Apologies

Blogger has been playing up.
It's deleted my blog list, messed  up my favourites compilation
And has upset my settings worst than the Prof in a bad mood.
So please comment on my next blog, even if it's just one word
Then. I can save your comment and add it to my favs
Hey ho
X

Blast From The Past

I was born in North Wales, and lived in the resort town of Prestatyn until I was twenty.
Only then did I move to Chester, then York then Sheffield, a city I lived for going on two decades.
Today I came face to face to someone from my late teenage years.
And all in an impulse visit to a bespoke butchers shop in St Asaph.

I had just dropped The Prof's car in for it's MOT and knowing we were out of eggs , I stopped in the shop to buy a half dozen .
I was just gazing at a large tray of homemade scotch eggs with desperate longing  when a middle aged woman with big breasts and very grey hair leaned her face very close to mine.
" Hello John Gray" the woman said , smiling broadly.
I stood up and looked at her. She looked vaguely familiar but I was totally at a loss of who it was.
Was she a patient I had nursed or a relative of one who had died? Lots of things flashed through my mind, and I stalled for time for a moment by smiling back and saying a  " Hello"  reply.
The butcher who was serving the woman looked patient but  impatiently just stretched a little
" It's Eirian ! " the woman said, and thirty seven years suddenly dropped away as did my need for a scotch egg
I had dated Eirian when I was sixteen .
She had big breasts covered by very baggy jumpers even then, I  remembered.
" Oh My there's a blast from the past!" I said not quite knowing what to say and jumped just a little when she took my hand and squeezed it
" I heard a while ago that you had moved back to Wales" she trilled,
" With my now husband " I replied!
The butcher now looked a little more interested in the conversation as I laughed and Eirian looked theatrically surprised.
" My mother always thought you were gay" She cackled in good humour " I thought you were just shy"

Old Dog, Old Tricks!

Yesterday Rachel's " dirty bum" comment on Going Gently totally left me speechless.

It was a bit like having Freddie Mercury singing happy birthday at a ten year old's birthday bash.

ie. No one can possibly follow it with any degree of success! 

She not only sneaked in the bum comment but added the somewhat upsetting visual of swinging breasts and even  the possibility of a skid mark on the duvet. 

Only today can I bring myself to talk about it ! 

And so I am not going to compete.

I shall, however, share a photo of George who, quietly and with some planning managed to eat, not only his dinner but all of William's, this afternoon. 

With help he heaved himself up in the armchair as the sun streamed through the cottage window

And slept a sleep of a contented and over stuffed Scottie.

First Sentence Of The Day

On Hart to Hart, the glamorous Jennifer Hart would slink out of bed with her big hair, beautiful make up and chic silk nightie and would turn to her equally well presented husband  Jonathan with a purring
""Hello darling.....did you sleep well?" 
In Dynasty, Krystal and Blake would simper at each other in soft  focus over a boiled egg in bed, their  pyjamas neatly ironed like their hair
And in the same vein in The Archers, I am sure I have heard farmerboy Adam Macey plant a playful kiss on husband's Ian Craig's forehead before clambering out of their designer bed  and up into his combine for a day of lusty estate work ( that is before his discressions with Parvel and Charlie were made public in open court!) 

What was it like at first light in Bwthyn -y-llan I hear you all ask? 

What was the moving and touching repartee between myself and The Prof? as George barfed on the bedroom floor and as Winnie snored herself stupid from the living room arm chair.

The Prof " MOR-NING!!!!! Would you like a cup of coffee?"

Me ( stalking to the loo in a hurry in my underpants with the baggy legs ) " I'M NOT HAVING THAT CREAMED SPINACH AGAIN, IT's GIVEN ME THE SHITS,!" 

The Apple Tree

I was busy cleaning carpets yesterday, so , at first, didn't hear the mechanical digger doing it's stuff on the plot of land beyond the bottom of our garden.
I was only aware of things after two Jehovah Witnesses waved at me through the cottage window. They seem to decend on the village in groups from time to time, but never really stay long here after I remind them I am a married gay man.
" Would You happily support gay marriage in your church? " I always ask them, it's a question I've never got a straight answer to, even though all they manage to answer is the willing offer to talk to me.
Anyhow, as usual, I digress.
Behind our cottage garden is a small square of land . Years ago used to be part of the small holding and furnished a small orchard, vegetable beds and flower borders, but in times gone by the plot , which was owned by the nephews of a former owner of Bwthyn -y-llan , had been left untouched and unloved.
Now we all knew that the nephews want to sell the land as a single bungalow building plot, so it was only a matter of time when they wanted it cleared in order to move it on, but ever since we came to the village, eleven years ago, I have used the wilderness as my own private secret garden.

Anyhow like I said, as  I was busy dispatching the Jehovahs, I heard the rumble of the digger, and walked up the lane to the old garden . Most of the land had already been cleared. The old shed, full of old potting up equipment and dusty old garden tools had been flattened, the massive honeysuckle which bordered it cleared and the flower beds crammed with daffodil bulbs dug up and scattered amongst untidy lumps of soil.

The man operating the digger stopped and called over to me. He was a contracted workman and understood the surprise of the neighbours , several of whom had already stopped him to see what was going on.
He asked me if there was anything I wanted him not to touch, presumably the shrubs that bordered our small driveway, but I noticed a single apple tree still standing in the centre of the plot heavy with apples.
" Can you leave the tree a while longer?" I asked
" I'll see what I can do" he said with a friendly smile

The apple tree

Later I walked over to the cleared garden,  and I noticed that the three bachelor bantams, had wandered up from the Ukrainian Village to see what had been going on . I scooped all three up from the side of the lane to keep them out of the way of the farm tractors.
The old garden looked dreadful, but the workman had been true to his word
The apple tree was the only thing left standing .

The bantam batchelors 

Sisters

In the village we have perhaps thirty or so social housing bungalows.
Most are occupied by older people who have lived in the local area for most of their lives.
Two bungalows are occupied by two sisters, both in their late seventies. If you crane your head from ones front door you can almost see the other.
Neither sister is on speaking terms with the other.
I noticed this when I spied that one sister drove  past the other who was standing at the bus stop one day. There was not so much as a flicker of acknowledgement from either.
Their coldness intrigued me.
I have spoken to both, in passing.
One is warm and generous and rather sweet natured socially the other slightly prickly, bitter and sour.
And apart from being physically very similar the two women could be more different.

I am lucky, I have never fallen out with any family member on a scale remotely similar to these two sisters. I could not envisage it,but I know it happens...look at Olivia de Havilland and Joan Fontaine,
They seldom spoke for 70 years.

A Visit ( update)

I am off to see Auntie Glad today, then I am working an  overtime night shift

Thought I would leave you this video to discuss 

Lovely as it is strangely moving

Enjoy! 

X

Postscript

Gladys was sat in the day room in a neat maroon dress.
Beads around her neck.
She was sat next to a silent yet cheerful looking woman with leg ulcers
and wasn't sure who I was until I said " it's Flower Show John! "
Only then did she clap her hands and then held onto mine without letting go.

The food was lovely, she reported, and she had seen her niece and Christine from the village. so wasn't short of visitors. She also made herself useful and had " done some washing up"

I told her that we needed to organise a flower show meeting in order to distribute funds around the village and she seemed happy that we intend to give the Church monies for new linens.
(There is no rush but I think we will try to have the meeting in the nursing home itself, for they seem a friendly bunch and holistic care seems one of their buzz words)

She asked about the Prof,  and about Derek and Heulwen from the Flower Show..oh and did the vicar know that she wasn't around for Church? I had to raise my voice so she could hear what I was saying, and I woke a gentleman sat opposite who gave me a dirty look.

I noticed that the panes of glass in the partition to the dining room were covered in a mass finger marks from slightly confused hands.

" Is my house alright?" She asked, just before I was about to go
" It's fine and neat and tidy as it always is" I told her.
" That's Good" she said with a smile.

More Workmen

The workmen arrived promptly at 8am.
Mrs Frazer saw their van parked in the field gateway and raised her eyebrows again!
" More work? They MUST have come into money" She thought.
The two cheerful workmen who looked 18 and 12 respectively got on with the work in hand with some gusto and were watched happily by Winnie who enjoyed giving their tool boxes the once over with solemn eyes  . ( no euphemism was intended btw)
She finally had to be removed from the proceedings when she found a kitkat shoved down by the wrenches and became all unnecessary over it and even then she wasn't happy until one of the boys had given her a kiss goodbye.
Upset at her re location, she has spent the rest of the morning alone.....doing a perfect imitation of a Russian Babushka

Speaking of Russian Babushkas , I spied Gaynor the mad organist outside the church. She was in fine fettle and had been busy appropriating flowers from Animal helper Pat's garden for her flower arrangement class.
I presume Pat knew she's been running amok with her  secateurs

Smile

Thank you to my Sheffield friend Jane

This brightened my aforementioned shitty day

Out With Anger........In With Love

" arrrrrrrrrrhhhhhhhhhhhhh"

"Real life....shitty, normal, irritating 21st century fucking life.....it doesn't half get on your tits!"
Most of the morning I have been moping up a constant flood of water from our log burner back boiler.
Apparently there is no fullproof way of sorting the problem by a flick of a switch so the system will need draining and " plugging" .......ooohhhh errrrrr missus ! And that can only be done in the morning! Thank goodness for a geeky manager of a local heating company who sorted the problem out withing seconds over the phone, I could have kissed him.
In the meantime......" Man the pumps Ishmail! "
That's only taken me 5 hours......now I am waiting for BRITISH telicom to call me from India. Our Broadband is on the blink AND THERE IS AN HOUR's WAITING TIME TO BE HEARD! 
The Prof had a shouting match with someone on Saturday which ended in the phrase
" I understand that the wire set up is complicated ...I do have a PhD "
Hence today, I am doing the talking.
Earlier today, in between wringing out towels and hanging on the phone, I took the dogs out for a pee and noticed that British Telicom was working in a hole on the main road.
I asked them if there was a local broadband problem
" Dunno mate" was the reply
" Great! a  neanderthal  in a hard hat" I muttered
The neanderthal scratched his head.

I'm still waiting for a call back!

In the meantime , this afternoon, William, fed up with waiting for a walk, has backed his arse up to the new fridge and  has pebble- dashed the outside of it.

Train to Busan

Prof is still unwell

I watched this Cracking Korean zombie movie on youtube this evening

just before it was deleted

8/10

Great fun

Once A Geek..........

The Prof has a heavy cold man flu.
He is presently resting the Roger Moore eyebrows and is lying weakly in bed.
" what would you like for breakfast?" I called up from the kitchen this morning" Something light?"
He thought about this between wracking coughs
and eventually answered in a weak voice
" A three egg omlette with smoked salmon and a cup of tea"
I think he'll pull through.

Last night, as the Prof lay prostrate on the couch, I watched the Norwegian disaster movie Bolgen.
Bolgen literally means " The Wave" in Norwegian, so it will come as no surprise that the wave in question is in fact a tsunami, but a tsunami caused by an unstable mountain crashing into the head of a fjord.
Apparantly the Scandinavians are well prepared for such eventualities and like the Japanese have robust warning systems to alert the populations clustered in picturesque towns further down the valleys.
Bolgen does not swerve away from true disaster movie protocol. Kristian ( Kristopher Joner) is a scientist studying the stability of a local mountains. He realises ( like you do) that the mountain overlooking his hometown is about to collapse. When it does in spectacular style, he has only a ten minute window in which to warn the population of the town down the valley, the town in which his family is sheltering.
It's a popcorn movie, nothing more, but having the Norweigan twist makes for a bit more interesting a ride. Kristian's partner ( a feisty Ane Dahl Torp) has more spunk than the average disaster movie heroine and proves it by not being adverse to a bit of murder in order to protect her family ( oh err), there are several very dark set pieces like when Kristian comes across a drowned tourist bus and the special effects are rather impressive and more realistic  than we have gotten used to of late.
A good try  7/10.

Now I have only just realised just why, I am slightly obsessed with disaster movies and such tv shows such as The Walking Dead......it is a geeky childhood thing that has never been exorcised- an itch that has never fully been properly scratched
Last night, I caught a rerun of an American show from 1968. I watched it around 1970-1971 every Friday afternoon and although, even then, I could spot a shitty script from a hundred feet, I was totally excited by the general narative which had a group of strangers brought together by peril or disaster. That tv Show was The Land Of The Giants . 
Throughout the seventies disaster movies such as The Poseidon Adventure the format of " strangers working together as a team" and " who will die first" continued to box office delight and even now, The Walking Dead, ( which is literally the same plot but substitues the undead for tidal waves) has me on the edge of my seat....

Geeky kids grow up into geeky adults I guess.

Have to go. The Prof calls from the sick bed.

He's requested battered calamari rings with accompanying mayonnaise for lunch! 

Camp Time

After yesterday's emotional jacuzzi 

I think we are all in need of a bit of humour and campness

This hysterical routine from tv's Judge Rinder

Has to be seen to be believed.

It's camper than a million rainbow tents covered in glitter,

Enjoy....

Auntie Gladys Leaves The Village

It was " errand " day today.
George went down to the groomers early and needed picking up before lunch. His groomer, Louise has a kind heart and Made him comfortable with all his lumps and bumps. She has a soft spot for the old boy as George restored her faith in Scotties ( she had been nipped by a bad tempered terrier years ago)
I had to pick up the Prof's favourite jacket from the tailors,post some stuff at the Post Office and have already shot around the village trying to organise a " Flower Show Post Mortem meeting"-(the committee needs to allocate funds for this year's good causes ) unfortunately I've not marshalled a quorum as yet though I did see Mrs Trellis through her living room window gayly practicing her piano scales when I passed .
There is a new resident in Mrs Jones' old bungalow and I met him this morning as he puffed on his pipe during a break in gardening. He is a retired merchant seaman and couldn't look more like one if he tried, what with his pipe, bushy grey beard and weatherbeaten, crinkle eyed, slightly shopworn look., I have nicknamed him, unsurprisingly , Popeye.
Pat, the animal helper ( sporting a very natty Mary Berry hair do) promised to give me embroidery lessons during the winter and I couldn't find Graham the chap who has repaired our shed roof  in order to pay him for his work. Mrs Frazer seemed impressed with his work, when she passed and also made a point of praising our new windows with  a knowing " I see you have come into some money " kind of look.
I tell you all this as perhaps it underlines the pace and urgency you feel when things need to be done and deadlines albeit small deadlines need to be met, the quick pace takes over and feelings often are not acknowledged

You will understand the last sentence in a minute.
In the middle of these jobs I walked the dogs and had a rather " fraught" moment with Winnie who found and adopted a half deflated football. Separating a bulldog from a wonderful toy like this is a feat in itself. I was hot and bothered when I eventually got to Auntie Gladys'
It was a planned two minute 'pop in'
Knock on the door, say I was going away for a day or so and could she use up some cake and boiled ham I had knocking around. Of course I'd just bought the cake and ham, and the ruse was for her to feel as though she was doing me a favour.
He son in law opened the door.

It felt all a bit rushed.
He explained that they were taking Gladys out for lunch ( I felt a tad awkward holding cake and ham)   Then they were taking her to a nursing home for some respite care  as he and his wife were going on holiday for a week.
I knew this was on the cards, but hadn't realised it was quite so soon.
He thanked me for what I and others had done for Gladys and gave me a slip of paper. On it was details of the nursing home which included the telephone number and address.
"We are giving these out" he said carefully , and added slowly " she won't be coming back home"
I nodded
It all happened so quick.
I presumed Gladys and her daughter were elsewhere getting ready
and I felt I had intruded just a little on family plans, so saying I would visit her next week, I took the cake, the ham and the slip of paper and left the sunny kitchen, still spotlessly clean and neat as it always was........with the old table in the centre on polished red brick tiles and the aga standing proud in the inglenook.

I was late picking George up from the groomers and gave him the ham to eat on the back seat on the way home. The cake I gave to the girl behind the till.
" what's that for?" she asked cheerfully
" A thank you" I said without thinking

Only after I had stopped to take George for a walk did I realise the enormity of what had just happened. No more good natured Flower Show Meetings around that kitchen table. No more bags of scones tied carefully around the cottage door knob. No more ...no more...

I , like many from the village will drive over to Holywell to visit, Monday looks like a good day to go, I thought, as a balding George lumps and all, tottered his way happily through the railway path.
And I stopped for a few minutes and sat on a bench overlooking the coast and a bright blue sky

And had a good cry.

Billy No Mates

Even the living room is empty, the dogs are all asleep in the kitchen

The Prof has just facetimed me from the pub. He's there with his family, fitting them in between work in London.
I'm sat at home feeling like Billy-No-mates

But I have lots of mates..I've had mates for years.

Craggy faced, Tom Stephenson, Rachel-of-the-Fens, Pudding of Yorkshire, Farmer's wife Pat from North Yorkshire and Ann Marie with the New York accent.
Raymondo, Jimbo, Jon, Steve,Mitchell,  Andrew and Dave.....gays with something to say.... Dave, Nick, dave, Andrew, Chris, Cro, Gary and Kev , all straights with something to say too!
Those with nicknames...like Miss Norm, Parsnips , trailer Trash, and a hundred others
Sue H, John W, from around the corner, Simone, Twiggy, Elephants Child and CoffeeOTP a little further on..
And Yael, Carlinpa,Francis and a ton of others from exotic far flung places......
Lots to read, lots to read you...sorry I have not mentioned you all, new friends and old
Oh and not forgetting the bitch Ursula, who always enjoys a debate

Lots of friends
Hey ho

Blogs That Just Stop

On Monday's post, I found a short comment from " David"
It was as chilling as it was succinct .

David11:04 am

Jacqueline (aka cranky) suffered a severe stroke last week. Unconscious since then.

ReplyDelete

I called into Jacqueline's blog but allI could see is a post from last week. A typical blogger's post. Chatty, frothy, friendly.......then.....nothing.
I like many of us here, I send Jacqueline, her family ( ? david) and friends my best wishes but if that brief message is true, things do seem rather bleak.........a banal blog entry sitting on the internet like an unfinished chapter of a book.

It's a reminder to us all that life isn't a Hollywood movie.
The narrative is never linear.
A begining, a middle and an end....then.....fade to black.
It's not always the case.

Crush!

Winnie was beside herself when I got home from work this morning.
Graham the workman had already stripped the toilet roof by 8 am and all she had been able to do was to to blow the odd bulldog kiss at him through the cat flap for presumably a hour or so.
She was exhausted at the unrequited effort of it all.
" She wants to watch what I 'm doing " Graham noted when I walked down the path and I refrained from the comment of " she wants to shag you, that's what she really wants to do"
It was far too early for such things to be discussed.
Especially as we now have an open air outside toilet ...all in pink!
I don't understand when Winnie first started this unsavoury love affair with male visitors.
It never used to be such a problem when she arrived at Bwthyn y Llan, but very slowly, over they years she has morphed into one of those slightly slutty MILFs that frequent the more offputting depths of the internet.
I blame the Prof's " slippers of sex" for it all.

So dear readers have you ever had an unhealthy crush on anyone?
I'd be interested to know!

Ghost Stories

It's the wee small hours of the morning and I am on my break at work.
Wards, even the noisey ITU can be creepy places in the dark!
I am reminded of a story I was told on night shift back in the asylum days
I was working graveyard shift with a EN ( enrolled nurse) who enjoyed telling ghost stories to frighten the student nurses.
The ward was a 30 bedded mixed ward for mainly severely affected dementia patients and at that enlightened time in the 1980s the clientele were termed officially as psycho- geriatrics
After a lull in the conversation my supervisor asked me if I had heard the story of one of the staff nurses who had  suffered a severe heart attack on duty only weeks before
I told her I had not, so smiling she sat me down and shared the tale.
The nurse in question was working with a student nurse like myself, only the student was a shy girl of perhaps nineteen and the workload was as busy as it was for us, as every patient was totally confused and disorientated of time , place and person.
As the patients slept both nurses made a round around the dormitory and as suddenly as heart attacks strike, the staff nurse collapsed to the floor without warning.
The student nurse panicked, and not knowing that she needed to call for help by telephone she crouched by her colleague tried to rouse her then started to cry.
Suddenly one of the patients, an elderly man in his seventies clambered out of bed.
The patient, who was mute, incontinent of urine and faeces and considered a " husk " of his former self hurried over and said in a clear voice " we had better get her on the bed"
The two of them, then lifted the collapsed nurse onto the spare bed after which the patient told the student nurse to call for help.
The student grateful for clear instructions did just that and help arrived within minutes as the nursing officer on duty rallied the troops, and surprisingly the collapsed nurse survived her heart attack though never again returned to work.
The patient involved never spoke again. His cognitive abilities were assessed and remained unchanged from those performed before this incident, and it was never explained just how he behaved the way he did when the student cried out for help.

Bridget Jones

The luminous and talented Zellweger

Much has been made of Renee Zellweger's " new look" over the past year or so.
I couldn't care less about it all, I really couldn't as in Bridget Jones' Baby with her rosy faced scrubbed clear of make up she looks fabulous, mature and sweet as a nut.
Shame the same cannot be said for the film.

It's a right old dog's dinner.
Now in her mid forties, Bridget remains a London singleton. She has split up,from long term partner Darcy ( Colin Firth- who now looks incredibly old and rather odd after a whole new set of teeth), Is slightly isolated from her three ""best mates" who now all have partners and children and finds herself battling hipster new blood at work, all things that the average middle aged Bridget Jones fan could identify with and would enjoy on film. But the writers have thrown into the mix a who-is-the -daddy mystery farce between Bridget, Darcy and an " attractive" American ( Patrick Dempsey) as well as shoe-horning in minor subplots featuring Bridget's harridan of a mother, exasperated father and an ill advised and un funny cameo from Emma Thompson playing a bad tempered  obstetrician

Apart from two slightly amusing set pieces there is only one laugh out loud moment when the three leads get stuck in a revolving door of a hospital accident and emergency department ( a wonderfully funny bit of slapstick)  But the rest of the film is a let down which is a shame as Zellweger is an actress of some charm and talent.
6/10

------------------------------------------------------------------------

I've got a run of night shifts now, so shall be a bit thin on the ground. We've got a workman coming round too, to re roof our outside toilet! Happy days for Winnie.......difficult sleep days for me no doubt.....hey ho especially as the new mattress is somwhat " springy" the Prof and I seem to rolling about on top of it like two fat toddlers in a ball pool! 

Mike

The Hall this morning

The centre of Trelawnyd is dominated by the Memorial Hall, which is a community centre rather than a church or indeed large chapel which it is often mistaken for.
It was built around 110 years ago and was the brain child of one of the most unlikely patrons a Welsh village could ever ask for.
Michael Antonio Ralli ( or Mike as he was referred to) was a Greek living in Odessa in the 1800s . He made a fortune importing cotton from Russia when the USA could not during their Civil war and after a spell working as the Greek consul to Liverpool, he and his wife Polymnia came to live in was to become Mia Hall, a grand red brick house situated west of the village.

Ralli was a bit of a dish

Ralli built the Memorial hall not only as a gift for the village, but as a way of giving the local unemployed a job. It's referred to as the Memorial Hall as it was build in memory of his wife who died in 1896
He, like a former founder of Trelawnyd , John Wynne in the 1600s , wanted to see the village flourish as a market town.

The Hall around 1910 with it's cupola