Winnie Remembered





Winifred Sâlote Tupou lV was a diva of rare proportions.

She was a blog writer’s dream as her adventures over her seven years at Bwthyn Y Llan never ever needed embellishing. 
She was truly larger than life
Larger than I ever expected from our first, rather lacklustre meeting. 
The meeting was September 1st 2013.



I was in the middle of organising my last open Allotment Day when she arrived with her previous owner for an introduction, so our meeting was brief and , for me somewhat disappointing.
All I remember thinking was that she was overly large, had no neck to speak of and looked frightened of everything but I agreed she could come a few days later for a trial run.

And after that, stay she did.

I think Winnie was a fully cooked five year old bulldog when she arrived and it wasn’t long before I worked out that she had her own quirky set of obsessions which proved to be somewhat of a challenge when she finally got her confidence.

  • She masturbated incessantly, goaded on by the Professor who thought this behaviour hilarious rather than embarrassing and the object of her desires centred upon his tastefully buffed brogues and the infamous “ Slippers of sex” which were strange hand knitted slippers designed and made by Kit, an old lady who still lives in Bron Haul......Her habit of self pollution continued until her late onset emergency  hysterectomy a couple of years ago, but even then , very occasionally she would back her toilet parts seductively onto her trusty fanny flannel when having a periodic summer bath.
The slippers of sex


  • She adored visiting Workmen of any description , though it was fairly obvious that a generic friendly masculine type with overalls was her man of choice, and I must say that she would sulk for hours if she was not allowed to watch what household job needed to be completed. I also remember, her going missing when the British Telicom men were here putting in the broadband extra line. .........I eventually found her sitting in the telicom van’s passenger seat sharing a packet of cheese and onion crisps....
  • Winifred was also totally obsessed with food. All food. Any food.....and I once famously brought her round after a particularly robust attack of heatstroke after dipping her nipples into a cold bath and dropping a Tesco cocktail sausage on her gums.
  • Her food obsession lead to a life of stealing if left unchecked and I remember the toe curling embarrassment when she raided an elderly woman’s handbag for her polo mints and the time she helped herself to a baby’s Farley’s Rusk , which she found wrapped on the lower shelf of a baby buggy parked in the Church Yard.
  • She adored very small children too, and given her great size remained totally in control and gentle when around them. I remember one very emotional moment, observed a couple of times on Going Gently when she suddenly found herself surrounded by a large gaggle of pre school children out for a crocodile linked walk on the Dyserth walkway one summer. I warned the supervisor that she was indeed safe and as I walked up I saw a plethora of stubby little hands rub every inch of her in wonder.....her gentleness and obvious pure pleasure of the toddlers’ attention moved me to tears as I glimpsed just for a moment her natural ability of being a mother
Of all of her fellow animals in and out of the cottage, only one became a true friend, and that friend was Albert. I have often blogged that only she, out of all of my dogs had the capacity for thought and the understanding of simple concepts. 
She understood Albert, and was never fazed by cat behaviour, (idiosyncrasies that were always lost by the other dogs 
)and last night,  as she lay silent and still on the kitchen floor, only Albert came to her, carefully and wide eyed, to sit between her paws , his black head rubbing hers.

In full sulk

Albert and Winnie

George and Winnie on their last walk up the Gop

Winnie was so pissed off with me in the photo taken Christmas Day 2018
I had taken her down the beach and she was cold and wanted to go home


Now Winnie, was also a serial sulker. I often referred to her as being a gay man in a bulldog suit as when thwarted or god forbid told off in any way she would stare carefully into the middle distance for the longest of times before flinging herself with gay abandon onto a rug or an unoccupied sofa.
The longest sulk I ever timed, lasted almost six hours....a lifetime in the dog world.

Her last half hour on earth was typically Winnie. She ate a full bowl of dog food ( garnished with several Aldi cocktail sausages) then was allowed a ten minute hysterical rubber chicken gum before settling down on the mat by the door ( instead of her usual place in the reading armchair next to the radiator ) 
And that was where I found her only an hour later. 
Quiet and peaceful 
And all on her own terms 

I’m sad but not heartbroken ....it was her time to go 
And like the ideal cocktail party guest 
She didn’t outstay her visit

But I shall miss my old girl 

Winifred The Queen of Tonga

 She had all of her tea,
then Joined Mary in some rubber chicken horseplay 
And died quietly in the kitchen 
When I was having a bath

I will write an appropriate eulogy for her tomorrow 
She deserves one


Forward

 I have been mulling over something quite serious for some time now. 

Covid and isolation, have re circled my more neurotic wagons so to speak and conversations with new friends who have gently raised an eyebrow have made me think about my divorce and my feelings of hurt and loss.
And anger. 
I’m rather tired of still feeling angry.
It’s heavy and odious burden 
So today I did something about it.
I spoke to my ex husband and to my former mother in law on the phone.
They were careful but ultimately kind.

The conversations were emotional in their own way but both ended quietly and with a positivity long such lost. 
I was reminded of the quote below as I walked around Trelawnyd this afternoon. I was delivering Christmas Cards in the freezing rain. 
The darkness and weather hiding tears of release .

“You have to forgive yourself sometimes. Accept your scars for what they are and forgive the old you and people who have hurt you. Maybe that is how you learn to breathe and walk again. Maybe that is how you heal from the past. Maybe that is how you move on.”

Day Off Again

 What I’d like to do on my 3 days off









What I’m actually going to do on my days off 












Anger



I deal with grief most days 
And I see how much anger often smokescreens it
It feeds grief and effectively insulates it when in excess

I know the story.
I’ve lived it .

Covid with its rules, has compounded anger
Anger in isolation, anger in blame
Anger in the pure unfairness of it all

And grief, in many cases has been halted and denied its natural way to go

The Tree

It’s been a funny old day today. 
Sunday’s and Christmas and Night duty can be a strange mix
Of memories past.

I drove through the village in the dark to work tonight and the village Christmas Tree was up and lit



It’s nice to see....



Sunday



Night shift days scoot by in a succession of short sleeps. 
I walk the dogs when I get home. 
Then they are fed and all come to bed for a few hours before Dorothy wakes me up around 1pm for another wee, then it’s back to bed until five or so. 
The cottage is invariably cold when I prepare “breakfast” and so I switch on the little oil heater in the kitchen and we all cram in like the Waltons in order to eat and keep warm 
Today some village Children delivering Christmas cards woke us all up around four and so wrapped in fleeces, I made a breakfast of ravioli infused with walnut oil covered in pecorino cheese.
Bloody lovely 
Just enough time for a bucket of coffee before more dog walks 
The drive to work is accompanied with radio 4
It’s Pick of the week  tonight 

Only Me/ You



So many people have a strange habit when introducing themselves on the phone 
They say
It’s only me” 
Almost as if they are apologising .
Which they are.....

I do it all of the time.
And I shouldn’t ....

Being awake when nearly everyone I know is asleep allows the mind to wander around such
conundrums. 
Tiktok is filling with American Shite and Twitter with two many gay men, shirtless and drunk 
My book The Object of my Affection by Stephen McCauley is untouched .
It was the first “ gay” novel I ever read back in 1989 and I can still remember a quote from it that resonated with me 

 Often, what's most attractive about a person is that part they're trying hardest to conceal, that part they think is least likable. You find out about it and it becomes a secret bond between you, something you never talk about but hold close to your heart and are continually touched by”

It still does........

Alison Moyet looks better now than she did thirty eight years ago
How is that possible?

My mask smells of olbas oil, a few drops before shift makes the wearing it bearable for hours at a time