Shaken Not Stirred

 

It’s going on ten years since I last visited New York. The last time I had a wonderfully boozy dinner at Docks on Third Avenue, which is Blog commentator Lee’s afternoon haunt for nibbles and cocktails.

I mention my garrulous friend because I received a lovely gift from her on Saturday. Three martini glasses direct from the Big Apple. 

I promise New York will be on my list to revisit  at some point. The High Line, Moma, Grand Central’s Oyster Bar, Central Park , Docks …..perhaps one day Lee and I will raise a glass together at that famous art deco bar

Views

These are some lovely photos of Trelawnyd and its environs, by villager David Hurst. My cottage is the white building in line with the Church 

 

Amélie is 25

 

I saw Amélie in the autumn of 2001 at the Showrooms in Sheffield. I still remember the afternoon , as after the film had aired I had to turn to a stranger to comment just how good it was. 

I have visited the film many times since but never on the big screen, so today a friend and I drove to Chester to see it at the Storyhouse 

It was a delight as it has always been, a magical tale of a quirky lonely waitress and her quest to do good in a whimsically unreal Montmartre where strange characters abound and where the colours of the bars and shops and streets burst out of the screen like magic. 

It made Audrey Tautou a star and is, I am sure one of the most loved of all French movies

Walking In Alone

 I was going to a surprise birthday party tonight. 

I can tell you that it’s Sandra Cameron’s because it started an hour ago now, so no spoilers for her. She’s a darling of a woman and is infamous for winning the Best Boiled Egg cup in last years flower Show. 

I know myself well, and as I hate walking into a gathering alone I had asked a friend from Trelawnyd to come with me, but alas they are unwell, and so I’ve decided not to go alone.

I’ve written a card and bought Sandra a pretty plant and dropped them at her house.

I’m ok with some of my insecurities 

Stand By Me

Hello all….gawd I’m fucked

My second 12 hour day shift , working alongside 

One twenty something, one thirty something and one forty something

It was a bloody busy shift 

And

By 7 pm the 20 and 30 year olds were on their last legs 

I looked like the wreck of the Hesperus 

But still upright and still almost cheerful 

Someone brought us a cake which we devoured like zombies

With cups of hastily made tea and much weary laughter

Then more call bells went off 

And we got on with it

Home with a gin ,now

Roger is licking my feet

Mary is cuddling up with Bun on the couch 

Even Weaver is trying to look remotely sympathetic 

Bed soon

 

Validation and miles

 

This nurse I’ve know for almost thirty years. She is a specialist spinal outreach nurse based at the spinal Injury unit in Sheffield and as a young charge Nurse I was her mentor when she was new and shy and professional and clearly talented. 

She has just won a prestigious RCN Foundation award in recognition of her outstanding contribution to patient care and I sent my congratulations to her yesterday , alongside hundreds of others.

She sent this message back 

“Andrea Patterson

John Gray you were the best mentor a quiet, newly qualified nurse could ask for . You're one of the reasons I'm still at Spinal Injuries xx” 

How lovely 

I will end with a quick reply to dear Stubble Jumper’s Kate

Trelawnyd to London ( Via Prestatyn by train) approx 190 miles

Trelawnyd to counselling 19miles ( car) 

Trelawnyd to hospice 24.5 miles ( car)

Trelawnyd to The Storyhouse or Picturehouse 27 miles( car)

Trelawnyd to Theatre Clwyd 16.5 miles (car)

Trelawnyd to sister’s houses ( car) 4.4 miles, either or 

Bed soon

Leak & Death

 I haven’t done nursing day shifts for months, tomorrow and Friday I’ve got two twelve hour shifts . It will be nice to sleep at night, rather than grab a few hours during the day . Today I was counselling and was looking forward to war of the worlds at Theatre Clwyd tonight, but the production had been cancelled due to a flood. When I got there visitors and staff including the chefs and waiting on staff at Bryn Williams were marooned outside.

Disappointed I drove home. 

Some days turn out to be washouts…..I listened to The Archers on the way home and met the new characters of lottie ( who is bound to be dating Chris Carter yawn) and the dreadful Bert Horrobin ( who has morphed into an old pirate. Carol Tregoran has also morphed into an old witch with actress Eleanor Bron leaving the role back in 2018 which is interesting 

I could write better characters 

I’m in a funny mood today 

I’ve signed up for a simple cremations send off with a very nice sales lady called Gupta this afternoon 

Mz Gupta was direct and sweet and when I told her I lived alone with 2 cats and 2 dogs she quipped strangely “ animals are so much nicer than people as long as you feed them “ 

It’s been odd planning things after my death 

Remembering Auntie Glad

 This video of a ninety year old Italian Nonna, excitingly opening her birthday gifts took me back to auntie Glad. Some years ago now I was visited by a fellow blogger Hippo, whose life was saved by his blog connections. Living in a real African backwater, he sustained a simple garden injury to his thigh when cutting a hedge.

The injury quickly went necrotic and septic and knowing my experience in the field he sent me a photo, I told him plainly that he would be dead in days if he didn’t refer himself to a specialist hospital, and so with the  Great British reserve only known by ex servicemen , he wrapped the injury in cling film and drove a hundred miles to an airport which eventually took him to London. 

Presenting himself to the ER he had hours of life left, but the wonders of the nhs saved his life and many weeks later he was sat in my front room, paying his respects amid bulldogs and terriers and Albert the cat. 

We went to Auntie Glad’s for tea and scones and she met us warmly in her blue tabard which was dusted with scone flour. 

Gladys was in her 90s and not quite understand who Hippo was she still afforded him a cheerful Welsh welcome .

I was amused that when we ate our scones and drank our tea she disappeared for a few minutes only reappearing in her best frock , a string of pearls and a splodge of bright red lipstick on her lips 

Now that’s class

Fruit bowl and table

Nearly twelve years ago Mary decided to sit in the fruit bowl 

Today Roger decided to sit on the coffee table 

In almost exactly the same position 

 

A Chameleon On The Fridge

 It’s 5 pm and the ice cream van has arrived in the village. I’ve not noticed it in years gone by but this one plays the zimmer theme from The Third Man which feels strange, especially as there is still a distinct chill in the air. 

I’ve just finished two night shifts, and didn’t sleep much today, so it’s pottering time , with a slow pace , soup cooking, clothes washing, fire lighting and radio 4. 

I’m mildly annoyed because my second best counselling jumper now has tomato stains down the front.

The man that delivered the fridge never bothered about such things

Oh I’ve bought a new fridge . My Ikea fridge freezer has died and isn’t repairable and shocked at the cost of a replacement, complete with fitting has meant I have bought a small table top fridge to more suit my needs.

My handsome chameleon is sat on it . The old fridge is now an ideal storage cupboard

Jesus John , I’ve got absolutely no news, except that not many fuckers have a stuffed reptile on their fridge

Tonight , I’m revisiting the last two episodes of The Other Bennett Sister and apart from the lovely will-they-won’t - they relationship of Tom and Mary , I adored how the daughter/ surrogate Mother relationship worked out between Mary and her Aunt Gardner ( the sympathetic and generous  Indira Varma ) quite lovely

Touch

When I am at work, I touch people constantly. 

I wash and I turn people in bed hourly and will sometimes take my latex glove off to comfort someone, certainly to stroke a brow or tidy a hair which is out of place .

I hear my old tutor from my psychiatric nursing days at these times….

“Being stroked by a gloved hand can be painful and unnatural “ Leslie Brint would say

There are social rules when it comes to touch too,

Some people abhor it. 

Others crave it

You have to read people effectively and quickly

Safe “ zones” for touch are innately understood by most

But not always.

Watch out for cues

Huggers often give them 

People in grief often regress to childhood states

When touch can heal most things

I don’t hug when I’m counselling. 

It’s my strict rule. 

But I do always shake hands with my clients.

It’s formal but warm

I like handshakes.

I’m off to work, shortly

With Roger on my knee as we sit at the kitchen table

He’s like me, when it comes to hugs

But he can ask for them where I seldom do

I’m glad he can

Eyebrows

I’m 64 in June

And I’ve just realised that I have eyebrows like 

Virgil Tracy

And could not have fitted through 

Thunderbird 2’s 

Ceiling slide

 

A Cry On The Way To Counselling

 I start with the Madrid Metropolitan Orchestra with some of my lisping choir  doing an amazing version of Gloria Gloria  ……followed by this amazing nurse’s poem from the Vietnam war

But today’s highlight was a radio four production Life Changing where psychiatrist Sian Williams interviewed teenager Rozhan , an illegal immigrant from Iran who with her mother and younger sister braved death many times to flee persecution in the Middle East where her Muslim mother changed religion to Christianity . 

The account of how she took charge of a sick baby at fourteen in a sinking dinghy off Dover , and how the 26 people on board all held hands as they thought death was approaching made me stop Bluebell in order to shed a tear before my counselling day .

I defy anyone, including the most rabid of racists not to be moved by this tale of heroism 

https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/m002tprr

Gritted Teeth

 Weaver is trying her best to integrate

But like Mary Bennett in social situations, 

She just can’t get it! 

Rigid with awkwardness she pushed herself to her obvious limit last night and over perhaps 40 minutes crept her way to the centre of the living room from her usual ninth step on the staircase. 

It was a painful watch, and I held my breath for much of the ordeal, but she finally did it ! 

Speaking of painful watches, I sat through The Downfall of Huw Edwards last night

Awful 

John Wynne and Graham The Sheep

Chapel house or ty wynne ( Wynne House) where the remains of John Wynne are buried

According to Bangor Professor Robert Jenkins the industrial pioneer John Wynne (1650-1714) was instrumental in the development of Trelawnyd , formally known as Newmarket. He had a vision of developing the hamlet into a market town proper. He built houses, established a weekly market and established the Nonconformist chapel in 1701 as well as building a grammar school at "plas yn dre".
His wish to develop Newmarket into a large market town ultimately came to nothing, but Wynne was responsible for the village's growth and its population did top over 600 residents.
John Wynne died n 1714 and his remains was buried against the wall of the Chapel which still exists in Chapel street.
Now all this gives a little background to the "ghostly" goings on at Ty Wynne, which is the house situated right next door to the chapel and John Wynne's burial place. The present owner always thought that their house was haunted by a strong male character. Indeed the lady of the house always made a point of saying "goodnight" to the ghost before she went to bed. They always presumed that the "ghost" was that of John Wynne
In the early 1970s Ty Wynne featured in a somewhat creepy tale. Local small holder Graham “ the sheep”Jones was just leaving the memorial hall one wintry and rainy night.. He had been playing snooker and as he got on his bicycle he saw a figure of a man standing in the gateway of Ty Wynne.
The man was wearing an old fashioned long coat and hat, and seemed to acknowledge Graham before he cycled for home.
Literally a minute later Graham approached his home along London road and was astonished and frightened to see the same man standing alone outside his own home!
Graham wisely stopped and returned for the morale support from his friends back in the hall and by the time he returned mob handed the "man" had vanished
Could the figure be that of Trelawnyd's founder John Wynne?
Who knows?

This tale of Trelawnyd has a bittersweet taste as Graham died over the weekend

Easter Sunday

 The village has been battered by storm Dave. 

Dramatically so. 

The journey to Llandudno along the A55 to night shift felt somewhat fraught.

And the wind roared over west shore, like a freight train.

It’s still roaring now and it’s just past midnight.

When I left for work I found a bag tied to the front door knob.

The bag was decorated with Easter chicks and eggs and in it was a small Easter egg and these

A Cd and book of Under Milk Wood. 

Another day, another kindness.

Its now Easter Sunday, traditionally an awfully dire memory of childhood , which centred upon chocolate ( I’m not a fan) Overlong Biblical films starting Jeffrey Hunter and bored parents.

And a light note to end with

Sometimes I stream on a site for mature gay men. It’s fun because I can hold court and discuss things such as film, the walking dead, life and the universe. The site is moderated and policed by friends who stop the riff raff and the occasional rude or suggestive comment and it’s often interesting to have a couple of hundred people from all over the world sharing their thoughts. 

This weekend I was discussing scary experiences, when a bloke from Portugal shared with a photograph that was somewhat bizarre. 

I won’t go into details but it caught me so unaware that I burst into uncontrollable hysterical laughter. A real belly laugh that stopped most people short and which created a wave of laughing amid the group. 

Matt a good friend from Denmark took a screen shot of me with the caption you are killing me today John

I laughed till I cried…..brilliant therapy for a boring Easter weekend

Felt Sorry For

 

When you are single and sixty something it seems inevitable  that some people will feel sorry for you. 

I think it more often than not happens to women on their own in hotel restaurants but I’ve had my fair share of “ Are you alright? Are you looking after yourself properly?” Moments over the years!

My elder sister Ann has me over for supper once a week now, and I’m grateful for this gesture of good food and company. 

Having a meal made for you, when you are used to cook your own meals is a treat, I can tell you. Why do you think I love going out for brunch and lunch with friends, the treat is palpable ! 

I work with a lovely support worker called Diane, she is single and my age, and every time we work together she will surprise me with “spare chicken salad” in the staff fridge or a comment “ I’ve brought some good coffee in” 

She spoils me and I’m grateful for it.

She doesn’t feel sorry for me….well perhaps she does just a little, but I don’t want to think about that

A villager texted me yesterday saying that they were looking out for me at the funeral. 

Another kindness certainly .

When I’m out alone, I still take with me my armour

My phone, an iPad, a book or all three,

They protect me from being felt sorry for 

I hate the thought of it 

Stopped By The King

 I went to a friend’s funeral today. She lived in the village.

But as I was driving at the top of St Asaph towards the crematorium, I got gridlocked.

The King and Queen were in town.

They are celebrating Maundy Thursday at the Cathedral.

Luckily I was able to watch the funeral service online then got out and walked up towards the Cathedral just in time to see the King walk across the road to say hello to the crowd. 

He’s like his mother not very big. 

I came home eventually free of the police’s road closures and noticed some magnificent bunches of grape hyacinth on Ann Hindles’ wall

I had a scotch egg for tea

Bloody lovely

And Life goes on…..the Trelawnyd Go Green group prepared the ground around the village hall for compost beds and poppy flowers this afternoon. I bought a few packets of giant poppies this afternoon as a minor support 

The Other Bennett Sister

 Spoiler Alert

Oh lord I loved this on binge watch , the story of bookish, maybe slightly autistic Mary Bennett ( Ella Bruccoleri) and her journey away from the control of an abusive mother ( Ruth Jones on nasty form) to self realisation

Hils ( Lucy Briers)

So Mary’s very different view of Regency life comes to the fore here. She sees the good in Mr Collins and she massages the change for good in Miss Bingley but her love for Tom Hayward is very deep and their final connection is incredibly moving and real 

I loved her relationship with Mrs Gardener ( Indira Varma) her aunt and true supporter and Hils her mother’s housekeeper who delighted in eating Mary’s wedding cake in the final sequence) 

A clever reinvention of a new story ….we all love Mary xx

We all are Mary 

 

 

Project Hail Mary

 

Project Hail Mary is a children’s film for adults. To save the planet lonely science teacher Rylan Grace ( Ryan Gosling) joins the Earth’s nations scientists to find a cure for an infection attacking the sun. In a disastrous space journey he teams up with a spider like alien looking for a similar cure and the pair become friends in their joint quest. 

We have seen this all before

Think Robinson Crusoe, ET, and Lost In Space, but the humour led by Gosling is infectious and charming , the sentimentality just enough for tears and the icy  scientific Governmental leader led by the enigmatic Sandra Hüller ( below) is a perfect foil for Gosling’s chaotic hero. 

I liked it. 

A bit too long

And with more holes in the plot than a block of Swiss cheese,

This is a film that celebrates friendship and good in all men 

Oh and in aliens