Gop

In one of his rare fits of " derring do" the Prof suggested that both of us take the dogs for a walk up  Gop hill today. It 's been uncharacteristically  warm and sunny.
He conceded that it was unwise to Winnie to walk all of the way up ( after I reminded him that it was me that had to try to resuscitate Constance after she had collapsed during a walk) so we filled " little Fanny" with dogs ( I promised to " dyson it out asap)  and drove up the hill behind the village..
The views were lovely.

Down be valley to the coast ( Note Winnie cloud watching)

Across the valley towards the village

The Fucking Fuchsia

Val, Bingley and Peter

I was walking up Byron Street yesterday when flower show stalwart,   Bethan stopped her car to tell me the dreadful news that village resident, champion fuchsia grower and all around nice guy, Peter V had sadly  passed away that morning.
Peter and his partner Trelawnyd Val had been an integral part of village life for some years before their recent move to our neighbouring village of Caerwys.
Infamous for using astroturf in their garden ( a fact that nearly gave our flower show judge a stroke) Peter and Val were always prominent in all aspects of village life.
With great humour and warmth, I remember the couple judging our village fete " name the turkey competition " as well as entering the Trelawnyd Flower Show fuchsia class with their monster fuchsia (which had to wheelbarrowed into the memorial hall by two sweaty men ) and my daily walk around the village was never complete without a wave and a thumbs up by an upbeat Peter who was invariably sat in his conservatory with a paper .
His battle with cancer was characteristically brave and wonderfully inspiring.
I shall miss him and his blokey positivism
There is always something infectious about natural good humour and warmth
Peter had it in bucketloads .
We send our love and thoughts to Val xxx

Full Circle

I picked Mary up from the groomers at 4 pm
I didn't recognise her when I walked in.
for she had lost her puppy look and had been transformed  into a true Welsh Terrier.
I put her in the passenger seat for the journey home
and she sat quietly by my side
with bright brown eyes

Suddenly I felt just a tad emotional,

as I realised that

I now had  my co pilot back

Road Sense

A topic of conversation here in Rural North Wales has been the recent killing of a dog by the police on the much hated A55 duel carriageway. The dog was running loose and had apparently escaped all reasonable efforts of capture , so after discussion with the firearm officers, ( who decided that shooting the dog was not a safe option) the police ran over and killed the dog with their own patrol car.
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-wales-north-west-wales-35662889
This situation took place, I am told, in the early hours of the morning, when the carriageway is generally quiet , so, as you may expect, comments about the police action have been varied and at times vociferous.
My views about it all are somewhat mixed.
Some dogs can cope with traffic and being loose. They are in the minority . George and Winnie , I suspect could walk through the village without causing a problem. I think Winnie would even use the zebra crossing all by herself if she had to, but the Welsh terriers, would, I know, dart into traffic without even batting an eye.

My heart goes out to those police officers. Unless you are a psychopath the killing of  an innocent and terrified animal can never be seen as an exciting and sporting job and in my experience most police personnel are like most nurses in that all they want to do the right thing.
That's common sense.

Apparently there is independent enquiry into this incident. I hope it comes to light just how a dog got away from it's owner in the early hours of the morning .

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Anyhow on a lighter note I am just about to take Mary for her first haircut, I shall post a photo later...oh and the Prof has just emailed me that by accident he took one of my t shirts with him to the gym this morning........it was my second best Walking Dead T shirt........
I would have paid good money to see that

" Out Of The Mouth Of.........".

I was on the school pick up yesterday, so took Winnie down to the school gates at three pm. I always take one of the dogs, so I don't look like a pervert to those parents who don't know me.
Six year old Liv is always out first and seconds after we have the usual diva greetings she and her classmates were rubbing chubby hands all over Winnie's body.
" Feel her nipples" Liv gave her instructions to two little boys " that's where she fed her babies"
" They are called udders" one of the boys said very seriously as he crouched down to have a better look, the other boy was busy poking his finger into the folds of Winnie's face wrinkles .
I became slightly worried when another little girl bounced up and started to rub Winnie's bottom, but the old bulldog lapped up the attention like a sponge.
" They are called teats!" I told the children as the nipple inspection continued and they all burst out laughing...

Liv, Winnie and I then waited for older sister Eve to get out of the senior class and together we went back to the cottage. Both girls pointed at the ceramic egg in the garden and after I shouted out that it was a genuine dinosaur egg they chorused " YOU LIE!" 
It's a game we play.

Yesterday I had two activities planned. The girls were asked to design several greetings card ( Including a Birthday card for the Prof) then we made zombie gingerbread men which were hot out of the oven by the time affable despot Jason was knocking at the cottage window ready to pick them up.

Gingerbread Zombies

Great fun...will tell you about this tomorrow

Sometimes We All Need A Sneaky Sausage!

Just as the planets spin around the central axis of the sun, the cottage animals seem to circle and re circle the constant anchor of an ageing Scottish terrier.
This morning was a case in point.
Albert shot through the kitchen followed by Mary and Winnie and legged it up the stairs amid a hammering of paws on floorboards. Moments later they all reappeared together , this time with William in tow and the group flowed through the kitchen door then back again like a hairy tidal wave.
This is a normal event  when the sun shines and the cottage is airing .
Even I am pottering around back and forth, as I search for a craft folder full of odds and ends...I am picking up Liv and Eve from school today and I want them to design some greetings cards

George is the only one still and quiet.

I hoover the house with Mary angrily barking at the hoover nozzle,and William yaps at the garden gate as Pippa tries to sneak past the cottage with her bad tempered Meg. By this time Winnie is snoring loudly in the arm chair and Albert has put his head in the dumpling mix I have left in a bowl on the kitchen table.
The electricity meter reader knocks on the front window and the cottage bursts back into more confusion and noise . It's the kind of situation when the Professor will often bellow out a lusty
" I can't stand this !" Remark, not understanding that he is indeed adding to the confusion.

Only George is still watching the mayhem from his quiet place on the couch.

I catch The goo goo eyed Mary and put her and William on their leads in readiness for their two mile march around the village . Winnie snores her bulldog snores as Albert stalks off to bed, and I retrieve a left over sausage from the fridge and drop it into George's lap before we leave .

There's got to be some compensation for being the calm eye of the storm.

Old George

A Pain In The Glass

I met two people in the village this morning . One chap I know fairly well, he's the owner of Podrick the black Labrador puppy, who at only a few months old is already a beautifully trained sweetheart.
The other chap I didn't know at all, he was walking back from the garage shop with a newspaper.
Both men mentioned the blog.
Podrick's owner was tickled pink, that at puppy class in the village of Ffynnongroew ( go on you Americans try pronouncing that  one!) a woman had recognised his dog from my blog, whilst the other chap stopped to tell me that his wife had found Going Gently and had found something funny in it.
I know that some locals read it to catch up on the local news......perhaps that's a reflection that we no longer have a village centre shop anymore . Who knows.
If the chap with the newspaper pops in here today, he won't find too much to laugh about although Mandy from next door did catch me feeding the sheep in my pyjamas this morning......I don't know how I did it but they were inside out so the pockets ( yes they have pockets) were flapping around my hips like elephant's ears. She's used to such sights so barely gave me a second glance.....I still had my pyjamas on under my trousers when I met the villagers .....but I don't care...
  I've been spending my time organising the kitchen cupboards again......
...The kitchen is a tip and from time to time a girl just has to pull himself up by the bra straps and take control.
There's two of us in the house so why oh why do we have hundreds of drinking glasses?
I've just bleached, cleaned, sorted and polished hundreds of the little buggers

Same with the food cupboard....I've just found a packed of lasagna dated 1998 as well as a tin of baked beans which probably got sold when Harold Wilson was still puffing his pipe.
So organisation and streamlining is the order of the day.....as well as lots of coffee and good radio.
Friday I am ordering the new kitchen flooring......then we'll really have a kitchen fit for Mary Berry