Monday, 21 August 2017

Busy Bees


I spoilt today's post by replying to Ursula who left a comment for another blogger reminding him that I was not quite as " nice" as he made me out to be.
I'm getting rather tired of all this.
I don't shirk from sharing  my bad points,( you will be all aware by now that I am not particularly enamoured with fat armed bad mothers) but if the good outweigh the bad you just may carry on reading.
If I irritate you that much, that you feel you have to comment and re comment on my already published bad points then please fuck off and bother someone else!
Everyone else are adults and  they can make up their own minds!

I, like Margo Channing, will not be changing! ......

Ps who IS Eve?

The Village Telegraph

Even though there is a significant " stranger" population in the village now, what with the noticeable increase of rental properties, the news of the popular Mr Lewis' death still raced through the village telegraph yesterday morning.
I was stopped three times when out with the old dogs, with old Stan finally summing up what most people were thinking, with his comment of " He suffered his long illness with bravery" 
Mr Lewis had been unwell for many years.

I nursed Mr Lewis fairly recently.
We thought he was dying then, but he rallied round when a weaker man would have succumbed to a tired and brittle body and I remember talking to him about the forthcoming Flower Show and joking with him about a " difficult" village character we both knew.
It was a gentle conversation which ended with me asking if he was frightened and I remember that he smiled and said " Not really............I have my family" 
It was a reference to a loving family that was always there for him.
They cushioned his fear.

I've just realised that apart from the deaths of my own loved ones, those days of nursing someone who is passing away, are now over.
I must have done it a hundred times in my nursing career, and the whole process, from start to finish, has been a privilege to be a part of.

But I am now happy it is now something I used to do. 

Sunday, 20 August 2017

My Dander Is Up!

Safe in the garden? 

My father never backed down from a confrontation.
Once a visitor to his shop called him a twat for taking his time over serving an elderly customer, to which my father promptly punched the guy on the nose!
You could do that in the seventies, twat was a very rude word back then.
My elder sister and I have inherited his dander, so to speak. Neither of us like confrontation but when pushed we can rally forth like Joan Crawford brandishing a wire coat hanger.
We are not shrinking violets when it comes to right and wrong.
Yesterday one of the haylage lorries knocked the top corner from our garden wall as it was negotiating the sharp bend by the Church . I found masonry in the lane, which was lucky as the bachelors had been asleep all afternoon under the hydrangea on the other side of the wall. If the stones had been knocked in the other direction, carnage would have ensued!
I flagged down he lorries as they passed a little later and but my " pissed off and serious look on" 
The secret of sorting something like this out, is surprise. Catch the culprit. Don't let them get a word in, and give them a solution.
Within a few seconds the driver had agreed to return to fix the damage.
Worked like a charm
We shall see if he turns up!

A few weeks ago I was just about to collect a trolley at Tesco when two boys of around 7  climbed on top of them in front of me. I turned to a group of fat armed women who were gossipping nearby and asked if the boys were theirs but only received a passive aggressive " look" ,a shrug of the shoulders and one half arsed comment of " Robert Get down from there" 
Robert, as it turned out, wasn't going anywhere fast, that is until I caught his bum cheeks in the wire mesh of the trolleys as I smartly pulled two apart, he soon shifted then! But it was the attitude of the fat armed women that really got my dander up
I turned on them
" is this trolley park an adventure playground?" I asked them
They just looked at me as though I was speaking Spanish, so I repeated myself but this time in my best Brian Blessed type voice
" Is THIS TROLLEY PARK AN ADVENTURE PLAYGROUND?"
Other shoppers by this time had stopped to watch my heroic stance against the great unwashed so I added with a flourish" GET CONTROL OF YOUR CHILDREN!" 
The fat armed women frowned under their chav facelifts *
" fuck off" the nearest one spat out
Like I said
Confrontation...works like a charm.


https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Croydon_facelift

Saturday, 19 August 2017

Sheffield




We all first met in 1989.
Mostly nurses ( but not all) we trained lived and socialised with each other as the city of Sheffield went through a renaissance of sorts and cleaned up its act
It was ( and is) a lovely city.
Yesterday we all met up again.
A couple of us with greying hair and a few more wrinkles.
A couple of us now retired!
One of us with a daughter heading for secondary school!
Four of us married, two single
All pretty normal from all accounts.
This morning I am off home.
And I wave goodbye to old friends and the super tram thundering over the bridge near Hyde Park Flats
Good times
Super tram from my hotel window

The Water Wall Midland Station

Friday, 18 August 2017

Thursday, 17 August 2017

Still Life II

I have bowed to flattery and as the dogs slept in the garden and a ham joint cooked in the oven, as requested I have snapped some more photos of the cottage in " still life" . There are not many as the cottage is small but you get the gist!
Note...not an aubergine to be seen!



 




Hello, Hello Hello

I was stopped by the police last night.
It was just after 1am and I was driving home after a 6 hour stint at Samaritans
Over the years, I must have been stopped half a dozen times.

I have never been questioned by a discourteous police officer. I've been breathalysed ,car checked warned that I took a roundabout a little too fast and given a close once over but everytime  the officer involved has remained rather chipper and professional.

Historically, nurses and police officers have always had an affinity.
I think it's the fact they have to deal with the public under somewhat difficult circumstances that links them . Unfortunately, over the years I have had to engage the services of the police many times
One time it was a violent drug dealer who woke up fighting after being treated for an overdose that had to be restrained on intensive care! Another time a visitor who had offered to knock my teeth down my fat throat !in my own ward office was frog marched to the cells by a mountain of a Yorkshire cop who had been called out to the hospital three times on the same day!

When I was a psychiatric nurse and only a shy 24 year old staff nurse, I once had to help bring in a sectioned patient from the community. The patient had no insight into his condition and was violent and delusional, so it was the policement and women who had to go in first to secure the chap before I could get in to administer medication if required.
Before the operation began the copper in charge was discussing  dos and don't in the back of the ambulance. He gave out jobs in his broad Yorkshire accent, after which I somewhat nervously asked him what he wanted me to do.
" sit in the ambulance and look pretty" he said 

Wednesday, 16 August 2017

Grief?

Sylvia, the older Soay Ewe died suddenly last week.
I found her laid out by the access gate to the new graveyard. She still had grass in her mouth.
Her end was peaceful.
Since then Irene has seemed lost and vocal. The neighbours, I have noted have rallied around to give her tidbits which she takes pragmatically, but to me she looks more nervous and is calling out for her mother who has been her world since she arrive here in 2011.
I have debated whether to rehome her in a larger flock but after discussion with the Prof now have advertised for a field mate for her...another tame  ewe or castrated ram to keep her company.
In the mean time, I took half an hour out of my morning to sit with her in the field.
She also seems more clingy than normal.
I fed her some oats and carrots and she came up to me for a while and ate before trotting up to the cemetery fencing where she again raised her head over the railings and called into the wind for her mother.


Tuesday, 15 August 2017

You Couldn't Make It Up


Is it an aubergine?
Is it a teapot?
No its Ursula giving us all an unintentional laugh

Silent Cottage








Monday, 14 August 2017

Bend The Knee

Game of Thrones started as The Walking Dead did, so I didn't bother with this medieval, ever changing feudal epic. However , late in the game as season 7 got underway, I have started to watch this strange story of nine communities who are essentially fighting for power on a big island.   
I have no real idea of who is what and what is going on, but I have worked out that nice guy with a Sheffield accent is fighting a short haired bimbo Queen as  a  Hitchcock blonde lip quivering , dragon loving Queen puts in her twopenneth worth as a French midget, and a cast of forty well know British thesps flounce around in dark colours.
Everyone is playing power games, there are tits aplenty and the production values are pretty good.
It will do until the superior Walking Dead returns
Liam Cunningham , a guilty crush

Dragon and Sheffieldier Jon Snow

Flies On My Teeth


I didn't get to bed until 2am this morning and so didn't manage to take the Prof down to the station for 7 am.
" I 'll bike down to collect the car later" I told the Prof sleepily " It's all down hill" 
Mid morning I set off on the 600 foot drop to the coast.
Pippa, the doctor's wife was somewhat open mouthed when she spied me cycling up the lane,
" You! On a bike?  ! " was all that she managed to say as I wobbled past
"There is no end to my talents!" I called out, unable to take one hand off my handlebar.
Jason the affable despot , makes all this cycling lark very easy, I thought, but he has the physique that actually suits Lycra

A few minutes later I realised just how difficult cycling on a busy A road is! - especially when you are hurling downhill with a fixed smile on your face ,  the wind whistling up your shorts leg.and farm lorries roaring up behind you.
Mrs Trellis with Blue, her greyhound by her side passed me in their little red car halfway down Dyserth Hill and she beebed her horn merrily as she shot past me.
I'm sure she was laughing at the way I was weaving too and fro around the drains and KFC wrappers.

My nerves were in shreds by the time I reached sealevel