If you are feeling a bit low watch this
It’s a song by Eurovision stalwarts and it exudes Bonne Amie
It’s what Europe is all about
CROQUE MONSIEUR
The time difference between Australia and Wales makes for relaxed chatting a little difficult .
When it’s 8 pm gin time in Trelawnyd it’s 7am coffee time in Sydney but undaunted by this my old friend Nia arranged a meet for both of us but under the strict rules of cooking together .
I’ve never done it before and I must admit it’s great fun
We chose to make a proper Croque Monsieur from scratch
She in her high tech, sun kissed antipodean kitchen , me in my slightly chilly but perfectly IKEAn version.
It was lovely, as neither of us had much news of any note to talk about, so we would share snippets of what was happening in between yells of “How’s your bechimel sauce coming along ? “
“ ohhh I can hear sizzling !”
An hour and a half later, the croques were crumbs and we were reminiscing about the fatly comical kookaburras I remembered watching in her garden only five years ago .
It was lovely
Our next meet will be in a few weeks time.
We are going to paint together in acrylics
An abstract painting
Sounds like fun
Nia ( front) with my arm around her circa 1980
The rest are my family and friends
We were in the audience of a production of Oklahoma my Aunt was starring in
My Study
Albert and the old bedroom
I have a spare bedroom in the East Wing of the cottage.
It’s small and full of clutter at the moment.
A Victorian copper bedstead and mattress , a book case, an Art Deco grandmother clock, old books, a carpet cleaner.
This week I’ve decided to make a proper study.
A simple one, with less fussy walls and decor.
A desk, a chair and the bed complete with an antique french bedspread , I bought last year but never used
It’s a small room and it needs to be simple
I need a place with limited distractions, if I am to write
So today, I’ve been shopping
I’ve not only ordered a new phone , but a desk and an office chair
The paint I already have, the gentle buttercup yellow of the living room.
SKYFIRE
Just sat through two gloriously awful hours of Chinese disaster movie SKYFIRE
A total homage to those 1970 disaster movies I loved so much as a teen
Dreadful but intensely entertaining
Rubber Chicken
Sailor John from next door brought a package around for me today
He had opened it, thinking the package was for him.
I wondered why he raised a Roger Moore eyebrow when he delivered it.
For in the parcel was very small, bright yellow rubber chicken
It was a gift from blog reader Donell.
The chicken has a odd skill as when it is pressed a small red egg protrudes from some sort of prolapse out of its arse...
It made me laugh, as it was intended to do.
Thank you Donell.
For years I have been in receipt of many many similar gifts from scores of lovely people who follow Going Gently . The gifts are as varied as the givers .
25 kilos of hen feed and two bales of hay, arrived one day a long time ago and since I have received scotch eggs, a patchwork quilt, books and photos and paintings and art work. Hand knitted and crocheted items, walking dead T shirts and games and memorabilia . Dvds, doggy treats, plants and flowers, sweets and goodies and even a Steiff scotty dog and money have been sent and all gratefully received .
Today, I’ve walked on the beach.
Prepared pulled pork and sauteed potatoes for lunch
Tomorrow I’m meeting a friend from Australia on zoom.
We have the same recipe planned and will talk and cook together which is another lockdown phenomenon , born out of lonely days .....
I’m looking forward to it.
Two dogs on the trendy couch look incongruous as do the Christmas card garlands around the room
I need a third
And I need to fold away the cards
Hey ho
Cold
It hasn’t gotten much over freezing all day.
The neolithic burial mound on top of Gop Hill is dusted with snow and stands out in relief against the blue sky.
On and around it are the black spots that are the village children and their squeals of delight as they snowball and sledge can be heard down at the cottage, where I have lit the stove early.
Trendy Carol tottered past on the ice wearing a smart faux fur number
I dozed in the armchair after an icy walk.
But I didn’t dream of Mr Hemingway again,
Which was a shame .
Snow and Hemingway
The snow has fallen fast over the Eastern Welsh hills, so much so that I just had time to buy some logs before Bluebell slid precariously over the road East of the village
I was glad to have finished work for a week. I am tired
Last night I slept on my break , my head resting in my hand
I had a dream that I was dating the writer Ernest Hemingway, I’ve always had a bit of thing for him
He had a thick moustache and heavy stubble and wore a blue woolen jumper with a hole at the neck and he had a touch of dandruff
He also looked 60 which surprised me as I only consider myself as a “young” middle age thing
But he had the voice like chocolate and kissed like Doris Day every time I passed him in the kitchen doorway
So I didn’t mind much
He also stood smiling at me as I hurried around the cottage looking for Mary to walk before I went to work.
And I tried to cling onto that image when my phone called me back from break with a vibrating tinkle
I was very pissed off that it was a dream
very
Mary, Dorothy bounce with a friend when out with the dog Walker
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