My Last Flower Show

 This stunning photo, is the best illustration of the presence of goats of Llandudno . Recently the council has rounded up some of the younger goats and the Billy’s of the splinter heard and have transported them to new sites in Bristol and Bournemouth, but the majority of the herd remains intact here with contraceptives administered to the females wild now on the Orme

This photo was sent to me by Facebook yesterday. It was dated 4 years ago “today” and was taken at the very last Flower Show  when I was Show Chair and general dogsbody 

The lady in the photo was a new exhibitor to the show. She was the mother of an ex colleague of mine who had suffered severe depression following an extensive stroke. It was her first trip out in public.

As part of some rehab, her daughter had suggested that she enter several of the art classes of the show and because of the fact she had indeed entered most she managed to name the most points in the art section, which meant that she won the Rowenna Wrigley Cup.

When I called her name out, amid the crowded hall she promptly burst into surprised and happy tears and joyously skipped forward for me to present her with her trophy, The photo captured that moment when she hugged me her thanks.

There is something incredibly moving and infectious in someone else’s genuine happiness 

Of course the lady’s stroke had made her more emotionally labile that she was normally but that didn’t detract from the sweetness of the event.

The audience sensed the importance of the moment and clapped enthusiastically 

Loud and long

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5th

Dad and Paul at Filey in 1949

If my father, Philip, had not died back in 1979, he would have been 107 years old today. If my oldest brother, Paul Philip, had not died back in 2010 he would have been 74 years old today. 

They were both good men who embraced life. They were participants, not bystanders and they were each blessed with a range of talents.

In his youth, my father played both rugby and cricket to a decent standard. He had a good tenor voice and sang in choirs. He taught himself how to develop and print photographs and passed that knowledge on to me. He was a church warden and the driving force behind the establishment of playing fields and a sports club in the village of my birth. As the headmaster of the village school, he helped many people in many different ways long after they had left school. No wonder that at his funeral there was standing room only in Holy Trinity Church. He was respected and loved.

My brother Paul was a brilliant musician with a fine memory for tunes and songs. He excelled on the Irish fiddle and like my father had a fine singing voice. In his youth he was good at rowing, rock climbing and karate. He could speak French and German quite fluently and before his untimely death he was becoming pretty competent in modern Greek too. He drank like a fish and smoked like a chimney and found interest in everyone he met though he was disinterested in  status and wealth. No wonder that at his funeral there was standing room only in Kilfenora Church, County Clare, Ireland. He was respected and loved.

Our son, Ian Philip, should have been born on August 5th 1984. That was his due date but he delayed his entry to the world by eight days arriving on August 13th of that year. Kind and loyal, Ian is a hard worker who thinks positively about his "journey". In recent years, Shirley and I have been enormously proud of his ongoing work as a vegan cook, writer and influencer. It is wonderful to be able to turn your passion into your livelihood and that is what Ian has done through "Bosh!".

August 5th is one of the most meaningful dates in the calendar for me. A time to remember with affection my father and my oldest brother and to smile about the possibility that Ian could so easily have been born on the same auspicious date.

Ian (left) with Henry (right) and Jimmy Wales of Wikipedia fame in the middle

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Coyote

 Early morning fun

When coyotes roam

Right outside

Perfect view

Through

The windowpane 

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Vicars and Shows

“Dear Friends,

Thank you for your support and offers of assistance at the public meeting held in St Michael’s Churchyard re the future of the church. The overwhelming feeling of the meeting from the forms filled in was that the community would support St Michael’s becoming a pilgrim church and would actively support it in its new role. That support means a great deal to us, so thank you.

Just a note to update you. On Thursday 29th, The Bryn a Mor Mission Area Conference voted to allow St Michael’s Church to become a Pilgrim Church. This decision has been forwarded to the Bishop and Diocese for them to discuss and to come to a decision. August tends to be a holiday month, so we probably not hear any more until the Autumn. But I will update you of any news.

Thank you once again.

Regards
David
Vicar”

The vicar phoned me yesterday.

He sounded as avuncular as ever and he showed no upset of my referral to him and his sexy young curate of being like Batman & Robin in my last ecclesiastical blog entry.

He informed me of the first official meeting which may lead to the Church being saved from closure and followed the call up with an email ( see above) 

It looks like we are in the hands of the Bishop and so me thinks it’s time to make some community noise and start a publicity campaign. 

I shall have a word with Village Leaders Ian and Helen about our move.

The Village Community Association is holding an alternative show on Saturday and are calling for entries in their “ What did you do in Lockdown? Exhibition” 

I’m on nights , but I will make a few Gyoza Dumplings as my entry

It’s much more positive that a photo of myself , chugging McDonalds, and weeping in front of the tv.

  

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