Dirty Bastard

When I was in primary school there were a group of kids who lived in the grottiest house on the council estate.
By anyone's standards they were " loppy"
And were referred to somewhat cruelly as The Stinkbombs
Nowadays the kids would be seen for what they were....deprived and abused children .

I got to thinking about the stinkbombs after emptying the dyson today.
Every day I Hoover the cottage and every day this is what is retrieved from the carpets
Smelly filthy crap!

Every day! 
In a week I could probably fill a large scatter cushion with the detritus collected from animals, humans and a sooty wood burner.
In a month I could fill an average mattress

I can't believe I've just posted a blog about the contents of my vacuum !

A Big Hunk Of Spunk

I went to see Mission Impossible Fallout this evening,
It's really no different from any of the previous five or is it 6 in the series, except the chases are longer, the fights bigger, and the IMF team is now pared down to Tom Cruise, Ving Rimes and a gaunt Simon Pegg.
Don't bother understanding the story, its a usual romp against a nutter wanting to take over the world a fact complicated by infighting by CIA, FBI  and MI6, a blond femme fatale with a flick knife and the obligatory black American intelligence woman looking tough in a power suit (Angela Bassett)
Its shite, but it is terribly polished and entertaining shite which is marvellous fun.
Rebecca Ferguson turns up again as a British agent who can break a neck with her thighs ( a nice move as she is an accomplished actress who brigs a heart and believe it or not some warmth to the movie.)
There's the usual gadgets, prosthetic masks and bells and whistles to please everyone
But for me it was the six footer muscle mary Henry Cavill who steals the film with his turn as a double agent baddie assassin
he's one massive hunk of spunk!

Glorious Rain

It remains warm but is gloriously wet  this morning
And in shorts and t shirt I took the dogs out in pairs so I could get drenched in the rain
The parched grass, gardens and trees looked as though they were taking a collective gulp as it came down  under a grey sky

Disappointment

I'm doing ok
Not great Not brilliant but ok.
Over the last couple of months I have found out I have a lot of good friends and a good family
I have been of the receiving end of thoughtful thoughts and touching gifts
I have received cards and postcards, strange gifts of food and jam and even an anonymous bunch of flowers.
and people who I would have never have expected have stopped to say something when driving by would have been easier...... it is that small effort of saying "are you ok?" that has helped.... it really has
I have also been dreadfully disappointed by a handful of people I care for   and that I expected better from.
I guess that's common when people think that they have to take sides or they know not what to say.😟

A dear friend of mine said something similar to me recently. He  felt let down by a close friend of his who seemed crass and insensitive when dealing with my friend's serious illness.
My friend recognised the fact that serious illness can paralyse some people into inactivity, but the hurt was real and understandable.
unfortunately , for many reasons some friends cannot say what needs to be heard he said......and I agree with him many can't  BUT THEY BLOODY SHOULD

I have some advice for those that feel, for whatever reason, that they cannot say something supportive to people like me or like my friend.....people going through a shitty time
make the effort and say something, email something, message something
You don't have to take sides , you don't have to provide a counselling service , you don't have to lend a supporting ear daily until your ears bleed.....no
you just have be nice and ask
"are you ok?"

Set Up

Albert is being bullied by a new cat on the block
It's a tortoiseshell mix with a whole lotta attitude.
I know it's got attitude because it squared up to Mary when we were out walking around the Churchyard ( yes I walk the dogs there daily as a protest to the uniform ban ) and a cat that will hold its ground against a dog of any size has balls.
Although Albert is a hunter, he is no fighter. His deformed back leg makes him slower and slightly ungainly at times and so when faced with a more determined assailant he usually decides that retreat is the order of the day and makes a bolt for the cat flap home.
This morning the fight with the tortoiseshell  took a tern in Albert's favour.
After the dogs morning wee stop, Winnie, William and Mary went back up to bed as per usual. George disappeared into his bed underneath the kitchen table and leaving the back door open , I went to read the news on the toilet.
I'd only got to a juicy tidbit about Anthony Hopkins stating he should have been a Welsh drunk, when I heard Albert frantically bouncing up the stairs followed by a deafening howl from George which was followed by some very angry barking, a few bangs in the kitchen and the scrabbling of clawed feet on the coalbunker's wooden cover.
With my pants round my ankles I looked out of the window just in time to see the tortoishell streaking over next door's lawn as the rest of the dogs thundered down the stairs to join in with the chaos.
The tortoishell had seen his opportunity in finally cornering Albert and had chased him through the open door into the kitchen.
He hadn't banked on George lying quietly in his bed.
Now George is a typical Scottish Terrier. He has a big mouth and a stout heart and a strange cat, no matter how tough and streetwise is no match for him. And so , like old lions have to do sometime,  George at twelve roared and roared his head off.
The tortoiseshell shat itself and after bouncing around the kitchen for a bit, legged it through the kitchen door and up over the coal bunker with George in close pursuit .

Albert rubbed my scabby knees with his head as the barking increased to fever pitch downstairs
Like nothing had happened

The Acorn Didnt Fall Far From The Tree*

I helped out at my sister's flower Show today. It was nice to see several of Trelawnyd Flower Show's regulars win prizes in the art, cookery and vegetable classes....another case of the ebb and flow of such events.
I was tired when I got home and had to clean the cottage for it's first viewing.
I need not have bothered as the woman who had booked the appointment never actually got out of her car.
"I don't want to live on a main road" she said through her drivers window
"It's actually a quiet lane" I corrected her as Winnie blew bulldog kisses from the front garden gate
but she didn't slow her car down before she drove off.
I can't say I was bothered
It stopped me writing another, more waspish post
* my original blog title

Late Night Sandwich

I worked at Samaritans on the late night 22.00 shift last night.
I wont have access to a car for the next three days so popped in to Sainsbury's before hand for weekend provisions,
I was hungry so as well as a watermelon, bread, milk, eggs,  chicken pieces,noodles and stir fry veg I bought some almost out of date ham and pitta bread, and made an impromptu sandwich as I drove.

In Rhyl ( a place that unfortunately resembles a war zone at the best of times) I spied a homeless guy in a shop doorway. It was late and he was settling down on a pile of something alongside a cheerful looking black Labrador type dog and as I was enjoying my sandwich of ham and pitta  so much I stopped on impulse and offered the rest to him with a slightly awkward " Can you two use these, Ive just made a sandwich"
The man smiled showing teeth like a row of bombed houses and took the bits gratefully
" The dog's been well fed today....but we thank you for your kindness" the man said
I was totally surprised....
His accent and speech was pure boarding school England's home counties
and he held out a dirty hand in thanks.
I shook it firmly.
and felt as humble as anyone could have possibly felt in a moment in a car in a back street of grotty Rhyl

Grass Cutters

There is little nutrient in the grazing in most of the fields around us now and horse owners are resulting to bring in summer hay supplements which is usually unheard of this time of year.
As a favour to a old school chum I have agreed for her ponies to come onto the field for a short time.
It is a win win win situation for all of us
The Ponies have excellent virgin grazing
The field gets cleared of nettles and weeds
and Irene has two grazing friends once more

It's Pronounced....

found these old videos on a youtube

 account yesterday, thought they may be worth repeating

some of the villagers pronouncing "Trelawnyd"

The Place Is Tidy

http://peterlarge.com/sales/cwm-road-trelawnyd/

The Down Side of Dog Ownership

Bulldog Breath that could cut steel

The weekly Cleaning of brown scum from every fold of facial skin

Two bouts of mild heatstroke in one month

One bad tempered spat over a lurid green tennis ball

One wet fart shit stain on my favourite sofa cushion

Deafening snoring after a 7 am lie in

a dyson full of pet hair

Daily bouts of unsightly masturbation.

No one tells you all this before they arrive 

BORIS remembered

A jar of homemade Jam and a kind card left by Gentleman Farmer Ralph and Lady L on the garden gate was another treat today.......
Thank you both,
they only live up the lane.
At 3 pm two old men stopped at the kitchen wall for eggs, I thought one was  blogger CRO for a moment he looked so similar.. They were walkers with ski sticks and backpacks.
Both stopped for eggs 8 years ago and remembered the cottage
"How's Boris?" one guy asked and I broke the news that he died a good while ago

"I liked that old bird" the man said sadly

"SO did I " I told him with feeling

Going Gently

"Sky News presenter Colin Brazier has asked people not to wear bright colours at his wife's funeral, telling mourners to "leave their Hawaiian shirts at home" and wear black."

This banner headline caught my attention the other day

On the surface it was a personal plea by a grieving husband to have what he saw as a respectful and perhaps more traditional funeral for his wife, a move away, or so the article suggested , from the modern day phenomenon of the " happy funeral"

I've attended both kinds of send off over the years and I guess it's a case of to each his own to what is preferred. A celebration of the life or a mourning of the lost...with every permutation in between, the simple answer is the choice is whatever gets you through the day.

Mind you I think Brazier does have a point when it comes to grieving children, for he suggests the cognitive dissonance put into play may be damaging in itself.

"Maybe grown-ups can handle the cognitive dissonance required in 'celebrating' a life rather than, you know, being all morbid. But I seriously doubt children can."

Brazier also added this comment,

".... wearing black gives people a "licence" to get upset, and to "treat a funeral like Ascot's Ladies Day" not only trivialises death but moves the spotlight of consolation away from the family."

Like I said , each to their own.

The best funeral ( best?) I ever attended was led by a humanist speaker . I suspect he was an actor too, and he did what most vicars don't do well at funerals, he did his homework

He knew everything about Janet, a colleague of mine who had died after a short illness, he knew her friends, her wishes, her humour and her life. He breathed life into what was a tragic and sad situation and got the balance just right between mourning and celebration.
Like I said before, it's whatever gets you through on the day that's important .

Sweet

I had a good kind of cry today
It was a brief sort of  weep. A happy one.
A nice one indeed.
Years ago I planted several buddleia which always bloom in late July and today in the oppressive heat , their blooms seemed to explode with their tiny nectar filled flower heads.
A mass of butterflies descended on the cottage today, and their numbers included the beautiful leopard spotted Comma with their fluted and oh so delicate scalloped wings.
The air was alive  with them this afternoon
Half Blind  twelve year old William loves to chase bees , but the butterflies are so much easier  for him to see, and I teared up briefly as I  watched him gleefully chasing their fluttering shapes around the flower beds like a silly uncoordinated puppy

Comfort

I comfort eat.
There I've said it .

Another elephant in the room

I love my food too much and recently have begun to waddle
Gay Man waddling ....
Is worse that Dead Man Walking

I'm back on track from today.
Fresh lemon water to drink and a vegetable stir fry for lunch

No snacks except fruit .
No scotch eggs.
No biscuits at Samaritans
God help my bowels .

The stir fry took an age to eat and even George huffed and walked off after sensing there would be no left overs to eat.

I've spent an age arguing with a dim teenage call centre bod about my nursing registration , it should now be processed within 6 weeks ( and had been put on hold until my enquiry God Knows why).....usually after such phone bun fights I reach for the nearest colourific savoury .

Today I bit the fuck out of an orange

A Gift Returned

Sundays can be a funny day when you are on your own. In North Wales they can be dead sort of days if you let them, with little to do and little to talk about.
I'm sat at the kitchen table finishing breakfast.
It's fat club tomorrow so I've had my usual 2 eggs on dry toast. George is waiting impatiently for the left overs and is tap dancing on the kitchen floor.
Scotties tap dance when they are excited.

I'm debating on whether to see another movie . I saw In The Fade yesterday and haven't had the energy to review it . It was a German movie about a fairly unsympathetic German housewife (Diane Kruger) and her reaction to a Nazi terrorist attack on her family.
Yes,  not a bag of laughs ....anyhow I digress.

As I sit here, I can see a hand written card open on the table inside the card is a small parcel of kitchen paper that sort of hissed when handled. It was filled with tiny, button black flower seeds
For those that can't read fine print this is what the card said

" To John,.....when I bought my first house in Sheffield you gave me a packet of aquilegia seeds. So cutting them today, made me think of you.........Ruth"

A kindness repayed and remembered, I thought.
I had sent the tiny gift of seeds in 1990
28 years ago!

Scabby Knees on the beach

Dog in a hoodie

My favourite place at the moment is the small beach at Colwyn Bay.
Mary and I often go in the mornings
Today she sat inside my hoodie for a while as it was raining.
We were sat on the Promenade when the boy pointed at her,
This happens a lot when you look like one of those 1930 dog toys on wheels
Only the boy wasn't pointing at Mary, he was pointing out my psoriasis scabby knees to his suddenly embarrassed mother.
I pulled up both short legs so he could have a better look and stuck my tongue out playfully
I would have flipped him the finger but he only looked about seven

Not quite Sitges 

Walking Dead 9

I've just seen the season 9 trailer!

How wonderful it returns in October 

Only managed to capture a few screen shots 

Jerry is kissing Nabilla ! How wonderful

Zombies

Carol cuddling Daryl 

Rick dies apparently 

Huh?

Maggie and Daryl 

I suspect it's the last series and by the look of it has 30 characters ! Too much but I can't wait .. it been part of my life for 8 years....go figure 

Mr Vasey

He was a horrible man, Mr Vasey
He occupied the corner bed in a bay of six, and polluted the air with his complaints.
" That man kept me awake all night with his moaning" he would spit out in public
"Nurse! NURSE!! He smells of shit, get him away from me!"
" Nurse where are my tablets.......NURSE.....NURSE,,,,!!" 
He was a railway man in his fifties with a wife and daughter.
The daughter never visited, the wife did dutifully.
Mr Vasey spoke to his wife as he did his nurses.
We disliked Mr Vasey.

His locker had to be organised just so, and nursing routines watched and commented upon especially when we were in anyway late or completed some task in a different way. He preferred nurses he knew to care for him but once at his bedside you ran the risk of a cruel personal comment being unleashed .
I remember a colleague from the station visiting with flowers who was told " why bring them in for me?" In such a curt way that she burst into tears.

Mr Vasey recieved adequate care.
But nothing more. The nurses grew tired of his temper tantrums and his brittle ways and sought out other things to do and other patients to linger over.
The ward was busy,and  it was easier to be busy elsewhere.

I remembered Mr Vasey yesterday.
Back then in 1989 we didn't understand autism
Today, I'd like to think that he would have recieved more understanding and slightly better care.

In 6 Hours

Today I didn't move 1000 yards from home
I met and laughed with Sailor John, Mandy, animal helper Pat, matriarch Irene, and Mo with her clip board. I chatted with Ian, Nick and Gwawr from the community Association , got cuddled by Rowenna " you are sweaty John!" And got told off by Christine.
I waved at Liv as she sang to us in the Hall  ( she's seven) and got hugged by Sandra Cameron as her tiny Yorkshire terrier got flattened by Mary as I handed over a flower Show cheque. Ann ( Rebecca of Sunnybrook farm ) apologised for not being around just after Trendy Carol, gave me her best sympathetic smile ( lovely blouse btw) and Bridget from Well street messaged me a virtual thank you
Oh, and farmer Basil stopped to say he didn't want me to leave the village.
We locked eyes before he drove away, and I knew he meant what he said

And all this before 3.30 pm


I've been feeling shit but today ( by the village) and yesterday ( by the net) I've felt supported

Change of subject tomorrow xxx I'm boring myself