
 " Brexit !" I told him and in way of some explanation added " He arrived last Thursday night! 
" That....doesn't bode well" the farmer sighed as he wrestled the cockerel under some sort of control
As I drove off, I could hear him yelling at Brexit as the pair headed towards a barn
" Whoooa yer bastard !" 
What have I done , I thought 

This afternoon, I met Cheryl who is an old friend from my psychiatry days for a long lunch in Chester
We have known each other over 34 years.
And we still can't take a proper selfie between us

And are wearing the same magnification Poundland specs !!!

Little Women

Prof Bhaer

Most of us know the filmed versions of Little Women.
I would guess the faithful 1994 and the more saccharine 1949 films would spring quickly to mind rather than the more unlikely 1933 movie but one way or another most of us would have our favourite Jo's and most tearstained Beth death scene.
I've always enjoyed the nineties version and bits of the post war one, and so I was a little sceptical about seeing Greta Gerwig's more feministly robust version.
I found the messages of women's empowerment slightly heavy handed much preferring Alcott's powerful original prose. Indeed one scene where the saintly Marmee ( a nice turn by Laura Dern ) gives advice to the headstrong Jo ( Saoirse Roman) by saying " I hope you'll do a great deal better than me. There are some natures too noble to curb and too lofty to bend."..Lingers long in the psychi.

I enjoyed this movie. It's worthy, lovely to look at and filled with some lovely performances by the four female leads.
But it is a tad overlong even though for my money so could have sat through another hour of the Professor Bhaer character on screen.
As played by the very sexy Louis Garrel he put his previous counterparts Rosano Brazzi and Gabriel Byrne well into the shade

The Mystery Guest

I've arranged it
If I die in the non too distant future my colleague has agreed to do something for me at my funeral.
Picture this.
A hall of sorts, ( Not a Church) 
Everyone ( and there is a full house) is seated
The coffin is a pretty wicker one with meadow flowers on it and is situated at The front of the central aisle.
The celebrant is just about to start his address when there is a bang of the hall doors
A mystery woman enters.
All dressed in black.
Large hat
Thick veil
In her right hand a single red rose
In her left a white handkerchief.
The celebrant ( who is in on the ruse) welcomes the latecomer and graciously asks her to sit
She walks very slowly down the aisle, her high heels clip clopping on the wood floor and she sits on the front row to the left.( where a seat has been reserved for her)

The service resumes ........with everyone muttering in stage whispers
" Who is she ?" 

( The Mystery guest may also be a similarly dressed man but That me be a difficult find at short notice )

Shouting Into The Wind

We all need to feel that we have some sort of voice in this strange world we call life.

One of the most sincere forms of respect is actually listening to what another has to say.      

Bryant H. McGill