North Wales 1978

I’m with the cows lick and no blazer

I don’t remember this photo being taken
I was perhaps sixteen years old.
Prestatyn High School circa 1978
I don’t recognise that gauche young boy.
This is because my school years were some of my most unhappy ones I ever experienced 
Perhaps you can tell that from the half non smile on my face.

Earlier this week I put a few ghosts to bed. 
I accepted that many of my happiest memories were when I was partnered and married .
The anger masking these ....left behind , just a little

Clingy

 


It’s easy to anthropomorphise animal behaviour to suit your own mood 
But take a close look at this photo, taken just before getting up this morning 
Dorothy is on the left, Mary to the right.
Both with a part of their body pressed close to mine.
And overlooking everyone is Albert, wide eyed as usual.

Albert never sleeps in my bedroom.
Every morning he would be found in the back bedroom on his own or else sat with Winifred in the kitchen reading chair. 
But since Winnie died he has slept on the window seat, facing us.
Two nights in a row.

Funny what you notice

Mecrowavey

 This has brightened my day 



And speaking of food 
for locals 
Please order from The Crown takeaway menu
It looks bloody lovely





Down With A Bump

I’m flat as a pancake today.
I thought I would be.
Thank you all for the kind comments of the past two days.
Everything is back to normality though Albert is pacing the cottage more than normal 
I’m not surprised .
I went shopping and bumped into one of the senior staff from intensive Care. She asked me to go back saying that they were in need of my humour and she hugged me....
I felt like crying
I’ve made vegetable soup, warmed with chilli and wrapped gifts and wrote Christmas cards
And at lunchtime John Lewis delivered the small table I’d ordered for the living room, which gave me another construction job to do.


Social media from the village let everyone know that Mrs Turpin had lost one of her beloved schnauzers, so I took a plant around.
She cried buckets. 
My friend Brian , who lives in Ireland has just married his long term partner Aaron yesterday. He sent me the photographs. I wish the couple well.....Covid weddings are not easy , I am sure .

Brian and Aaron




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