Bulldog Telepathy

If you hate cats then it always transpires that every cat in your immediate area will make a bee line for you.

Cats delight in torturing people 

There is a touch of a sociopath about a cat

Dogs on the other hand seem to go all goo-goo eyed at the prospect of being all supportive

There is nothing subtle about them

They instinctively know if something is hurting inside you and will try every trick in the book to redress the balance of things .

Mental pain seems to bring out the " dog" in a dog...if you see what I mean

This afternoon Mrs Trellis called by to drop off her unused dog food. 

It must have been somewhat of a difficult visit given the fact that everywhere you look in the cottage there seems to be a dog draped over something, but Mrs Trellis was putting on a brave face as she sat down for a chat.

Immediately Winnie was by her side , gazing intently up into the old lady's face and with seconds she dived under Mrs Trellis' legs like a great big fat puppy, lifting them high up in the air, time and time and time again.
Mrs Trellis couldn't help herself and lost herself in a fit of laughing. And the more she laughed the more Winnie performed .
I have never seen her act in this way with visitors..... Her usual behaviour is to stand , look, snort, sniff and ignore.
She seemed intent on brightening Mrs Trellis' day.

Animal behaviour never ceases to surprise me.

Proff

Some good news!

Chris is now OFFICIALLY 

A PROFESSOR!

I've married a boffin

Well done my love

Xxxxxx

" Bring It On!"

Some people relish confrontation.
Most people however, shy away from it, as they would shy away from a smelly fart in a lift.
I tend to lean towards the latter group, however when my dander is up, I can turn into a cross between Bette Davies and a Jerry Springer guest if the mood takes me....but thankfully these times are very few and far between.
The problem with me, is that if I am crossed, I do like to be able to let the person who crossed me know just hiw much of a cow they are. It's kind of satisfying verbally bitch slapping someone even though you always run the risk of getting mega bitch slapped in return.
I'm not very good at saying nothing
But today I am trying to do just that..........
So far...so good....

And do you know what?
It's really f*cking hard!

A Phonecall From Mrs Trellis

Tonight, after some shit tv and a mediocre dinner, I had just promised Chris that I would go up to the garage to buy him some crisps when the phone went.
It was Mrs Trellis.
She was tearful and very upset
Her beloved border collie Sooty had just died peacefully in his bed.
"I've got no-one to tell" she said sadly and Chris immediately turned off the tv so I could hear the full story.
Mrs Trellis and Sooty have been inseparable friends for over a decade. They made a memorable couple  seen almost daily in Trelawnyd., where he would drag her around the village like a rag doll and she knowing his chronic bad temper would yank him into any and every front garden in a futile bid to keep him from snapping at any passing dog.
It was this aggressive nature that caused me and Chris to nickname him Satan.
They were an incongruous couple.

There was nothing I could do but to support and listen as only a dog owner could support and listen
But there was something incredibly sad about an old lady talking about her dead dog, when the dog in question was curled up in his kitchen basket as though he was asleep.
My heart ached for her.
We talked for a while and although I was ready to dig his grave in the dark ,I was grateful that she had arranged for the animal rescue centre to pick him up tomorrow , so  I let her tell me all about their adventures over the years until she had run down like a clock.
I asked her to ring us ,if she needed anything ...there was nothing else I could do

I finally got to the garage late and bought Chris' favourite Chicken crisps and on impulse I bought an untidy bunch of garage shop flowers that was standing by the entrance. Ones with a couple of odd looking very blue blooms included( you know the sort) and I stopped at Mrs Trellis' neat little house on the way home with them.

"The house is so quiet" she said forlornly when I called in, and I was so glad I had stopped even though all I had to offer was some cheap crap flowers.

No one should be alone...not when you have lost a dear loved one.........even if that loved one was a bad tempered dog who seemed to have hated the world........

Hey ho
Hey 

Suite Française

Every " WW2 Occupied France" movie should have at least one sequence where a long Line of local refugees are strafed by the evil Luftwaffe as they stagger through the French Countryside with their belongings pilled up in handcarts and prams.
It's an iconic and much copied scene.
" Suite Francaise" begins with such a sequence where the fierce Madame Angelier ( Kristen Scott Thomas) and her daughter in law Lucile ( Michellle Williams) who are in the middle of collecting rent from their tenant farmers get caught up in  bombing of Parisian refugees and at first the film looked promising as the camera swoops and follows the terrified French peasants as they flee into the golden wheat on the sides of the road.
But then we left the action and entered the somewhat hackneyed story of Lucile's love affair with nice Nazi Bruno ( Matthias Schoenaerts) as the German occupy the small town of Bussy. Old scores are settled as some of the occupied French tittle-tattle on each other in a bid to survive and Lucile has to finally choose which side she is ultimately on as resistance looms it's head as the German's take charge.
Williams looks like an angel and is ok, if not a little bland as Lucile. Schoenaerts is more impressive as the torn and cultured Bruno, but the whole film is stolen by Scott Thomas who with her icy stare and powdered white face, is more frightening than any Wartime Hun psychopath , in her role of a cynical and embittered mother, widow and patriot.
She can fight my corner anytime!

7/10

The Search For Jesus

The Welsh Flag outside Gay Gordon and Big Mary's bungalow was not flying yesterday so I briefly thought something unfortunate had happened to one or both of them.
I need not have worried for as I stood on the pavement the bungalow door opened and a booming voice rang out
" Hold on Flower! "
I did what I had been told as Gordon appeared in a string vest.
" Congratulations" , he sang out giving me a carrier bag with a card and present inside
" We heard you had got married!"
The gift was two cut glass whiskey glasses.
" by the look of you, I thought you'd like a drink" Gordon boomed, his piggy eyes blinking benignly behind his specs........
It was very sweet of them.

Anyhow, I have just realised with some sadness that the transgender hen Jesus has disappeared from the Ukrainian Village flock.........he/she has been suffering from a degree of wanderlust over the past few month and could be seen ambling alone over the neighbouring fields as far as Basil's sheep field towards the Felin most days

Perhaps he was on retreat

Last night Jesus didn't return home.
I stood on the lower field border at dusk and called out his name
( a fact that made the livery staff at the stables prick up their ears and laugh)
But there was nothing.........
RIP Jesus.........

The baby jesus in early 2014

" Have you got a big poo stuck up your botty?"

Does anyone else here talk to themselves a lot?
I do all of the time!
On the field , out in the village, in the car and walking the dogs are the times I can be most often caught chattering away about this, that or another, whether it be verbal list making , film and tv reviews or reenactments of conversations or events.
I seldom talk to the dogs when out as I keep conversations with them simple and confined to clear orders but I do at times lapse into an occasional bout of " doggy speak" when something of any note occurs..... ( dog owners and parents of small children will understand this phenomenon very well)
Today was a case in point
It's been raining all day, so in an effort to keep cleaner I took the dogs for their long walk on the old railway walkway in Dyserth. The path is usually busy with walkers, but because of the weather, I found myself alone today........perfect " talking to myself" surroundings!
For a mile or so , I played a verbal game with myself by listing the casualties in The Walking Dead in consecutive order ! ( like you do!) and only stopped when Meg started to get into trouble passing a rather overgrown turd!
Like a theatrical mother , I placed my hands on my hips and in my best, slightly disapproving  mommy voice uttered the above title quote
" Meg..have you got a big poo stuck up your botty again?"
Before she could offer me an embarrassed look or indeed an answer, a grinning man on a bike who had suddenly materialised tried to manoeuvre around me.
" sounds painful" he said as he peddled off.
I was still blushing when we arrive back at the berlingo , ten minutes later.

The Great British Sewing Bee ( spoilers)

Now I risk sounding like my mother, when I say that Thursday is a good tv night!
I am afraid that is all over with now.......I used to follow the Scandanavian thriller " Fortitude" until it got overly wierd and up it's own arse in a bad " what the fuck is all this about?" Kind of way...
and " The Great British Sewing Bee" sadly finished it's third run tonight with an impressive finale between mature Air Hostess Lorna, familyman nice guy Matt and the army major Neil and it was a real pleasure watching nice people, be nice to each other whilst they completed nicely difficult tasks with biased binding...

In the end good natured Matt won the competition ........a civilised, easy going and surprisingly well received tv reality show about real talent