Freya & Mary

 The problem with always being busy is that sometimes when you stop, you can come down, just a little,  with a bump. 

I was feeling like that this evening, feeling I wanted to do something but at the same time feeling tired and sore 

Then the above photo was sent to me .

It was from Hattie .

Of her daughter Freya with the toy of  Mary I had given her when she was born  

It’s made my day.

Effin Knackered

 This morning I helped with a new Community project.

On a small plot of land on the east boundary of the village a small orchard of fruit trees have been planted.

Apple, cherry, pear and plum trees, ten of them all told have been planted and staked this morning, the fruit from which can be utilised by any of the village population .

It’s a lovely idea.

But I must admit Laurie ( from Well street) and I were effing knackered by the end of it.

Kate Bush - And A Night Without Kate

Sometimes a little gem of a show comes along and grabs you by the balls.

A Night Without Kate is one of those shows. Part tribute act, part stand up, and part cabaret it is a tour de force one woman show by actress singer Sarah Louise Young who fell in love with Kate Bush as a school girl and who has never wanted to forget her idol.

Using costume, humour and stage effects Young performs some lovely versions of Bush’s most famous songs and in one memorable moment of pure theatre she asked a older couple in the audience who was “interviewed “ in the warm up to dance together on the stage as she sang Don’t Give Up

It was a beautiful and incredibly moving moment in a warm, engaging and nostalgic show

I loved it.

I’m glad Gorgeous Dave liked it too, although being in his thirties, he was unaware of most of the songs

The Lion King - The Emotional First Rehearsal into Broadway's Return

I think I’ve posted this before , but the sheer exuberance and emotion of it is worth seeing again.

I’ve done an extra night at work last night because the new covid variant has laid low a few staff. 

I’ve banked the shift so will take the time back when it suits me…I don’t mind.

It’s also been a fairly quiet night , so in between jobs , I’ve booked my sister 60th birthday treats

My sister doesn’t get to London at all often, so I’ve booked the things she would like.

The Beatrix Potter exhibition at the V&A, a boutique hotel, 

Kew Gardens and a good seat at The Lion King which means she sees the Elephant close up as it walks down the aisle.

There is something lovely experiencing something nice and new through another’s eyes 

Vicarious pleasure as they call it.

Milky Peaks

 Ok , big breaths

Imagine this.

In the small faded mountain/seaside Welsh town of Milky Peaks, Dewi ( Seiriol Davies) a hotel clerk comes out during the towns celebrations at being nominated as Best British Town of the year. His staunchly welsh Friend Mam ( Lisa Jên Brown) spends her time at salsa in an effort to forget her husband wants to leave her and faded, vomit stained drag Queen Pariah Carey ( Mathew Blake) dreams of better things  and wants to play the lead in the town’s production of My Fair Lady. 

Add to the mix a shadowy property tycoon ( Tanya Bridgeman) a drama coach with a murky past (Miriam O’Brien) and far right Judge of the competition who wants to set the town up to be  a centre of a new all white facist community(Sophie Winter) 

Are you with me so far? 

Now, picture costumes c/o StartlightExpress and Pricilla Queen of the Desert , frenetic musical numbers from the 1980s songs covering dogging, Welsh Folklore, echos of the Nazis in Cabaret , politics, gay culture, sexual identity, big business, racism, sexism, misogyny, and Britishness .

There is even a talking toilet wall and a Welsh dragon ( drag-on gettit ?) 

Blink and you will miss a pithy joke and an “ important” message….

It’s funny yet exhausting 

Witty but somewhat overwhelming. 

It’s a bit like drinking two litres of Coca-Cola after eating 4 chocolate eclairs

I drove home in silence 

Divorce Kindness & Milky Peaks

 I heard on the radio this morning that people can now apply for a no fault divorce. 

I am pleased to hear this, I really am, for it brings a kindness into an often unkind situation .

This is a no blame blog today, it’s just a reflective one , so please respect my wishes in any of your comments…the last time I used the word kindness in a blog title the shit really hit the fan.

I was sited in my divorce as behaving unreasonably during the marriage 

I remember reading the words in that little box the reasons behind them with disbelief and shock.

I was stung by the unfairness and fallaciousness of it all.

I remember my dumpy Welsh solicitor supplying me with sweet coffee and tissues at the time and she kept saying “Ignore the words , they are not personal” and I understood just why they were used as there was no other get out clause for my husband to go use and because he wanted to end the marriage he had to say the appropriate words to get the divorce wheels in motion 

And on reflection this was unfair on both of us.

Terribly unfair.

The new law with its no blame culture is kinder all round 

And I celebrate and welcome it.

Anyway that was my reflection this morning.

Over coffee.

I rang HR with my request to drop my work hours today. The counselling course will be a return to things I know and use but it will be an updated and new way of learning for me as it’s more theoretical side will challenge my naturally lazy academic streak.

Cutting my hours clinically will give space for my counselling course without everything becoming too much. 

I’m not about to let go of my post lockdown freedoms now 

Not for anything

And so in the spirit of all that I’m meeting a friend shortly for a walk followed by brunch and tonight I’m meeting another friend to see Milky Peaks which is a gay musical which takes a side swipe at Welsh Nationalism and identity within a North Wales mountain town.

Like you do……..

Okolo Hradišťa

We sang this new song in choir tonight and after another covid hiatus, it was wonderful to be back again singing. It was conductor Jamie’s birthday, so like a good pupil I bought him some flowers, he’s a good sort putting practice over birthday celebrations .

We sang happy birthday to him and five other choristers, whose birthdays we have missed because of covid ( we sing in in harmony to an old Slovakian hymn)

I could see Heulwen, getting emotional as she stood listening when it was her turn.

Today has been a good day. 

I finally cleared the attic cupboard and took the crap to the recycling centre. Then I popped some homemade brownies to a friend who is off work with stress and finally I cleaned Bluebell inside and out. Affable Despot Jason stopped briefly with his rambunctious dogs straining at their leads at Mrs Trellis with Blue who was walking back up the lane . Neither me or he was anyway surprised when Mrs Trellis disappeared up my drive to hide behind Bluebell until he had passed.

It’s a habit she does when meeting any dog in the village. 

 

Hill of Arrows

Today I have got very little planned.

After a think at the kitchen table with a bucket of coffee, I decided to clear the cupboard in my bedroom that leads up to the attic.

When my little Bathroom man arrives , he will need access up there to put in an electric shower.

The whole cupboard was crammed with junk.

A broken Lloyd loom laundry basket, a broken lampshade, old papers and moulding eiderdown, the usual crap you hide away from sight …everything was thrown into the front garden much to the surprise of locals walking up and down the lane.

In a rather dusty old suitcase I found a photocopied publication dating from 1910. I have no recollection of having it.

Tucked behind the Welsh text was a translation of the this book which was described as thus

This is the winning Essay

Submitted for the Newmarket Eisteddfod

Held on the 1st August 1910

Written in welsh by R.T Williams ( pseudonym Trevor Mon)

Entitled

“ Newmarket, it’s Antiquity, Biography and Present History”

For those that don’t know Newmarket is the old name for Trelawnyd.

I fell into a few hours of reading, sat in the window seat of my bedroom. The book sharing the history of the village from as far back as the Welsh tribes who lived on the land before the Romans arrived.

It’s a fascinating read and much of the information within its pages was new to me. The old, ancient names of hills that surround the village interested me the most. Bryn Y Saethau ( Hill of Arrows) , Bryn Y Lladdfa ( The Hill Of Slaughter) and Bryn Y Coaches ( Hill Of The War Chariots) all conjure up ancient battles and folklore 

The text also features biographies on local ( men) from the turn of the century as well as detailed descriptions of local houses and their histories, forays into local folklore, and discussions about Marriages  and everyday life of an Edwardian Welsh Village.

I’m happy to provide anyone local who is interested in reading this essay a copy . All I ask is that they pay a 5£ fee which will be donated to the Memorial Hall.

Wateringtocan

I bought a fucking useless watering can today

Just because I liked the look of it 

 

Getting On

Nurse’ humour is, I know , an acquired taste.

I watched Getting On the other night, which was a sitcom based in an over worked and fraught nhs hospital ward. It’s a work of genius and captures perfectly the screwball nature of very dark humour.

I was reminded of a conversation I had fairly recently with a patient who was somewhat challenging in nature.

He asked me to do something that I was not prepared to do and the subsequent conversation was roughly as follows after he had sworn at me and was now sulking

Patient :”Have you always been a nurse who argues with their patients?” 

Me “ I like to think I’m assertive but fair“ 

Patient: “ I will take that as a yes then” 

Me (smiling  sweetly) “ no problem”

Patient: “ Have you killed anyone this week?” 

Pause

Me “Only two this week”

Patient: “ Only two?”

Me”It’s been a slack week”

Patient laughs

Patient: “What’s your name again? …I might have to report you”

Me “Beverly Allitt”

Patient laughs again

Being Gay

 

Sometimes it’s nice to have a gay old day.

I got to Liverpool early and bought the outstanding remaining pieces of my dinner service from John Lewis. I couldn’t find the cutlery section , as it had been moved. I told the very camp salesman I was in a hurry and he let the charge to the right shelves with a wave of the arm and a merry “ Tallyho”

I met my friend Colin at The Italian Club just on time and we drooled like schoolboys over the army of bearcub waiters on duty, with their heavily dyed beards and big hairy arms .

When Colin payed the bill, one such waiter gave his hand a cheeky caress which made my friend blush Pinkly and made me laugh like a drain.

We went to the Philharmonic Hall to watch the Liverpool Symphony Orchestra play Beethoven Leonore Overture, Sibelius’ violin Concerto with sololist Maria Dueñas and Prokofiev’s Symphony No 5 .

The music was , as usual top notch , but we both were watching conductor ( the floppy haired Venezuelan Domingo Hindoyan) like predatory hawks