Tiles

Give me a dying patient on a ventilator to look after!
It would be less stressful that discussing the right ceramic tile design for the kitchen with the Prof that's for sure!
In the end, after a somewhat lively time comparing one colour with another  , the Prof wandered off to the showroom exit with a wave of his hand and the words " YOU  pick!!!!!" 
it's been all too queeny! Very much like the judging from Strictly Come Dancing! 

I will leave you with a somewhat happier image
A rescued donkey " smiles" at his rescuers after being saved from a flooded river!
Have a peaceful weekend  readers

First Adventure

This beautiful photo was taken by my great niece Ellisha on a recent jaunt to Morocco. There is something rather ethereal about it I think.
Ellisha is an art student in London, and being slightly dippy certainly ticks the stereotype box of someone more grounded in colour and form and beauty rather than in the practicality of life.
Her and a friend hiked up the rural mountains of North Africa for instance without any cash for food or even sensible shoes.
The risk taking of youth eh?
The young people of today have a much global world in which to explore nowadays.
You even can track your kids on an mobile app , even if they are journeying the Amazon.
How fantastic is that

What was your first big adventure?

Mine was a first trip to London when I was 18. I went alone and somehow found a bed and breakfast before I went ( how did I do that without the internet?) I went to see Evita, ( which I hated) I walked everywhere because I was too scared to try the underground and my elder sister actually phoned the bed and breakfast's manager to see if I was ok on my first night in the big smoke!
Hardly a breathtaking new adventure, hardly rock' roll, but for a gauche Welsh teenager in 1980.
It was a big deal....

Like I said...what was your first big adventure?

Self Preservation

A dog fox trotted through the Ukrainian Village this afternoon. I saw him as I was gardening in the front garden. He circled Irene who was eating cheap white bread which was a gift from the neighbours. She stamped her feet angrily at him as he went by. 

In a shot the Bachelors appeared at the field gate, and within seconds they tottered noisily across the lane to the safety of the garden next door where they sat chattering on the low stone wall. 

It never fails to impress me just how clever peanut brained animals can be when self preservation is involved.

They stayed in the garden watching me prune the buddleia for an age, and two hours after they first arrived, I walked them back to the field, when the fox was long gone.

Boisterous Lesbians

The Prof didn't fly back until late last night, so I went to Theatre Clwyd to see Daisy Asquith's documentary Queerama. 

Queerama is a collage of fictional images, film clips, vintage television interviews and documentary snippets set to music. It sets out to portray the reality of gay life in Britain from the turn of the century but in my mind it failed, as the film seemed rather biased towards the negatives of the gay experience rather than the many, many positives. 

The film also seemed more concerned with the lesbian perspective, a fact that was perhaps reflected in the audience which comprised of three small groups of  women.

I was the only man in the cinema, sat in my usual seat D13!

One couple and a group of three were particularly animated and chatted throughout the first part of the film regardless of anyone. 

I got several hostile stares when I shushed them but the chatting did stop.

Some of scenes of the movie, especially the 1960s documentary scenes where a pompous lady consultant psychiatrist declared to camera that homosexuality was due to " damage in childhood" were particularly ironic.but without the balance of the positives of gay culture both from times gone by and from the past decade the whole movie fell a little flat to me.

I walked out before the film finished, and the lesbians who I had shushed muttered at me when I passed them. 

I'm sure they called me a homophobe!

If You Can't Beat Em.............

Foolishly I was drawn into a political conversation at 3.30am this morning.
I should have known better,as I hadn't even downed my first coffee of the day but my colleague, who is politically very active, pushed a button on a subject I feel passionately about.
My temper started to flare when I was told in no uncertain terms ( and rather patronisingly I thought) that I was wrong and that my colleague was right because he had read extensively on the matter.
Luckily for all I changed the subject before things got out of hand

My second upset of the day came when Albert followed our walk up the lane which necessitated me slowing down a speeding car in order for him to exit into the sheep field.
The driver wasn't best pleased with me and impatiently revved his engine as I stood there. Luckily Winnie was standing directly in front of the car like Buddha so he couldn't have pulled past me even if he had wanted to, so in the time it took Albert to reach the field pull in , I had already been called an " f€#king animal freak" by the driver , something I replied to with my best gay wave.

What's wrong with people ? I thought.
A statement I repeated to myself just a hour or so later when I bumped into a nurse friend of mine in the book row of Tescos. We chatted for an age before an untidy Irish woman yelled at both of us for being in her way" Get out of my way! " she snapped angrily  " look at you chatting up that girl and laughing! It's a bloody supermarket not a social club, you shop here not talk!" 
Obviously this had been brewing for a while, and me calling her " a crabby old cow" didn't really help matters greatly, although her surprise at the statement was some vindication for the spat.

As luck would have it I spied the same woman as I stood at the check out of Boots-The Chemist a half hour later. " I can't believe that you called me an old cow, you awful man!!!!" she started up again
I almost went for my usual " Cheap Shoes" put down , but the woman was wearing old lady booties so instead I replied with and equally loud "In fact  I called you a CRABBY old cow if you are going to quote me get it right" much to the surprise of the other women in the queue.

" I'm surrounded by idiots" I said to no one in particular when I handed over my dehumidifier tablets to be scanned

"Welcome to the world of retail" said the cashier wearily

Simple Gifts from An Appalachian Spring

Strange! 

Yesterday I was in Ikea, 

Today The Prof is in Sweden 

Go figure.

I listened to this piece of music today and I was surprised to hear it's title as I always though it was the childhood hymn Lord Of The Dance. The hymn was actually written in 1963 by Sydney Carter and the Aaron Copland piece is a version of an American Quaker Hymn not related to dancing.

Lord Of The Dance will be played at my funeral.
I used to sing it as a small child whilst skipping around untidily in a circle in front of my family.
Now they'd call it child abuse

Why?

Ok. I'm doing what millions of people seem to do on social media. I will show you a photo of my complementary cake and coffee at Ikea. My kitchen designer man is running late  ( hence the bribe) and I am already stressed at walking two miles around the store to find the right department.
The couple at the next table are having a fantastic row , he is saying to her " if you bring me here again I shall divorce You!" I SHOT HIM A supportive smile.
Hey ho

Pie Making and Paul Temple

What it should look like

It's the little things that perk you up me thinks.
Today was a case in point.
I've not felt like blogging for a few days ( hence the lazy posts) there has been nothing major to report, just little to write about.
Life gets like that sometimes.
This morning I am just about to make an Italian potato crust pie for lunch whilst listening to reruns of Paul Temple and the Gregory Affair on iplayer.  The Prof has been writing in his study since before dawn.
I have learnt an age ago that Academics often work better creatively in the early mornings.
I cannot speak before 6 am.
At 11 am as I was walking the dogs I spied a young boy of about ten on the village green. He was collecting dead wood from the shrubbery and was placing it into a waste bin. I realised that he thought that the volunteers that I had called for weeding duties was this week instead of next which was a shame
I had not seen him before but I thanked him for coming and promised him extra cake if he turned up next Sunday.
In this busy world , where no one has the time for volunteering , it was nice to see one little boy making an effort.

My " more rustic" pie

Paso

She's nearly 60!

It was all strangely hypnotic 

A Blind Old Dog

My old boy having a hug

He's the sweetest old dog I have ever had

He breaks my heart

No News

Mary accompanied me on the bus today.
We went to collect the car.
Mary loves the bus and No longer gets bus sick.
You may recall that the first time she went, she barfed into the leg pocket of my combat trousers

Animal helper Pat caught the bus too. She is suffering from macular degeneration so cannot now recognise people until they speak, but she remains cheerful and positive and uncomplaining .
She's a brave adorable lady.

Later in the day I bumped into policewoman Jo, who was out with her two greyhounds. They had matching blue leather coats on with fur lined trim. I told her that they looked like Joan and Jackie Collins.

The Prof's had a hard and busy day and is dozing in the arm chair.
I prepared Thai dumplings for supper

Speaking of dumplings

Why I Love Dogs

This photo pleased me today.
The sight of four farm dogs leading their stranded livestock to high ground after the hurricane floods in Florida brought a smile to my face! Enjoy

Autumn

According to my fitbit, I took over 20,000 steps yesterday.
Today I will be stir crazy as I am waiting for our new dining table to be delivered. As I wait I shall be shampooing the living room carpet.
It's a case of the real world muffling excitement today me thinks.
To cap it all , it's raining buckets.

Today the world seems very claustrophobic and small.
In a few weeks, it will feel a whole lot bigger.
New York in early November
I hope the trees in Central Park will be still in leaf

Window Art- Workman/Winnie Update

I'm waiting for a chap to arrive who will measure up the new kitchen window.

It's on the lane side of the cottage and used to be the top bit of the original kitchen door.

The workman has been here before. He is the cheerful one who is frightened of dogs.

Originally I wanted to incorporate this simple bit of glass art into the window itself.

We bought it from a small art shop in Broadstairs and I thought it rather sweet.

It looks lovely with the sun shining through it

Postscript: The window guy turned up after lunch. I met him at the kitchen door with Mary in my arms.
He looked round me at William and George who were wagging their tails at him
" Have you still got the big one?" he asked nervously
" She's upstairs in bed!" I told him " come in" 
The window guy got out his tape measure and moments later was kneeling on the kitchen work top sizing up window with a practised eye.
"You want the window to open inwards don't you? " he asked rather loudly and from upstairs there was a massive thud of bulldog feet on floorboards.
Winnie had heard him.
The workman looked at me suddenly
" Brace Yourself" I told him.
I noticed that he was very slow to get down from the worktop and moments later Winnie thundered into the kitchen puffing like a steam train .
On seeing the workman she launched herself against the worktop with her paws on the drawers and demanded a kiss.
" she's a big bastard!" He laughed patting Winnie on the head.
But he didn't get off the worktop until I pulled her away to the other side of the kitchen!

Omg

Wetting panties

Slimy , 6 am Nipples

The 6 am dog walk is no fun.
It's purely a necessity.
Old dogs have small bladders and they need their wees even when it is still dark outside.
Having said this, so do I nowadays.

After abulutions, and as the Prof is tucking into his eggy breakfast we all troop silently through the cottage back to bed.
George now finds the stairs a bit of a chore, so has his own fur lined cushion in the kitchen, but the others with Albert in tow arrange themselves around me on the duvet for a lie in.

There is always a brief " bunfight" where the animals vie for the best position next to me and Winnie invariably chances her hand and carefully lowers her undercarriage onto my fingers in the vain hope for a brief belly rub.
I don't indulge her. The sensation of a slimy mass of bald nipples literally turns my stomach!
A fact that wouldn't surprise any of you I suppose.

Winnie's nipples can often be a talking point when we are out and about, as they almost drag on a floor as she walks. Her belly resembles a plastic carrier bag that's filled with porridge so it is clear to all that she has given birth to at least two litters of puppies.
Bulldog puppies are often removed from their mothers at birth to be hand reared.
Bulldog mothers can be clumsy it is thought, and at up to two thousand pounds a puppy, breeders often don't take the chance of an accidental smothering.
This is such a shame as I think Winnie would have made a super mother.
Her nipples are her battle scars.
Scars of a mother who never knew the joy of her own puppies.

One Hour Of Your Time

This blog entry is mainly targeted at village readers, but I guess it could have a resonance to everyone as it is about collective responsibility and a sense of community.
For many years many of the green areas of Trelawnyd have been tended to by the village conservation group and by individuals off their own bat.
The village green in front of the pensioner bungalows has been a picture , what with it's flowering shrubs and lavender borders and the flower bed next to the Church has looked rather pretty for many years, but the volunteer problems  we have seen so much in Samaritans and other such charities recently has also visited the village volunteer groups too and so some of the green areas of Trelawnyd are now looking a little tired.
I am mindful of not stepping on any toes here, as I know that there is a villager who is thinking of re-booting the Conservation group again, but I have had an idea that it would be useful to call a few volunteers together say one Sunday morning to prune and to weed and to tidy up the beds and shrubs just for one hour only! 
I'll bring cream cakes! 
Drop me a message if you are interested! 

What Do You Smell Of?

My grandmother smelled of cold cream and carbolic soap

Mary smells of clean, clean dog! 

The Prof always smells fresh with the hint of an expensive Cologne

Auntie Glad smelled of baking

I smell of ( on my best behaviour )

Clinique " Happy" 

What do you smell of?  

Big Daddy hated the smell of mendacity as I recall
( and please dont say you smell of fear, sex or sweat!)

Cysgu

According to my fitbit, I had 5 hours 15 minutes of restless sleep

( Incidently the Welsh word for sleep is cysgu -pronounced cus- gee)

I wonder why?