Je Crois Entendre

 In 1988 I saw my very first Opera.

It was The Pearl Fishers by Bizet

One aria Je Crois Entendre, “ I think I hear”

Will always remain one of my most favourite pieces of music 

Sung below so beautifully by Pene Pati

I still believe I hear
hidden beneath the palm trees
her voice, tender and deep
like the song of a dove
oh enchanting night
divine rapture
delightful memory
mad intoxication, sweet dream.
In the clear starlight
I still believe I see her
half drawing her long veil
to the warm night breeze.
Oh enchanting night
divine rapture
delightful memory
mad intoxication, sweet dream.
Charming memory.

Family

 Yesterday, we celebrated my brother in laws’ 78th birthday. It was lovely to catch up with family, my niece and great niece and her partner in particular , all of whom I haven’t seen in an age as I’m usually working on weekends. 

It was nice to show off too, because, out of nowhere,  I was suddenly pricked by the ghost of my story telling mother last night, and launched myself in a few village tales to a new audience .

Hey ho

 

A Pack Of Welsh Wolves

 

Regular readers will know that I seem to have an eye for the sweetest of small human moments. I’m recalling one such moment now, from the village tea party of a few weeks ago. 

A friend to many in the village , is a chap called Nick

A bright and lively man, Nick, is facing a rare neurological illness which has affected him physically and psychologically, but still he arrived with a friend to the party and seemed immediately surrounded by more male friends from Trelawnyd. 

I watched them carefully, and was reminded of the close bonds forged by the male pack members of a wolf family. 

Without fuss, one friend brought a chair, another a drink and yet another put a gentle hand on a shoulder as they chatted away, watching the band play and the visitors gossip. 

As one pack member moved away, another took his place and for a group of Welsh men, not always known for their emotional intelligence , I saw a great deal of love and care in those simple interactions. 

I too joined the pack circle that afternoon, and thought at the time just how lucky I am to be a part of such a group of such genuine people .

Just a thought

For all my.  Friends 

 

For Roger and. Mary 

For the German 

For me

Village Life

 Life in Trelawnyd rumbles on regardless of any single person’s news and affairs. The pea hen who has taken up residence in several gardens in the centre of the village remains stuck and seemingly happy here and the Hall’s youth activity initiative seems to be another success indeed thanks to villager Colette

The Go Green club has cleared the pond again, and thankfully last night the rain has fallen so I hope the pond has had some influx of fresh water. I will pop down tomorrow to see the hard work, I’m only sorry that I’ve not been able to help.

Dave smith  has photographed meteors during the clear weather , and later this month the centre of Trelawnyd will be closed for pot holes repairs

Life plods on. 

I’ve started to collect the cups from last years’ Flower Show winners, and it’s nice to see that the Apple Festival returns again

Below Air Fountain.

Dance-of kalagayis

By 

Daniel Wurtzel 

Brassed Off….well just a little….

 The catheter remains in situ until outpatients and my third named urologist in three years , reviews the cause. Things are moving at a glacial pace and I know I’ve been isolating myself because of it all. I’ve said as much here, but I’ve not really done anything about it, using the heat as an excuse not to do things and the natural tiredness from shift work and diabetes to reinforce why I’m not getting on with real life.

My friend John in Sheffield, has been unwell for sometime, he has also lost his father recently but is still turning up for rehearsals at his am dram theatre company like the Barbara Stanwick he is.

And so after several bra strap pulls I’ve booked myself some tickets in October , got a cheap hotel room in Sheffield and have organised for an old Sheffield friend Jane to go with me.

I’ve needed to kick myself up the arse and think of someone else for a change.

Supporting a friend is the right thing to do

I’m meeting Nu for lunch next week in Chester ( she has gone out of her way to sort this!) and have booked tickets to see the North Walian Gay Themed film On The Sea, as well as tickets to the storyhouse in the Park Chester production of Nell Gwynne ( which has had rave reviews) and the comedy play The Other Side Of Murder at Theatr Clwyd .

Chic Eleanor ( “ Darling we must go” ) asked if I would go with her to see Romeo And Juliet in the grounds of Denbigh Castle next week, which was another swing on those Straps ! 

I’ve arranged to meet other fiends on line, and have ok’ed another old friend to visit on Saturday.

Get off yer arse John, I tell myself , get off yer arse! 

Old blogs

 Thank you anon for pointing out my archived blog entries. A lot of them have their photos intact, others don’t but it’s a big improvement on non at all! 

Here is an old nursing story I re found ……enjoy

It's the wee small hours of the morning and I am on my break at work.
Wards, even the noisey ITU can be creepy places in the dark!
I am reminded of a story I was told on night shift back in the asylum days
I was working graveyard shift with a EN ( enrolled nurse) who enjoyed telling ghost stories to frighten the student nurses.
The ward was a 30 bedded mixed ward for mainly severely affected dementia patients and at that enlightened time in the 1980s the clientele were termed officially as psycho- geriatrics
After a lull in the conversation my supervisor asked me if I had heard the story of one of the staff nurses who had  suffered a severe heart attack on duty only weeks before
I told her I had not, so smiling she sat me down and shared the tale.
The nurse in question was working with a student nurse like myself, only the student was a shy girl of perhaps nineteen and the workload was as busy as it was for us, as every patient was totally confused and disorientated of time , place and person.
As the patients slept both nurses made a round around the dormitory and as suddenly as heart attacks strike, the staff nurse collapsed to the floor without warning.
The student nurse panicked, and not knowing that she needed to call for help by telephone she crouched by her colleague tried to rouse her then started to cry.
Suddenly one of the patients, an elderly man in his seventies clambered out of bed.
The patient, who was mute, incontinent of urine and faeces and considered a " husk " of his former self hurried over and said in a clear voice " we had better get her on the bed"
The two of them, then lifted the collapsed nurse onto the spare bed after which the patient told the student nurse to call for help.
The student grateful for clear instructions did just that and help arrived within minutes as the nursing officer on duty rallied the troops, and surprisingly the collapsed nurse survived her heart attack though never again returned to work.
The patient involved never spoke again. His cognitive abilities were assessed and remained unchanged from those performed before this incident, and it was never explained just how he behaved the way he did when the student cried out for help.

Instagram

Blogger is delicate, at most obsolete and looking at old posts I’ve realised that many of the old photographs have just disappeared. I’m mortified, totally mortified, as happy times at the Ukrainian Village , holidays in Australia, my wedding, family memories have all gone.

Trolling around Facebook archives I’ve found some , but many of the older ones have been lost forever

Ive explored the net and have started to save a few hastily retrieved ones on Instagram 

It’s a big job……

A photo of my brother and siblings not long before he died 2012