Saturday

 I drove to Hooton then caught the train into Liverpool Central.

Within minutes I walked up a busy Bold Street and met Nu in the Vietnamese restaurant  Pho 

She’s meeting old friends up the coast later so it was lovely to see her 

Two hours shot by, like the wind 

The dogs were all still asleep when I got home

I so lucky living where I do, 20 odd minutes from Chester and under an hour to Liverpool

Best of both worlds 

Answers On A PostCard

 I’m on the way to Bangor which is a Godforsaken place.

I’m attending a study day of six hours but add the travelling and the time spent will be over 8 .

It’s a pretty drive all told.

And One I can treat myself to a MacDonald’s coffee with.

It’s a last blog today all told but what is your treat of the day?

When things are a bit tough, when life is just that bit too real

What do you treat yourself to? 

I’d be interested to know

Catch Up

Chic Eleanor nodded and sipped her gin 

I told her I had stalked my ex husbands’s wedding on social media last weekend 

And she smiled 

I think we all would have done that she said kindly 

And I think she was right 

So how did it feel ? She asked carefully

And do you know that it felt ok I told her

I saw an in law family I once loved posing the same poses they did at my own wedding

And I saw my ex husband looking older and heavier and balder  and happy as he danced with his husband 

And in that very moment I let him go

After a long five years, I let him go …….

Eleanor listened to my words and smiled her benign smile again 

And she reached forward and held my hands firmly on the table top

As we sat silently in the chatter of the pub, 

Holding hands 

And the tears that followed were the relief

At The Ballet

 

Confessional: The Scotch Egg Incident of 2011

 I first told this story to my group in University and on a roll repeated it to my table at the Village Casino night.

They say confession is good for the soul.

So my soul should be squeaky clean.

By now….

Picture this…..Trelawnyd 2011….It’s summer August 13th ….Sylvia Evan’s blood pressure is through the roof as she and us, her Flower Show minions, set up for another record breaking show. 

Domestic class entries are through the roof, this year and as usual I’m helping with the organised madness that is Judging Day.

It’s 11.55 am and setting up closes at midday.

Sylvia is very strict with her timings 

Mona Davies arrives breathless, with seconds to spare . Her entry, a scotch egg, the only one in its class , wrapped in clingfilm on a saucer in her hand .

The scotch egg, is huge, the size of German grenade.

It is a thing of pure beauty 

I almost heard heavenly music when I first set eyes on it 

Now I liked Mona. She was a spinster school teacher and elder sister of farmer Basil , one of the most highly respected countrymen of Trelawnyd . They shared the beautiful Ochr y Gop farm, a slightly dilapidated Georgian farmhouse at the top of high street, and I was lucky enough to interview them both for my history blog , oral histories which have now been archived by the National Welsh Library in Aberystwyth. http://trelawnydhistory.blogspot.com/2011/05/mr-basil-davies-miss-mona-davies.html

Mona was strict and fair. She didn’t suffer fools either and was an amazing cook.

I fell in love with that scotch egg the second I saw it

Look closely the egg can be seen centre table to left

Now of course Mona won first prize for her glorious egg. 

The elderly judge, who was not know for flights of fancy , even commented how magnificent it was and gave it a comment of merit which was a rarity 

Now fast forward to the Flower Show final moments which have always remained a complete bunfight

The hall is packed with winners collecting their winnings (coins placed  in tiny brown envelopes) and exhibitors grabbing their certificates, exhibits and extra cakes bought from the tea table manned by Irene Murray .

And in just a few minutes the hall can be stripped, like a carcass surrounded by hyenas .

I noticed that the scotch egg had been abandoned at the end of the day

Mona had left it ! 

I was joyful 

Excited 

And devious.

If it had been abandoned I was having it.

So I pocketed it as deftly as if I was jewel thief and

I hid it in my Flower Show bits and bats box as the show folded and the doors closed. 

I had swept the floor, put away the rubbish and said goodbye to most of the committee, before there was a small knock on the Hall door. 

It was Mona and she was late collecting her scotch egg.

Sylvia found the saucer and Mona’s first place certificate but was thin lipped in anger at the thought someone had taken the egg home. 

We shook our heads at the awful thought someone had stolen it 

And Mona took her certificate home with a slightly heavy heart

Am I ashamed ? 

Of course I am

But do you know what? 

It was the best bloody scotch egg I have ever tasted

EVER!!!!

The delightful Mona Davies

Shortly before her death in 2021

The egg in close up

The Saddest Noise from 'The Lost Birds' by Christopher Tin

On Saturday night amid the silliness in the hall, I photographed Mrs Trellis in her vintage 1970s dress looking fab.

Before she left, (wafting her money like Crystal Carrington) , she told me to listen to this piece of music if I got the chance.

She knows I’m a fan of Christopher Tin’s work but I have not heard of his lost Birds work before so after a root around I found it only this morning as I took the dogs for their first wee stop before HTC ( Hubby of Trendy Carol) picks them up for the day as I’m in college.

It kind of takes your breath away in its beauty

Not something you expect in a dark Welsh lane……at dawn…..on a Tuesday morning.

Anatomy Of A Fall

 Courtroom dramas done well can be compelling cinema, but the trick for success  is for the screenplay to be complicated, tense and very clever.

Anatomy of a Fall has a first class screenplay. penned by director Justine Triet and Arthur Harari which centres around the death of a jobbing writer, who falls from the upstairs window of his French Chalet. Suspicion for his death starts to build against his wife, Sandra ( Sandra Hüller) who is a successful writer with a complicated relationship with her husband but a loving one with their eleven year old  son, who was blinded in an accident when he was four. 

The police investigation finally leads to court where more of the couple’s relationship is unravelled by a tenacious prosecutor( Antoine Reinhartz) and the defence lawyer (Swann Arlaud) a former suitor to Saudra.

Now, add to the mix that Sandra (who is German) only spoke English to her French husband and finds speaking French a difficulty and you have a fascinatingly uneven plot complicated by the fact that on the surface Sandra is such an unsympathetic character. She is bisexual, has had affairs during her marriage and seems capable of physical violence, a fact supported by secret recordings of conversations  between herself and her husband made by her husband in order to spark his failing writing career. 

One recording is shown as if filmed and in it Sandra’s calm and somewhat reserved nature is questioned in a brilliantly acted scene full of passion and intelligence and skill.

It’s a wonderfully put together film, that wrong foots the audience constantly. 

And  although some of aspects of the trial concerning the son ( a nice performance by Milo Graner) do beggar belief ( perhaps it is normal for police officers in France to give surely opinions rather than just facts)  I was hooked from the start

A long watch but it’s worthwhile.

By the way I went to see the film at the new Chester Picture House a very shiny and over-the -top and very TALL Cinema, where I had to negotiate 6 flights of stairs to get to my seat

🎶 both sides now - by emilia jones-

You are never too old to grow up a little more.

I’ve always loved this song

And never understood a word of it.

I’ve had a nice weekend all told and that was unexpected 

And has been a lesson learned

I’ve emailed my ex husband and wished him and his new husband well

And for the very most part of it all

I really meant it

Hey ho