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 

This too Shall Pass

 Hello my friends, 

Phew, it’s been a difficult year so far. 

The recent threat of redundancy, has compounded worries of financial difficulties and complications in 2025, which has left me somewhat vague and distant and distracted at times. 

At 63, no one should experience such worries

No one 

I know several blog readers have reached out to me, sensing my worries and I’m grateful to them and to friends that have shown their offers of support and help without quite knowing what was going on in the usual whimsy world of Trelawnyd, Flintshire.

The gentle face full of sincerity from Mr Pozńan comes to mind

He and others have literally kept me going.

One foot in front of another

Bra straps pulled up to their straining limit.

Today, I’ve heard some news that financially I’m now more stable.

I won’t go into details but suffice to say it’s a relief

And relief is an understatement .

This time it’s not just serendipity that had seen me through,

It’s all my own doing,

But it’s a salient lesson of accepting the old saying 

This too shall pass

I’m working my fifth night in six tonight, and instead of feeling tired, I’m invigorated.

Trendy Carol’s hubby brought the dogs back after caring for them all day as I slept and affable despot Jason has called requesting further news about the village Show. 

My sister left a message too about going to see Downton Abbey 

And Chic Eleanor’s Darling I want you to come with me to…….voicemail has made me smile , rather broadly as I sit at the kitchen table with my bucket of coffee.

 The old John is back now. The one that isn’t frightened of what could be. 

The one that’s always pretending not to notice 

And I will leave you with this thought. As I  get ready for work ,I spy a large and rather foul smelling cat turd in the middle of my duvet .

Weaver stalked past shooting me her usual and you can FUCK  off expression 

And I am reminded that these animals will be the glorious death of me.

Lu

I lived in the picturesque city of York for three years in the 1980s. and remember my salad days at Bootham Park , the flag ship psychiatric Hospital , with much affection. Not only did I gain invaluable experience working on an acute admission ward and "mother and baby" unit; I had the fantastic opportunity of working  on a placement with the city's community alcohol and drug dependency specialist nurse.

Her name was Lu and she was one of those impressively quiet professional nurses that spoke little, but said a great deal (if you see what I mean?) A small , almost frail woman, she possessed a steely strength which allowed her to deal with a phenomenal case load of patients from a city which was renowned for it's158 pubs!

York is a tiny city, so wherever we went, we would always bump into previous patients who had fallen off the wagon, so to speak....and I never forgot just how dignified Lu was, when she had to deal with these inebriated and often emotional characters.

An overly guilty drunk can be difficult to handle, running away can illicit some embarrassing shouting in the street, while stopping to indulge, is patently a terrible waste of time for a trained counsellor to embark on.....

Lu, as I remember, always kept her voice low, firm and calm at these times. She would often use a touch of the arm to capture the blurred gaze, or to hush a garrulous mouth then she would always say the same thing
"Call me when you are sober, I will be waiting for your call" 

If she was pushed into a confrontation, she would always smile a non patronising smile at the former patient and would say with conviction
"Forgive me, I always make it a rule, NEVER to discuss work with someone who has  had a drink" Her words, strangely enough, were seldom disregarded

She taught me a great deal about respect......respecting people that have often lost respect in themselves


.....and she taught me never to argue with a drunk

Daydreaming

 Welsh terriers sit and think and watch.

It’s what they do

As I type this, Roger sits in the doorway. 

He’s been like this for three quarters of an hour now.

Listening to the workmen refashioning Trevor’s old bungalow, and the sparrows fighting together in the hazel hedge that separates my cottage from John & Mandy’s

I wonder if he’s thinking of anything in particular

The scaffolding is going up around the village hall and the roof and window repairs will be started soon, and even where we live, we can hear the metallic clinking of the metal poles as they are unloaded in High Street. 

I found myself daydreaming too, ages spent looking out into the garden, with the village noises, wind and birds one for company. 

I’ve decided that the best Disney song ever is this one 

Funny where your mind wanders to when you let it