Poo in the Shower

 

Bun managed to poo down the shower drain overnight.

I had uncovered it to clean yesterday and in darkness she took the opportunity to fill it nicely

With Mary’s two carpet puddles in the wee small hours 

That was three big clean ups before my first coffee

It’s like living in an old peoples home ! 

Thank fuck I’ve bought a new carpet cleaner

My new tv arrived today too

It’s my smallest to date 

Too small a target for Weaver to piss on when she returns. 

I watched Ben Hur on it this afternoon and I bloody enjoyed the Chariot Race!

Wtf

 I’m worried we have just gotten too use to his awful behaviour. 

Poetry

 This video is sheer poetry.

Glen Close in just a few words seems to have captured something quite beautiful 

It’s Saturday nite….nothing much is happening 

Mary is on my knee, Roger is on the reading chair in the kitchen 

I’ve just cleaned his ears so he’s sulking 

Bun is not well but she’s eaten 

She’s hidden away in the airing cupboard 

Bitter Christmas

Bitter Christmas is a film within a film and it is Pedro Almodóvar’s most personal film to date. An overly complicated, slightly vague and beautifully filmed drama,it features some serious introspection by an aging Spanish film maker Raul (Leonardo Sbaraglia) as he searches for inspiration for a new hit film from the life crisis of previous assistant Monica ( Ariana Sánchez-Gijón) who quite rightly takes exception to the poaching of her misfortunate stories.

Almodóvar is clearly exploring the morality of his cinematic character choices, his relationship with a much younger partner and the loyalty with his friends. The film also alludes to his sometimes fragile mental health, his panic attacks and his use of alcohol and drugs, albeit mostly explored through other characters. He also plays homage to the women in his life, his mother, his colleagues and his friends, but the final defiant statement of publish and be damned,makes me wonder just how many friends did he upset so far ? 

I treated myself to a nice supper in the Storyhouse

And texted my friend John for a film post mortem 

A Voice At The End Of The Phone

 I started work at the hospice seven years ago. This full time job saved my cottage from sale, as well as my sanity from the prospect of leaving Trelawnyd and I shall always be grateful for the hospice, who took on a retired nurse in the twilight of his career. 

I was a deputy director of a Samaritans branch back then.

And I left the charity as soon as I started to understand the stressors of the hospice 

Hospice and Samaritans don’t mix.

I worked as a Samaritan for over five years. 

In that time I talked to literally thousands of people on the phone

Just one will stick into my psychi for life.

I referred to this caller as Jim.

Jim, was a young teacher. 

He was polite and well spoken

Articulate and emotional 

And he had already taken several tablets before ringing me and told me that he wanted to hear a human voice before the medications took hold.

He told me, he was depressed. 

He told me, his class of 30 had underachieved in their exams

He told me he had failed

And he told me he had had enough of living.

A small gulp and he swallowed another tablet.

And my initial rapport felt lost, 

I found out he was sat in his car at the seaside

But he said no more. 

I tried to work out his accent 

Anything that could point to where he was in the UK.

We talked about music,

His family, his friends

And I tried every trick in the book to help him stop short

But every few minutes there was another gulp, and another tablet was swallowed.

After an hour I waved at my colleague for help and she came over to listen in

Eventually she shrugged her shoulders gently and rested her hand on my shoulder

She felt as helpless as I did.

Jim started to slur his words a little. He cried. 

And asked questions of his own, 

I asked him permission to ring for an ambulance , I asked for his location  but he refused politely, 

Knowing I could do nothing without his say so.

I talked about my dogs, a film I had seen, his favourite tv show.

And he laughed

And suddenly he said “ Goodbye John. Thank you

And the phone went dead.

I never knew what happened to Jim

I scoured the news channels daily online but failed to find out the sad tale of a young teacher’s suicide

I had a lengthy de briefing, but I knew meeting that sad polite young man on the phone that night almost crippled me 

Storm

 The storm came in from the West. 

Because of the ring of hills that surrounds Trelawnyd in the sloping  valley, the thunder when it arrives , grumbles loudly and echoes with force. 

It’s always impressive

The dogs aren’t bothered by thunder and sleep on and as the rain falls the troupe of sparrows from the field hedgerow chatter noisily as they bathe

Bun watches but from afar

I can feel the rain all the way back on the sofa 

I’m reminded of the song Missing by Everything But The Girl 

“ And I miss you………..like the desserts miss the rain….”

The thunder rumbles away slowly

And the sparrows stop their chatter

I had three counselling clients today, the last cancelled so I sneaked off to the cinema to see The Dog Stars 

Oh it was limp for apocalypse movie ! So much so I won’t even review it .

Perked

 

Well she’s perked up enough to steal some potato salad. I made a healthy supper this evening too

TikTok is rubbish

 ……but when you are lying on the couch with a poorly old dog , it sure makes you smile 

Mary slept with me again last night and remains a little shaky today . 

She’s eating and a tad breathless 

And the fire has gone out of her eyes 😒 just a little 

My old girl …..

Finlay, Meg and George