Funny Men Have Feelings

 

My sister made me a Christmas Wreath 

I haven’t seen “Brian” Since the Flower Show. He’s taken early retirement and spends a great deal of his time golfing. We banter when we meet, which is usually as one of the village events and I like him.

This time, in front of a large gathering he made graphic reference to my weight. 

It was all very jolly but at the same time incredibly rude and I suddenly felt like a picked on child at school than an affable 61 year old at a village fair.

I covered up any embarrassment with a witty retort but wanted to say 

“Why say such a thing to me when you wouldn’t dream of saying it to a woman or indeed a man of lesser good nature?.”

I have no doubt that he meant to be funny

But why say anything like he did? 

It was unkind, and it left me feeling bruised 

It’s All About The People

Kelda made us two videos to share 

 I wish I had taken more of the villagers in today’s exhausting Christmas Fair

Bunty in mufti 

Dave Smith in his usual garb

Dave and Liz 

My sister Janet and Mrs Trellis

Ian and Nick

Cameron

N

Pippa and Anne

Hattie and Adam 

Cameron’s Parents

The exotic Melinka LevVey and the very sassy Loraine

Tracy Manchester with an exhausted Bridget in the background

The Manley’s 

Gwawr and Jack

The day was hard work but fun, and the TCA should be praised for their dedication 

We had a harpist 

A community choir 

And just three members of the Rhyl brass band which, despite being left in the proverbials by their colleagues managed several sets of jolly hymns 

I went for the fat bastard Christmas jumper look seeing that my Victorian outfit didn’t fit

And enjoyed my lantern making

Outland (1981)

One of my favourite actresses died yesterday 

Frances Sternhagen a renown stage and screen actress died aged 93. For many people she was known to play tough talking mothers( and grandmothers)  in the likes of Cheers, ER and Sex and the City but for me her film roles as the tough talking and loyal doctor to Sean Connery’s hero cop  in Outland and as Irene Reppler the 80 year old feisty home made flame thrower  heroine in the monster movie horror The Mist that stand out for me 

She will be missed

In The Mood

A local business sponsored our Christmas Tree at the hospice which was kind. And they set it up tonight which was also kind. My sister has been busy making wreaths for the Trelawnyd Fair and I see
 

That the Village Christmas Tree has been erected outside the hall, 

It looks cheerful enough.

The support worker I’ve been working with tonight brought me a curried Scotch egg

Which was bloody lovely.

At home tonight, my festive penguin is the centre of my decorations . I will never have a tree at home if there’s just me to see it, 

Happy Christmas xxxx 2023

 

     

This is my Christmas Card for you

My Followers

Of Happy Times when a man could love his turkey

freely and without prejudice

Its been a funny old year this year all told...... suffice to say that despite all of the shit in this world, this little part of North Wales plods along at its own particular pace and in its own inimitable way. 

There is something constant about things here, 

Going Gently isn't a notable blog, I have no insightful news references, no waspish political satire to share. it remains what it is ...a bit of whimsey where an ageing old spinster homo can complain about "cheap Christmas cards hastily written" in a world where Christmas Cards suddenly seem a creature of the past.

Idiots

Well last night’s blog entry went well.  

Apologies for not adding spoiler alert to the title.

I’ve now lost a half dozen followers 

Hey ho

Serves me right for me trying to be current.

I’m an idiot 

I’m on nights tonight, so will just potter cheaply today. I’ve had to buy a laptop for college which was a necessary but naive expense . 

Why can’t you do everything on an iPad ? I asked 

Well you can’t 

Plain and simple is the reply.

My machine is second hand and rebooted and sorted so will fit in quite nicely when I’m feeling pretentious and want to bang away at my homework in the Storyhouse cafe. 

I thought of going this morning but that’s just an extravagance. 

It’s fickle too.

And I bloody hate fickle. 

You see fickle all of the time here on social media.

Secretive and private bloggers who regurgitate great swathes of private information moments after they demand with a thin lipped, emotional just don’t ask . 

I can’t be doing with it.

I’m annoyed this morning can’t you tell? The guy who always lets his overactive spaniel loose on the walkways did so again this morning. He’s an idiot and although he accepts that his dog bothers other dogs by running into them and sticking his nose up their arses ,all he does is shout at his dog and move on. 

Dorothy and Mary have both bitten this dog several times , a fact that upsets me more that anything else. 

The dog needs to be on a lead, for his own safety. 

“ You’re  the arsehole not YOUR dog” I told him this morning, a somewhat ruder précis of the situation that the polite ones I’ve taken beforehand.

I’ve even changed the times the dogs and I take a walk so we don’t meet him

Some people are just fucking idiots

Out with anger

In with love

Matty

 

It’s really winter as Bake Off  has just finished and although the contestants this year have been a little bland it was nice to see the gentle , cheerful,  tattooed young teacher Matty win

My vote was always for Saku who acted as though she’d just stepped from an Ealing Comedy but I hope that scores of young men and boys in the country would now see Matty as a credible role model. 

I hope so

16.18

 

It’s almost twenty minutes past four

The cottage is almost dark inside, with just the gloom of late dusk illuminating my desk and grandfather clock. My knee is paining, so I sit in the miserable light for a while and write the blog .

And I hate this moment 

Almost as much as I’ve ever hated anything….ever! 

The gloom of getting home to an empty house in winter.

No cat’s tail swishing angrily against my calves 

No sharp paws 

No excited yelps and bouncy smiles from the dogs.

Home has to be reclaimed from the cold and the night

Bit by bit

Room by room 

The dinosaur fairy lights first, then the log fire, and the lamps in the living room.

The washing machine next then the radio, 

And the big Sitges bulb with its orange glow

All returning the cottage into a living place

The dogs trot in, heads up, expecting dinner

And we are complete again

My dogs and I…

And home