Is it me ?

 Why am I always attracted to men who have a certain sadness about them? 

Empathy? Rescuer syndrome? Carer? Saver? 

I know where I come from and I understand my motivations 

But sometimes , just sometimes , it would be nice to date a guy, or to even meet a guy who hasn’t got lots of baggage behind the kind eyes and the easy manner.

Who doesn’t spill a psychological problem out at you within hours of conversation 

Is it me? Perhaps it is

For Granted

 

This is the view from my bedroom window. 

My garden with its metal chickens then my old field where the allotments and Ukrainian Village once stood, and the livery fields beyond to the South. 

Pen y Cefn Isa , with its proud Victorian farmhouse faces the cottage and village behind me and at night I find comfort in the lights of its windows and the yard light from Glan Ffyddion where Ralph The Gentleman farmer once lived.

Cwm Road snakes South too, from by its neat hedges towards the hills beyond, and Trelawnyd feels safely encircled by low hills in front and by Gop Hill to its rear.

Today it’s Bun’s job to experience the view

It’s blustery and a tad chilly

And the crows called loudly from their trees on Well Street as Melvin’s homing pigeons flashed by like shoals of gleaming fish. 

I’ve lit the fire and the smell of woodsmoke wafts in through the open window…..

And I sat with her for a while, reminding myself not to take for granted the gentle view of the green hills of this part of North East Wales.

The Instagram age

 

Canadian villager kira has now joined our review committee of two with years of acting training, experience of Show production and an understanding of proper marketing.

She’s been sent to us from heaven 

The velvet voiced Linda and I visably relaxed over our gins and bitter lemon, when she said she’d be happy to join in, especially as she wants to rope in the younger population of the village with TikTok , and Instagram help. 

The first proper meeting of interested parties will be held next Monday at the pub.  

Hey ho

Snow Patrol - Chasing Cars (Glastonbury 2025)

One of my patients played this song today  as I was completing a nursing task at work

Like all songs that evoke memories, 

I was suddenly transported to 2007, and I was driving my very first Welsh terrier to the animal hospital near Chester

I knew Finlay was dying 

And those words 

“ If I lay here

If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?”

Finlay Christmas 2005

Have never left me. They summed up our relationship perfectly

Man and dog

And 18 years later, I still am moved to tears by the words.

What song breaks your heart? 

Answers here please xxxx

Whimsy

What a frock 

Ok there are going to be spoilers!

Downton Abbey - The Grand Finale is a fitting denouement to a well loved whimsical franchise. 

It’s rubbish of course, padded and edited to an inch of its life, but after only two hours we have a happy and neat ending for over twenty characters, almost two dozen people we have got to love ( and hate) over fifteen years

Anna, ( Joanne Froggett, the nicest character on film ever)

Set in 1930, we delight in the fashionable deco age, with Lady Mary looking glorious in red and the family stunning in Ascot fashions. Edith Head would be suitably impressed here, she really would, for the visuals are stunning. Writer Julian Fellows takes the drama into an essay of change. 

Lady Mary is about to take over Downton after divorce , much to the horror of her father. Carson and Mrs Patmore are retiring, lady Merton is running the local agricultural show, Cora’s brother has lost his sister’s inheritance, and Guy Dexter returns with lover Barrow , and Noel Coward in tow…

What fun

You can just see where every arc will go, save for the delightful Lady Edith , who, in the absence of Maggie Smith is suddenly transformed into a wonderfully arch and straight talking foil for the baddie of the piece , she and Penelope Wilton have been gifted all the best lines and it’s a joy to watch both of them .

Get your tissues ready
You will cry real tears for the characters you have come to know so very well over the years…Edith and Mary’s sister scenes, Mrs Patmore with Mini me Daisy ,Anna’s goodbye to Mary oh lord it’s a sob fest)

A Scotch Egg On The Wall

It’s cold and rainy today 

And by just pure luck I spied a plastic bag on the kitchen wall

It it was a single, homemade scotch egg

The God’s are smiling on me today

Be still my beating heart.

I shared some of it with old Mary as Roger remained asleep

And jolly good it was too

A Sunday treat on an inhospitable Sunday

I’ve talked to friends this morning via teams and am due a catch up with Nige at three pm. 

At five I’m meeting my sister for the finale of Downton Abbey….is it fifteen years ago since the series started? How time flies.

I wonder who left me the egg? 

It was bloody lovely

Good News

This Too Shall Pass

I should listen to the Going Gently readers who have repeated this mantra time and time again, for I now  feel that my recent run of prolonged bad luck is now coming to an end. Today I received my certificate of acceptance to the NCPS  The National Counselling and Psychotherapy Society. This means I can now officially take my own clients whether they be for the charity I freelance with or my own private practice

. 

 

Counselling Pal and Weaver the nasty

 I needed to go out for lunch 

I’ve worked 60 hours in the past six days

I met my old counselling student friend Donna at the Pen-y-Bryn in Colwyn Bay and her Scottish chutzpah and wisecracking energy was just what I needed today. 

She gave me lots of ideas for my counselling path as she is living her dream of going self employed and I loved the boost she gave me. 

We’ve been fellow “counsellors”for over three years now 

Tonight, it’s Bake Off and Sewing Bee, I’m relaxing with Bun, Roger and Mary on the couch with a gin

Weaver has just walked in after over 24 hours away to God knows where

She frowned when she saw us collectively and spat out a flat field mouse with considerable contempt before she stalked very slowly through the living room and walked upstairs to bed like Joan Crawford on acid 

She’s a fucking monster

Weaver Pat would be amused at her namesake’s antisocial bent