A stunning bit of music
Now why can’t we have a Manuel Rulfo lookalike in Trelawnyd
The Ukrainian Village Revisited -The Ghost Hens
Today’s post is a revisit, I’m working tomorrow so haven’t the energy or inclination to say something new
Only the gentle Ghost hens remained still. Sitting sweetly and serenely in the fading evening sun with their eyes interested but unmoving and their beaks slightly open……they sat until their white plumage tinged pink..........in the warm evening light, only then did they heave up their heavy bottoms and painfully waddled to bed like old ladies do after a busy day pottering.
I miss the animals on the field sometimes and remembered this post of nearly fifteen years ago as Bun and Weaver galloped in and out of the living room window at dusk, in order to try and catch one of the chattering sparrows late nesting in the honeysuckle
The Ghost Hens 2010
This afternoon I caught a young woman dropping a container of cooked pasta over the field gate.I didn't recognise her, as she is new to the village.she's divorced, lonely and perhaps somewhat depressed I thought
The hens love spaghetti she told me rather guiltily....I warned her that Irene the sheep loves pasta too!
I love that people " adopt " the animals on the field from time to time...they all do rather secretively , as if what they are doing is wrong which is rather sweet......i think
The bachelors seems to have endeared themselves to many of the locals, which is a common thing for tiny birds to do. They bring the underdog support nature of people.
It's a British Thing, I always think
I was reminded of my old broiler birds The Ghost Hens because of it all
Now, for those that don't know, the Ghost Hens were five genetically fucked up broiler hens that arrived at the Ukrainian Village as brainwashed , psychologically damaged little pullets. Designed to eat themselves fat in a matter of weeks, these sad little hens had been brought up in a massive barn of a building under artificial lights with thousands of other little fuck ups .
They had never seen the sun, never ate a blade of grass and had never had the room to scratch their own arse without getting battered by another goggle eyed clone.
Faced with their very own warm hen house and a miniature run, these sad little characters continued to eat themselves fat in silent desperation, but they did eventually react to their brave new world, and calmly and very slowly they started to turn their faces into the sun to live a little.
Surrounded by animal drama and chaos, The Ghost Hens always looked unflappable but their inactivity was just a useful way of coping. They were too big and too comical to run around in silly chicken circles.
They just couldn't do it.
Anyhow,
I remember taking the below photo very well.
It was approaching dusk on a June evening and the rest of the field was in constant motion.
The other hens were mooching slowly homewards to roost, the geese were bickering over a patch of grass like they do and the hysterical runner ducks were being , well, just bloody hysterical.
This afternoon I caught a young woman dropping a container of cooked pasta over the field gate.I didn't recognise her, as she is new to the village.she's divorced, lonely and perhaps somewhat depressed I thought
The hens love spaghetti she told me rather guiltily....I warned her that Irene the sheep loves pasta too!
I love that people " adopt " the animals on the field from time to time...they all do rather secretively , as if what they are doing is wrong which is rather sweet......i think
The bachelors seems to have endeared themselves to many of the locals, which is a common thing for tiny birds to do. They bring the underdog support nature of people.
It's a British Thing, I always think
I was reminded of my old broiler birds The Ghost Hens because of it all
Now, for those that don't know, the Ghost Hens were five genetically fucked up broiler hens that arrived at the Ukrainian Village as brainwashed , psychologically damaged little pullets. Designed to eat themselves fat in a matter of weeks, these sad little hens had been brought up in a massive barn of a building under artificial lights with thousands of other little fuck ups .
They had never seen the sun, never ate a blade of grass and had never had the room to scratch their own arse without getting battered by another goggle eyed clone.
Faced with their very own warm hen house and a miniature run, these sad little characters continued to eat themselves fat in silent desperation, but they did eventually react to their brave new world, and calmly and very slowly they started to turn their faces into the sun to live a little.
Surrounded by animal drama and chaos, The Ghost Hens always looked unflappable but their inactivity was just a useful way of coping. They were too big and too comical to run around in silly chicken circles.
They just couldn't do it.
Anyhow,
I remember taking the below photo very well.
It was approaching dusk on a June evening and the rest of the field was in constant motion.
The other hens were mooching slowly homewards to roost, the geese were bickering over a patch of grass like they do and the hysterical runner ducks were being , well, just bloody hysterical.
In groups of two the guinea fowl chatted noisily on the field wall, before flying up into their Ash tree and even from the gate I could hear one of the pigs snoring in their hay beds, as the ewes pulled their heads up as one to listen..
Only the gentle Ghost hens remained still. Sitting sweetly and serenely in the fading evening sun with their eyes interested but unmoving and their beaks slightly open……they sat until their white plumage tinged pink..........in the warm evening light, only then did they heave up their heavy bottoms and painfully waddled to bed like old ladies do after a busy day pottering.
Devipravaha -
Just on the beach with this song playing
The Welsh are a bit windswept and are sitting either side of me
Both leaning in like the Welsh do
Thank You
This video is a thank you to you my followers
It’s sweet natured and emotional and good
Just like most of your comments of support over the past three years
My qualification is so much more than just a potential change of career
It signifies a challenge and a personal growth which has challenged my low self esteem and grief after divorce.
I have grown as a professional and as a person through my study and supervision and personal therapy and
I have seen and accepted holes in my own psychi and have finally learned to be kinder to myself.
I have worth and I like myself so much more than I did when I felt alone, and unloved and a failure.
Thank you , readers for your loyalty
It means a great deal and has gone a long way
The choir above is a force for good
It’s kindness mirrors yours here
Thank u again
The Windmills of your mind.
I’m working at the hospice all day today
Later I will get my overall grade for my Counselling Cert
And already I’ve had messages of support from my supervisor, my personal counsellor and my peers…
Today the University Board pass our portfolios
And After Three long years
I am suddenly, at 63, a trained counsellor!🩷
👨🏼🎓and I can own the feeling that I’m incredibly proud of my achievement
Hey fucking ho!
Cap n gown
Go figure
Wild Flowers
The Trelawnyd Community Association planted a strip of land by the community orchard with wild flowers a while back.
I took a look at it today in the drab weather
It looks lovely
And if you have a novelty veg or fruit photo please send it to jgsheffield@icloud.com
Polly and Zombies
The panacea to a bad day is friends, food and cinema
I ticked every box today.
I met my friend Polly for brunch at Bryn Williams (she chased me yesterday and seemed to just know I needed her company today)
Proper coffee, eggs Benedict and a good chatter and boy did I feel better.
Balance in an unbalanced week.
I came home, hung washing on the garden bushes then took Trendy Carol’s hubby to his hospital appointment
This afternoon I went to the Picturehouse to see Jimmy Boyle’s Twenty Eight Years Later which I enjoyed in part.
The infected have now evolved into odd moving naked cavemen types led by alpha males with huge penises
Not exactly The Walking Dead but an interesting and impressive twist
This story is a coming of age story of twelve year old survivor Spike ( an impressive Alfie Williams) and is full of Boyle’s cinematic tricks and signature overbearing soundtrack
Not a bag of laughs but my touchstone ( a dark comfortable afternoon cinema visit ) has calmed my day
On the way home I noticed that the flower meadow that was planted by the TCA has bloomed underneath the community orchard.
I will photograph it tomorrow
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