Wednesday, 20 September 2017

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!


Tuesday, 19 September 2017

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.





Monday, 18 September 2017

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! 

Sunday, 17 September 2017

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?

Saturday, 16 September 2017

Victoria & Abdul

The Twinkly Eyed Fazal

The " true" story of the 81 year old monarch's "friendship" with her Indian man servant/teacher Abdul Karin is perhaps less well known than her attachment to the brash John Brown but under director Steven Frears' guiding hand the film is a gently comic romp into the absurdities of the Victorian British Royal family and their horror at having a matriarch who is suddenly dependent on a Muslim of lowly birth.
Frears hints that Victoria ( Judi Dench) had a roving eye for the magnificent Karin (Ali Fazal) but he bottles it slightly bigging up the sweetness and the intellectual nature of their friendship rather than to acknowledge the possible fact that the handsome clerk come Guru was in fact an opportunistic manipulator who landed on his feet before a lonely, silly old Queen sick of an arse licking court.
Personally I thought that the real story story lay more with the more pessimistic version of the truth rather than the sanitized take  and the whole thing left me with rather a sour taste in my mouth, which was disappointing.
Dench is wonderful as Victoria and I must say that the whole film builds to a classic Judi moment , when the old Queen faces off her son Berti ( Eddie Izzard) with a bravura speech that she is indeed not insane in befriending a native! ... , so much so that I can see another Oscar nomination on the cards.
Fazal is cute as a button in his, slightly more difficult role but the cuteness does fade when one questions that the friendship was one less wholesome than originally portrayed.
6/10

Technology


Mary is fucked off- she's still waiting for her walk
I am all tech-ed out!
I now have my Fitbit in situ. 
( I've walked seven steps)
My mobile phone is up and running.
And I now have all of eleven contacts in my inbox and actually managed to send an emoji to my nephew without blowing a gasket
Yesterday's shenanigans  reinforced my need to have a phone. The Prof was pulling what little hair he still has after suffering my silence for 7 hours!  So I now accept that it's foolish of me to have kept away from my own smart phone for so long....
Jonney Graybags is now up to date
And that's a first in 55 years!

Friday, 15 September 2017

Knackered

Euston shut
No trains running North
Walk to St Pancras ,
Packed train to Nottingham,
Packed train then to Derby
Stood in train to Crewe ( helped stop fight between two men)
Stood in Train to Chester
Stood in train to Prestatyn
7 hours to get home

I'll leave you with the delectable  to cheer me up


A Grand Day Out

What could be better? an opening night play with an outstanding actress, a long satisfying gossip and catch up with an old friend, and some Gay Yorkshire rumpy pumpy !
As Wallace would say " a cracking day out there Grommit!" 
I met Nu in Soho and we went to the Curzon to see God's Own Country which is a film of great beauty and some soul. 
It tells the story of a young moorland farmer Jonney Saxby ( Josh O'Connor) who deals with his frustrations of life with a disabled dad and emotionally distant grandmother on a failing upland farm by casual gay sex and binge drinking. 
When the emotionally more mature  Gheorghe (Alec Secareanu) turns up to help with the spring lambing, Jonney is forced to deal with his demons as the pair embark on an intense love affair against the backdrop of a Harsh lifestyle in decline.


God's Own Country has been described rather unfairly as the Yorkshire Brokeback mountain.  This is misleading as this movie has a sort of harsh charm all of it's own with the Bleak Moorlands echoing the empty hardness of Jonney's life. Filmed with minimal dialogue   O'Connor shines as the unsympathetic and at times downright unlikable Jonney whilst the painfully attractive Secareanu underplays his role as the emotionally warmer Gheorghe rather beautifully and although the narrative of Jonney's emotional journey from " fuck up" to manhood isn't particularly original, the film does pack a bit of a punch emotionally.
8/10

I wish the play was as good as the movie. Unfortunately Wings at the Young Vic was a bit of a mess! 
Wings is more or less a monologue by an aging stroke victim Emily ( The glorious Juliet Stevenson) who tries to make some sort of sense of a sudden and catastrophic brain injury . Confused and disorientated with motor and intellectual deficits , Emily tries and fails to make real her unreal world where nurses are seen as captors and where her body feels weightless and not her own.
For an hour, Stevenson remains suspended in a body harness and spins impressively around the darkened stage as she she shares a stream of consciousness of her experiences within the fugue state of a CVA and although she is undoubtedly a wonderful actress  the play fails to impress
It was the opening night and it was sad to see Stevenson looking so upset at the lacklustre applause as the play ended. 

We finished the day chatting and catching up. Touching base with old friends  is a tonic for the soul

Thursday, 14 September 2017

Accident And Emergency 1990


" And what do you do for a living?" 
I'm on the train to London and the question came from a woman sitting opposite me half an hour ago.
She is middle aged and is dressed well. She is going to visit her son who lives in Chiswick .
I already know that his name is Harry, that he is a successful urban landscaper and that he has a partner called Luis.
She's a chatter, so I am now pretending to work on my tablet. We have already covered a great deal of mutual information swapping and we are only at Crewe!
" I'm a retired nurse" I told her, and the phrase suddenly felt rather odd being spoken out loud.
My companion wanted to hear some nursing stories and I was happy to oblige her.
I, as you know, love an audience.
I told her about Finlay pulling a patient's tracheostomy tube out. The amusing tale of how we nurses used to take our spinal injury patients out to the pub in their wheelchairs to get pissed and the story of how an elderly senile patient died on a minibus outing to Delamere forest without any of us noticing.
Stock stories all well rehearsed .
She then asked me what my saddest memory of nursing was and this brief memory popped into my head out of the blue.
I shared it as we drank our coffee.
My father died in 1990, just as I was in the middle of my accident and emergency placement as a post  registered student nurse. He had a sudden heart attack, so when I returned to work after his funeral I was rostered to work in the minor injuries department as it was thought that " majors" was a little too stressful.
One morning a junior sister from majors rang down to see if there was a nurse free to help her with a job and so I volunteered myself to go. The job, as it tuned out was the "laying out" of an elderly lady who had been brought in dead after collapsing in the city centre whilst out shopping.
I remember that the sister had an incredibly strong Scottish accent.
Anyhow, Our job was to tidy her up before her husband arrived from home.
The husband, who was in his eighties duly arrived and I left the sister to take him behind the curtains to see his wife.
I had only been gone fifteen minutes or so, before the Scottish sister sought me out again.She looked upset but was composed. " I need you to help me ! The husband wants us to do something for him!" 
She explained the husband's request and asked if I was up to it.
I nodded.
We returned to the cubical where the man sat quietly with his wife.
He was dressed neatly in a shirt, tie and pullover I remember
I stood on one side of the bed and the Scottish sister stood on the other and after a nod, the old man climbed awkwardly onto the bed and lay almost on top of his wife, with his head over her shoulder.
The sister motioned to me and we each took one of the woman's arms and gently wrapped them around the man's back as he started to cry.

He had asked us to help him have a last moment in his wife's arms

Wednesday, 13 September 2017

Dog's Day Dream

The new kitchen!

I''ve been running around all day
I've taken the car to the garage, dropped sausages, shopped, played badminton ( and won) organised more new kitchen stuff, cooked supper, walked dogs, cleaned cottage,  supported neighbour, visited old friend.
Tomorrow I am off to London to see Nuala. We have gossip, a film and a play to fit in!
I snapped this photo halfway through my day.
Mary, is sitting on the arm of my arm chair.
She is day dreaming about something........and looks serene and just a bit pensive
Sigh
She sat here for nearly an hour

The flowers are from the garden

Slipping Myself A Sneaky Sausage


As I sneaked one cocktail sausage out of the pack I somehow caught the packaging on the lip of my carrier bag and dropped 39 miniature sausages onto the floor.
It would have been fine if I was home, after all the sausages were bought as treats for the dogs, but I was stood at our local ATS Euromaster waiting for a tyre to be changed, and the waiting room was almost full of people.
Now if you drop money all sorts of people will come out of the woodwork to your aid, but I have to say, drop 39 mini bangers in front of 7 people in a grotty garage waiting room and no fucker comes to help! 
I could have died of shame