Tall oaks, branch-charmed by the earnest stars

 I’m off to bed shortly

Lots of psychological given last night.

My head needs calm

Hopefully it will be an eristic free day

We shall see…

I got home in light rain. Sitting on the kitchen wall was a pot with three oak saplings in it

No note

No message,

Just three baby oak trees.

I love gifts like this

According to Anthea on London Road., the village has no oak trees

It has now

Pride’s Gone

 It was the end of Pride March yesterday in London and again I missed it. 

Next year it’s on my list ( my bucket list) even though the TCA is going to hold some Pride Friendly event  in the village. 

Bunty and I looked at each other and smiled at the thought of everything rainbow in Trelawnyd 

“There must be more than just you two in the village” Di Smith noted and the conversation swayed around a bit as Bunty and I discussed the subject of dressing as nuns in a singalong Sound Of Music 

I’m a dead ringer for Mother Superior 

I will leave you with this Pride Video 

Shot on the street with his neighbours in support

Enjoy

A Turd In The Vegetable Bowl

 I slept in today

My bladder played up a little last night.

I walked into the kitchen blurry eyed and there it was, sitting proudly onto of a large red onion

A turd the consistency of a mr whippy

It just looked like one of Mathew Bourne’s wigs from The Nutcracker

Roger jumped on a chair I had left next to the cooker and sprang onto the kitchen tops with a grin which said proudly 

“ I did that!”

I had to stand for a long while…… processing the view

I’m working nights for two.

So today is a lazy day. I’ve made illy coffee in the Mokka and had free range eggs and garlic beans for breakfast.

Bloody lovely.

Yesterday I went to see Eirlys in her lived farmhouse not far from a chic Eleanor’s. 

Her husband John , died last winter, so her grief remains pained and angry.

It was good to see her. 

Eirlys taught me how to care for hens properly . She had a mixed flock of up to a hundred and all free ranged over her fields and lay in plastic buckets, inside tyres and feed troughs in her huge barn . Covid and John’s ill health has whittled the flock down to just four birds and it was weird sitting there without seeing a pecking beak and a glassy eye.

We talked about loneliness

And she vented, as we all need to vent.

The words like vomit, feeling easier when out.

And I asked to help me as one of the stewards on the flower show, which she happily agreed to.

I was just getting back into Bluebell when she called me from the house and she darted inside and hurried to the gate where she pressed two free range eggs into my hand

Have them for breakfast she said

And I just have , and bloody lovely they were too.

Now, this IS funny….well it’s funny as it is embarrassing

It’s about a chance conversation with a chap called Geraldo

When Colin and I were in Venice we both occasionally had a look out for any interesting Italians on Grindr. Colin being more of a gay dish than I had plenty of dings on his app

Me? Well I had one lol.

And that was with a melancholic designer , Geraldo who looked rather like Stanley Tucci’s younger and more reflective brother. 

We chatted on and off for the duration of the holiday, and he was helpful suggesting places to go and restaurants to visit. 

He told me He was always busy but loved to make pottery so, all excited I showed him a photo of my stubby horse and my obese camel

He seemed impressed but wasn’t forward in showing me a photo of his work

So I chased him up yesterday and he sent me a link

Apparently he is a renown potter, has a studio and teaches interior design in Venice

I almost died 

I can’t believe , like Roger and his turd  that I had shown my fat pony off as a piece of art!!!

Enjoy

I could watch this all day

 

The Trelawnyd Telephone Box and other stories.

 

Village leader Ian and I painted the now defunct village telephone box yesterday. It’s faded charm now a vibrant Pillar Box Red. It’s door fixed, it’s insides all ready for change.

The Trelawnyd Community Association has bought the box for the village 

Please welcome our Information Hub and mini library.

Sailor John has designed the shelving and notice boards , so soon it will be a hub for bits and pieces not covered by the hall.

Not only will it house a tiny library, there will be emergency items such as a first aid kit and  a puncture repair kit, local maps for walkers, information on local sites of interest and history, a village history book 

And even a small food bank.

We are also planning a little solar light inside 

Sweet.

Yesterday was the day we three on our counselling course was to find out whether we’d all be on the same course in University in September or not.

The course was over subscribed over North Wales so if all were accepted after interview several applicants would have to be put back to the next course which doesn’t start until January and which is based at the Bangor campus a good hours drive from the village. Donna , Caroline and myself all wanted to be starting in September at our local campus so there was much frantic what’sapping going on before we all realised that we would all be starting together. I was rather moved by it all as were my fellow potential counsellors. I think the three of us, all more mature students , understand the significance of the path we are about to take.

Not an easy journey for sure, but an important one and one made better for us all being together.

I will leave you with a beautiful comment

A wish , of someone nearing death.

It caught me totally unawares when it was spoken to me and I hope I’ve remembered it correctly,if found similar sayings online but that doesn’t matter

“ I hope death is like being carried to your bedroom by your father, when you were a child, 

Or the time he lay you down on the couch on the sofa in a darkened living room during a family party

And you could hear all of the laughter from the next room”

It’s rather beautiful .

Mary

This morning I sat in the kitchen reading chair to read.

After a while I felt as though I was being watched

And I lifted my head from the book

It was Mary watching me 

And she was still and mindful 

Her gentle brown eyes never leaving my face 

She does this often

And I feel loved

 There is sorrow enough in the natural way

From men and women to fill our day;
And when we are certain of sorrow in store,
Why do we always arrange for more?
Brothers and Sisters, I bid you beware
Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.

Buy a pup and your money will buy
Love unflinching that cannot lie—
Perfect passion and worship fed
By a kick in the ribs or a pat on the head.
Nevertheless it is hardly fair
To risk your heart for a dog to tear.

When the fourteen years which Nature permits
Are closing in asthma, or tumour, or fits,
And the vet’s unspoken prescription runs
To lethal chambers or loaded guns,
Then you will find—it’s your own affair—
But… you’ve given your heart to a dog to tear.

When the body that lived at your single will,
With its whimper of welcome, is stilled (how still!).
When the spirit that answered your every mood
Is gone—wherever it goes—for good,
You will discover how much you care,
And will give your heart to a dog to tear.

We’ve sorrow enough in the natural way,
When it comes to burying Christian clay.
Our loves are not given, but only lent,
At compound interest of cent per cent.
Though it is not always the case, I believe,
That the longer we’ve kept ’em, the more do we grieve:
For, when debts are payable, right or wrong,
A short-time loan is as bad as a long—
So why in—Heaven (before we are there)
Should we give our hearts to a dog to tear?

What’s going on

 Any tech bods out there…..consistently from early June the traffic logging in to Going Gently everyday has increased from 200,000 hits a month to over 500,000 ( 6-7 thousand a day to over 18)

There must be a practical and computer based reason for this hike. 

The last increase was a 100,000 hike when my husband and I split in July 2018

A Curate’s Egg

 I went to see the early showing of Indiana Jones and The Dial Of Destiny today

It was good, in parts. 

It started off in the usual cracking pace with a digitally enhanced Ford looking every bit his 40 year old self fighting the dreaded Nazis on a wartime train. This time Spielberg is not directing, but with James Mangold at the helm he might as well done so for we had nods to every Indy Adventure filmed since the 1970s.

I liked that his female sidekick was Phoebe Waller-Bridge.wisecracking and wide eyed , her action shots looked a bit odd due to the fact she is so tall and slightly ungainly but she almost stole the show from the 80 year old Ford who wasn’t fazed by being filmed in his underpants.

As usual the set pieces, a chase in a ticker tape parade, a horse chase in the subway and a tuktuk battle in the narrow Tangiers streets could have been stolen from a dozen action movies since Raiders of the Lost Ark , and they and the truly ludicrous ending didn’t really surprise anyone.

Goodbye Indy , it was nice knowing you.