Tarts’ knickers


This week has been somewhat strange. 
Emotionally I’ve been up and down like a tart’s knickers.
I’m not stressing over the diabetes. 
It’s just been a very long week.  
Today I’ve driven a ninety mile round trip for a study day
Tomorrow I’m on a night shift again. 
Thank goodness my blood sugars have stabilised somewhat given my diet
To feel so fatigued on top of things , I would have been a basket case

And so I’m sat on the Promenade near home
I’m being mindful, helped by Max Richter.
The Welsh are noisily sharing some Swedish meatballs on the passenger seat 
And I’ve opened the window wide to let in the icy air.




At Last…..



 Busy day.
Clients for most of the day, dreaded paperwork then a foray into the communication abyss that is a GP s surgery where un joined up writing means that a clinic appointment in another town was cancelled without me being informed and another made without thought to work and life.
I didn’t get angry, I couldn’t 
And I will tell you all for why

I had a last session with a client today.
Without me knowing they left a gift and card on Bluebell 
The gift was a homemade pottery figure which loosely resembled me. 
The card was hand painted with a selection of what looked like spring flowers
In it, written carefully were the words

“ At last I’ve been heard”

How Others See You

 I rang up about joining a local cinema discussion group the other day. 
The man organising it was enthusiastic and chatty up to me mentioning that I was of retirement age and then he went all evasive . 
You sounded younger he said backtracking on his initial excitement and there was an awkward silence before he told me that he’d be in touch, after he had received all applications.
I’m usually pretty assertive in these cases but soon after I felt deflated and judged and suddenly surplus to requirements .

How Yorkshire Pudding sees me


Money



 Am I destined to return to Italy?
I hope so . 
Ive cancelled my trip to Rome in five weeks only because I’m up in the air with my diabetes 
I’ve no problem with that, I’ve got refunds on my accommodation and have swapped flights to July when Ruth and I are going to Madrid to see my lisping choir in person ( again) 
Their summer concert is Eurovision based and will be camp fun
The four months in between will allow for my health to stabilise.
I’m skint too, that’s just an observation not a gripe. 
Every bill has increased this year, including my mortgage, so I’ve booked a few extra shifts and have tightened my belt.
I will still try to go to the theatre and cinema when able ,as these treats keep me sane and I’m happy that I saved up for my sister’s 2025 birthday and Christmas gift last year, so our trip to the Royal Opera house to see Romeo and Juliet won’t come as a real shock.
Next year my friend Nige and I have tentatively planned to visit Naples
Only 141 miles to Rome



Fantasy

 I have a whole selection of day dream fantasies, doesn’t everyone?
Places you go and visit when you’re warm in bed and your conscious minds flits like pond skaters do on the surface of the village pond.
My favourite recently is that I’m on a night train to somewhere. The sleeper is decked out ala North by Northwest or if not that American then say the train in From Russia With Love. 


Faded but smart
If you get the gist.
Of course I won’t be sharing ( that idea repulses me) but the thought of getting lulled to sleep by the noise of the train, intrigues me.
The man with a hole in his jumper doesn’t figure on any train, but the idea of meeting remains cinematic and dramatic in nature. It’s a scene from a gentle comedy film, wholly British with mr Jumper being scruffy but sweet and our meeting romantic and chaste


I have the money no object fantasy but it’s transported to a tv makeover where the cottage is a tardis with every to do task completed to the highest level of style and competence. 
The programme ends with me being presented with a baby bulldog from grateful friends in the village.
lol
Mememememe!, 

Sometimes I’m walking in New York like an aged Sarah Jessica Parker, off to meet friends for lunch at some bistro or other. And fantasies like these are fleeting and are almost like snapshots rather like little movies. 
I’m on stage singing ……singing like Ruby Rossi from Coda or Hyde from belting out This is the Moment ( you would never know I was gay would you?)

Sometimes I day dream of loved ones gone too
Bittersweet day dreams, like I said , that flit in and out of consciousness like pond skaters on the village pond



Better

 I’m feeling a bit better, even before I am to start on insulin,
I’m pleased by this.
I suspect my diabetic diet , is responsible for this as the peaks and troughs of my blood sugar have been ironed out a little.
And I have been strict .
Yesterday I spent the whole day cleaning out the kitchen cupboards without an afternoon nap .
Last night I read most of a book without falling asleep
Warmed by the fire , I was still awake at nine , as the twins swaggered down the stairs to take their place near the hearth .
Only then did I go to bed.
Today I’ve made bacon soup ( from the diabetic menu) and had a hot shower with Roger ( which he loves)
I listened to The Archers Omnibus on IPlayer, spoke to a friend and listened to music as the Welsh sat on my chest and the twins hovered nearby.
I listened with interest to the eloquent speech from Justin Trudeau waging economic war on Trump
Animal Helper Pat stopped for a chat and moments later Mrs Trellis dropped off dog treats wrapped in serviettes 
Sundays are a little long as they always say to me couple time 

Hey ho



Flight Risk

 

I know I bang on about how good art house cinema is, but I do enjoy being entertained, no matter what the subject matter is and how it is presented. 
50 years ago I fell in love with disaster movies after watching Airport 75
You may remember the cross eyed Karen Black as Nancy the hapless stewardess manfully trying to pilot the stricken 747 over the mountains whilst the passengers ( including two nuns and a girl needing a kidney) screamed their heads off. 
Half a century later Mel Gibson has US Marshall Madlyn ( Michelle Dockery, Lady Mary from Downton) caught up in the same predicament, but this time she’s responsible for the safety of her prisoner Winston ( a wisecracking nerdy Topher Grace) an informant who is turning states evidence against a money launderer. Their small plane pilot (Mark Wahlberg) who has been chartered to fly them out of the Alaskan Wilderness turns out to be a psychopath hitman ( like you do) so the stage is set for a tense, exciting, old fashioned drama with the three leads bouncing well off each other, as Wahlberg becomes more unhinged and Dockery develops into a worthy adversary.  
Flight Risk is rubbish, but remains great entertainment and is all rather fun.