“COCK OFF!”, Troll, and other irritations ......

The new cockerel on the block

Old cock 

Yesterday a new cockerel has suddenly appeared in this part of the village and the resulting “ Cock off!” between him and the single and rather lonely bantam cockerel who has lived between Church and gardens for over two years now was loud and never ending since around 4am.
Like my fellow blurry eyed neighbours , I am very much in need of my bucket of coffee this morning.

The new cockerel with his distinctive crow has proven to be a minor irritation today
Yesterday I was irritated by a troll, which is the way of the world , if you have, like me,  blogged for any length of time.
Trolls surface like pond scum
Or as Julia Robert’s Julianne said in My Best Friend’s Wedding 
“ pond scum. Well, lower actually. like the fungus that feeds on pond scum.“
Anyway the analogy is true Trolls surface, like pond scum, from time to time.

For those that didn’t pick up on it, my troll appeared in Sunday’s blog. She ( and the language and way of writing proves the gender of the troll to me) disguised herself as a somewhat angry and traumatised elderly man called Bill, who had been separated from his Alzheimer suffering , nursing home resident wife because of Covid . “ He” took me to task about us not social distancing or wearing masks on the beach, not adhering to Government rules ( which we were) and eventually  became more angered with a  more pointed rant “ People like you ..selfish....hugs and kisses with a friend .....etc etc “ All personal attacks centred around me ,emotion and not in any fact relating to personal “ bubbles “ and rules of the time.

Bill’s logging on to blogger was only on that day. The threats and arguments had been clearly been collated from months ago and the troll didn’t factor that her use of language and argument  had been clearly used before under other pseudonyms and guises.
It is easy to compare the wording and grammar
Exactly......A no shit Sherlock moment ..

How dare that troll.
How dare you, pretend to be and hide behind such a vulnerable character, in order to make a point and to obviously win an argument.
And how sad that you have spent the time processing this infantile disguise in order to garden support and sympathy .

This is not the way adults should behave
You should be ashamed of yourself.

There, out with anger , in with love!

My bucket of coffee is almost empty and I’m more awake and I feel more human
and finally the Cock Off has quietened down somewhat, so much so that  I can hear the hedge sparrows arguing again in the honeysuckle over the front door.
Big breaths
Out With Anger , In with Love

Today is a mooch day .
I considered cinema but the weather is good and Mary has been booked in to the vets at 4 pm for a check up on her recurrent ear problem .
So I will be making low fat meals for my Next long days at work.
I’ve arranged to meet some old friends on Friday who are staying at Matriarch Irene’s Caravan park
and Sunday it’s lunch out with Chic Eleanor and friends 
All lovely social things to look forward to
Social distancing and government guidelines permitting
.........of course!

I will leave you with this video

It reminds me of my singleton days before Husband and after my first boyfriend

A Quiet Corner

A quiet corner by the front door.

The last of the garden roses fill the space with scent of old summers.

Thumb sticks made by a village friend stand guard 

Over etchings and needlepoint 

And a grumpy old Welsh lady.

And the yellow walls suck in the sun over the wooden heart of

the little desk fresh from being fed beeswax and oil

Picnic

The weather couldnt have been any better for a picnic , and around 30 of the hospice staff turned up on the lovely West Shore of Llandudno to eat, drink and chat in the sun .

It was one of those easy going afternoons where everything fell into place nicely 

Ruth one of the hospice Nurses and a good friend

Dorothy joined us

Arty photo

Look at that view 

Gwyn the medical director with hospice at home support worker Jackie

Lazy days

Sunset 

Last Night Of The Proms

Lovely music, I was listening to it  as I was flouring by bread

 but the atmosphere feels rather sad

Especially as a The Royal Albert Hall has had no Government help to survive 

I don’t want to be brought down this weekend 

I’ve had to turn over

Saturday

I met my friend Nigel in Chester today
We walked and talked and walked and ate Mr Whippy ice cream and drank coffee by the river.
On the way home I bought a large selection of picnic food and some beers in readiness for a beach picnic I have organised for the hospice staff tomorrow, luckily the Welsh government, unlike the English has not changed their guidelines that 30 people can meet outdoors 
So tomorrow we hope to have games of rounders, beers and sandy sandwiches and there is an unwritten rule there will be no talk of the dying, of Covid of PPE and the like
There was a bag of tomatoes left on the garden wall from someone unknown when I got home and a round robin letter stuck in the letterbox  from the Vicar warning that the church may well be closed soon due to lack of funds.
Chic Eleanor left a message about meeting up with friends for dinner next weekend
I am making sour dough bread tonight

A Class Act

Diana Rigg was a class act
You can tell this from the above scene from Game Of  Thrones where she underplays her role magnificently but still spits out the insults with such quiet venom
I saw her just once on stage , and that was in Sheffield in 2004 in a production of a Suddenly Last Summer 
“Each day we would carve each day like a piece of sculpture “

She was wonderful 

Indumathi...” Indu The Hindu“

I was chatting to a friend today about serendipity
We shared serendipitous tales and the conversation became quite serious as we both agreed that we thought some forces were responsible but how and to what extent we both were at a loss with to explain
I told him the tale about Indumathi 
It seemed fitting

Now many many years ago Indumathi was a patient of mine.
She was a big boned, loud voiced, Asian woman in her sixties who ran her large family from her side room on my ward with all of the energy of a small nuclear power plant.
She had a specially designed extra large wheelchair which she hated, a massive selection of beautiful loose fitting pantaloon trousers and tops and could throw a cup or plate with deadly accuracy when she was in a foul mood , a fact that may be surprising as Indumathi  was totally blind.

Now Indumathi was what we in the nursing trade would now refer to as a challenging patient .  She was opinionated, perceived as rude and was non compliant with any of her care.
She was also a big complainer and was “buzzer happy”, -traits that are irritating to Nurses, but she was brash and humorous and always laughed loudly at her own bad jokes.
And I always had a begrudging soft spot for the old girl.
One such joke surfaced when she reminded me One morning that she was a Hindu as I helped hoist her into her wheelchair
“ Indu the Hindu “ I said merrily and half under my breath and she heard me
“Indu the Hindu! “ she repeated laughing loudly and clapping her big hands together “ Indeed I am Indu the Hindu !” And it became a sort of catch phrase for her when she was in one of her better moods on the ward.

Moving Indumathi became a bit of a health and safety nightmare at times as when she was rolling in bed she would grab the nearest nurse with often surprising strength and tenacity and at one of those times and with a loud shriek she grabbed my uniform with one ham hand and placed the other around my face

“ Boy” she said in that almost gentle moment where her hand rested on my cheek
“ You are your grandmother’s son” 
It was a strange phrase to utter, especially given the circumstances we were in
But I was suddenly silenced and incredibly moved by her words

It was as if she had looked right inside of me and had seen that secret fact that  I had loved my grandmother so much more than I had my own mother when I was but a child.

“ What?” Was the only thing I could say rather helplessly
and Indumathi slapped my bottom playfully as she laughed her loud laugh and the moment was gone....
But in that instant, I felt  she had seen something of my psychi, my soul,my past when she touched me
And had shared that with me

Who Is Harry?

 Wrapped in bubble wrap and posted from the UK, a small package was left by the postman in Mary’s anti bite box by the front door.

The package was addressed to John Gray,  the cottage by the church ...Trelawnyd Wales. The small note inside, carefully written in ink pen said it was from Harry aged 52 1/2 which was Sweetly funny

“ For Your Art Wall”

Inside was a small porcelain hanging with a wonderfully embossed hare design on the front

Quite beautiful 

I’ve just hung it on the art wall

Thank you Harry

Thank you so much 

Alexa

Trelawnyd from Gop Hill yesterday

I have an Alexa

She doesn’t do a great deal as she’s in the bedroom, 

But she does tell me the time, wakes me up in the morning and plays me the radio station of my choice when I’m groggily getting ready for work.

It’s an easy job, all told.

Last night she went a bit off piste 

After I had asked her to set the alarm for 6 am

She cooed out an unexpected If you want any help to sleep just say goodnight

Of course I prompted with the suggested Goodnight 

And suddenly the room was filled with sounds from a tropical jungle evening

With chirping cicadas and rhythmic insect calls

Gently Alexa called out Goodnight John 

John! JOHN! ??

I never recall saying my name was john 

Spooky !

Jeruselema

This Past week, in between sofa sagas, friend catch ups and space from work I’ve had time to think and to ponder.
Now it’s time to return to work with all of its disciplines and routines and all of the ponderings have to be put back into action.
Words are nothing
Actions are everything
The easy objectives have now been achieved .
My nest is feathered the way I would like ; I have survived full time employment for exactly a year now And mentally I’m on an even keel with friends and pastimes filling the void that was husband.

And so I can now concentrate on my weight and my health.
It’s time.

I’m a comfort eater and drinker
Behaviours learned from some family that never had anything and from others who couldn’t cope with anything.
Feeding others also gives me pleasure
and when you are feeding others invariably you are feeding yourself.

It’s also easy to let things go when your tired and 58 and you don’t like yourself very much.
Divorces don’t do a lot for your self esteem
Especially a divorce you didn’t want.

But people do pull themselves up by those proverbial bra straps and when you are smiling again, there’s time enough and space enough to get yourself physically well again

And so it’s back to work. With healthy lunches and supper already prepared at home.
There’s no gin and tonic when the ritual of blog replying commences
And there’s an effort to reverse that patten of late night film watching where books are now being read much more than re runs of zombie box sets are being watched.
It’s time

Does that make sense?
So I will blog today about Paloma Faith’s “ Better Than This”
And more importantly about Master KG’s  “ Jeruselema ”
Which is a bloody joyous song

And is one I will be dancing to in the Cubana Bar in Sheffield , some day soon

Dorothy and I up the Gop this morning

A Turd On The Carpet

The remit of the living room make over was simple
I wanted it to be cheerful, eclectic, less vintage and more me
I think I have ticked the brief even though the new carpet will have to wait

Just after I took these photos I let the dogs back in.
Dorothy remained stubbornly in the kitchen. Mary went up to her window seat in my bedroom and Winifred marched into the living room to give the new sofa a good once over.
Moments later I followed her to see if she had started to kick the new cushions around the room, but instead she just sat upright and beamed me a large very wide grin

Just beyond her, and situated right in the centre of my new Ikea rug

Was a huge and rather magnificent turd!

Pre Sofa

Bindweed

Mrs Trellis was right
The bindweed white trumpet flowers have covered the hedgerows West of the village in their thousands giving the impression that there is a wedding afoot!
It’s all green and white! Quite stunning
It’s been warm and sunny and I’ve only just noticed the floral display at dusk when I popped to the shop for some cooked chicken
My new sofa arrives tomorrow so I have been busy today putting together a new industrial strength carpet cleaner and then knackered myself out sucking out over fifty containers of rancid brown liquid from the carpet which now resembles its original beige colour
Dorothy has gone into a mental decline because Affable Despot Jason came round earlier to help me remove the existing sofa.
She doesn’t do change and is presently lying miserably under the kitchen table in a frightened sulk.
The empty gap where her old sofa stood has unnerved her and she refuses to enter the living room.
Winnie just snorted at the removal and kicked a couple of scatter cushions around the kitchen in devilment
Mary went out with Hattie and her mum.
Velvet Voiced Linda texted late asking for the street wardens to check in
21 texts thundered in over the next hour

Jason above the village looking all windswept

Hattie with Mary

3 Friends

The Sheffield Peace Garden waterways

I met my friend John for breakfast this morning

He turned up complete with pinky blinder hat, blazer and with hips like a snake

He has been living with a rare form of cancer and looks fabulous darling

He tickles me as I always feel as though I’ve had an audience with Joan Crawford after I have seen him.

We all need friends like John. 

Arch, and without a trace of self pity he has been an inspiration to everyone when it comes with living with cancer

“ I’m not frightened of dying” he said munching on a sausage in Brown’s Cafe this morning and I suddenly had the urge to kiss him on the forehead 

I’m proud of him, I suddenly realised , proud of his sassy strength and chutzpah 

Jane reminds me of Helen Hunt in the movie As Good As It Gets.

She has warmth in bucketloads and is a free spirt locked away by Covid  and circumstances  and we are going to Rome together as soon as things are more normal 

She interrupted breakfast briefly by insisting to pay for her part in last night’s excesses in All Bar One.  In the envelope of money was a hand crafted embroidered heart

Mike is the placid one. 

He is pleased with simple things and a simple life and has changed little over the thirty odd years I have known him.

He bought a 600$ jacket from New York twenty years ago and never wears it Out

Three people

All met by chance one day long ago

And all three as necessary to me as breathing .

Silenced

I hate covid
On my way to meet my friends, I noticed that all the city fountains have been silenced

Steel City

Later today I will be home
My second home
I will be in Sheffield
I’m staying in the Leopold Hotel which as I recall used to be offices and before that a school
Rooms are cheap, thanks to Covid.
And as well as rooms I’ve booked a table in a local cafe and a bar and another at a cafe for breakfast.
Each table a meet with friends
Happy days

I Love You

Alexa what day is it ?
Ohhh it’s Thursday? thank you I had forgotten

What am I doing today?
I’m drinking from my bucket of coffee having a think about this
After a dog walk I think I will clear my driveway of weeds and then clean the car
Nothing sparkling ,
Just satisfying .

A courier driver has just dropped off a package
No more glorious scotch eggs I’m afraid
But something quite special nevertheless

Four 1950 American diner coffee mugs!
Years ago I bought one on a trip to New York
And I loved its curves which always reminded me of one of those classy American Art Deco bathtubs
I loved that mug, which sounds an odd thing to say given the fact it was only a mug,
But I did,
And when I smashed it , during one of my dyspraxic attacks
I cried like a baby.

Now I have four replacements
FOUR!
given my dyspraxia , the law of averages seem to be on my side
Hopefully I will always have one functioning mug
To lovingly cuddle every morning

What inanimate belonging do you love?
I’d be interested to hear 

The Face

I went to a local art gallery today
And bought a face mask made from pottery
It was one of eight displayed on one large wall.
and it took me an age to work out which one I wanted
So much so that the friendly blue haired lady on reception ( the one that took my temperature) came over to see if I needed help
He looks the most sad I told her
And she hugged her arms and looked closer
“Waifs and strays”, she said quietly

Tom Gowans ( Hippo)

It’s been over two years since Tom Gowans aka Hippo has posted anything on his blog.
Like a thief in the night he has ghosted us all here in blogland and with him drifted the mysterious existence he led in an African bar, with a beautiful African wife and a life recently off the bottle.
Tom wrote well and with much humour.
He wrote better when he was drunk and his stories were woven around his military service , his family and the exploits of the locals who, I am sure, he was somewhat of a thorn in their sides

Tom posted today and a timely email from another blogger reminded me of this this morning.
She also reminded me of how much I miss his stories and miss him as a friend
For me and Tom are inextricably linked
For I saved his life once.

The story is an interesting one.
One night, no doubt under the anaesthetic which is a good malt, Tom caught his thigh on a thorn in his garden.
With true expat chutzpah he dressed the wound himself and got on with things, but the wound festered and with absolutely no health care available to him locally he turned to me for some advice.
I asked him to photograph his wound and to email me the results.
He did so the next day.

I will always remember the cold shock I felt looking at those photographs .
I was looking at a dead man walking.
The wounds had tracked all throughout his thigh.
Left untreated he would be dead within days.
And bluntly and with urgency I told him so.

We hatched a plan.
Tom would book the nearest plane to London and present himself to the best London teaching  hospital capable to dealing with a tropical wounds. Nuala suggested the best hospital and after wrapping his petrifying wound in newspaper and cling film ( I’m not kidding) Tom managed to stagger onto a plane to London where he managed to limp into A&E for intensive care, surgery and a lengthy hospital stay.

The hospital saved his leg but it was a close call and weeks afterwards he turned up into the village where he took tea and cake at Auntie Glad’s as if he had done so every week in his life .
I liked Tom, with his shock of white hair and sharp, all seeing eyes, so I was saddened when his disappeared from blogland and our very ordinary lives five years ago now.

He has blogged only a couple of times since . And has refused to interact with messages left which was a source of irritation for me at the time.
The difference in his short replies then still fuelled a idea that the writing was not from him and all manner of conspiracy theories sprang forth from different people who suggested that he was being chased by the local mafia, had fled to another country or had died in a pub brawl protecting the name of some exotic ex pat Ava Gardener type!

Whatever the truth, his absence has left blogland much the poorer
The video “ he” posted today was of a sassy black woman with sad eyes singing what I thought  was more a Latin ish song.

And wherever he his
I wish him well

http://hippo-on-the-lawn.blogspot.com/

IKEA

I had a lovely day
We chatted and laughed for a four hour shop !
I have never shopped for that long !
Went to buy a rug and photograph some ideas for a new bathroom
And bought

Two rugs,
Two yellow cushions,
A yellow and white woollen throw,
A pretty bolster cushion with embroidery
A small white and blue striped vase,
A small blue tray,
2 candles,
And a bloody trendy, fucking expensive NEW SOFA!

Carrie

Did you know that Sex and The City was originally developed as a romcom drama about four New York Gay men?
Yes, really....all that drama would, be far too much to cope with so the producers were wise to plump for the glam 4
How many times did the eponymous heroine Carrie Bradshaw ponder her decisions over her laptop with the audience shouting at the screen don’t dooooo it!
And of course she did it.....

I checked my ex husbands twitter feed yesterday
It’s something I haven’t done for months now and I wish I hadn’t
He’s sailing around the Greek Islands like Jackie O

Why do I do it?
I don’t want him back, I certainly don’t want to live his lifestyle
But in a lonely crack of a busy evening, I checked anyway.....
more fool me

Carrie would have turned to Miranda if she had done it
Miranda would have said it was a normal blip, don’t be too hard on yourself and don’t do it again
Then they would have met up after midnight and drunk cocktails as the final credits appeared to that tinkling music

Hey ho



Off to ikea shortly with a friend
Gay men do Ikea....
Now there’s programme series in itself