Rhymes

 I had a dream about my grandmother last night.

She was reciting a rhyme, one that she taught me as a child.

When I woke I remembered it, in its entirety 

Has anyone heard this before? 

I went to my grandmother's garden

I went to my grandmother's garden,

and I found an Irish Farthing,

I gave it to my mother,

who bought a little brother,

The brother was so cross,

We put him on a hoss,

the horse was such a dandy,

we gave him a glass of brandy,

the brandy was too strong,

we put it in a pond,

the pond was too deep,

we put it on a heap,

the heap was too high,

we put it in a pie,

the pie was too little ,

we put it in a kettle,

the kettle had a spout ,

and they all jumped out! 

What rhyme do you remember?

While I remember my fraternal grandmother used to sing this 

In my grandmother's garden

I went to my grandmother's garden

I went to my grandmother's garden,

and I found an Irish Farthing,

I gave it to my mother,

who bought a little brother,

The brother was so cross,

We put him on a hoss,

the horse was such a dandy,

we gave him a glass of brandy,

the brandy was too strong,

we put it in a pond,

the pond was too deep,

we put it on a heap,

the heap was too high,

we put it in a pie,

the pie was too little ,

we put it in a kettle,

the kettle had a spout ,

and they all jumped out.

I remembered this nonsense verse, as I was walking the dogs earlier. My Gran used to recite it when I was a boy. Chris' email comment about about Gran and Grandad living in their little house by the tip, made me remember it! I wonder where it comes from

Looked on the internet and found this "old song" no details of where it comes from>

I went into my grandmother's garden,

And there I found a farthing.

I went into my next door neighbour's;

There I bought a pipkin and a popkin

A slipkin and a slopkin,

A nailboard, a sailboard,

And all for a farthing.

Said to be a riddle, of which the solution, somehow, is a tobacco pipe.

Oooouch

I couldn't get the Marks' Cummerbund around my guts .
Chris had opened the box, expecting us to buy the bloody thing straight off
But it didn't fit.
The bloody thing didn't fit.
It was too small.
Even " extended" to it's fullest extension.
It was too small
This was in the centre of the shop, with men in pork pie hats giving me pitying looks as they walked past with their easy crease pants in their hands.
I felt like Julia Roberts down Rodeo Drive in Pretty Woman
( but without the teeth and the big hair)

I don't deal with embarrassment well.
I tend to experience it as its big sister ..the slightly more powerful emotion of humiliation .
And no one does humiliation well.

We can all remember humiliating experiences as if they occurred only yesterday. A fall in public, toilet paper down the leg of your pants, a drunken wrong word, a Mega fart over a vegetable freezer in Aldi ( one of my best btw) all of them take me back to childhood, when I was picked last for games, embarrassed by unenlightened teachers or shown up by parents who should have known better.
Embarrassment can be coped with by having a good sense of humour ( which I have)
Humiliation just has to be endured .

..... Well I survived the cummerbund experience...just..........
And by the way...the suit fits mighty fine

Tell us the one about………

 My grandmother was a storyteller.

She filled our childhood with a dozen or so stories, all repeated at our request during bouts of ironing and cake making.

Hearing these tales repeated was just as much fun as hearing them for the very first time 

The anticipation of a punchline, or the denouement of daring wartime adventure was a delicious thing to children who grew up in a sad house. 

And we gulped up the repeats with gusto.

I’ve repeated this story 4 times now and always just before Christmas

I think it’s worth repeating every year, and I won’t apologise for its appearance here again

Christmas 1985

Christmas week 1985 I was  shadowing a community psychiatric nursing sister with her caseload in the deprived and depressing northern town of Runcorn.
Through a succession of faceless maisonettes, we sat on grubby sofas and listened to  sad stories of loneliness, mental illness and substance abuse and I watched as my mentor tried her best to keep heads above water and bums out of the local psychiatric unit.
The last visit of the day was to a woman called Jean.
Jean lived alone in the top of a ten story complex. She had suffered from severe mental health problems for forty years and had recently been placed in her home from long term psychiatric care only a few months before.
I remember her flat very well. There was no carpet in the hall and the living room but there was a tiny white tinsel Christmas tree standing on top of a large black and white tv.  A homemade fabric stocking was hung on the fire surround and just two Christmas cards  were perched on the mantle.
( one of those cards having been sent by my colleague) The flat was sparse but incredibly clean and it was evident that Jean had been waiting for our visit all day.
In mismatching cups we were offered coffee with powdered milk and a single mince pie served on a paper plate and I remember sharing a sad glance with the nurse when Jean presented us both with gifts hastily wrapped in cheap Christmas paper. My gift was two placemats with photos of cats on them. The nurse received a small yellow vase, and I remember Jean beaming with delight when we both thanked her effusively for her kindness. 
When we washed up our own cups, the nurse quietly checked the fridge, noting that several of the shelves were empty . There was a calender on the wall with the note " NURSE COMES TODAY" written on that day's date. Nothing else was written on it until the week of new year's eve, where the same sentence was written.
It was the very first time that I had experienced someone who was so totally isolated in a community setting and it shocked me to the core.

I listened as the nurse talked about medication, as  I waited patiently and when she took Jean into the bedroom to administer a regular injection I noticed a carrier bag which the nurse had tucked away by the side of the arm chair shortly after we arrived. In it was a package of cold meat, milk , bread and what looked like chocolates and a cake.
Before we left, we let Jean monopolize her only conversation of the week and as she retrieved our coats, I watched and grew a few years older as the nurse silently slipped a five pound note behind one of the cards on the mantle.

Where's my pastry cutter?

It's almost 11pm  and I still need to bake my quiche and sugar the top of a fruit pie....
The kitchen looks as though a gaggle of fat ladies have just exploded inside it
and to complete a slightly surreal scene, a set of vegetables that have been fashioned into a whole collection of strange animals and people adorn the window sills.

I do this to myself every year ( all this pre event anxiety) and I must admit that I kind of love the slightly anarchic build up to The Trelawnyd Flower Show when cooked entries need cooking and flower arrangements need arranging.....
It's the same every year! 
This blog entry will have to suffice, 
Tomorrow I will be far top busy to scratch me arse, let alone put my oh so interesting feelings down on paper
I run around like a headless fart while Sylvia and Irene who are more or less a decade older than I ,do the leg work in the memorial hall! without even breaking a sweat........they are professionals at all this... old village ladies have flower Show organisation in their genes..... it's a natural gift!
Today the Hall has been transformed from 1950 community centre.... into a 1950's community centre with show tables in it..... through low level bullying I have conscripted 113 entries already ( a record for me) and many of those are from readers of Going Gently!
(tomorrow is the official day when locals can enter the show)

It has tickled the Show Committee that today one entry actually arrived from New Zealand! and only a week ago another popped up from Warriwood in Australia..
Trelawnyd Show has gone all global!

I won't blog now until Saturday night!
so come back then to see a blow by blow account of the event...the novelty vegetables are worth the price of admission alone!

9

Comfort Food

 

Chadwick Boseman a sad loss recently

It was a good job that I didn’t understand the new lockdown rules in Flintshire last night when I had that run in with the two “ ladies” last night 

If I had I would have said a little more than just cheap shoes!

The new lockdown in Flintshire has been a terrible disappointment 

Organised cinema trips To Chester are now cancelled , meet ups with Liverpool friends postponed and even our 1940 s moustached choir master is now isolated along the coast, unable to meet us outside our choir venue.

These little luxuries of social contact have been a life saver 

Now many are on hold.

Anyhow I’m luckier than most , so I’ll shut the fuck up...I thought this , at lunch with a friend today when I learned he was about to lose his job thanks to the virus 

All I could do was to treat him to the meal and to listen 

Not much in the great scheme of things

It’s wet and miserable tonight

Sod the diet...comfort food and a real fire is the ticket tonight

A dvd Black Panther and Homemade cottage pie 

I haven’t got much to complain about 

George

See, I can "do" kids! Nia sent me this photo this morning...thank god little George is more photogenic than I am.

The weather has taken a turn for the worse, so after a particularly wet dog walk I have baked bread,tied up my allotment onions for drying, made a cottage pie, cleaned the cottage and fanny-arsed around tidying drawers and cupboards.
I have cleaned out the shed too in a hopeful readiness for potential turkey chicks which are now due in three weeks time. My friend Eirlys has two young turkeys and hopefully we could do a swap of stags or hens if either of us are short.
I am off out to see Les quatre cents coups (400 Blows) tonight with Hazel. I remember studying this 1959 French New Wave film when I started my Film Studies degree in Sheffield, and found it a little hard going even then.......well I am a little older and wiser now, so perhaps I will understand it a little more...who knows?

"You're maudlin and full of self-pity. You're magnificent!"

Yesterday, I was sipping a cocktail looking across the London skyline at the Glowing Shard. Today I'm dragging Albert's face out of a half constructed cottage pie in my pyjamas 

Winnie is unconcious  in bed, William is hiding somewhere dark Mary and George are asleep in the kitchen and its raining again. 

There is a massive brown patchwork of muddy paw prints to scrub from the kitchen floor. 

And sometime in the night William backed into the folded ironing board lying against the wall by the door and  has shat all over it. 

Welcome back to Trelawnyd

"John-the-dogs" and the strange world of the blog

Today I feel as though I have actually joined the village community properly as it were. I went to the post office to buy a birthday card (the cards look like they were printed in the 1940's) and had to wait in the usual old person queue. Now I like this ritual as you usually catch up with the local gossip, but it can cut into your day, if you are in a hurry.The longest I have been in there one morning was 40 minutes!

This morning three old ladies were chatting when I entered, and one of them that I didn't recognise smiled a welcome and said "It's John the dogs!!". This tickled me greatly, as although the nicknaming of people with their job or main characteristics IS a Welsh stereotype,I have found out that it actually does occur! (Auntie Glad's late husband is always referred to as Bob -the railway) So I am now known as John-the-dogs!! Better than John-the-old-poof Chris remarked.

I received an email the other day from a very nice Welsh terrier fan from somewhere in the American Midwest. She had been reading my blog for a while, (which is always flattering) and interestingly had traced her family tree to the Wrexham area of North Wales. She has asked me to enter a blog entry describing my daily routine....so I am warning you I may detail it tomorrow....how interesting!!!!!!!!

Gloria has settled down today, but still looks rather slutty when compared to the dapper Boris. I have caught up with the jobs as although it has been incredibly windy, the rain has kept away.

Aunt Judy is coming to tea later (and to watch Strictly Come Dancing) so I have made an apple pie from scratch. I did start by cheating, as we bought some pre made pastry yesterday, but Albert walked over the rolled out pastry just after digging away in his cat litter....even I ruled out carrying on after that........

My one and only pumpkin

Albert , leaving his box-being watched carefully by four pairs of eyes

Rogo, (son of Duncan) just starting to show his cockerel stance (Nonnie is in the background)

Thin Lips On High Street

It's  lovely sunny day today and I'm wearing my best scotch egg T shirt!
I have tried to catch up with Flower Show paper work on the kitchen table but keep on getting interupted

Old Trevor next door wanted me to weed one of his flower beds, so I 've done that, then I had to scoot around the Flower Show Committeee to change the date of the next meeting from the 3rd of June to the 2nd because of a double booking.
Auntie Gladys was just serving up a pie and custard pudding to Audrey Jones when I called round to ask her if it was ok to change the meeting ( they were both off to the Friendship Group meeting at the Hall this afternoon)
" this year is my 43rd show" she reminded me as she soaked the pots.

I was walking back home when a very pinched Mz X caught up with me. She wanted to pay me for
some eggs, a payment I had overlooked ever since she had made it perfectly clear that she
was unable to celebrate our marriage back in March . Ever since then I had stopped delivering eggs to
her and like any good middle aged old Queen scourned , I had made it very clear that her dissaproval would not be tolerated by being all prissy and tight lipped.
The payment was made to me and our cool interaction  very much reminded me of two teenage  girls flicking hair at each other over a spat over a boy.........

I laughed at my behaviour all the way home! I can be such a silly sod

BTW (I'm off to slimming World tomorrow.....while I was digging Trevor's flower  bed I burst a seam in my combats!"
Hey ho

7.15am Oscar Results

I am up at the crack of dawn to give Chris a lift to the station! The tide was out in Prestatyn so the dogs had a dawn run and now I am having the first coffee of the day! The eggs have been turned in the incubator, I have just made sprout soup! and the birds all fed and watered, so I can sit down with a cup of coffee and review the oscar results!

No real surprises! I was very happy to see Cotillard win,( a rarity for a non English speaking actress to romp it) and Tilda Swinton was an interesting choice for best supporting actress. Cotillard won over the audience and America with her wide eyed acceptance speech and I thought she was quite,quite charming! I also suspect as all the actor honours went to non American actors this year, then next year every one will be won by home grown American pie performers! (If Linney is nominated next year I bet she will win!)

Off to Sheffield on Friday for a long overdue meet with friend Jonney, which I am looking forward to! Will meet with Mike too (which is overdue also). Working Wednesday and Sunday and hope to fit in Juno at the cinema if the weather turns!

Share One Memory

A rather jaunty Winnie this morning

What's your most vivid Christmas memory?

It may be sad........hopefully it isn't
It may be happy ( I hope it is!)
It may be just powerful, arbitrary, goofy, bizarre or just plain banal.
Whatever it is, I'd be interested in hearing it..........today, all warm in my shit Christmas jumper, I shall be shopping ( on line), Christmas card writing, gift wrapping and , if I have time sorting out miniature hampers for Greta and sister Janet who will be baby sitting Winnie and George respectively over the Yuletide.....after another early night, I am beginning to feel a tiny bit more human.

In bed this morning, when I was dragging myself out of that paralyzing moment between waking and actual movement I mused about a whole collection of Christmas memories

- a dreadful, lonely Christmas day in Sheffield when my car broke down leaving me home with a pork pie for lunch!
- a wonderfully funny post Christmas dinner family variety show, with everyone performing an act
- unintentionally getting a group of psychiatric patients rather drunk after plying them with Sherry that I was told was non alcoholic ( and getting bollocked by a stern nursing officer in the process)

My final choice was a fleeting moment of just a few seconds, experienced on a Christmas morning many moons ago.
The Prof ( who had hair then) and I ( who had a waist) had swapped gifts in front of the fire. In that post gift frenzy we retired onto the couch under the dining room window and had a hug where we were immediately joined by our first Welsh terrier Finlay, Scottie Maddie and an old cat called Joan.
It was a strange moment, for without anything needed to be said, it suddenly felt like " home"
- an all encompassing  feeling of being " home"
A pile of dogs, homos and cat on a couch!

That is my Christmas memory!
What's  yours?

Parents

Another day, another wet and blustery fight with the elements. The weather is not as bad as in the South, where 100 mile an hour winds have been recorded around the Isle of Wight, but still it is a day to be outside as short a time as possible.
Chris has taken his Dad to Llandudno for the afternoon leaving me to prepare supper (a huge dish of corned beef hash and the obligatory apple pie (I scrumped the apples from Trevor up the lane) I walked the dogs up a very muddy Gop (above) to the strains of Gustav Holst's "Jupiter".....which always has the ability to make me cry! (especially around 3 mins in!)
Anyhow, I got to thinking about parents on today's walk, namely my own!....Chris has both his parents living, albeit way down in South Eastern Britain and he is lucky enough to have a good relationship with both of them. They will always phone each other almost daily for a chat, will organise visits at least twice yearly and will catch up for shopping and theatre visits in London....not perhaps quite like the relationship I had with my parents........who were much older and perhaps more staid in their habits and relationships....
As Holst blasted out his "bringer of Jollity"...I had a sudden bolt of realization!......that, at the age of 47, I am, in fact, an orphan!......
Hey ho!
When I got home the turkey poults had broken out of their cage and were mischievously winding up the guinea fowl chicks by clambering over their cage. I topped up their water and feed and left the whole bunch to it.....I needed to get on with making supper!
.

Doubt,Bantams and the like

I enjoyed the film Doubt. An austere version of director John Patrick Shanley's stage play about potential child abuse in Bronx Catholic school in the 1960s, this movie has the benefit of an abundance of ambiguity within the storyline and the characterisations thus leaving all the hard work to be done by the audience. Our sympathies see saw constantly between the emotionally warm Priest (Philip Seymour Hoffman , who may be responsible for inappropriate relations with an isolated black 12 year old pupil), and the fierce, pig eyed witch of a head nun ( Meryl Streep), who makes it her mission to prove his guilt.
Shanley leaves proclamations of blame to the audience and by doing so, lets his actors enjoy the nuances and depths of their characters without being too explicit and transparent.
Streep is absolutely stunning as the nun with more hissing anger than an average rattlesnake, whilst Hoffman sparks wonderfully off her as her slightly weaker but more passively aggressive foe.
I loved the scenes where priest and Nun spar and parry together, it's a pity there is only three or so electric encounters to "enjoy" in the film.
You leave, with more questions than you have answers about motivations, themes and character traits......I feel I need a big chat about the whole thing with Nu, who saw it yesterday!
I let the 6 bantams and the four fat buff chicks out of their shed this afternoon. They are now 8 weeks old and ready for the field once all the snow and frost has gone, unfortunately their confidence is pretty low to be able to face the cold slightly grubby world of the back patio, so I sat there with them for a half hour or so, coxing them out to sit on my knee.

This evening Judy came over for supper.....fish pie..........sherry trifle......and dog attention was the order of the evening......she doesn't seem to mind

Boxing Day

 

I missed the Queen’s Speech. 

Dorothy, Mary and I met up with my sisters and in laws and we had a walk up Craig Fawr which is a limestone hill which overlooks Liverpool Bay.

Afterwards we ate turkey baps with cranberry and pigs in blankets ( a bab is a bread bun to btw) and swapped gifts.  

I was very fortunate as my sisters added a new scatter cushion and some John Lewis cutlery to my collection . 

I now have the ideal number of both! 

I made a gravy filled Shepherds pie, walked the dogs before Storm Bella hits home and

Wrote my blog half watching Calamity Jane 

Later on I will watch Korean zombie movie Peninsula which was another Christmas DVD  Gift, this one from my nephew.

Dorothy watched over me

And will do all day 

Her sadness continues 

Say it loud and other minor thoughts

• I haven’t much to share today, it’s grey and chilly
• I wore shorts when out for a walk with the girls this morning even though it was cold. I have patches of  psoriasis on my knees which I defiantly show off from time to time. 
• I’m working nights until after Christmas, I’m cooking a shepherds pie ready for supper at work tonight 
• My nephew who is 18 and has Aspergers, has just got his first job, I just told him how proud I am of him and I think that’s so important..if you are proud say it loud ....my parents seldom praised me as a kid
• I’ve bathed the dogs, Mary with her anti fungal. Winnie and Dorothy with pears baby shampoo and Winnie has had a rare once over with her fanny flannel....the cottage smells fragrant again
• I’ve just missed an invitation for coffee by Chic Eleanor and with nights now will only be able catch up with next week, it will be refreshing to see her .
• I had my first Christmas cards today one off Sue and the other from a ‘cold and dark Sweden’
• I will leave you with this delightful impersonation of Miss Peggy Lee followed by a Christmas message from Fascinating Aida 

Keeping my End Up

I didn't doze for long.

I had forgotten that Gorgeous Dave had rescheduled our badminton match for 7 pm last night, so with some trepidation, a new pair of tracksuit bottoms and my newly made but  forgotten strawberry smoothie sat in the fridge I met him at a local school gymnasium .

It was a gym that held some bittersweet memories for me as it was a place of much ritualistic humiliation in my 1970s secondary school PE days.

GD was suitably attired in his immaculate yet relaxed sports wear accompanied by a set of winnie sized muscular thighs to die for.

I waddled out with holes in my trainers and noted that there was a dribble of cottage pie down my T shirt.
Not a great sporting look

But the challenge was on! 

Thank goodness for muscle memory, for even though I am just under twenty years older than GD and literally twice as heavy I kept my end up fairly well!
And I enjoyed it.
And at least GD had the good grace to sweat just a little 

Having said this ........

I had to rock back and forth several times in bed this morning in order to get my aching old arse off the mattress.........

Just off to a morning Sams shift. Tonight I'm off to see a gay themed boxing play with a friend

At The Movies

 

My problem with me is that I often want to see life as a movie.

I have always been the same.

Ever since I was a little boy and Shelley Winters got stuck up that Christmas Tree in The Poseidon Adventure.

Like Shelley, things were always larger than life.

I’ve joined an LGBT+ reading club in Chester, and the organise Alison has confirmed my application with a sweet email but I know that there is a part of me that is expecting the first meeting to be a little like The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, what with Dawsey Adam’s hole filled jumper and Isola Pribby’s sweetly dotty spinster.

Of course it won’t be, but I know that

I get it.

Certain scenes in my life do have a cinematic resonance to them. 

And we all experience these, do we not?

Dancing on the roof of Weston Park Hospital with friends one night in 1990 would have made a delightful vignette for any coming of age movie staring Molly Ringwold and John Cusack.

Christmas Morning 2002 when me, The Prof and two dogs climbed all over each other in a hug fest that told me I had my own family for the first time in my life could have graced James L Brooks’ Terms of Endearment .and My Grandmother calling out “ My Poor Poor Boy “ when she saw his coffin in Church would have sent an icy chill over any audience watching Meryl Streep in Sophie’s Choice.

The film clips stand. But life isn’t a movie.

We plod along

Today nurses will strike in Wales for the first time in welsh history

The postmen have already marched out and the rail drivers will go next week. 

It’s all a bit serious, but at least I can smile as Mrs Trellis’s erect bobble hat can muster a few laughs aka Mrs Pumphrey  in All Creatures Great And Small

Reality lies , as it always seems to do, between the too worlds . 

The ordinary and the cinematic 

My meatballs looked lovely but were hard as bullets

Albert peed on the carpet for the third time yesterday morning

And I did get a distinction for my first assignment, feedback lying somewhere in Google classroom.

Hey ho

An All About Eve Night

I’ve always been a “ looker afterer” 

That’s the nearest I can find for an accurate description of myself 

I’ve never been happier than when I cook, feed  and nurture someone.

By doing so

I nurture myself .

Yesterday I caught up with my covid bubble friend Ruth

She has had a bloody awful time recently and so I thought quick sticks that a night in together was the order of the day.

It was a simple evening to organise for her..... 

A massive cottage pie with thick gravy flavoured with garlic and cranberry jelly

2 glasses of red

Mary cuddles all night 

And a darkened living room watching All About Eve...a classic she had never seen before.

It was a lovely night.

I say this from my own perspective .

For I knew Ruth felt recharged and enjoyed herself as she said as much taking her leave at 11 pm to sleep in the cottage’s west wing  with Mary tucked firmly under her arm.

Her climbing of the stairs reminded me of when the Prof went to bed with George galloping behind him

That used to please me more than anything .

Cooking for someone who is hurting is a joy. 

Cooking for someone is a joy....I have so missed it.

Tucking someone up on my new couch as if they lived here made me feel good, and their  laughs at Eve’s many one liners reenforced my enjoyment of Bette on her best form.

We are never truly altruistic 

We do things that make ourselves feel good

All about Eve is not just a witty and incisive look at theatre life 

It has a lot to say about long term friendships, friendships I was reminded of as we watched.

Yesterday I video chatted with my friend John from Sheffield 

It was a warm and sweet and loving interaction 

Chic Eleanor texted to sort out a coffee at McDonald’s car park next week 

She sat in her car ......, me sat in mine.a conversation between two open windows 

Darling john it’s been too long she typed 

I so agreed.

If you haven’t watched All About Eve , please do so

Love the one liners, the acting, the clever manipulation of plot and gayness 

But don’t forget the thrust of the story

It’s a really a message of friendships , of recognising and nurturing those friendships and the power of being kind

God Bless

Yesterday Auntie Glad left us a bag of scones on the cottage doorknob

This afternoon I returned the favour with a dish of homemade lemon meringue pie.

It was raining and cold when I called and I had the dogs with me

So our interaction was brief and on the doorstep

" good luck for Friday" 

She called out in her sing song welsh voice.

I reminded her that we will have a party in the village hall in the summer
which she and the other villagers will be invited to.

And she held my hand for a brief moment and added with feeling and with a smile

" God BLESS You both" 

I could have cried at her sincerity 

A woman of 95 who has never left her village all her life!

Just Shamed the likes of UKIP 

without flexing a bleeding muscle