Kilroy and Peter Rabbit woz here

 I’ve been sleeping in the spare room for the past week.

I don’t quite know the reason for the change from a lovely kind size bed onto the antique brass single bed in the corner of my office, but move I did and yesterday afternoon the room felt overly cozy what with me , Dorothy and Albert curled up in what was free at the time of settling .

I’m on night shift for most of the weekend.

The bed squeaks dreadfully when you turn and squeals alarmingly when you first sit down on it, but it’s comfortable and warm and reminds me of when I was a child.

Perhaps that’s why I’ve sought it out just after Christmas.

Alan Bennett always sleeps in a single bed, he wrote about it in his memoirs 

It kind of suits him, I think.

Mind you he never shared his bed with a bulldog.

Yesterday I went to bed before nights at 2 pm. 

I’m full of thoughts at the moment, 

Things to do, things I want to do. 

Things not done.

In my double bed sleep takes a while to catch me 

In my single bed, I doze long before Dorothy has stopped licking any limb poking from under the duvet.

Peter Rabbit I remind myself  and now at 2 am in the morning, I’ve wrapped the book up and addressed the padded envelope in readiness to post on Monday morning

I like giving books to Children and infants and you can’t go wrong with The Tales of Peter Rabbit. for a first gift. My great nephew Rew will receive it next week.

The start of his collection. 

I’ve written on the cover 

To my Great Nephew Rew Gray from your great Uncle John Gray

The inscription pleased me.

I’m feeling my mortality a bit this month. 

Work gets you like that sometimes, and insidiously wrong foots you, so the inscription feels positive in a sort of I was ‘ere kind of way…like Kilroy used to say.

Just Listen

 

It was a quiet evening 

Dark and somewhat wintery.

I’d lit the fire early and had hunkered down for the night

And there was a tap at the kitchen window.

The dogs were up and barking as one, and as they hurled themselves into the kitchen, I slipped through the front door and into the rain to catch one of the villagers in the lane

Only a villager would know to knock on the lane window .

It was a lady from Trelawnyd who I know well and she gave me a bunch of tulips.

“What are those for ? “ I asked but I kind of already knew the answer

They were a thank you for an interaction a day or so previous.

In my mind I hadn’t done anything as all,

I just listened 

I listened to a problem that needed verbalising 

I listened without trying to solve it

I just listened.

No big deal in the scheme of things 

But big enough for this one person to want to thank me with some tulips on a wet, dark night 

The tulips were a sign , not only of thanks ( which were gracefully received) but a sign of how much pain and upset was around at the time, pain and upset that could be salved, in part,by a little time and some empathy. 

We can all listen and empathise a little more, can we not?

Even if we are hurting, or tired, or kind of sad

We Just need to remind ourselves not to run inside if it’s cold , or run away if the conversation takes a turn you didn’t expect. 

Tulips won’t arrive every time.

But you will know 

That  you’ve done the right thing, at the right time

For a person who needed you.

Bruiser

 I took Roger for his first vet visit today with Dorothy in support. 

He was a delight in the waiting room and just watched everyone silently with his tail wagging oh so slowly.

Dorothy clattered her big paws on the vinyl flooring and woofed her baby woof at a parrot in a cage on the reception desk 

and everyone laughed 

The vet thought Roger was one of the best Welsh terriers he had ever seen and when he brought in his boss to give him the once over I beamed like proud dad on parents day.

“ A nice dog “ the senior partner said lifting Roger’s head with a finger under his jaw and he looked at the computer screen on the treatment room table with a smirk .

“ You are Albert’s owner I see” he commented “ is he still with us ?” 

I told them yes and the older vet laughed “ That cat is one of the most aggressive Toms I have ever treated in 35 years……he’s a real bruiser ! “ 

“ Have you a warning on his records ? “ I asked pointing at the console 

“ Yes ..it’s all in bold” the vet quipped “ use protective gloves at all times” he read out and I could see the comment was followed by three exclamation marks 

I suddenly felt a little less pet proud.

The Storyhouse

 My course is set at the university department at a local college. 

It takes 35 minutes to drive there. 

The library Support is great but the coffee is lousy.

The Storyhouse library on the other hand is just 25 minutes from home.

There are no staff, save for the cafe and restaurant people, but the coffee is glorious and is brought to your table.

Guess where I am?

True I’m going to see the film Corsage later, but for the time being I’m enjoying the atmosphere and am pretending to work as I’m half listening to the conversation one of my fellow “ students” is having on the phone. It sounds as though his mother is poorly and is “ not responding “ to treatment. 

He put his head in his hands for a moment and a woman opposite to me lifted her eyes and caught my gaze for a fraction of a moment.

Frank Sinatra is playing softly and a couple of old men are playing chess on a nearby table.

I read about the advantages of goal setting, but I found myself watching another couple who had just met on their table and who were chatting loudly , another girl on my table sighed loudly and muttered “ Bollocks” as she typed angrily at her laptop. 

I ordered some Lebanese chicken and pitta for lunch and made notes, 

The room sounded restless , like an audience does before a play and all my table mates pretended not to watch when my lunch arrived. 

It tasted divine , full of spice and lemon and with salad leaves which I ate with my fingers

I checked my T shirt 

My HERBIVORE one

Good no yogurt down it yet…. 

Yet……

I wrote around a page of notes before a gaggle of mums and babies in strollers marched through to the public space in the foyer. One of the old men playing chess shook his read at the noise.

I don’t mind their chatter as my film is almost ready

I always slightly feel that I’m on holiday in the Storyhouse

I get up and a man with a paper and a glass of red , takes my place

 It hasn’t got light today, just a damp sort of dark twilight pervades everything 

I took myself off to the Mostyn Gallery to see the Cerith Wyn Evans’ neon light sculptures which ironically push out more light than anything else here in Wales today. 

I bought sushi cabbage from the street food deli and katsu curry as an afterthought and sat reading a few books in the cafe at Waterstones until it was time to get home.

I’m getting my monies worth  from Netflix later 

‘OME

 

Today’s post was a partially successful effort to lift my spirits 

But when I’m like this, I know what I do need 

And that’s Sheffield 

So next week I’m back off ‘ome 

A couple of pints with Mike, theatre ( the acclaimed and almost sold out Sheffield based musical  Standing At The Sky’s Edge ) with Jane, breakfast arch, and camp with Jonney H and lunch with Kathryn and Vince 

Bliss

When Camilla Parker Bowles shat on the windscreen

 

Camilla as a gosling with her penmate Badger

When we were out for our morning walk great, untidy Vs of Canada Geese honked their way across the skies to their morning feeding grounds. So noisy they were, even Roger stopped to watch them fly over, a puzzled look upon his face.

Canada Geese always remind me of the orphan “ duckling” I took off an academic from Bangor university for she turned out to be a magnificent , doe eyed specimen, with a haughty look and regal lines. No wonder the village child announced precociously that she should be named after the then Prince of Wales old beau when I asked her jokingly to name her.

Occasionally Camilla would take to the skies when the mood took her, but she proved to be a terrible flyer all told and the following is an excerpt from a blog from seven years ago when Camilla crash landed on the local binmen’s lorry

Enjoy

 

“After sorting out the valve system on the radiators I was just getting all testosterone and full of myself when the council bin men lorry pulled up outside the cottage and one of the hairy arsed bin men knocked loudly on the front door .
I was half expecting them to be in a pissy mood after all I had left half a ton of plumber's packaging and bin bags out for collection but the binman wasn't bothered about the rubbish, he was more upset than anything
" One of your birds has smashed into our van" he told me
Apparently they had just turned the corner at the bottom of the lane when " a soddin massive black bird" had appeared from nowhere and had bounced on the roof of their refuse lorry, just above the windscreen.
The bird then " shat" down the windscreen ( probably in shock) then bounced into the hedge.
" It's still alive" the binman told me " it was hissing at us"
" It's probably Camilla Parker Bowles "I told him " She's a crap flyer"
The binman looked confused.

I could have done without another little drama. I was still getting used to the heating system more complicated than the average ITU ventilator and had already fixed a leaking radiator single handed a few minutes before, so with slightly heavy and irritated heart I followed the binman down the lane to where his three colleagues were peering into the hedge.
" It's in there" one man chirped up pointing to a goose sized hole in the hedge
I looked in and sure enough Camilla looked back at me with her big black solemn eyes.
As I reached in and picked her up, the binman who had knocked on the door turned to his friends and said" her name is Camilla Parker Bowles !" They all nodded with interest in a chorus of " ooos and arrhhhs"

Apart from a massive crap stain on her back end , Camilla looked shocked but unhurt. So I thanked the binmen and apologied for any damage caused.
" It will have to be logged " , the senior binman said " she's dented the roof" but they were soon on their way and Camilla was soon sat in a dark calm goose house under observation"

I wonder what the binmen would log in their incident file?
"Camilla Parker Bowles crash landed on our bin lorry today and she shat all over the windscreen "
Dirty girl.......”

Camilla after the collision 

New Year

 I’ve watered the plants this morning, washed four loads of washing and listened to The Archers Omnibus. I don’t have to leave for work until 1pm. 

I wrapped the Beatrix Potter Tales of Peter Rabbit book which was delivered yesterday and I will post it to my great nephew on Tuesday.

I like sending books to children and Peter Rabbit is a good start from Rew’s collection .

I had a lovely New Year’s Eve last night. A lovely meal and a good natter.

I was in bed before midnight, though I heard the fireworks cracking as the Pub led the village celebrations 

Dorothy fearful of the noise, burrowed under the duvet like a big fat mole.