Friday, 28 April 2017


George now looks like a proper Scottie
He's twelve
And he ate 12 cocktail sausages all to himself as a treat in Sainsburys car park! 
A sweet, sweet moment! 

Pay Something Forward

Early today George and I left home in a miserable rainstorm.
It's his turn for a professional haircut
On the garden wall, by the kitchen door I spied a small bouquet of spring flowers, tied carefully in the middle with a miniature length of ivy.
The sweet work of Mrs Trellis, I thought.

It put me in a good mood, that simple act of kindness, and so it was easy to pay it forward when I eventually got to the pet store where the groomers worked away in their cramped windowless workstations and the salespeople tidied shelves and served the ungrateful public.
I left three boxes of chocolate eclairs for the staff to have with their coffee as George was lifted onto his grooming table. It only cost me the loose change left in my pockets
But boy, did it make me feel good.
The staff didn't need to thank me...... it was Mrs Trellis that should have been thanked

What's the last time you received a small act of kindness?
I'd be interested to know.

Thursday, 27 April 2017

My Television Debut


There is something that you may not know about me but I have once appeared on tv!

Years ago I nursed an RAF pilot called Tim, who crashed  his Harrier Jumpjet. Typical of most servicemen that suffer a catastrophic spinal cord injury, Tim dealt with his injuries with a stoicism and bravery that was not only impressive but genuinely inspiring.
I remember one beer filled night when a dozen nurses accompanied a dozen patients to the pub which was located up a hill beyond the rehabilitation unit where we worked. After last orders as the nurses pushed their charges back to the wards, Tim organised the 'convoy' into an " aircraft V" formation with him leading the charge in the centre of the road and at full gallop the wheelchairs careered back down the hill .
It was a moment of pure , wonderful madness, with patients and nurses yelling and screaming at the top of their lungs as their wheelchairs bounced off each other and into the road, the grass verges and muddy ditches.
To me this is the essence of rehabilitation.
Risk taking, humour and a bit of stupid lunacy.

Anyhow I digress.......back to my one and only tv appearance!

Years after Tim's discharge from our unit the BBC featured his accident in one of their Emergency 999 programmes. As part of his story, a camera crew appeared on our unit to film some of the hospital based scenes of his rehab with an actor playing Tim in a wheelchair.

I was asked to feature in the fictional moment that Tim was mobilised in his wheelchair for the first time, so I donned my best, slightly tight, charge nurse uniform, made sure my hair was combed and squirted myself with aftershave and in front of an irritating ten year old director , I physically manhandled the 'paralyzed' actor from his bed and into his wheelchair by using a sliding board as the cameras rolled!
It was all very Hollywood, with me acting away with all the right phrases and caring expressions.
Meryl Streep couldn't have done any better.

Months later, the tv show aired and I sat for what seemed hours on my sofa for my big tv debut moment!
My scene lasted perhaps just ten seconds or so, and seemed to be totally filmed from behind.
And only one of my best friend's saw it.
He rang and told me honestly what he thought of my performance
" I saw your big fat arse on tv last night" he said dryly.

For Tim's story see

Wednesday, 26 April 2017

Gypsies,Tramps and Thieves?

Two " rough looking" types were sat in a open top van at the end of the lane this morning.
I noticed them when I saw to the bachelor cockerels, so put Winnie on a lead and looking like a local just out for a dog walk. I wandered over  to check them out.
As I thought the men were Irish travellers  and the van was full of scrap metal.
" can I help you? " I asked
Both men chatted in that machine gun speed brogue which is almost impossible to understand but I more or less worked out that they were asking who owned a nearby field which was dotted with old farm equipment.
I remained vague, unhelpful and mistrusting,
And so the younger man started dolling out some charm by then asking me about my "beautiful British Bulldog" 
" What's his name" the man asked, not noticing a row of saggy tits inches from the ground
Winnie raised her head and blew him a few bulldog kisses.
"Roxy" I told him, still keeping up the hard pretence
" Is he friendly?" the man asked again
" No, he can be a bit aggressive" 
The men stayed in their van
Winnie yawned and let out a mini fart.

Eventually the men drive off, and I let them see that I was watching them go. I shall let the owner of the field know that his field was being "sussed".
An old farmer, I once knew very well, told me several stories  of the damage the rougher Travellers did to his farmland when they decided to relocate to one of his best pasture fields just a few years back.
Before they were finally evicted ( by semi force and the use of local farmer friends driving mechanical diggers) water ditches were damaged and filled with waste, hedges destroyed, and animals owned by another neighbour killed and stolen.

It is these guys that give honest travellers a bad name.

Tuesday, 25 April 2017

Mini Drama

An Arctic blast hit us yesterday afternoon despite the sun and blue sky.
When I left fat club, the wind almost cut me into two...but to be fair I was wearing my thinnest ( and lightest)  t shirt...btw I lost 6.5 lbs last week!
I knew the change in the weather only too well for I sat out in it for nearly an hour, perched on the wire garden chair which is situated under the growing honeysuckle by our front door.
There is a blackbird nest hidden away in the ugly evergreen shrub by the stone wall and a furious blackbird father and I was standing guard as two magpies circled and watched, stalked and plotted
their way towards the eggs.
I could have been watching a Hollywood monster movie after Mary alerted me to the initial attack with a worried bark from the back of the armchair and both of us watched as the drama unfolded like some mini dinosaur encounter.
One magpie kept the male blackbird busy as the other tried to drive the sitting female away with aggressive clicks and chatter.
The blackbirds were valiant, vociferous and surprisingly effective in the defence of their nest but the magpies were cunning and more intelligent, so bided their time, that was until, I could take the tense stand off no longer and went to sit in the garden .
Fifty minutes later, the magpies eventually gave up their vigil and looped their way angrily across the churchyard and the exhausted blackbirds finally relaxed their shouts and dropped their tails.
I took myself off for a hot bath!

This morning, the blackbird nest is empty and the only birds in the garden are the sparrow gang perched spunkily on the cottage wall.
I noted a broken blackbird egg lying in the lane by the gate.

Ps in an effort to lighten the mood watch this video of an Australian magpie attack
Very, very funny.

Sunday, 23 April 2017

New People

I stopped to speak to someone I shall call Miss Haversham this morning.
I nicknamed her this because she was wearing a rather unruly hairstyle with dressing gown and slippers.
It was late morning.
I haven's seen her in a while so we got to chatting about new characters that have moved into the newly bought and rented houses nearby.
I told her that I would send all newcomers a letter from the Flower Show, welcoming them to the village.
She pointed to a house across the road and asked if I was going include them in the correspondence.
" I have my own ideas about them" she said somewhat conspiratorially
" oh yes?" I said
" Yes" she whispered " They leave their washing on the line overnight!!!!!!" 
"Ohhhhhhh" I replied, totally unable to grasp the significance of the statement
And in way of explanation, Mrs Haversham said " It's a bit like people who always  leave their pegs on the line" 
I walked away non the wiser.

Saturday, 22 April 2017

Friday, 21 April 2017

What Fresh Hell Is This?

I was on chauffeur duty tonight as the Prof and my sister went out for night at the musical theatre.
When they were enjoying some minor dancers from Strictly Come Dancing, I settled down to phoning friends from a dog covered arm chair but the conversations were not quite what I wanted them to be...the reason?.....I wasn't feeling very well.
At ten thirty when we finally got home, I knew I had a temperature, so shivering , I plucked the digital thermometer from it's resting place in a spare mug on the kitchen side and stuck it in my mouth .37.4  degrees!

Only then did I realize when I last used the was in a moment of panic a couple of months ago!
When Winnie was critically ill with her septic uterus!

Faghags and fagmates

I was going to do a post on homophobia this morning, given that the unfortunate Petra has been posting again, but there was a baby rabbit under the bookcase,so I didn't quite have time.
William being rather dim thought it was still somewhere in the kitchen and led the charge with the other terriers in a bid to kill it. Winnie however , knew better and led me right to the baby in the living room with her worried brown eyes and serious expression.
Mothering instinct , even in a dog so old, is a strong urge to quell, me thinks.
Albert just yawned, and even when the baby started to scream ( just as I wrapped a hand around it) he  ignored the subsequent canine hysteria with measured alacrity.
He's seen it all before.

I'v never quite understood homophobia. Oh I get the somewhat hackneyed religious arguments and the 1970ish "nancy boy" disappointment of parents who wanted grandchildren and family stability but given the 'fluid" nature of how things are nowadays it just seems to be rather unfashionable  to be still prejudiced about such matters.
Petra's vitriol seems to be centred about my gay friendly following. The 'Faghags' as she likes to call them. I find this interesting as, in my view, calling someone a faghag is a compliment not a curse.
Women that tend to enjoy the company of gay men, to me are enlightened. They are accepting, bright, inclusive and generally are incredibly humorous.
Who wouldn't like to be surrounded by such creatures?
( I read recently that the new " term " for faghag is Gabe" ( gay+ babe) 
Now Going Gently has a few straight guy followers toon, I wonder if Petra realises that? What do We call them? Fagmates? 
It's just a thought.
A few years ago, in Sheffield, I met a woman at a work's night out who gushed on incessantly about
just how fun us gays were! She banged on so much that she missed my smiling comment of  oh we make lovely pets!" for what it was . It's hard to walk the right line here before stereotyping gets in the just like I did with the faghag comment a little earlier.

The upshot of this navel gazing?
Who fucking knows?
We like who we like.
I like people that make me laugh,that stimulate and challenge me and who are warm and generous. If they like dogs and zombie tv shows that's a bonus in my book.

Thursday, 20 April 2017

Pass The Tissues

Some commercials are little movies all of their own.
Watch this one , I'm not sure where the wheelchair comes into it
But it may make you weep just a little!