The workmen are ripping out the kitchen window which is proving to be a harder job than they anticipated. There is much noise, the smashing of glass and some colourful swearing.
The terriers are safely away in the back of the car. Winnie is watching everything from the garden and
Albert is sat with me, nervous that there are strangers around.
He is ruffling my hair and jumps after one of the workmen shouts " Bastard!"
The kitchen fitter comes tomorrow to check the new kitchen dimensions . A plumber is coming too in order to replace a radiator and to add to the mayhem the window chap is replacing the old kitchen window in the lane. Three workmen in one day! Winnie will be knocking out the orgasms like confetti.
Della from up the lane called in to tell me that she could hear me having a conversation on the phone when she rang her mother ..BT are investigating
Farmer Basil has a new sheepdog puppy. He's a bit bouncy
Daphne and Meirion are off to Australia on holiday, we talked for ages about nice places to go in Sydney
Polish Monika is working in the Crown !
The Flower Show review meeting has been booked for next Tuesday, we need to figure out what village initiatives we can financially support this year.
Teenage Boffin Cameron is taking a gap year off after school!
The old farm house Bryn Teg, which is hidden away in the centre of the village has been sold, the new owner is doing it up nicely
Auntie Glad's house has not been sold as yet
The Prof is working away again.....I'm listening to Tom waits Fawn in the dark...it's strangely hypnotic
When the Harvey Weinstein furore first broke in the news, I was initially dreadfully confused as the thought of him sexually molesting any A list actress seemed awfully far fetched to me.
It was only then that I realised that I thought the press was talking about Harvey Fierstein the gay actor and not the slug like movie producer Weinstein . Hey ho!
The abuse of power for sexual gratification, once again has been given centre stage by the media and although I suspect 90% of women at one time or another have been subjected to varying degrees of unwanted " attention" , either in the workplace or in education , the phenomenon is not purely confined to female victims and male protagonists.
When I was a student nurse I once was subjected to some low level sexual " horseplay" by two female enrolled nurses. It lasted for twelve weeks ( the length of a placement on the ward I had been allocated to) and it was an unpleasant, and upsetting time to live through.
The two women in question were just a little older than I and they thought the whole thing was great fun, especially as I was a real shy blusher and they egged each other on.
The horseplay started with hair roughing and unwanted hugging, but as they saw that I was quietly flummoxed by it all, their actions graduated to unexpected groping, the dreadfully embarrassing " grabbing of the back of the underpants and pulling" moments and kisses on the back of the neck.
The thought it was in anyway abuse, never crossed my mind or the minds of the other staff who witnessed it but It was a truly awful time, and it made me miserable, even though way back then then it was chalked up to commonplace workplace " banter" which had to endured by the grunts.
Thank goodness, things have moved on from then
Worryingly in Hollywood that doesn't quite seem the case.
I shall leave you with this video which has nothing to do with sexual abuse but which has everything to do with the general abuse of animals.
Chimpanzees that have been laboratory raised, see " freedom" for the first time
Watch this video without bawling
Yan, the big hearted, wise cracking Londoner was voted off Bake Off tonight, which was a real shame .I noticed that throughout the series she was the one that helped her fellow bakers the most, which underlined her innate good nature and humour!
Her family, friends and wife should be very proud of her!
In comprehensive school in the 1970s the worst name one boy could call another was the word " poof!"
As I recall the name was more concerned more with effeminacy rather than with overt homosexuality, but the definition, I guess was fluid and totally negative as poof was synonymous with weakness, an inability in sports ability and cowardice.
When I was a bit older I rather liked to reclaim the name!
I refused to let the word make me feel in any way negative or second best
In Sheffield I had neighbours on one side that kept themselves to themselves. They were a bit common, and the mother of the household would constantly yell at her brood of useless teenage sons.
One Sunday morning the boys were all sat in their garden ( on an old sofa- how lovely) hidden from my view by a tall brick wall. Presumably they were all suffering from hangovers as the mother prepared lunch and as I gardened around my neat little garden I heard the mother as she berated them
" you treat this place like a bleeding hotel!" She bellowed "Why can't you be like that old poof next door and keep the place tidy!!!"
"LESS OF THE OLD!" I shouted back at her as the family dissolved into silence
When I joined the village community council I remarked to fellow councillor- the Red Faced Welsh Farmer- that it was about time that there was a poof on the committee. Of course I said it out of devilment and of course the red faced Welsh Farmer never so much twitched an eyebrow at the remark.
I bought a pouffe yesterday. I've always wanted one and as the Prof climbed into the car he spied it on the back seat
I deleted today's post by mistake as I was waiting for the car to pass it's MOT
IT's my fat fingers on my iPhone .
It is a bit like threading a needle with a raw sausage !
Yesterday's post cost me three followers! I should have known better!
I thought it was measured and fair.
At least Ursula got all moist over it.
She loves conflict.
I fell over this morning as I was trying to take a picture of a kingfisher.
The kingfisher in question was a seven foot wooden sculpture on the banks of the river Elwy and not the actual bird, although I managed to witness the real thing as it looped over the water quite, quite beautifully.
It was a wonderful thing to see on a sunny morning.
Two elderly ladies on sticks saw me slide down the long grassy bank on my arse.
I think it provided them with quite a spectacle given the fact that Mary's lead was wrapped around my wrist and she followed me quite gleefully a second after I had disappeared from view!
It must have looked all rather Wile E Coyote
They stopped and asked if I was alright which was sweet of them .
Yesterday I was asked by a villager to be a referee for them.
The reference was for a shotgun licence.
When I was asked, I must admit I did hesitate for a moment, but as the shotgun was an antique, had been dismantled and was kept by the most responsible of owners I was happy to oblige.
Now I've blogged about gun laws before and the ensuing debate it caused opened my eyes to a few things, namely the near fanatical way many Americans view their right to bear arms.
Owning an antique family heirloom is one thing which is acceptable to me. If the owner was a farmer and wanted to use the gun at work, then I would have signed the forms too. But if the gun owner just wanted the gun " as protection" then I would have refused the request.
One of the biggest reasons for gun ownership in the US seems to be for protection. It's a kill them before they kill me mentality and although I do disagree with it, I do understand it to a degree.
What I cannot get my head around at all is the need for some seemingly ordinary people to keep automatic weapons. Automatic weapons that can kill 58 people and wound nearly 500 in just under an hour.
He works too hard.
He can't knock a nail into a piece of wood.
He's crap at badminton.
He wakes far too early in the morning and switches on his bloody iPad
He's loud when I want to be quiet.
He moans constantly about the fact I leave my clothes on the floor of the bathroom.
My husband is finally home today after a week away
And I am very glad!
I heard Melvin Bragg talking in about this subject in an essay of his, that he read out on the radio.
His take on it is that humans have and hold dear and indeed cultivate friendships.
I think he is right.
Animals have companions.Companions that they live with, play with and spend time with but they don't have friendships. Friendships are quintessentially a human phenomenon .
A dear friend of mine has just received some life changing news.
He was stoic, and typically cavalier about the whole thing but did show the real emotions behind the mask of ok-ness when I pushed him gently.
I have known him twenty years or so and I am glad to be able to stand in his corner now, as he would do in mine if the tables were turned.
That's what friends do.
My best friend Nu, picked up on my upset and waded in with some support of her own. It was a brief phone call. I had been washing Mary's " Mary" in the kitchen sink and she was still outside St Paul's basking in the Late afternoon London sunshine , but in a few words I too felt supported at a time of reflection and unhappiness.
That's the strength of the chain of friendship me thinks.
Each link supporting the next.
That's the power of friendship.
And that's what makes us human
I forgot to blog today, and only just realised when I went on line to see what movies were playing in the local cinemas.
The weather is damp and its dark and miserable outside, and the woodburner has made the cottage all cosy, so instead of going out I am having a night off with weightwatchers and have planned an evening with some fatty nibbles , an energising face mask, a pair of fluffy slippers and a great South Korean zombie movie!
Today I shall meet my Sister in Law for lunch as it's her birthday. Then I shall go and see the new Blade Runner movie.( even though I never really liked the original)
If the weather improves the shrubs in the back garden need pruning and I've promised a neighbour to do a few errands.....errands that need physical effort and brute force
George is not himself and has been restless all night. He only settled when I took him to bed and allowed him to sleep with his head on the Prof's pillow.
He's an old Scotty Dog now.
Albert is off colour too. He's vomited mice bits all over the Prof's office overnight and is now " resting" gently on our bed watching the bachelors as they fight for the top spot on the hen house roof in the Ukrainian Village
Uncharacteristically , Mary has been somewhat gentle and attentive and has sat meekly by his side as he recooperates.
She licked the wax out of his ears for an age, a practice that seems to settled his stomach. and refused to leave him when I called her for a walk.
Her loyalty has surprised me, as Albert main doggy relationship has always been with Winnie.
Winnie being the fat fickle diva that she is, is presently rubbing her fanny on the side of the living room bookcase.
Note to self: go and find the kitchen roll and some squirty cleaner
Who was it that said we all live our lives in quiet desperation ?
It was someone famous I am sure.....someone here will no doubt let me know the answer.
With the Prof away working all week, Me and a friend went to see Theatre Clwyd's production of Uncle Vanya last night.
It's been an absolute age since I've seen any Chekhov and last night's production did not disappoint even though the subject matter was rather melancholy. Uncle Vanya portrays a dysfunctional family living a desperate life on a decaying country estate. Bitter, resentful and disappointed with lives not lived, the family bicker and spar as their hopes for a better life ebb and flow away.
Last night's production was set in the studio theatre, which means that the audience up front and personal with the performers, so it was easy to see the quality of the acting on show. Rosie Sheehy as the tragic but valliant Sonya and Oliver Dimsdale as doctor Astrov being standouts in an excellent cast.
Years ago now I had the opportunity to live in the pretty seaside town of Southport for half a year. I rented my little house in Sheffield to a Cliff Richard loving support worker and moved into a Victorian nurses home just out of town and enjoyed a salaried time completing a certificates in Spinal Injury Nursing and in teaching and assessing.
I also got involved with a guy on another course who like me was away from his home city.
The only difference with him was that he went home at weekends and I stayed in Southport or went to see family or friends.
Now I share this information because blog reader Andrea sent me a photo of this Pittsburgh rehabilitation centre that was one of several I visited whilst I was on this course at Southport. The connections made there led to some valuable nursing experience in and around the city of Pittsburgh, a city of great charm, I thought at the time
Anyhow I digress -back to my new boyfriend whom I shall call James.
James was funny, handsome and unexpectedly swept me off my fairly inexperienced gay feet without too much trouble. I had only just come out so was flattered by all of the attention, so missed the fact that every weekend he went home!
When I eventually found this out, I finished our relationship immediately even though James was quite happy to keep things going and I remember being flabbergasted by the apparent ease of his cheating nature even on the eve of his own wedding!
I've just made a batch of pea soup and a pot of meatballs smothered with a tomato sauce....all from scratch, this mindless act of basic cookery seems to be the highlight of the day
The low point was getting stung on the stomach by a wasp in the dog food aisle of Tescos.
That hurt like a bastard!
It's weird because I've hardly seen a single wasp for a few years
Mary is in season, a fact which seems to have set Winnie's masturbatory juices going ten to the dozen.
She's been rubbing her fanny on the living room carpet like a professional porn star for the past fifty minutes
A pretty normal Monday
The charm of AA Milne's Winnie The Pooh has always been lost on me; as a child I was more a Beatrix Potter kind of gal, and so some of the rather " magic" nature of how Milne bonded with his son over a child's fantasy life of stuffed animals, a red letter moment which led to the publication of a franchise, was beyond me.
However Goodbye Christopher Robin is not just, as what I expect is a rather overblown story of how Pooh was written. It is a rather overblown story of just how poor little Christopher Robin survived a childhood, typical of so many 1920's children who had to cope with emotionally and physically distant parents who had battled through the horrors of WW1
Alan Milne ( Domhnall Gleeson) and his wife Daphne ( Margot Robbie) are not sympathetic characters. He is inconsistent and clearly uses the private moments with his son as fodder for fame,
whilst his wife is a brittle, but vivacious socialite who is quite capable of leaving husband and child
when it suits her but the audience sees them through modern eyes rather than from the perspective of the buttoned up upper classes of pre 1940 England and so it is very hard to identify and even understand them as the norm
Thank goodness for Kelly Mc Donald's emotionally warm Nanny Nou, for it is her arrival that saves the film from it's own dourness and gives it some heart. In the end I found myself more interested in her relationship with Christopher Robin ( Will Tilston) than the all too numerous , soft focus scenes when Milne , Christopher and a gaggle of stuffed toys " played" idyllically in the woods of rural Sussex..indeed.the moment where Nanny breaks down when she thinks the now adult Christopher Robin has died in battle ( a thing his parents were unable to do) literally broke my heart...and.only then did I realise that McDonald's character reminded me of my own grandmother, a person who provided me with all of the warmth and heart that was lacking in my own parenting.
6/10
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
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....
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.
