Clip

 I’ve posted this short video, purely because it intrigued and pleased me

The chanting could almost be African rather than Scottish 

Amazing

Enjoy

At The Movies

 

My problem with me is that I often want to see life as a movie.

I have always been the same.

Ever since I was a little boy and Shelley Winters got stuck up that Christmas Tree in The Poseidon Adventure.

Like Shelley, things were always larger than life.

I’ve joined an LGBT+ reading club in Chester, and the organise Alison has confirmed my application with a sweet email but I know that there is a part of me that is expecting the first meeting to be a little like The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, what with Dawsey Adam’s hole filled jumper and Isola Pribby’s sweetly dotty spinster.

Of course it won’t be, but I know that

I get it.

Certain scenes in my life do have a cinematic resonance to them. 

And we all experience these, do we not?

Dancing on the roof of Weston Park Hospital with friends one night in 1990 would have made a delightful vignette for any coming of age movie staring Molly Ringwold and John Cusack.

Christmas Morning 2002 when me, The Prof and two dogs climbed all over each other in a hug fest that told me I had my own family for the first time in my life could have graced James L Brooks’ Terms of Endearment .and My Grandmother calling out “ My Poor Poor Boy “ when she saw his coffin in Church would have sent an icy chill over any audience watching Meryl Streep in Sophie’s Choice.

The film clips stand. But life isn’t a movie.

We plod along

Today nurses will strike in Wales for the first time in welsh history

The postmen have already marched out and the rail drivers will go next week. 

It’s all a bit serious, but at least I can smile as Mrs Trellis’s erect bobble hat can muster a few laughs aka Mrs Pumphrey  in All Creatures Great And Small

Reality lies , as it always seems to do, between the too worlds . 

The ordinary and the cinematic 

My meatballs looked lovely but were hard as bullets

Albert peed on the carpet for the third time yesterday morning

And I did get a distinction for my first assignment, feedback lying somewhere in Google classroom.

Hey ho

Meatballs

The water pipes were frozen this morning

Sailor John told me where to defrost them

I made IKEA meatballs for lunch

The postman left a message on the village Facebook page 

He’s on strike until Friday 

 

Cold

 Still cold 

But inside it’s toasty 

Crem Etiquette

 Crematorium etiquette. 

Try to sit on the right at the back .

Out of the way. 

In the cheap seats.

I liked the St Asaph Crem

The hymn’s lyrics came upon tv screens and they project a huge photo of the deceased on the wall as you go in. 

The vicar was a bearded hearty soul that looked like the Titanic’s captain.

He was a bit of a show girl I thought.

I wasn’t sure about the Christmas Tree in the grounds, it was lit with fairy lights

There were a couple of villagers at the funeral so we teamed up . 

I enjoyed the hymns and belted out “The day thou gavest “ so I could be heard at the front.

I hate lacklustre singing at funerals.

There’s nothing worse.

My choir will be singing at my funeral , I’ve decided I want Olè Laya Loila instead of the first hymn

A Winter funeral

There is nothing sadder

The Fickle Finger Of Fate

 

Life is a fickle beast.

One minute you are battling the small brickbats of shite that make things literally crap

The next you are swinging your hips to a fun bit of music and sad videos on tiktok suddenly do not have the power to make you weep when you don’t want to.

I finished my assignment last night. 

I just need to type it up today.

Bluebell is back on the road, ( albeit a totally iced up one this morning) but won’t be taking me out until lunchtime as the - 5 temps last night have re- iced the lane and effectively rendered the incline to the main road impassable. 

I’m taking a neighbour to a hospital appointment

From having nothing in my calendar last week, I have found things filling up gently.

Gorgeous Dave has asked me to go and attend a Meat Loaf By Candlelight evening which sounds a somewhat unlikely pairing, I must admit. 

Tomorrow, I’m bunking off college to go to the Choir’s annual pub singalong and next week I’ve arranged  supper out with Chic Eleanor .In between, I’m meeting another friend for brunch at Bryn Williams and there’s the village Christmas Fayre to help with next Saturday.

Tomorrow I’m going to the funeral of a dear friend’s husband . Eirlys has featured on many of the early Going Gently blogs as she was my chicken guru , and fountain of all knowledge when it came to hens.

I’ve just come off the phone to her after reading her all of the tributes that were written in memory of her husband on the village Facebook page. 

Not a FBer , herself , she gave me permission to pass on the news that her husband John had died.

This morning I slowly read out each comment in turn and moved dreadfully, she listened to each one, silently as the tears fell.

“I didn’t know , that We knew so many people” she quietly added when I was finished 

A funeral tomorrow lunchtime ….singing in the pub, tomorrow evening

So Scarlet was right

After all tomorrow IS another day

I’m not Sticking My Arse In That!

 Roger has never seen snow before but his sweet dim nature precludes any negativity he may have for the cold stuff. 

Mary just gets on with it.

Dorothy finds it’s a total bore and is constipated. 

One look at a cold snowy path and she’s throwing back one of her “ You've got to be fucking kidding me“ looks.

She hasn’t opened her bowels since Friday.

Neighbours Mandy and Sailor John phoned last night to see if I was ok. I had seen them in Tesco last Wednesday where I indulged in a quick and much missed game of supermarket Sweep ( you know the one where I secretly fill their trolleys with useless items  without their knowledge) 

I had forgotten just how good at the game I was , when I walked towards them , ( unnoticed) and plonked a huge tim of pineapple rings on the top of their pile without even a eliciting a glance. 

Now that’s skill.

I’ve turned off The Archers omnibus this morning as David’s distress at Ben’s mental breakdown is a little too much to bear on a Sunday morning and the kitchen is quiet same for dog snores.

I’ve banked up the fire again, had a hot shower and changed my clothes

Bucket of coffee then essay writing.

Liver and onions for lunch with mash and gravy.

Snowed In

 

It has snowed more heavily overnight and my tiny part of the village has been effectively cut off from the main road, as even small amounts of snow on the incline up to the village proper renders the lane useless until it is gritted.

The cottage is warm though, not toasty but warm ,I stoked up the burner late last night and the silence caused by the muffling of snow is pronounced. 

I’m going to make coffee and then plan my essay.

Yesterday I subscribed to Netflix

I have no interest in watching Harry & Meghan spilling their guts out, but I spent a Merry four hours or so watching the delightful Norwegian monster movie Troll and the Spanish zombie movie Malnazidos set during the Spanish civil war.

Both mindless old fashioned fun, in their own rights.

I’m a bit low of food but can get by with raiding the freezer. I have enough dog and cat food already.

Chorizo chipolata sausages with egg and muffin for breakfast.

Hey ho