Hola

I wanted to write a few words, just a few today..
I'm sad that we are returning home tomorrow.
Yesterday, in between reading just four pages of my novel.....
I spent an entertaining three quarters of an hour watching a rather large lady in a chintz bathing costume eat an entire kilo of grapes.
She spat the pips out like a real pro

Fuck 'em

Fuck brexit, and terrorism.
Sod  natural and man made disasters -well just for a while.....
Bollocks to May's stupidity and Corbin's lack of statesmanship
And Arseholes to bad weather, internet trolls and Trump's dickhead Presidency

I had whisky cake last night at my sister's birthday supper.
We laughed and gossiped and drank beer.
We remembered old times and talked about new ones
And we forgot the ills of the world 

Beach

The over painted cherubs outside our balcony

Beach life , just like real life has its etiquettes and rituals , trials and tribulations.
I am a watcher of people on the beach.
They are far more interesting than a cheap novel.
The Prof and I are ensconced under our usual canopy. To our right are another gay couple. One older and suffering ill health, the other younger and fitter. I noticed that the younger man removed the trainers and socks of the elder when they arrived today.
In front of us is a man with his mother.
They rarely speak. She reads. He eyes up the passing talent.
Yesterday five statuesque german girls with exactly the same figures but different faces sat nearby preening themselves all day. I was exhausted watching them. They have not turned up today, as yet.
To our right is an arty looking French family of five sat quietly brooding under their canopy.
Not one has smiled all day.
They had melon for lunch.
The beach hawkers filled the gaps by flashing their beach throws at anyone that vaguely looked interested, like Peacocks fluttering their tails at sitting peahens.They are mostly poor North Africans who look over dressed in the sun.
The hours pass, and we all, I am sure,  feel more and more relaxed as the magnificent Sitges Church chimes away the hours throughout the day.

Postcard

Sitges has lost none of it's charm.
The little town by the sea is still dominated by the Church which overlooks the beach like a protective mother duck over her ducklings
I'm feeling rested this morning if not a little constipated so am off for a power walk and a sit on the loo with a book
The Prof has a video conference to sort but the wifi is variable
The holiday progresses!

Sitges, Spain

3am

The Brothers

The three bachelors, through plain cheek and chutzpah have won over the neighbours and have proved to be more popular than any of the birds that have frequented the Ukrainian Village over the years. The reason for this is their blind bravery, for the three brothers spend much of their day on the periphery of the lane at the mercy of passing traffic, dogs on leads and young boys looking for mischief.
They now  have a habit of crowing in unison as soon as a new face, car or animal appears, and puff out their chests like short men at a gym when someone ventures a friendly hello.

Ive caught most of the neighbours feeding them tidbits in the driveways of their houses!
They now move together...... almost as if they were one animal

More Veg

Rachel's slightly controversial novelty veg photo entry

Please keep em coming

jgsheffield@hotmail.com 

Shit In A Pot

One of many broods of indian runners in the kitchen 

Yesterday evening I received a phonecall from a woman who needed some advice about ducklings. Her son had brought home four and she was in a pickle of what to feed them and how to keep them warm.
I gave her the info she needed ( scrambled egg is a great stopgap for hungry ducklings) and wished her well.
Ducklings are notoriously dirty little creatures , I warned her, especially if they are kept in the house. They have a somewhat annoying skill of flinging shit with their feet and it is easy to catch salmonella from them, if you don't wash your hands properly.
Nine years ago , after a particularly nasty bout of diarrhoea, I had to take a stool specimen into the labs at work to see if I had caught a nasty bug from my own ducklings who were being nursed in the dog crate in the kitchen. The sample was " placed" in a small plastic specimen jar and was neatly labelled with my name, nhs number and the words faecal specimen on the side. I placed it on the dashboard of the old berlingo and went out to complete a few jobs.before setting off for the hospital.

Now, I had forgotten about the container until I had stopped to let Olwenna Banks Hughes and Gwyneth Jones into the car. The two old ladies had walked along London Road a way and as Olwenna's fat ankles looked even more swollen than usual I offered them a lift home.
As we turned up High Street, the stool sample rolled noisily along the dashboard from its resting place,  first one way then the other and both old ladies stopped their chatter to silently watch it on its journey underneath the windscreen.

I said nothing and neither did they.
The " shit in a pot" incident was never referred to again

Ball Trouble

The woman involved is usually rather aloof.
She's tiny and skinny and never says hello but always pats Winnie when they pass each other on the walkway.
I noticed that she always wears large sunglasses even in bad weather.
I'd say she was approaching 70.
As usual she had a chirpy, long legged mongrel with her and today she was swinging a ball which was attached to a wide plastic handle.
I was daydreaming so only realised that there would be a problem seconds too late, as moments after our paths crossed I turned to warn her not to get too close to Winnie with the ball.
For Winnie adores balls.
As I turned I saw the woman merrily swinging the toy for her own dog to play with and like lightening Winnie jumped up and grabbed the ball in her fat and very powerful mouth.
The woman pulled back on the handle.
Winnie pulled harder.
And without , even a pause the woman flew through the air like a rag doll and landed with a splat on the path.
I almost laughed at the very cartoon nature of it all, thank god I didn't.

I don't think she'll sue, and she did wave me away after I offered to pay for any damage to the sunglasses ( once we eventually found them) but at least she let me dust  her off briefly and check her for hip fractures.

Film

I was thinking about my love of cinema this morning and where it all came from.

Visiting the cinema in the 1970s could have been viewed by some as a rather dismal activity. The decade was not known as an uplifting period in movie history as some of the bleakest films found their way to the screen (Straw Dogs, Clockwork Orange,Dog Day Afternoon, Taxi Driver and One Flew Over The Cuckoo's nest) yet as a baby faced adolescent I was spared the trauma of trying to get into see an "X" certificate movie.....favouring the more teen friendly "A" and "AA" movies..............so of course we had the plethora of disaster films of the mid 70's to enjoy, as well as the likes of Jaws, BugsyMalone,The Omen,The Spy That Loved Me, Close Encounters and Alien)

The cinemas were large cold, uncomfortable orange and beige places that smelled of cigarettes and damp, but I loved making the effort to go to Rhyl on the bus to sit though a matinee by myself, the trouble to go the four miles, really made the ritual worthwhile.

There were always two features on offer,and always an ice cream lady with proper ice cream and wafers all set out in a box strung around her neck. (I never had the money to get an ice cream!)

Matinees were almost deserted every time I went, so even to this day, there is something quite reassuring and familiar when I am surrounded by empty seats and all alone in the dark, the lighter side of seventies movie life (remember the 1970's was a bleak economic, news worthy and political time), could wash over me.

This love of film fantasy has continued to be an important part of my life today. Love of the technicolour epic continues ( and always will do), but thankfully my cinematic interests and experiences are now wide and varied! 

The ritual of choosing the film, the paying for the ticket and the sitting down in a chosen ( and quiet) seat remains a joy and this evening if I go and see the biopic Churchill, my experience will be as fresh and as enjoyable as my 1974 trip to see The Poseidon Adventure!

Tell me what I am feeling

Lard arse

Stan stopped me today with a cheery " I was telling my Kit only yesterday that you've lost some weight ....you look better for it too....you were starting to waddle!" 
I smiled weakly
He was right....I had started to waddle.
I am beginning to feel the benefit of no scotch eggs, those daily long walks with Mary and the weekly drive to Holywell for weigh in at fat club.
So far I have lost 32 lbs!
" Thats the equivalent of sixteen bags of sugar! "  so screamed  leader Joanne at Fatclub amid ooohhhs and arrrhhhh  from the seated masses...but I find it more astonishing that it is the exact weight of William! A dog that I would have difficulty carrying for more than 50 yards!
No wonder I had found it hard reaching the bathtaps whilst having a bath!

Now I can reach those taps without rocking back and forth like a waterlogged Buddha
I can now march those two miles with Mary without gasping and farting
And I can get into my underpants without the usual hopping around and overbalancing.
My treble chin has now become a double chin.
And my non elasticated pants have now been dusted down to be worn.
I have 28 lbs to go!
How could I have got so big!? I ask myself now
The answer is an easy one....
I ate too much shit!

Pass A Tissue

Anne Dorval as the heart recipient 

I went to see the French " Transplant" movie Heal the Living tonight at Theatre Clwyd.

It chronicled the story of the transplant of a heart from donor to recipient ...now

I have been involved several times in the harvesting of organs .. so the movie intrigued me 

One scene, where a heart failure patient sleeps alongside her distraught lesbian lover ( who just happens to be a concert pianist ) I found especially moving and I had to smile that as I blubbed quietly in seat D13 a woman who often sits in C12 ( that I nod to but have never talked to) silently passed me a tissue over her shoulder! 

Jamming My Head Through The Conservatory Window

• The hot and humid weather is proving somewhat troublesome for some. After Church on Sunday Trendy Carol ( dressed in a flattering floaty trouser ensemble) stopped by to ask if I could check on neighbour T, who had suffered a "bit of a do" on one of the back pews and who had taken his way back home. I immediately popped down and worryingly got no answer when I knocked on the door. Seeing the conservatory window ajar, I managed to climb up onto a wall and jammed my head through the gap and proceeded to call my neighbour's name and shouted to see if he was ok. Getting no answer and all very hot and very sweaty I circled the bungalow trying to force open windows and doors. It was a good job that my burglary skills are pretty shit as I found out soon later that neighbour T had been enjoying a large roast lunch at The Crown!
• The Flower Show meeting went smoothly on Monday. Matriarch Irene has agreed to take over Auntie Glad's stall and after last year's initiative of sandwich making went somewhat flat the committee will stick to selling homemade cakes as refreshments. 
• Can all cup winners return their engraved cups asap thank you!
• Apologies to the blog fan who knocked on the window yesterday with her somewhat colourful daughter and her boyfriend in tow! I should have offered you all a cup of tea, but I was frying meatballs at the time....it was nice to meet you.- apologies again for Winnie's lascivious behaviours and  forgive me but I never asked your name...please comment if you read this so I know who you are! 
• Thanks for the latest novelty veg photo! Zombie potato!  ( jgsheffield@hotmail.com)

It's so humid today..I am presently lying on the chaise longue wafting myself with a limp bit of lettuce 

A Simple Lesson In Mental Illness

Yesterday I was almost drawn into a debate about the punishment of terrorists and counter terrorists here in the British Isles.
I pulled back from the argument, worried at the way the conversation was heading.
Words like monsters and evil and capital punishment were being thrown about into the mix with descriptions like mad and bad and at times like these, where emotions are understandably high, we need to take a deep breath in order to separate the wheat from the chaff.
Secreted within the fundamentalists, the misguided and the angry will be the mentally ill. Terrorist plots, the fear of attack and the conspiracy theories that will no doubt accompany them are like nectar to bees when it comes to people suffering from psychotic delusions. The madness of the acts attracts true madness like a magnet.
Someone who is acutely mentally ill and who is  sectionable under the mental health act ( for being a danger to themselves or to others) is not in control of their faculties, plain and simple
They are unable to make informed decisions and therefore cannot be held responsible for their actions.
These people need medical and nursing care, and not punishment . In severe cases secure care may well be for life.
Now it can be argued that all terrorists that maim and kill and destroy seemingly without a second glance must be mad in someway and I have no easy answer to this, suffice to say there has always been a fine line between evil and psychopathic behaviour and psychosis. One can be termed bad, and can be punished the other may be called mad and needs treatment. The definitions are always blurred by emotion.
I don't know if any of the recent terror attacks were actually committed by someone Suffering from mental illness.
But what I do know, and what I am passionate about, is the fact that if any of them are psychotic and sectionable under the Mental Heath Act, then people should realise that they are not in control of their actions.

A Frozen Lobster on Your nipples.

The Prof broke a tooth on a maverick hors d'oeuvre and has retired to bed after emergency dental work. I took the dogs out in the relative cool of the evening. It's been so hot today Winnie has laid down in the shade of the garden buddleia with a tea towel covered Aldi frozen half lobster placed under her nipples.

Bulldogs don't do heat! 

We bumped into affable despot Claire in the street. She had just seen very small girl running through the village clutching a teddy bear, and had gone out, in her comfy pants to investigate . The girl  was no where to be seen, which prompted a " ghost girl " sort of conversation 

We've all agreed that we had experienced far too sun today. 

Love a duck

It's hot again today, almost too hot to sleep after night shift.

There is a Flower Show meeting at 2pm

I will leave you with two more entries to the novelty veg/fruit competition 

Green Peacock and Out for a duck

Send entries to jgsheffield@hotmail.com

Gravestone

Apart from Auntie Glad's house and a few cottages on Bonc Terrace, our cottage is one of the oldest around .  It was originally built in 1674 then rebuilt, presumably after it was delerict in 1864
I tell you this by way of local colour.
On my travels throug the old graveyard, I have got know several of the old gravestones andone in particular has always caught my eye.  This morning I took several sheets of kitchen roll and a watering can of water and cleaned it off. I couldn't readit all but this is what I found

Here Lies John Norman of Axton ( a hamlet East of Trelawnyd)

The mines in this country were much wrought in his time.

He was an adventurer therein also

For sometime a superintendent for the government for smelting 

Down lead in Trelogan Hall and for coalmining in Bagillt 

Also in memory of George, his son,  of the East India Company

Who drowned off the coast of Sumatra in 1746

How wonderful to be described as an " adventurer"! 

I wonder what my gravestone will say?

There Is Nothing Like An Old Dame

finally my favourite actress of all time has been awarded an award by the Queen at the ripe old age of 101
Better Late Than Never