Laurel & Hardy
When I took the dogs on their afternoon walk we passed a couple of guys unloading a trailer in the village....
The men were making a real bloody hash of the work and even the terriers sat there half amused by their antics as they dropped box after box...
"You two remind me of Laurel and Hardy" I chirped up when the younger guy dropped yet another package and I had had to smile when the other guy asked "who the bloody hell are they?"
Bloody Heathens.........
Baby Steps
When we, the nurses arrive at work, we line up at the nurses' station waiting to be allocated to a patient for the shift by the nurse in charge. The whole routine smacks of those long distant school days when we lined up waiting to be picked for the games teams, and last night, after handover I sort of just knew which patient I was going to be working with.
I was paired with a very poorly patient who was dying. Unconscious and sedated, the man was fading fast and I had to take a deep breath when I saw him with his wife and his son at his bedside as he could have been my brother albeit a slightly older version of him.
It had to come, I suppose, and it had to be coped with.
Luckily there was a lot to do, a lot to get busy with, and as I "got on with things" a warm natured Irish nurse who was going off duty stopped briefly and reached over and squeezed my arm as I was introducing myself to the family..
She didn't say anything, she didn't have to.
Her touch was enough.
With it, she said clearly and with feeling " it's tough for you and I recognise that it is"
and do you know..... it helped.
The patient died not long into the shift.
... I think I looked after him and his family ok
**********************************************************************************
btw
Weight watchers weigh in this morning weight 15 stone 2 lbs
weight loss this week 2lbs
Total weight loss since 2nd Jan 12 lbs
Exciting Days
I went to bed for a few hours yesterday afternoon in preparation for a Saturday night shift only to be woken up by a rather irate Chris informing me that I was in fact due to work this evening instead!
Humm a siesta in the afternoon.....proved to be an unexpected treat.
This morning,before my little snooze this afternoon,we took George up on the millennium trail above the village to see the observation cairn that was erected in 2003. ( I had never bothered to go and see it before)
I was impressed with the view of the village and will go up there again to take some photos when I have time as there is a lovely view of the village from up there , all huddled away out of the wind in the shelter of Gop Hill.
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| The dovecot at Gop farm on the millennium trail |
I have no real news today, the walk was bracing, the coffee and cake afterwards very welcome and I am about to have 40 winks before night shift tonight!...
This on line diary is knicker wetting in it's excitement!!!....
Iron Lady
There is a scene in the film The Iron Lady
where
the Conservative party spin doctors give Maggie Thatcher's budding
Prime Minister a style make over in order to boost her popularity
amongst the electorate and her party. What they should have employed
even then, was a budding actress called Meryl Steep, for it is her
performance in this story of Lady Thatcher's Journey through dementia,
that gives the former Prime Minister, substance, heart, a certain
likability and indeed soul.
She would have made a cracking style guru!
She would have made a cracking style guru!
It is clearly one of Streep's best performances to date.
The
story outlines Thatcher's twilight years, where the fading Maggie is
virtually under house arrest with only the ghost of husband Denis ( a
fabulous Jim Broadbent)
for company. Through flashbacks, the increasing confused Thatcher
surveys her political career from its early days in her Grantham Grocers
shop to her resignation from number 10, and in between we touch upon
the Miner's strike, The Falklands Conflict and even Thatcher's famous
waltz with President Reagan
However,
for me, those parts of the film proved to be far less interesting than
the film's real message, and that is the heartbreaking and dreadfully
moving story of a woman dealing with grief and coping with dementia, and
it is in this portrayal that Streep is so good. She gives her character
a cunning, guile, balancing out Thatcher's vagueness with flashes of
clever confabulation and steely resolve. (The scene when Thatcher
outwits her patronising psychiatrist is a real stand out)....it is a
lovely,intelligent and impressive Oscar worthy performance
8/10Off to work tonight.....
BTW I have placed Rooster Cogburn in his own run with ( of all hens ) Vinegar Tits, who has been a bit under the weather recently....... when I last checked on them both were sharing a bowl of corn! ( cue smiles all round)
Everyone's so well behaved Nowadays
The weather is atrocious.
I managed my daily power walk with only two of the dogs this morning. Mabel, taking in one long somber look at the driving rain and ever-so-slowly crept back to her place on the kitchen sofa...not to be moved.
The cottage has felt damp and cold, thanks to the smell of damp dog and wet coats, so I have lit the fire early and have switched the lamps on in the living room to create the illusion that it is actually daylight outside.
The University lecturer that contacted me about the blind animal farm rooster, Frodo will be driving over from Shropshire to deliver him later today. I don't envy her the journey, it is a day to hide away in the dry warmth of indoors.
So, for a couple of hours this morning, I busied myself sorting through some old files and papers for burning and for throwing out. As I mooched through the rubbish I found an old report card of mine from when I was a student nurse at an old Psychiatric hospital back in the early 80s.
The assessment was a good one, generally all of my reports were, for as a student, I was keen,conscientious and eager to please.
The report was filled in by an old lag of a charge nurse, who never once left his office in the whole eight week placement I had on his ward. He was in fact a knowledgeable and charming elderly Scotsman, who loved his whiskey more than he loved his wife and although his philosophy of psychiatric care was, shall we say, hardly cutting edge, he commanded a quiet respect from many long term patients who remembered him as a young man within the care system.
During the day, he would often disappear into locked bathroom at the back of the old ward to complete "paperwork", which, the patients would quietly explain away to me as his quality time with a home brew kit...
As a student, it never crossed my mind to report this old soak for such unprofessional behaviour, behaviour that would figure more on Fleet Street than in an nhs hospital
These characters do not exist anymore, I suspect even in the dark recesses of Fleet street . Badly behaved and colourful old dinosaurs that act badly and by the seat of their pants no longer have a place in industry and the workplace and it is not surprising that Policy development, whistle blowing, HR and performance reviews have all but culled them all off in this age of professionalism and technology.
I guess it is all for the best... but some of me kind of misses the mavericks and the Rooster Cogburn's of this world.....
Mind you......... I have just seem the Red Faced Welsh Farmer shoot past the cottage with a jaunty wave and I realise that in some very small pockets of this land Rooster Cogburn's still are very much alive and kicking
And speaking of characters Frodo has just arrived
and he is a bit of an old sweetie.........blind as a bat and tame as a lamb he sat comfortably on my lap after arriving as I gave him the obligatory health check and once over.
I know he's a lame duck....I know he has no use to me or the gate post... but some space in a small coop and a handful of food a day isn't too much to ask to give him a country retirement is it?
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| Frodo -Blind as a bat but full of personality... perhaps I should rename him Rooster Cogburn ? |
Coincidence
This morning I remembered the oddest thing, a coincidence that really made me sit up and question how strangely things can turn out when you arn't "looking", so to speak.
In 1986, when I lived in York I briefly dated a general nurse called Fiona. Our relationship was basically platonic in nature, but it was all very intense and "serious" given the fact that at the time both of us were....well......very intense and serious people, she more than I , as I recall
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| Finlay |
Of course both of us went our own ways in life, so you can probably imagine the surprise I felt when I was driving through Crooksmoor , a scruffy suburb of Sheffield some 18 years later when I saw her pushing a pram down a tree lined avenue.
I stopped the car and got out with my dog on his lead, and we walked over to say hello.
It was lovely to see her again. Apparently she had worked as an alternative therapist all over the world, met her husband in Italy and had helped open a restaurant with him not two miles from where we lived in Hillsborough.
A small world eh?
On the spur of the moment we went for a coffee at a student cafe nearby and as we shared gossip, she showed me her son who was fast asleep in his pram.
"what's his name" I asked
"Finlay.." she said " but we all call him Fin"
I had to laugh a little......and I picked up the Welsh Terrier who was sat at my feet
"Meet my son", I told her
"What's his name? " Fiona asked
"Finlay" I said with a smile
Hippo Comment
Thanks Hippo
Pryvit
I Vladimir from Ukraine.
Why you compare small, small farm in tiny country with village in Ukraine? You been Ukraine? You ever come her, drink Slavutych (won gold medals, you won gold medals?) you seen Ukrainian chicken? You visit Ukrainian farm? We Ukraine, we say bad thing Wale farm? Why say bad thing Ukraine?
I spit on your chicken, Ptooh!!
You name place. I bring Ukrainian chicken, he kick shit out your chicken
Then I give Salvutych and we drink. In morning you stop nasty about Ukraine. Ukraine much bigger than Wale, Gregoriev say Wale men only Irish men who no swim. All Ukranian man swim, I show you when I bring chicken. When my chicken kill your chicken we swim Ireland, drink Irish Salvutych and swim back. Then I show you how build real house for chicken.
I read your blog, I think you nice man but stupid, You do work for woman, feed animal. You need Babushka. Mebbe I bring Babushka for you, no? She good. Beat her in morning she work hard and sleep with chicken when snow come and fry kovbasa in morning for you made from pigs you kill. All Ukrainian man like kill pig. If you no like kill, Babushka do it.
Do pobachennya
Vladimir
Kiev
There's Some sun In The Distance
The sun was shining yesterday and the village was galvanised into some sort of activity......today it is cold , damp and grey and the place is deserted and somewhat depressingly quiet.
Tom over at "Tom Stephenson recalls", has summed up this mid winter feeling so well, referring to it as the January Blues......for me, this time of year means just one thing----mud!; it means a constant battle with shitty paw prints on the kitchen floor and it means caked wellington boots and dirty, chillblained hands.
We all need a little hope in January don't we?
We need a glimpse of better things to come, some good news, some positive thinking.....
and at least here in our tiny corner of Wales, I think there are small islands of positivity to celebrate and to look forward to.
1. The Post Office makes a welcome return to the village in a month or two.
Ok it will be only be set up on a Friday afternoon over at the village hall, and of course we still won't have the accompanying shop and newsagent services we used to have when Jenny the flamed haired post mistress fought her way through the reams of paperwork at the old Central Stores but it is a wonderful baby step at keeping the village functioning.
I looking forward in manufacturing a sudden need for stamps and banking every Friday!
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| Historically the Post Office has moved sites at least 4 times over the years |
2. A committee has just been formed up at the Crown Pub, to sort out some sort of Village Celebration to commemorate the Queen's Jubilee in June. I think this is a cracking idea, especially as I have decided not to hold my "Open Allotment Day" until next year and I have already said that I am more than happy to help out with anything the committee comes up with.
In this age where people only seem to make the effort to look after themselves, any altruistic enterprise, in my mind should be celebrated, supported and encouraged.....
Now....where's my bunting?
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| Trelawnyd Coronation Carnival 1953 |
3. With the pigs' imminent departure, I have decided that 2012 will be the year that the allotment will go from strength to strength. The Ukrainian village will be having a full face lift and I aim to have a couple of milking goats this year.......milk, cheese, self sufficiency in veg and who knows.... more piglets in July perhaps......
and of course more waifs and strays will be turning up with gay abandon over the next few months.....
And as the Two Ronnies used to say "and finally"
here is a blog header that will lift your spirits... it's a candid shot from http://lifeonthesmushieranch.blogspot.com/
Enjoy xxx
Moving Onwards
 |
| No 21 and the delightful no 12 |
Was it only Six Months ago since number 12 and Number 21 arrived at Bwthyn-y-Llan? It seems such an age ago now. Both have blossomed into two huge, fine looking pigs, each with a personality and attraction all of their own.......but I have always been mindful that both are now ready for bacon, for sausages and for chops.
I have just got off the phone with a rural butcher. A jovial Chap, full of Welsh chutzpah and good will, he gave me a whistle stop menu of pork cuts,explained the whole process of butchery from culling to table as it were and even offered to pick them up for me, which I have just now agreed to.
I am now just waiting for the phone call, telling me when it is all going to take place.
I feel ok and ever so slightly relieved that I have finally summoned the nerve to finally get the ball rolling, but I know I will find it just a little difficult to look no 21 in the eye a little later today....he's such a sweet natured fellow.........
Barcelona 1992 Olympic Flame
I am getting excited about the Olympics...........we ( the family) are talking about going down to London to soak in the atmosphere of the closing ceremony ( no we have not got tickets)
I Just Hope the organisers take a leaf out of the Barcelona Olympics ( the most classy) and the Sydney Olympics ( The most Joyous!)
My Best friend Nuala and I went to the opening of the World Student Games at The Don Valley Stadium in Sheffield many years ago now.... I remember that Uk Astronaut Helen Shaman ran in with the "Games Flame" and bloody dropped it running up the steps to the cupola!
and...it was so embarrassing as THE BLOODY FLAME WENT OUT!!
The Sheffield crowd....( good natured as always) laughed it's bloody socks off!!!!!
5 Bags of Sugar
Weightwatchers weigh in today 15st 4 lbs
Weight loss in the past week 6 lbs
Total weight loss in 2 weeks 10 lbs
Having suffered that bloody awful virus last week, I just knew that my weigh in this week would be fairly successful.......... So, I didn't need to employ all those pre weigh in tricks that we all employ just before dragging my sorry carcass onto the bathroom scales
( by saying "tricks" I mean the forcing out of a big wee just before assessment time etc!!!)
Give me a couple more weeks and I just know I will stop farting with the force of the Queen Mary's Hooter when I bend over........Way to go Girlfriend
x
Ps will blog more "appropriately" a little later!
Noise
Sunday
mornings in the country are not always peaceful. This is especially
true in winter when the sounds of bird shoots echo constantly around the
circle of hills that surround the village, giving one the sense of
being a mile or two from the "front line" so to speak.
It has been like that this morning.
The
village Church Bell strikes up at ten minutes to eleven and does not
stop until the Rector arrives.........Robert is sometimes a little late,
so the monotone "DING" of the bell can go on just a little, and it
often sets the lurcher howling from the corner house which can be
somewhat tiring.
I
am on night shift tonight, so have retired to bed for a few hours. It
is a necessary luxury as I will not have any sleep until tomorrow night
now, and it is a luxury that I rather enjoy.....
Its
just me in the bed.....no one else is allowed......the sheets are cool
and the room is dark and even though I can still hear the occasional
shriek of the geese as they bicker, the pillow over my head cushions
most of the Sunday Morning soundtrack........
Sweet Dreams x
Oh Dear
Well, I went to be entertained and I went to have a good bawl.........and unfortunately I did neither....
Warhorse, I am afraid to say, is not one of Steven Spielberg's better films.Sure, it has a chocolate box view of Edwardian Devon, sure it has a totally underused Emily Watson as a plucky farmer's wife and sure it has sweet boy in love with his pet horse which is sadly taken off to the Great War...... but what it doesn't have is any real dramatic tension, in a story which, on stage at least, has gripped and moved literally millions of people.
The play is narrated by the central horse character of Joey; subsequently the emotion of the trauma of separation,loss and of War itself can be shared by words, as well as visuals... The film lacks this device and is, I am sorry to say, much the poorer for it, as horses, although beautiful animals, can look ever so slightly inscrutable to the untrained eye. If they show human emotion...they can unfortunately look a little cartoonish
Warhorse also does not have many of those flagship Spielberg touches that satisfy the soul.
But a few scenes do linger in the mind
- the horse Joey galloping madly across the besieged trenches at night
- the shooting of two deserters as seen through the sails of a working windmill
- the gentle banter between a sweet natured German soldier (Hinnerk Schönemann) and a chirpy Tyneside Squaddie ( Toby Kebbell) who meet up in no-man's land
( incidentally the best performances of the film)
But overall, I felt cheated there was no "Lassie Come Home moment".....
I needed a bit of cheap sentiment, and a lot of blubber
Unfortunately I had neither!6/10
A Chink In The Armour ,"Coppers" and the unsung 7,500
I hit a top "c" that anyone on the male voice choir would have been proud of, spun around and instinctively punched him as hard as I could right in the kisser.
He let go, staggered back a few steps in shock then gave me a rather half arsed "Honk" of threat
I jumped around a little, fingering a hole in my undies and flicked him the "v"s even though I was feeling dreadully guilty
No matter how ill you may be, animal enemies will always seek out a chink in your armour
****************
Moving on.....
Last night I watched with interest a channel four documentary entitled quite simply Coppers
This second series started off in Mansfield, Nottinghamshire and followed the mundane, stressful, irritating, hands-tied and frustrating world of an urban British CID force.
Part of the documentary was the "seen it all before" fly-on-the wall details of crime investigation, which was interesting enough given the fact that the law seems always heavily on the side of any potential perpetrator, but it was the face to camera interviewing of the senior police detectives themselves that proved to be the most illuminating parts of the documentary.
Straight talking, wry and in most cases very VERY pithy, the detectives thankfully didn't tread that hackneyed old path of political correctness.....colourfully and with some feeling they told their story of frustration and impotency with the criminal classes rather gamely and I could have happily cheered when the dry-as-toast Sergeant Marcus Oldroyd (above) was asked what he thought of a burglar's house he had just had to search in order to find a neighbour's stolen goods.....
"It's a shithole" he said simply and directly to camera.
The police came over as hard working, decent people; people that have to face not only the tragic and the exciting every day, but the boring, the stupid and the lazy in our society who make petty crime a way of life without hope or want of rehabilitation..............One DC summed the whole thing up when after an age patiently trying to interview a vital but reluctant witness she turned to her collegue and said "As the famous saying goes... you can't polish a turd!"
Thank Goodness for them all, that's what I say.
*************************
And finally...........
This morning I had a chat with an old guy in the village about the movie WARHORSE which opens today....He asked me if I knew that WARDOGS were commonplace in WW1 and were used not only as guard and sentry uses but more importantly were invaluable as message carriers between the trenches and command centres
"Over 7,500 dogs were killed in the the Great War alone" he told me "did you know that?"
I had to admit I had no idea
Mr Spielberg...please take note...............
Novovirus Blues
I have not blogged for the past few days because I have been rather dramatically ill.
On Monday I could feel a "bug" coming on, and by Tuesday morning, I could hardly lift my head off the pillow. There was a funeral on in the Graveyard and I could hear the gravedigger's lorry arrive on my field ( he has to access the cemetery from my land) but just felt too ill to go over to save the poor man from being chased by the geese.
By midday I was suffering rigors,nausea and joint pain worse than I have ever experienced before and after an aborted attempt to walk the dogs I did what I have never done before, I rang Chris at work and told him to come home.
I have been in bed ever since, watched over continually by a loyal and slightly anxious Meg Well that is until this morning when I dragged my sorry, stinking arse out of my Tracey Emin-ish bed......and I can honestly say that I have never experienced a virus which has made me feel so bad...ever......ever in 49 years!. This is no word of a lie....but on Tuesday night I had visions of me being whisked away to hospital I felt so awful, ( and even the cool-as-a-cucumber Chris was worried when he saw me all vague pale and feverish hidden under the duvet)- I must have looked like Kate Winslet in her sick scene in Sense And Sensibility.....
Anyhow I survived and thank goodness for Carer's leave, that's what I say
Without Chris having the flexibility to come home to look after me and the animals, I really don't know where I would have been with it all........
Things can change on a sixpence can't they?
"Put The Bun Down, Walk Away From The Bun"
I have always enjoyed my food
Chris says that it comes from being a twin,
It's Something about having competition at food time.....
Once when I was tucking in to a plate of goodies, he laughed and said that if we were infant birds rather than babies then he was sure that I would have kicked Janet right out of the nest when mommy came-a-calling with a beakful of worms...
 |
| Even at a year old I was chubby and just a little camp! |
Of course weight gain is sort of natural when you are fast approaching 50. My regular twice a week badminton games with friend Mike stopped long before we came to Wales.......(because of creaking knees and pressures of work) and we have got into the habit of big meals in the evenings, too many takeaways and for me, the fatty perils of a crisp white wine!
Add to this recipe, a propensity for comfort eating, a liking for big portions ( a legacy from my Grandmother who re enforced love and affection with feeding) and a genetic "Gray double chin" and is it no wonder that I look like a pig in a leotard?
So it is time I do something permanently about it.....
I know I can do it.
A few years ago I lost three stone in six months, and did so fairly easily ...
I just didn't keep it off.
This time I am serious........ I can do it again and for good this time.......Looking like Shelley Winters on a bad day and having embarrassing, uncontrollable and uncomfortably loud flatulence when I cock my leg over the field gate is the last straw........
There...I have said it publicly........
My Name's John...... and I am a porker.
So from now on Mondays will be my weightwatcher weigh in...Last Monday I was 16 stone exactly
Today I am
15 stone 10 lbs."Way to go Girlfriend!!!!!!!!!"
A Little Extra
 |
| Meg, Mabel, William and George and the ubiquitous blue rug |
Chris has gone to Church in the next village and the dogs are all heaped together on the kitchen sofa, unwilling to get up into the fine , grey mist and rain which looks as though it has set in for the day.
This is the time for coffee, eggs Benedict and Radio 4 Extra.....
Radio 4 Extra is a little gem of a radio station. For those that do not know ( and I am quoting wikipedia here) Radio 4 extra is:-
"BBC Radio 4 Extra, formerly known as BBC 7 and BBC Radio 7, is a British digital radio stationcomedy, drama, and children's programming nationally 24 hours a day. It is the principal broadcasting outlet for the BBC's archive of spoken-word entertainment broadcasting "
What wikipedia does not make clear , is the fact that Radio 4 Extra often cherry picks the best the brightest of the BBC productions for a re airing...this morning I have enjoyed a cracking adaptation of Kipling's Jungle Book....(with Eartha Kitt literally shining as Kaa the snake) and as I type this, Kirsty Young is in the process of interviewing Debbie Harry for Desert Island Discs
 |
| Vintage Peter Coke |
Tomorrow, I will catch the 1959 re run of Paul Temple and the Conrad Case and if I remember on Thursday, I will try and catch The Chief Inspector Dover Mysteries from way back in 1976,
We are lucky having the BBC here in the UK...... but if it was up to me I would rip most of the shitty tv programmes off BBC1 ( apart from Sherlock of course) and replace them with some of the quality radio productions from the past and present.....
But, alas, a day cannot just be crammed with breakfast eggs, good drama and a warm kitchen....
dogs have to be walked in the rain..........and I need to burn off the calories before my weightwatcher's weigh in tomorrow morning
It's All Go.....
 |
| I am still keeping on eye on Village affairs |
Trelawnyd seems rather quiet in this post Christmas time lull
There is little news to report....
Neighbours Della and Arfon found an abandoned Jack Russell outside their farm gates...she's a sweet little gal too
The village noticeboard has been finally erected
-The builder who did the work gave me the key as he knew I am on the community council--( oh the power!)
and Kit Hopkins kindly presented me with my second pair of handmade slippers this afternoon.....she apologised for the wait......she had a rush order to get out!
The ever cheerful guy with multicoloured hair and numerous piercings from Maes Offa dropped off a load of wood for me to burn in the lounge stove...
Carys at 1 London Road said she didn't mind that I had forgotten to deliver her eggs this week as she has enough
and there is talk of a part time post office being opened up at the Village Hall very soon......
 |
| The Trelawnyd Village folk seem happy enough despite the lack of excitement!! |
Frodo's tale
 |
| Frodo |
Now as regular readers will know, I am a bit of a sucker for a sob story.
At least 30 animals on the field arrived as a result of being neglected or unwanted, and most have blossomed into healthy, happy and in the case of the "Crackhead whores" productive birds, who have all started to lay after a few barren and somewhat bald months.
Yesterday I received an email from a woman in Shropshire, who had rescued a predominantly blind bantam cockerel from a farm after he was bullied by the resident cockerels and the farm children who delighted in throwing stones at him..
She had heard , through a mutual friend that I keep poultry (and probably that I am a soft touch) and wondered if I could help her
Frodo, apparently is a bit of a character. Before being re homed at the farm, he was one of the star attractions in the petting zoo at Alton Towers, subsequently he is tame, loves human contact and a cuddle, and now is almost fit enough to be re homed
I have a spare run, and the Rhode Island Red who had a stroke would make him an ideal companion so of course I have emailed Frodo's rescuer and have said yes.
She was lucky, I think, as her timing had been pitched just right. With the start of the New Year, and the faraway prospect of better weather, I am beginning to feel more like my normal, more positive self.
The dreadful 2011 is now behind us
The Wind Doth Blow!
70 mile an hour winds, horizontal rain and hail ....I could hardly see the field this morning
I managed to snap a quick photo of the hysterical runners all leaning desperately into the wind
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