Today's Moral Maze

Today's nugget of wisdom is, I think, something of a discussion .
Feel free to comment......
Yesterday Cameron , the teenage boffin, called around with some homemade Jam for The Prof and I. He's a nice lad, and a bright one too and it was great to find out his news, his university plans and to be able to look at many of his new photographs taken in and around the village.
He was also nice enough to give Winnie a kiss on the lips when she became " all unnecessary "

Now, I hope that Cameron doesn't think I am rude in any way but on the odd occasion he has called around to the cottage , whether it be on flower show or bird locking up duty business, I am always careful to chat outside the cottage, which is almost a " public" area so to speak.
This is a habit I have gotten into and is one that I understand is right but one I feel slightly uncomfortable with.

Now this is not a gay thing......it's more an " appropriate" behaviour kind of thing. If I was a straight man of 54 and a sixteen year old girl, I knew , knocked on the door with a jar of jam then would I still feel it right not to invite her in without a chaperone. Too bloody right I would.

But it still feels as though I'm being a bit rude!
Would you feel the same?
Answers on a postcard please!

We Walk The Same Line

The Prof bounces out of bed in the morning like Julie Andrews.
At 5.30 am I look like Walter Matthau from The Odd Couple .
I have to get up at this ungodly time as it is my job to walk the dogs. So I drag my sorry carcass up, dress in anything I can grab and amble sleepily around the village until bladders are emptied.
Only then can we all return home en masse where we all silently stagger past a chatty and dapper Prof and return to a very warm duvet like baby rabbits in a pile of straw.

It's dark at 5.30am and for most part the village is asleep. We walk up past the church and along London Road and turn into Well Street where collective bottoms are lowered into the dewy grass of the village green. The cottages that flank the green are dark and lifeless and with only Mary left to " do jobs" we move on up High Street.

There were lights on in one of the neat bungalows , and I could see movement behind clean net curtains.
As The dogs sniffed at the grass with interest, I stopped to watch.
An  elderly woman was sat at a table with her head in her hands.
In front of her was a large mug, presumably filled with tea.
Another woman in some sort of uniform was standing by a bed set up against the wall. She was drying her ham arms with a towel.
There was another figure in the bed who I couldn't see clearly. But the small table next to the bed was filled to bursting with bottles and medicines.
I could even make out a discarded nebulizer hung over the headboard.

It was " an end of life" tableau,  one that we have all have been familiar with at one time or another

The exhaustion of the old woman was palpable and a song came into my head as I stood there, a gentle melancholic song by Everything But The Girl
The lyrics fitted the tableau perfectly

If you lose your faith, babe
You can have mine
And if you're lost I'm right behind
'Cause we walk the same line

Now I don't have to tell you
How slow the night can go
I know you've watched for the light

And I bet you could tell me
How slowly four follows three
And you're most forlorn
Just before dawn

And so, if you loose your faith, babe
You can have mine
And if you're lost I'm right behind
'Cause we walk the same line

When it's dark, baby
There's a light out shinin'
And if you're lost I'm right behind
Cause we walk the same line

And I don't need remindin'
How loud the phone can ring
When you're waiting for news

And that big old moon
Lights every corner of the room
Your back aches from lying
And your head aches from crying

And so, if you loose your faith, babe
You can have mine
And if you're lost I'm right behind
'Cause we walk the same line

When it's dark, baby
There's a light out shinin'
And if you're lost I'm right behind
'Cause we walk the same line

And if these troubles should vanish
Like rain at midday
Well I've no doubt there'll be more

And we can't run and we can't cheat
'Cause baby when we meet
What we're afraid of
We find out what we're made of

And so, if you loose your faith, babe
You can have mine
And if you're lost I'm right behind
'Cause we walk the same line

When it's dark, baby
There's a light out shinin'
And if you're lost I'm right behind
'Cause we walk the same line

And if you're lost I'm right behind
Cause we walk the same line

Walk the same line

And if you're lost I'm right behind
'Cause we walk the same line

Ground Zero Remembered

I meant to post this yesterday.
A few months after 9/11 the Prof and I went to New York
We remember this church so, so well......every railing covered in homemade posters calling for the return of loved ones home.
So, so....so sad 

Rule Britannia

What is it with ladies of a certain age and national flags?

For several years now, the BBC have organised  three Proms in the Park classical concerts that run simultaneously to their daddy at the Albert Hall in London.
This year Colwyn Bay ( which is just down the road) was the Welsh venue, alongside Belfast and Glasgow, so we took our flags , picnic hampers, champagne and blankets to watch the fun.

Now for those that don't know The Last Night Of The Proms is a slightly tongue-in-cheek , undeniably patriotic gallop of a concert, where the audience ( high on good nature and/or  wine)  participate in rousing renditions of British sea shanties, a flag busting Rule Britannia and a tearful There's no place like home. 

The principality concerts tend to be " more inclusive" in nature, what with " pop" singers doing their own hits - backed by a BBC Symphony orchestra but there was plenty of classical turns to watch and enjoy even if the Prof was nearly apoplectic with rage as the Welsh Concert didn't feature Land of Hope And Glory. 

Everyone likes a big finish! 

My sisters ( one in her fifties and the other in her sixties) did what any self possessed British matron would do at the Proms after a couple of glasses of champagne, they spent most of tne second half of tne concert running amok with two oversized flags trailing behind them.
Their interperation ( through the medium of dance and semaphore) was particulary evident during a classical version of Pharrell Williams' Happy and Quincy Jones'  soul Bossa-Nova from Austin Powers! where they cantered up and down like two over excited shetland ponies trailing their harnesses behind them

More Flag Waving

The Prof and sister Janet

Husband & Husband

Budgies

The post decorating cupboard sort out can be incredibly therapeutic.
I finished replacing the front room furniture around 10 pm last night, and enjoyed titivating as The Prof hid upstairs out of the way.
I found these two alabaster budgerigar bookends  hidden away at the back of a bookcase and brought them out so their faces could see the sun.
I am reminded of something my sister says about antiques
" You never really own an antique" she said "you just look after it for a while"

The Subject Is Sex

I was brought up in a household that never mentioned sex ever ! 
It was a secretive unmentionable
Sex education , for what it was worth, was left to a banal 1970s school curiculum, discarding porn magazines found on the Prestatyn sandhills and playtime gossip.
But like most late baby boomers we got by somehow...despite everything.

I worked a shift at Samaritans last night until the small wee hours, and as uaual my collegue and I were on the recieving end of a score of sex calls . It's a shocking statistic , but it is common for the highly trained dedicated  SAM volunteers to be subjected to masturbating callers, sexual fantastists and others who feel they have no other outlet than calling a stranger, and blocking a helpline designed to help the psychologically distressed.
My colleague and I wondered just how many of our callers had upbringings where sex was secretative and dirty or who lived lives of sexual isolation and longing.

Now in my fifties, I think I have a healthy view of sex.
I do feel it is a private subject, but I am  no prude when it comes down to a bit of rumpy pumpy
I have worked as an advocate for sexual health with spinal cord injured men.
I have " counselled" and supported men with sexual dysfunction
And I have lived with a sexually lacivious bulldog for several years without too much blushing.

But I must admit, that at midnight after a long and busy day painting walls a rather sweet shade of apple green.
The breathless voice of a middleaged man  whispering the words " I'm touching myself through lace fronted panties"  left me all a bit cold!

 

No Painting, Mrs Simmons and Police Porn

It's lunchtime and still I have not got around to painting the remainder of the front room!
I was up at 5.30 taking the Prof to work in order to be around for 7 am ( the earliest time when the new fridge was being delivered)
It duly arrived around 10.30 and we had the usual performance from Winnie as the two delivery men were " encouraged" to make a fuss. One gave her a big kiss on the chops which sent her into paroxysms of delight........she's sulking now because no one else has knocked on the door!

So we have a fridge now......the Prof's life is no longer shite!
I've done some shopping and filled the fridge , then dropped Mary down the lane to Trendy Carol's house to play with her Welsh Terrier Bitch Seren ( see video)

I thought with Mary occupied I could then get on with painting unhindered.
Wrong! 
I had just reached the gate when I spied Mrs Simmons walking down the lane.
She waved for me to stop.
" Bob's gravestone has been put in the churchyard" she said " I wondered if you would come with me to see it?"
It had been a year since I read the eulogy at her husband's funeral service.
The stone and inscription on the gravestone was simple and fitting and I told Mrs Simmons that as we
Stood amid the graves looking at it.
She can talk the hind leg off a donkey can Mrs Simmons , so as nice as she is, I was glad to see police  personnel Ian and Jo walk up with their greyhound in tow for they took over the conversation nicely.

Anyhow speaking of the police, I was spoilt last night with a difficult choice of tv viewing/ radio listening. We had got back after a rather good Thai meal out when I realised that I had not see Bake off or listened to day three of Helen's trial in The Archers.
There was also a new reality cop show on sky ( The Force -Essex) to give the once over to
(The Prof always raises a Roger Moore eyebrow when reality cop shows come on the tv....he refers to my drooling addiction to men in uniform as Police Porn! ) ...oh.....and it was the Opening Ceremony of the Paralympics to watch.......so I was spoilt by choice.....
In the end I watched and listened to all four, so I didn't get to bed until the small hours.

And you wonder why I haven't lifted a paint brush up yet!?
I'm bloody knackered
Hey ho!

Student Mike leaves the bake off tent!  

But it was Tom who made a loaf in the shape of a penis!

Big bearded cops in Essex..what's pornagraphic about that? 

Yuk yuk

I recognised two of the  team GB wheelchair competitors 

From my spinal injury days

Order And Chaos

For the first time in an absolute age I looked after a sedated and ventilated poorly patient last night.
It was a huge change from the rough and  tumble of caring for a personality disordered, confused and violent post op patient or an over stimulated  autistic boy with a new tracheostomy.
Ventilated patients with all of the pumps and gizmo's that go with the seriously ill have to be nursed with strict orderliness and discipline.
It was nice to be so disciplined ..it was all very Zen.

It's not like that at home at the moment.
I'm in the middle of decorating , and the front room looks likes a bombs hit it, what with furniture piled high in the centre of the room.

The Prof had left the dogs have the run of the house when he left for work earlier and Mary had emptied the airing cupboard of its contents, scattering linens across the landing
Oh and I noticed that old William had backing into my one freshly painted wall by the stairs and had left a sloppy turd out in full view after being home but a couple of minutes
I left everything where it lay, filled my American coffee cup with blissfully hot strong coffee and took myself off to the field which was bathed in warm, early morning sunshine.
There , in full view of the road, I lay down amid the sheep, hens and geese and just gazed up at the clouds in the soft blue sky.
There is No mess and disorder in skywatching.