Final Words

At least I didn't fluff The eulogy at Bob's funeral this afternoon. I was a bit worried because I had a coughing fit during ABIDE WITH ME which pissed me off as I love to belt out the last chorus, but I got through it without burping, farting or spluttering
I sat on the last pew with Meirion Ellis and Auntie Glad and felt it had gone down well when the new woman in Bron Haul standing at the back of the Church gave me the " thumbs up" when I sat down.
Gaynor, the mad organist also asked if I would do her eulogy when the time came, I told her yes but it would " cost her" , I'm getting a dab hand at this funeral speech thing me thinks.

What eulogy would you like at your funeral dear reader?
I kind of like The final words of Joan Rivers ' eulogy which was penned by her daughter Melissa

It goes

In closing, I hope I have satisfactorily anwsered your complaints and queries. I love having you live with me and I am grateful for every minute Cooper and I have with you. You are an inspiration. You are also 30 days late with the rent!"

A Fanny In The Face

With Melanie Wilks still on his deathbed upstairs, I took the opportunity to sneak out on the field to write Bob's eulogy for tomorrow. Its blowing a gale but is strangely warm , so after I wrote the bulk of it, I indulged myself in a spot of cloud watching.

I love cloud watching in the sunshine, and so do the dogs who often tiptoe up, one by one , to lie in the crook of an arm  or snuggle up against a foot or a shoulder.

To passing cars, I am sure , I resemble the grave of John Gray with four Greyfriar's Bobbies standing guard!
It was only a matter of time before I started to doze,
And only woke when a sudden shadow blocked out the sun.
I opened my eyes just in time to see a massive bulldog fanny being lowered slowly and very purposefully downwards!
I feel defiled

Bothered By Gobbling

I had to make an emergency run to the supermarket this morning for toilet rolls,  bleach spray and washing machine liquid.
I've not been feeling  too sparkling myself...but there's plenty to do at the sick cottage.
The Prof is still in bed, and at three pm , I had just closed my eyes in the living room arm chair for a quick break when the Church Bell bloody well started....with the hormonal Bingley gobbling away in the background of each ring
Peace and quiet in the countryside eh?

Oh , and while I remember, I read out your comments on Mrs Trellis' dog eulogy to Mrs Trellis the other day, and she was exceptionally grateful for each and every one.
On tuesday she picks up her new dog from the animal rescue centre
He is a border collie, called Joey

Being sick in the 1970s

I've just gone out to get some lucozade for the Prof

only to be disappointed not to find it presented 

in it's traditional glass bottle with the yellow cellophane

Memories of  my childhood sickness'

Include

Lucozade ( which was rationed)

Vicks rubbed on  my chest,

A washing up bowl complete with a splash of dettol  left by the bed,

Lying on the couch under an eiderdown watching schools programmes

( no proper tv was shown during the day)

Dry toast and clear soup

Sweaty pyjamas

Breathing menthol from a bowl of hot water with a towel over your head
Feeling special

BTW
Everything remains shitty here in Trelawnyd

Hey ho

Botty Troubles

It looks as though The Prof has a rather nasty bout of food poisoning.

A case of a dodgy prawn quiche in Dublin airport he thinks.

I think it's a case of too much work, not enough sleep coupled with a bad prawn but what do I know?

" Do you think it could be EBola?" The Prof asked weakly from his deathbed this morning

" There's not a great deal of EBola in North Wales" I replied.

This morning's convalescence has only been interrupted the once when Albert

brought a live sparrow into the bedroom, with all four dogs hysterically in tow

I was busy preparing a light toast breakfast, so the first thing I heard of the event was the Prof 

croaking a rather muted " Bird BIRD! B-I-R-D" in an effort not to raise his abdominal pressure too much

Luckily the sparrow escaped through the open bathroom window before it was gassed to death

( if you get my drift)

Poorly Prof

The Prof never made it to Denmark.

He came down with a temperature on the train to the airport and I ordered him home.

I put him to bed just after I picked up the Berlingo ( which passed it's MOT with some financial help)

and in bed he's stayed.

I've been up and down those stairs 100 times so far

Who needs friggin weightwatchers?

Things Change

The election whips old Trelawnyd-ites into a frenzy

I'm on catch up today. After taking Chris to the train ( he's off to Denmark for a conference) I collected coal, visited the supermarket then took the Berlingo in for it's MOT . I was running late but managed to get a lift back to the village just in time to have a meeting with my friend Bob's family and the vicar.....
Given the absolutely awful state the Berlingo is in , I was in two minds in asking the Vicar for a bucket of Holy water to drench the poor thing in, fingers crossed it limps through..........I shall find out later.

I have been asked by Bob's wife to deliver an Eulogy at his funeral on Tuesday. His two sons told me today that they would be too emotional  to speak themselves , so I am happy to " stand in" so to speak, but it is a big responsibility to pitch the reading just right.
I hope I can do the family proud.

It was after midday when I finally got home and had just taken the dogs out for a late walk when I spied one of the farm workers passing through high street listening to his car radio
" what's the latest about the election ?" I asked and he laughed long and hard
" Cameron's in ...and every other fucker has resigned" he called out
" Miliband, Clegg and that twat Farage have all gone" he added when I shrugged my shoulders
" who would have thought it?"
Yes indeed..who would have thought it.

As I ambled around the village with Winnie merrily breaking wind rather loudly as we turned into Chapel Street, I found myself thinking one thought

Things change........things stay the same

Far From The Madding Crowd

Carey Mulligan

I've never read any Thomas Hardy, so I know little about Bathsheba Everdene and " Far From The Madding Crowd" I think I saw the 1967 film version once, the one with the beautiful Terrence Stamp in, but I can't remember it very much save for the fact everyone in it looked very 1960s rather than 1870s
Today, I went to see an 11.40  am ( YES AM SHOWING!!!!!!how daring is that in North Wales) of the recent remake and I can honestly say it was one of the best films I have seen this year. Staring the perky and very likable Carey Mulligan as the independent Bathsheba, the film is an absolutely beautiful looking  journey into rural Dorset life of 150 years ago, where rosy faced ,bonnet wearing villagers toil away in the fields of wheat and flocks of sheep plummet from the coastal cliff fields onto the beach chased by stupid sheepdogs

Schoenaerts can look after my sheep anyday

Mulligan's Bathsheba is overly Earnest and pragmatic and so when she is literally swept off her feet by a handsome soldier ( Tom Sturridge) it takes the audience a little by surprise when she says she had never been kissed in her life. A necessary piece of information required for a modern day audience to understand the whirlwind nature of the romance given the fact that the rugged and softly spoken Shepherd Gabriel Oak ( Matthais Schoenaerts) and the quietly despairing bachelor Mr Boldwood ( Michael Sheen) are standing in the wings wanting marriage and a settled down life.
Mulligan is cracking in the lead role but for me it is Schoenaerts who carries the entire film with a quietly assertive and understated performance that makes it's mark in every scene he appears in.
Sheen too is very impressive as the vulnerable and mentally more fragile Boldwood, so much so is that, I am sure he'll get a best supporting actor nod by the Academy Award board.

If you like a proper old fashioned romance...then go and see Madding Crowd...you won't be disappointed
9/10