The Village within a Village

 

I live in the South Western Part of Trelawnyd, on a lane which is called Cwm Road . Cwm is the Welsh word for a valley, but also is the name of a couple of villages located near to us here. So the lane not only moves down the valley but to a place called Cwm . 

It’s all bloody confusing.

My cottage is one of six dwellings , which lie next to the Church, and it is ( with next door) the oldest home in the row.

I always think that this part of Trelawnyd as a village within a village.

The lane drops down the valley bottom to where village Leaders Ian and Helen live in the old mill house, then rises up to the farmhouses at Pen y Cefn Isa, and Y Ffyddion 

At night, the lights in the windows of each house are comforting and show me that Lywena and Arfon are home.

This morning the view across the valley is glorious, and this is what I can see if I stand in front of my cottage looking south west.

The livery stables own the fields beyond the Church field, and the ponies that frequent them noisily shoot stem from their noses this morning as the frost lingered. The crows in their murder by the village well are loud and raucous, and lines of gulls call too as they shift sidewards and move down towards the coast. 

It feels as though there’s a lot going on in such a still place. 

Bun follows our walk, and stands guard from the graveyard wall, as Monika and her French bulldog steam by

The autumn colours in the trees and hedgerows are exaggerated by the sun , and everything feels golden and warmed, even though it’s chilly 

I take a deep breath in by the field gate, as Mary raises her head to the sun 

I am home

Espresso Macchiato-Grupo Talía

It’s 9.17 pm and I’ve been out of the cottage at work since 6 am only getting back 45 minutes ago, 

By the time I’ve walked and fed the dogs, and cats, lit the fire and had a shower, I’m ready to collapse in an untidy heap on the couch. 

Weaver has been fighting with the neighbourhood’s  feral Tom , a cat three times her size. He used to bully  Albert rather relentlessly so was christened with the fairly uncharitable nickname of  The Cu*t, a name that rather suited him, but Weaver has already given him a run for his money

It’s all drama …..Jesus! It’s all drama!

The lisping choir paying homage their favourite beverage was a chuckle tonight

Tomorrow Chic Eleanor and I are off to see Now Voyager at the Storyhouse 

A 1940s weepie is just what we both need me thinks. 

Fall

 When I went to London recently I fell getting onto a tube on the Northern Line going south .

I blame my dyspraxia, of course, as well as the fact that I was hurrying, as the tube train was about to leave, but one minute I looked like any other commuter.

The next I was sprawled inside the tube with a dozen people looking concerned if not shocked around me.

Suffice to say I got to my feet immediately and as I sat down on the disabled seat, an Italian woman kindly called out “ are you alright?” 

I motioned that I was , but I had sprained my thumb pretty badly and embarrassment dictated that I showed no pain or discomfort. 

I blushed like a school boy 

Falling in public is an intensely humiliating experience. 

It shows your under belly to the world 

And underlines clumsiness, age and size and helplessness

Why do you think I’ve not told you about it until now? 

I’m imploding with shame….

What was funny about all this, was a genuine premonition, 

For when I was walking to the train in Prestatyn , that morning

I suddenly felt as though I was going to fall over that day…..

And later on , I did just that …….

My thumb is still sore btw

Caps & Gowns

 I never went to my graduation, 

Nu said I should be grateful for small mercies as they can be all anticipation for little reward.

But I wanted to wear my cap and gown in the colours of Bangor University and stand with my fellow graduates ( above) with some pride and hubris.

Im happy to say that my rented cap and Gown should be delivered next week and I shall be wearing it around the cottage like a house coat. 

I’m shallow and needy enough to enjoy the photographs like a toddler with a pink balloon

I’m sorry my mother and father never got to see such a photo.

The child in me still needs that validation….

Alicia Keys - North Wales

For Yorkshire Pudding

Oboe

 

The Metropolitan Orchestra ( who support the lisping Choir ) as Talia Grupo is sublime in this Disney tribute. The oboe player is a dish .

Counselling day today 

Clean Jumper, takeaway porridge for breakfast and big coffee start, walking with purpose , coffee in hand 

Am I pretending to live in New York ?

Too bloody right I am 

A post about nothing……

 I worked the last two nights and walked the dogs after a sleep

Shit it’s almost five pm and already almost dusk.

I ring to see if I can change an eye appointment , no answer

The twins loudly demand their tea, and even Weaver is rubbing my leg in anticipation 

Judus!

I run around and set out the recycling. 

A villager stops to chat for as moment and I ask about his sick brother in law, 

Moments later Animal Helper Pat stops him and asks the same thing. Such is life in small communities.

I unload logs from the car as Roger listens from over the kitchen wall

No goodies on the wall today, 

A day I could have done with one.

I finish laundry and organise a clean outfit for counselling day tomorrow, laying it out on the kitchen chair 

I feed the twins but Weaver has already peed on my fox cushion in what I can only assume as frustration temper.

I wash it but use up all the washing up tabs

Fuck and there’s no milk either

I make a coffee and sit looking at my spotty Ikea plate and jug of plastic tulips.

Mary farts in her sleep

And I wish I was in a sunny cafe in Madrid’s Atotcha 

Youhoooooooo! 

An old lady’s voice. It’s not Pat or Mrs Trellis but another villager I know

She pointed at my recycling and I prepared myself for some sort of neighbourly complaint.

“ look at these beauties braving the elements “ she crooned, pointing to a bit of lane buffering my wall

There, hiding away amongst the weeds were several delicate viola plants 

I had not noticed that the kitchen clock had not been moved back on Saturday . It’s only 4 pm

A violas are metaphor for getting on with the mundane and the ordinary.

Pride

 Royal recognition for the LBGT + community of the armed forces was gratefully received at the National Memorial Arboretum in Staffordshire today as the king gave his respect to the fallen, non serving and serving members of army, navy and airforce. 

The memorial is designed in the shape of a bronze crumpled letter, featuring words drawn from the testimonies of former service personnel affected for the ban of gays in the military  which was only revoked in the year 2000