A Baby Elephant In The Room

Love me love me

Mabel has not really ingratiated herself with Chris.

Some of this stems from the fact that he is, in fact, a terrier fan, pure and simple.

But most of the time it is Mabel's slightly neurotic and rambunctious behaviours that leaves him shaking his head with a certain amount of resignation.

Terriers are quick, light footed and needy. They demand cuddles like well intentioned babies, and have a gentleness about them which everyone seems to enjoy.

Mabel on the other hand is overactive, totally uncoordinated and incredibly clumsy....she craves physical contact but cannot quite rein in the heavy breathing hysterics that always accompanies being made a fuss of...and 25 kilos of paw waving bulldog is a lot cope with sometimes in a cottage the size of a postage stamp.

It can be a little bit like being molested by a constantly bouncing fur covered fridge freezer.

Not easy when you are not in the mood for it!

Mabel requires consistency and firm handling, to control her desperate need for affection, and she needs a calm structured approach to deal with her nervousness, which , I think it the root of her excitable behaviour........we have not quite got there as yet, but we are close, and I have to smile to myself, for as I am typing this blog entry at the kitchen table, I can see her watching my every move with her big brown sad eyes never leaving my face, just waiting for that moment she can gallop forward like a steam train for a cuddle

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Weight Watchers weigh in this morning 14 stone 13lbs

Total weight loss since 2nd Jan 1 stone 1lb

Weight loss last week 1 lb......(a surprising result given those homemade sausages!!!)

All Together Now

I have just re read my previous post

so I ask all readers to stand up! come on stand up!

and  in a theatrically girly voice everyone throw their hands out wide and   repeat after me loudly"

"out with Anger!"

Now s-l-o-w-l-y draw back your hands back to your bosoms

and say breathlessly

"In with love"

There!!! do you feel better now?

 

Thought not!

Oh don't you just love irony!

To Whom it may concern

The downside of blogging it that you always seem to be upsetting someone with something at sometime.

Now, to me, there are two things that you can do if "one is upset"......

You can have a lively and somewhat infantile debate ( like we often do c/o Tom Stephenson)

or you can just stop reading that particular blog........simples!

Last night I received a somewhat abusive post comment relating to the culling of the pigs. It was graphic, somewhat rude and threatening, and instead of embarking on any discussion with it's author I deleted the comment immediately banning any further comments from someone, who was so strangely....well....... aggressive.

Since we took the decision for the pigs to "go" I have found it interesting that I have lost five followers, perhaps it is just coincidence, after all Blogger seems to be playing up quite a bit recently, but if my deserters are a result of 85 kilos of sausage lying on our kitchen table, so be it........you can't please everyone !

The anonymity of blog land can give some bloggers a certain carte blanche to vent their spleen in ways that they couldn't possibly do (or dare to) in real life ( and before you go off on one Thomas, I am not talking about you...... I know you, in your real life can be a real stinker face to face so to speak!)..it has happened to me a few times with characters that I once thought stable (oh how wrong was I?).... That is  the problem with blogland , sometimes lunatics can slip under your well homed  nutter radar!

I remember that one affable old duffer that I follow with some loyalty- the bouncy old soul that is (Yorkshire Pudding) - well he had a awful time once, with one particularly nasty character who left a whole novel of abuse on his blog.

As a regular reader, I remember finding the whole thing unnecessary and all rather upsetting...

If you want a fun debate... great!

,If you disagree with an idea, a philosophy or an opinion....do so respectfully

and if you strongly disagree with anything you read or see...

then..........just fuck off

Life's too short!

In Trutina from Carmina Burana - Carl Orff.

lovely........lovely.........lovely

Pork, Pork and More Pork

"look at my meat!"

  

 Well I feel a little like a serial killer who has been spent a busy afternoon packing bits of my victims up in a whole plethora of plastic bags......yes number 12 and number 21 were picked up today from the butcher's shop in six large boxes and were carefully re bagged ready for a hastily bought chest freezer, which has been set up in the back shed.

85 kilos of sausages, massive leg joints, a ton of belly pork and chops galore ( or should that be gore) have covered every surface in the kitchen. and I was grateful that amid the carnage there were only four recognisable trotters to cope with and not a whole pigs head. ( the butcher's don't generally give you the heads unless requested)

Looking at the prices of meat at our local butchers, I think that we have well over £1,000 quids worth ready to be eaten!..... Bless number 12 and 21 have done us proud.

I dropped some goodies off for the RFWF, and to Eirlys and John who helped me so well last Tuesday and then just had time to leave a chop with Auntie Glads for her tea!

85 kilos of sausage!!!

We have just had sausages for our tea!!! bloody lovely!!!!

The 4 Tribes Of Trelawnyd

 My sister in law called around yesterday, I had missed our weekly "coffee and cake" meet up as I had fallen asleep in arm chair, warmed into slumber by a blanket of fluffy Welsh Terriers and tired out by that morning's altercation with a trailer trash hag who ruined my morning by trying to bully free petrol out of a teenage petrol pump attendant.

It is just eight weeks since my brother died, but what with Christmas, New Year and the anniversary of his Birthday all part of those two months, his death seems  almost  an age away now.
It's a weird thought....

Andrew at my 2009 Open Allotment Day

 Jayne watched the field for a while after she parked and after hearing all about the blind Rooster Cogburn she watched the hens milling around the gate and said "Everyone of them has a story to tell"....

she seemed surprised...after all hens are only hens........

Just recently I have realised that the hen population  on the field has evolved into four distinct tribes or factions. Three of the four tribes now have their own cockerel leader where the fourth has an alpha female in charge, and each group have chosen to inhabit their own corner of the field.

The Tribe of the West is the most eclectic of the tribes.Led by the diminutive Eric, it comprises of the remaining crackhead whores,  a bullied arucana and her team mate Phylis Diller (Below) and three shy re homed Wellsummers

 The Tribe of the North comprises of all seven of the oldest hens on the field which have been joined by the three of the crackhead whores who arrived bald and damaged from a year's mistreatment by their over randy cockerel . These hens are all now fully re feathered and healthy birds and all three have just started to lay again, a sign of good condition ,  

I have found it rather amusing that the youngest and most inexperienced cockerel, Badger has taken over as leader in this coop. Some readers may remember that he was the single chick that survived a fatal badger attack on his mother last spring and alone and lonely was luckily teamed up with Camilla the gosling when she arrived.

Badger with Camilla

Badger now!

 The Tribe of the East, is the "front of house" group of hens on the field, for their designated area is the most sociable and most visual to anyone passing by in the lane. Subsequently the hens in this tribe are the most confident and the most pushy, for they are the ones that always benefit from scraps and bread donated by villagers.

Stanley, the old cockerel, interestingly enough has moved hen houses with his trusty white guinea fowl, Angostura in tow, to "take charge" of the Tribe of the East. which comprises of seven re homed orpingtons and a large group of bog standard red hens that arrived last year after being mistreated by their owner.

The last distinct group on the field is the Tribe of the South. This is a rag tag group of geeks, shy saddos and lonely hens.from three coops, who like to hide away from the hustle and bustle of daily life.They always remind me of those kids at school that never played with anyone at break time, you remember the ones?, the kids that read their books on the periphery of the action, wanting to join in but not having the confidence to do so

Their "leader" is Lillian, a white hefty Orpington, who enjoys peace ,quiet and periods of warm sunshine.....it is not a coincidence that their part of the field remains in the sun for the majority of the day

Lilliam.....a gal not to be messed with

 ......yeap Jayne was right...... every hen has a story.......

Slag!!!!!!!!!!!!!

"And your fans think you're all heart..."

and so said a close friend of mine that read a somewhat acerbic comment I wrote about the Occupy Sheffield demonstrators.... 

and he is right in what he said......I am not the Mary Poppins of Welsh poultry, or the Francis of Assissi of Flintshire....at times I can be as bad tempered and as much of an old bastard  as anyone out there in blogland ......and that's official.

I don't loose my temper often, but when I do, I can easily do a cracking impression of Aurora (Shirley McClaine) loosing it , from the movie Terms of Endearment

I have not got time now to tell you exactly How I lost my temper early this morning after I had left work for home.... suffice to say that it involved a rather common woman in tracksuit bottoms at the petrol station........and the phrase " you Rancid old slag!"

The price of a pint of milk

What can you get for around 44p nowadays?

A pint of milk?

A cheap Newspaper?

A stamp?

No, Chris has just spent 44p on something for me and will continue to pay 44p a day for the next year on it!

What is it he has bought me, I hear you all ask...?

Well he has just bought me the best pressie ever....

He has paid the field rent for me

44p a day!

The best pressie ever!

Thank you! x

Pigless

Walking through the village with the dogs a few minutes ago, I spied affable despot Jason ambling down Chapel Street with his daughter on his shoulders.

"Have they gone?!" he called over and when I shouted out that they had, he added with a chuckle

"Bet you feel like that chap out of Schindler's List"

22 as a baby

Sweet natured number 12 and the killer-on-trotters number 21 left the field peacefully this morning. The Red Faced Welsh Farmer and his ever cheerful son Ed turned up exactly on time as did my farmer friends Eirlys and John, who had kindly agreed to give us a hand and after a quick chin wag and "plan of attack", we set up  a whole line of hurdles leading a path up to the waiting loose box by the gate.

I filled a bucket with corn, opened the enclosure gate and called the pigs out. Number 21 followed me immediately, with number 12 tottering up rather shyly behind, and within five minutes we had just about loaded 12 into the trailer where he peacefully scooped up big mouthfuls of corn with relish. The more sly number 21 played up just a little and tiptoed gaily around the field for a few minuteds, presumably searching for a spare hen to kill, followed by all of my helpers with their pig boards at the ready.

Neither pig was stressed, that's all I was truly bothered about, and when we eventually loaded 21, they both looked as though a trip in a trailer was the most natural thing in the world for both of them to be doing on a cold Tuesday morning.

Their calmness made me feel so much better, I just couldn't bare seeing them anxious and frightened.

At the abattoir

It was the same story when we arrived at the butcher's abattoir, where a huge South African Butcher, gently encouraged them both into their holding pen. "He's a big friendly bastard" he commented when number 12 ambled forward to sniff at some tiny looking porkers in the next stall, and a second later I was off to complete the paperwork . It was as quick and as simple as that.. no time for "goodbyes....no time for second thoughts!

I was glad I was with the RFWF He would have stamped on any indulgent emotional romp if  I dared to perform one.Things had to be matter of fact...that is the rule with farm animals.

"You are now a real farmer!" the RFWF said  as we drove off......."welcome to the club "

Welsh Movies

Now one of my all time favourite movies is the 1942 propaganda film Went The Day Well.

For those that don't know, it is an account of the Nazi takeover of a rural English Village during the second World War, and features a whole plethora of stiff upper Brits killing the bosh over their tea and crumpets!

The postmistress from Went The Day Well -axing the filthy hun

Tonight at Theatre Clwyd, there was a showing of two "Welsh" films which kind of mirror the story in Went The Day Well. The first was a cracking "short" propaganda film from 1943 called The Silent Village.

Aimed to be a tribute to the population of a small  Czechoslovakian mining village called Lidice, which was destroyed by the Nazis, The Silent Village "reenacted" the 1942 atrocity by using the real life citizens of the South Wales mining village Cwmgiedd in a documentary type narrative that works remarkably well

The real men of Cwmgiedd sing "Mae Hen Wlad Fy Nhadau "just before being "shot"

The main feature.... the Welsh thriller Resistance 

proved to be somewhat of a bummer especially after the creaky spirit shown by The Silent Village, but it did take a slightly different slant on the same subject matter.

In Resistance, the Germans have invaded Britain, and in an isolated Welsh Valley a somewhat sympathetic German Captain (Tom Wlaschiha) and his men, encounter a small group of women left alone by their menfolk who have joined the resistance movement.

Hampered by a tiny budget and a somewhat confusing story, this beautifully shot film,proved to be in the end , well, just a little bit dull... but I must admit that my disappointment  was probably fuelled by memories of Went The Day Well's  robust postmistress running amok with an axe!

The Talented Tom Wlaschicha  and Andrea Riseborough in Resistance

Time To Go

The RFWF and other villagers constructing the pig paddock 2 years ago

The Red Faced Welsh farmer has called around to discuss moving the pigs for slaughter.

Moving any farming animal is not just the simple process that it once was when animals were driven to market along country roads and through villages.

The pigs now have to be  tagged, and the paperwork has to be completed in triplicate before number 12 and number 21 can be cajoled into the RFWF's trailer for their last journey.
Strict guidelines are set and need to be followed about how they will be transported and I applaud the Uk for spearheading the implementation of these rules in a Europe that often cruelly treats the farming animals it is responsible for.

It is vital that the pigs are kept as stress free as possible, my decision to cull them together I think will go a long way in ensuring that will be the case, but some thought needed to be given to how we are to move and load them into the trailer, after all, the only thing they have known for the past 10 months is a small paddock and a dry old hen house filled with straw.

The RFWF knows all this. He is not in any way sentimental like me. He is simply a pragmatic old character that knows what to do when it comes to animals and will implement his knowledge with the minimum of fuss

Today I will try to conscript a few villagers to be "on hand" tomorrow morning in order to help.Village elder and cemetery carer Islwyn has already said he will be available and I am sure gentleman farmer Ralph from up the lane may be able to spare a half hour............I must not forget to tell Pat, my unofficial animal helper, that number 21 is going; after all she worked so hard last summer helping me inject the little bugger up the arse with antibiotics when she had a septic knee, she may like to call down to "say goodbye"

Perhaps I will be like the RFWF one day.....who knows..... but today... big softie that I am.,..... I hand fed number 12 and number 21 a huge bowl of warm spaghetti..........their joy at sucking the pasta in without chewing...made me feel just a little bit better about tomorrow!

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btw Weightwatchers weigh in today 15 stone

Total weight loss this week 2lbs

Total weight loss since the 2nd of Jan 1 stone

Coconut pieces?

Now first let me tell you that I am having a few computer problems, so for a while things may be a bit erratic from now on until Mr Computer Shop geek can sort it all out.... My second point is a bit of a question.... why would someone place a dozen or so small pieces of rock hard coconut shell ( no flesh) in an egg box on top of our kitchen wall?

Now I know we live in a small rural village, that could have been mistaken as the backdrop for the film The Wicker Man, but even I cannot quite work out the significance of this strange offering?

If anyone can work a plausible answer , please contact me

And thirdly, the out and out winners of a traditional Welsh Love Spoon are Kiwi "Lady Mondegreen over at

http://ladymondegreenssecretgarden.blogspot.com/ who got all of the questions right thanks to her quick witted daughter Bironey! and to "Dan" Congratulations to all three of you!

The answers ( if anyone is interested) are Brett Claywell ( Mr painfully Cute) A young Russell Crowe ,Downton Abbey's Dan Stevens, Norman Reedus from The Walking Dead,Lancastrian comic Jon Richardson,actor Jospeh Mawle, crooner and all round sex pot Matt Cardle, Miranda sit encom sweetie Tom Ellis, Reece Shearsmith from The League of Gentlemen and finally the delightfully cute Scott Evans

Shame on Prestatyn resident Gwyneth,( you know who you are), Aussie Carol and Gloria Abyss....who all cheated in order to retrieve the "right" answers!!!!.....disqualification is a nasty word eh?
Naughty Naughty!

Suction Excitement

Trelawnyd nestled at the foot of the Gop (on the right). Photo taken from the East

You know when you are middle aged when you spend a Saturday afternoon playing with your new Dyson vacuum cleaner ! 

It wasn't that long ago when we used to get dressed up and spend any free afternoon sipping at couple of bottles of pinot at the local wine bar...

Now it was the excitement of "cyclone" suction that dominated the day as well as a brisk walk above the village with George in tow.....

A "Fickle" update

The Blind Rooster Cogburn and a very cold and wet ...me

Well enough of the shiny and beautiful in the previous post and let's get on with a huge dollop of reality and "not-so-rugged" good looks. Amid the plethora of emailed Quiz entries (4 !) there was an email from U.S. gal, Beatrice Fickle asking me for a factual update on the field and politely requesting me not to be so teenage with (and I quote) 

"bimbo men old enough to be my sons!!"

tee hee.........another email from someone who has a "pen name " with the deliciously camp title of Gloria Abyss stated that they hadn't realised I was so " homosexualist!"

(she/he managed to get all the names right btw)

 Anyhow, the field ( or as it can be now nicknamed- The Somme) remains largely unchanging in it's routine and make up. The winter has taken it's toll on the old and weak (one of the Crackhead Whores, Gloria the old turkey and an ancient old black rock have faded and died ), but most of the population is doing quite well.

The four tame geese, Jo, Winnie, Russell and the Canadian Goose Camilla square off gamely every day with the three interlopers that were dumped here in the autumn. I have provisionally sold the ever aggressive Thomas and his subordinate female to a guy down the Felin and aim to keep the pretty Elizabeth to augment my little flock....the female geese will be starting to lay fairly soon

 

Winnie, Jo and a perky Russell

The field now has four cockerels though with Rooster Cogburn safely in his own run with vinegar tits, there are only three "alpha" males to protect the flocks. Old Stanley who is almost 7 years old remains firmly in charge. His "second-in-command" is a feisty little fart of an unwanted frizzle who I have called Eric .

Not six inches high, and with an attitude the size of an elephant's head, he spends most of his short winter's day streaking back and forth across the field in a desperate attempt to shag anything he can get his tiny little beak on.

For most of the time it is the slow moving giant buffs that he buttonholes and it is almost heartbreaking watching him riding these unconcerned fat ladies without ever being able to "dunk the carrot" so to speak

Little man syndrome .....Eric the ever randy frizzle

Way down in the wettest part of the field, the pigs are enjoying their last few days in Trelawnyd.

I have given them extra rations today ( complete with the recently expired old black rock)  and blissfully unaware of their fate, they have squabbled and bickered over the most tastiest bits and pieces like old pub drinkers on an afternoon binge.

No 12 schleping through the mud

In the cold and rain, I stood and watched both pigs for a while....enjoying their obvious delight in filling their fat, greedy faces....despite the weather, the whole of the field seemed to be in constant and interesting motion. Boris and Bingley the stag turkeys spar together in lazy circles as the hysterical runner ducks totter by desperate to reach their pond before the geese beat them to it.

In the distance Albert is stalking back towards the warmth of the cottage as the guinea fowl scream at him from the top of the Church wall and everywhere else little knots of hens shelter against the weather, their shoulders hunched and bowed against the wind.....

nothing much changes.......

Quiz Time

cute

sexy

Edwardian

Zombie chic

Northern Humour

English actor

Matt who?

Miranda

Strangers in the village

sigh

Ok if anyone can name all (OR most of my lastest cinematic and tv pin ups) then they will win (aka Chris over at http://growfisheat.blogspot.com/) a handmade Welsh Love spoon!!!!
email me the answers jgsheffield@hotmail.com
All Answers by Sunday please !

Arguements

I woke just before dawn this morning because of Mabel who had a humdinger of a panic attack over something insignificant going on outside the cottage. I usually can ignore her occasional bouts of worried barking but when she followed Albert through the living room door and shakily up the stairs, I couldn't quite ignore her worried fat face pressed closely against mine as I lay in bed.

For a powerful dog, she can be a neurotic bundle of nerves when the wind blows in the wrong direction.

So I got up, drank some coffee and after boxing up six eggs , I took Mabel out on an early morning egg delivery.

I seldom knock on peoples' door when I drop off eggs. Usually I just leave a box on a window sill, on a door step or in the case of one "particular" customer, in their greenhouse under a plantpot shelf, so I didn't think twice in ambling around the back of this particular home to deposit the eggs on the top of a wheelie bin!

The lights were on in the house and suddenly from within there came the sound of crockery breaking . I held my breath, not sure of exactly what to do, and there came more crashing,, a loud bang and the sound of a woman shouting.shrilly at a man who was pleading with her to be quiet.

I started to creep away from the house before Mabel started her usual nervous barking when after a few more explosions of kitchenalia I heard the woman yell clearly

"YOU CAN KISS MY ARSE YOU SCUMMY TURD"

I almost burst out laughing....the woman in question usually is such a delightfully polite and well spoken individual

as my mother used to say

"You don't know anyone unless you follow them home!"

We disappeared before we were caught!

You Have Mail

My hotmail email inbox had six messages in it this morning.

Six little lines

Five names that I knew

Six people that wanted me to know something.

There they were, silent and waiting.

Six messages.

One from a dear friend shared sad news of a family death.

The next was an upbeat message from the blind cockerel's previous owner seeking information on a much missed pet

and the next was a chatty story from a friend suffering from depression, that could not quite hide the mental pain in her heart, despite an effort to be upbeat and positive.

The fourth,was from a work colleague, excited at her imminent trip to New York (she emailed from the airport I think)....and the fifth was a business like news from a rural animal feed company offering cheap poultry wormer.

The sixth was some spam which had somehow made it into my inbox....it was marked " top secret" and was supposedly sent "from" someone called lawel Garba.....lawel was deleted away without a thought.

Six messages...four of note.

All sent within minutes of each other.......

It's a strange world.......

A Welsh Soap Opera

Now for those that thought the pretty Americans in the previous soap video were not quite to their taste, I thought you all would like to have a look at the one and only Welsh soap Opera "Pobol y Cwm" (People of the Valley)

Now here is a soap I could watch

Now I never as a rule watch any soaps.....too depressing, too silly, too boring...
But I could watch this silly froth from the US.....
sometimes all you need is a pretty face and a bad script

True Grit

The pigs have had a week's reprieve. The butcher's son couldn't pick them up and the "transport" that was going to fill in so to speak, never materialised, so after flagging down the red faced welsh farmer on the main road and enlisting his help, I have provisionally booked them in for next Tuesday.

It's been another gloomy wet day here and I feel it has been a bit of a waste hanging around for phonecalls and the like, however in between the showers, I have spent a little time getting to know Rooster Cogburn, the blind cockerel from Alton Towers.

He's a sweet natured lad, who is well used to being handled, and despite not really knowing me or my voice as yet , he sat carefully on my knee when I picked him up and stayed calm and still as I stroked his feathers and checked his eyes.

Eating and drinking for him seems not to be a major problem as I think he can just make out his bright green feeding bowl in his one barely functioning eye, however all it takes is a finger splashing the water in his water bowl or a rhythmic shake of his corn and his head is immediately down eager to find out what is available.

Putting Vinegar tits in with him was a bit of an inspiration, for he seems to love the company of another bird, and I have found it rather touching to watch him occasionally reaching out with his beak to comb through her feathers in a gentle gesture of contact

Yes he is useless, he has not even got enough meat on him to make 4 points on a weightwater's supper, but looking at him sitting still in his run, alert and careful I think that there is something quite valiant about him and his gentle ability to keep going