Angels Come To Llandudno

 

I’m doing ok , not really great , but ok. The catheter thing is a bind and tiring and my energy levels have been depleted by some shocking busy and challenging shifts at the hospice.

The Bun / Weaver thing has saddened me and uncertainty related to what the urology plan has made me all rather stressed

My bestie Nu is overseas and I’m skint and this morning I’ve felt all rather fed up with it too.

That was until I got a message from old friends ally and Tracey

You may remember my reunion with them in York last year after a 38 year hiatus.

“we should be in Llandudno by 1600 on Friday 26. Staying at the Esplanade. We are paying for your room as a birthday treat. dinner at the GOAT 1930, Motown at Venue Cymru after. Good blow in the prom the next day. How’s that? All booked x” 

Angels are not strange creatures with wings and halos 

They are old friends that catch you out of the blue and who lift you when you are down and flat and running on empty 

Shakespeare Could Have Written it

 

I overdid some cleaning this afternoon and Fell asleep listening to Mandy mow her lawns next door. A small black body was curled up on the bed next to me and I without thinking I stroked her whilst listening to this music. 

Now I’ve thought it strange that Bun has changed certain habits since Weaver left. She’s slightly quieter, she no longer walks with us at night and she sleeps on the bed rather than on me every night, but she’s typically affectionate almost needy at other times. 

I thought about this when I stroked her flank 

And suddenly there it was. Faint but certainly there. A tiny bald patch and a scar from an old infected suture after a kitten hood hernia repair . 

And it all made sense of a sort . It would now seem that it’s dear Bun that has left home 

And Mistress Weaver has been left behind

Weaver

 Gone again , I’ve asked on the village website who are her new parents ?

How I Hated Josh

 

I enrolled in a day’s seminar/study on PTSD today. 

It was in Liverpool and most of the group were counsellors, and health care professionals with varying degrees of experience. 

For most of the day we were split up into working groups , each with a facilitator. 

My group’s facilitator I shall call Josh and he was exhaustingly and successfully gay. 

Not only did we find out that he was in a wonderfully supportive relationship with his long term boyfriend, Juan- Luca, Josh also managed to shoehorn personal and self validating facts about the pair of them at every given chance. 

I quickly started to hate Josh

I hated his smugness, and his neediness and his showing off about how lovely his two pugs were with their daddies.

I hated his 34 inch waist , and his neatly ironed designer shirt,

I hated just how white his teeth were and how his hair didn’t move an inch as he flounced around.

I hated that he reminded me I was single and sometimes lonely

And I hated the fact that I disagreed with one valid clinical observation he made just because he got on my nerves.

As part of a wind down debrief, we all shared what we were going to do with the rest of the day, and Josh preened that he was going to cook his hubby a delicious steak with asparagus on their new patio barbecue as said hubby opened a chilled bottle of something expensive 

When it came around to my debrief , I just about stopped with the comment “ I hope it chokes you both” and smiled a tired smile before sharing a slightly ironic “ I think I will lie down in a darkened room with a cool face flannel over my eyes” 

I’m only human, I thought darkly

Ps weaver has disappeared again 🐈‍⬛

 

Wave The Flag eh?

 I was heartened by the good residents of Brighton for running off the racist right wing demonstrators in their city recently. It was not only the right thing to do, it was a kind thing to do. It was a kindness to all the people of Britain who are not Caucasian white. 

It was a hand hold, a hug, a nod and reminder to those frightened and often disadvantaged right wing supporters that not everyone think that they are right 

During the First World War some 4,500 Belgium refugees were given sanctuary in North East Wales. And even Trelawnyd billeted families at the Village Hall. Not bad for a predominately isolated Welsh village.

I was only thinking about this yesterday when I drove up to the village, and just before entering Trelawnyd I noticed a small holding on the right which sported a flag at its gate. 

The Palestinian Flag

 The lisping choir does Aida, rather well as it happens .

I liked it.

I’ve just got home after another very busy day, and Mary thoughtfully licked my swollen feet as Bun then Weaver walked into the living room, as I was sipping my emergency gin and tonic. 

They walked in like Kevin & Perry

I’m sure Weaver stuck two claws up at me! 

She made a show of ignoring me too, 

I’d love to know where she’s been the past four days.

I once had a cat called Betty who was shy and standoffish too, who also disappeared from my home in Sheffield . 

She left for three months 

Weaver ate her tea , then jumped onto my desk and knocked an early Victorian flat back greyhound onto the floor on purpose before stalking out of the open window .

It’s like she’s doing me a favour at returning I thought

Don’t bother coming home !  I half heartedly called after her ( not really meaning it)

But she didn’t look back once at the call as she stalked out over the fields to the south of Trelawnyd 

With obviously a place to go

A winner and a loser

 

There was the first village dog show today and Roger was robbed. He was only really eligible for one class and flunked out to a blind Mongrel with an I am Blind coat on 

Sophia with Rocky her French bulldog 

Isit only a couple of years since the male voice choir sang to her

We got home mid afternoon, only to find Weaver asleep on the couch. She heard my effusive hello , of that  I was sure, as she opened one eye then closed it again with an attitude of distain bordering on contempt 

Rainbow light

 I’m so tired. Just two trained staff at the hospice today and eight complex patients. I got home late , ate a scotch egg in the car before getting out, still in my uniform and then had a mooch around the houses of Cwm Road to see if I could locate Weaver . 

A big yowl rang out ,but it was a lonely Bun welcoming me home not Weaver . She looks stressed and on edge without her sister but came into the cottage to feed. She even let Roger sniff her bottom ( a favourite pastimes of Welsh terrier dogs as I recall) so distracted she is . 

Last night she curled up on my fat left foot 

I found a rainbow light by my front door …..another late birthday gift from sister Janet . 

It looks lovely but she apologised as instead of the Gay Rainbow flag I presumed it represented she worried I’d thought she was referring to the rainbow Bridge over which all pets walkover on their last journey . 

I hope Weaver has voted with her feet, and found a loving new home who puts up with antisocial behaviours . 

But sadly I really do think she’s dead