Remembering Camilla Parker Bowles

 This is a lovely blog memory, ignited by the long v’s of geese flying away from their feeding grounds near the Elwy Estuary.

A typically autumnal memory from a decade ago


  

Camilla Parker Bowles Takes To The Skies.

That's two and a half hours I won't ever get back.

Foolishly, I let Mary have a gallop around the field this afternoon.
Goo-goo eyed she chased the sheep, (undaunted by their brief show of horn and stamping feet ) and like a lunatic rounded up the remaining hens and boxed them into a coop before scattering them again  to the four winds.
She was impossible to catch.
I almost grabbed her several times, but like most puppies, she sensed the chase to be a game and bounced under the gate into the lower field where the geese had been hiding.
The domestic geese, Russell, Jo and Kate all stood their ground and hissed and honked their displeasure as Mary galloped around them , only Camilla panicked and in a fit of hysteria took off from the field.
Now Camilla, is essentially a wild Canada goose so should,on paper , retain her ability to fly, but since I raised her, she has more or less followed her adopted flock's sedentary grassed based existence.  In four years she has perhaps glided a mere 100 feet, and on two occasions has crash landed  into the fields next door on windy days.
Today, Camilla took off like a jet fighter. She circled the field in an untidy loop at a height of perhaps a hundred and fifty feet, then, buffeted by a gust of wind  she soared away over the Church and out of sight past the Rectory.
" Shiiiiiitttttttttttt!"
I managed to grab Mary and locked her inside a hen house before galloping like a loon through the Churchyard in pursuit but Camilla was no where to be seen.
I searched the livery stable fields, Pippa's field where the alpacas eyed me nervously , The Rectory gardens and the village green beyond, but there was no sign.
I even raised a few eyebrows down nearby Well Street by calling " CAMILLA!" down alleyways and driveways, but that part of the village was deserted too.
Menna, The lady from Abbott House looked particularly surprised when I told her that I was looking for a black and white goose called Camilla Parker Bowles.....like you do.
Systematically, I extended the search.
I checked behind the pub and the chapel and behind the cottages on London Road and still there was no sign, so I went up Byron Street and knocked on a few doors.
An  old chap who was washing his car told me that he had seen a " low flying goose" heading East
" she was honking like a train" he said.
I was onto something
Now on the far east part of Trelawnyd is an upmarket housing estate of say ten houses and beyond that are Basil the farmer's sheep fields. So I took a chance and climbed over a few fences and nearly two hours after the whole bloody mess started, I found Camilla sitting open beaked where she had crash landed in the centre of a flock of ewes.

I carried her all the way home
And after I introduced her back with her flock mates I returned to the cottage for a restorative cup of coffee and a custard tart.
It was only then , that I remembered Mary locked away in the hen house!


Mado Kara Mieru


I’ve just finished nights so will leave you with some entertaining videos.
The AI Queen is famously doing the rounds as is my sexy Italian baker. 
And the Japanese choral Mado Kara Mieru is all rather sublime doesn’t you think? 
Just found out that IKEA has just opened just over the border into England , around 25 minutes from the cottage, I know where I’m going on Tuesday




The Gop


 Look at the photo of Trelawnyd carefully and you can see Gop Hill behind. The burial mound atop the Gop is around 800 feet above sea level. The village is around 550 feet. Many of the fir trees have recently been cut down, giving the hill a slightly unframed look, which I understand was how it looked 100 years ago before the saplings were planted


The village, feels braced for winer. Many of the field hedges have been trimmed and the community  orchard strimmed and cleared of fruit . In two weeks the village apple festival takes place at the school and the ponies may return soon across the lane from the cottage.

My sister is talking about Christmas



Every Brilliant Thing


 The trains have been cancelled from Thames Ditton , but I’m ok. The station has internet and good coffee so I can muse about yesterday’s theatre. 
Every Brilliant Thing is a unique production, part one woman show, part audience participation it features an unnamed girl, who we witness navigating the tricky path of  the daughter of a mom with severe mental illness. The mother attempts suicide ( several times) during the child’s and then adult character’s life and several members of the audience are roped in to play important life characters such as a vet, the child’s father, a school therapist, a college tutor and finally the girl’s boyfriend.
Of course these parts are brief and accessible by the public who gamely join in , but I was surprisingly moved by several of the performances. The woman who played the therapist for example looked and acted as a therapist , using a sock glove puppet to gently cajole the girl into talking about her fears.
Minnie Driver is a revelation here too, before the performance started we watched her carefully select her characters, grooming them gently into their roles with charm and wit. During the performance she guided them effortlessly giving the narrative a flow and pathos all of its own.

The title Every Brilliant Thing refers to the girl’s coping mechanism. She uses an ever growing list of things to be thankful for , as a panacea to the bewildering hurt she is experiencing. The list grows with the audience shouting out more obscure brilliant things as we watch, incredibly moved , as the girl grows into a damaged young woman having to cope with the eventual suicide of her mother.

The last time I was so moved by a piece of theatre was Come From Away and that was just after lockdown, so Every Brilliant Thing was a wonderful surprise

After the play we had a drink in soho then a lovely Chinese meal in Chinatown before home. Apart from a rapt time in the theatre Nu and I caught up with hours of chat
And I feel replenished, this morning, even though the trains have been cancelled


Mindful

 A common theme in counselling is wellbeing and wellness. Helping the client to recognise strategies and mechanisms that enhance the nurturing of self.
To some it’s an alien concept.
Others may feel unworthy of such “selfishness” 
I recognise the benefits of it, now and won’t automatically put others first as I often once did. 
I am worth looking after, I have worth and rights and needs
And from that perspective I try to share my belief in self care to my clients.

This week is a case in point. I’m working sat and Sunday , and have already done a shift on Monday. Wednesday was my Counselling day 
I’m on the train to London where I know my batteries will recharge under the ever mindful Nu.

I will leave you with the delightful Celia Imrie in Celebrity Traitors. Her total lack of guile is charming as it is hysterical 


New Coat


 Trendy Carol bought Mary a winter coat today . It was comfortably in place when I picked both dogs up after counselling. Trendy Carol loves treating Mary ,indulgences I never mind, and Mary is toasty warm tonight , a night which is chilly and very autumnal. 
Even Weaver has softened herself enough to sit in front of the log burner, ( but still has not had her flea treatment : the bitch lol)
Tomorrow I’m off to London to meet with Nu and to watch Every Brilliant Thing with Minnie Driver .
I’ve missed Nu so, 
I can’t wait to see her


Weaver From Hell



 I’m overdue with flea treatment 
Well Bun is sorted at least, that’s the easy job. Bloody Hell she’s over me like a proverbial rash 
No it’s Weaver’s turn 
And like Maggie Thatcher “ Weaver’s NOT for turning” 

She knew something was afoot after I had sat down on the sofa today, gently waving a piece of chicken at her. I was whistling which probably gave me away, but I had to do something, an hour had already gone past with me pretending to doze on the bed, ready to give her neck a squirt is she forgot herself and walked within touching distance. 
The flea spray pippette had been secreted in the folds of my jumper, but the bad tempered cat had already figured this subterfuge out and deliberately swiped my paper sculpture of the Sagrada Familia from my desk top, before staring at me with narrow eyes.
She a Nazi and  knows just how much I love that little keep sake.

I threw a tiny bit of chicken at her and she gave me one of her now famous fuck off looks and ignored it 
The Mexican Standoff had begun. 
That was around twelve noon. 
It’s now almost four and I still have to corner my most bad tempered of pets.
I did get close, just the once , after I had lulled Weaver into a false sense of security by pretending to watch Antiques Roadtrip in the arm chair, a piece of meat, lazily dropped on my jumper front
This time she managed to take the chicken piece AND bite me and still have time to smack Roger a vicariously evil blow on the bottom as she ran outside.
She’s been outside ever since, mentally flipping me off, as she watches the kitchen activity with all the look of disgusted serial killer. 

Goodbye


 Saying goodbye to a work colleague who you like and respect , I think is the easiest goodbye you can make. If you are friends the friendship will often continue, if you both move on, you have the knowledge that you have touched each other’s lives for as long as you were part of that work team and you now wish each other well. Julie ( centre) has been a nurse longer than I have. 
We are old school nurses, brought up to follow our guts rather than pure protocol and audit and have spent many hours in that drug room, with me trying very hard to get her to wet herself with silly jokes and observations. 
That laughter is a typical nursing coping mechanism, especially within palliative care, 
And I’m lucky I work with a nice group of people.