Rubber Chicken has survived the weekend
It’s now standing guard over the kitchen wall and will be having a car jaunt out soon to the supermarket
I’m getting rather fond of him
One Of Our Own
Today our choir master and leader emailed us all with the sad news that Sharn, one of our fellow choristers had been killed in a freak accident .
It’s a strange thing losing “one of our own” and slowly but surely our choir website is filling with thoughts and best wishes for Sharn’s family and her friends
Durme durme
Sophia
Surreal or what ? Rubber Chickens earlier
Now for a lovely , rather moving
Portrait
I adore this photo
Sophia Loren at 85
Sometimes I really hate being
But hey let’s embrace our years
We are Not old
We are here.....
Bed early tonight,
Rubber Chicken Overload
Today is my single day off this week.
I am on a long day tomorrow, then, thank the lord, I am off work for five long days!
I have organised things to do each day
Trendy Carol ( still in her Autumnal hues) will have the girls tomorrow
Today I’ve done some Christmas shopping and had an extra sleep and a long bath with Hawaiian Midnight.
The Rubber Chicken was a great success yesterday.
In fact it was too successful as Winnie has not been as excited since she overdosed on workmen when the new kitchen went in and was found eating chicken crisps in the passenger seat of their works van
She squeezed the friggin life out of it last night, so much so, that I’ve had to ration it from her gummy onslaughts, so sick I was of it screaming around the cottage.
It’s presently cooling off quietly in the only bulldog safe place in the kitchen
Puffins and a Rubber Chicken
After just 2 hours sleep , I met a friend in McDonalds’ car park for a side by side car chat and coffee.
After that I bought a rubber Chicken at Lidl and squeezed it around the aisles like a badly behaved toddler
When I got home I brandished it at Trendy Carol ( in her muted winter ensemble ) and Animal Helper Pat as they passed the cottage, neither looked unduly impressed or shocked.
Oh it’s nice not to be working
I’ve lit the fire and the fairy lights.
I’ve squeezed the chicken at a near hysterical Winnie
And I’ve hung my latest piece of art
Three bespoke made puffins in flight
The art wall is now complete
I’m so happy to be home
Not Pritti
Priti Patel is back in the news as her behavior at the home office was said to have breached the rules of Minister’s’ behavior.
I suspect if the likes of Sir Philip Rutnam who resigned describing Patel’s behavior as ‘vicious’, has spoken out then there is no smoke without fire even though Ms Patel has denied all accusations.
In my experience ( and believe me the NHS is nose to nipple with inadequate managers) the most common bully is one that exists by taking advantage of group situations by “carpet bombing” and brow beating a group of more “junior staff” in a meeting.
No direct confrontation occurs, which often proves that the protagonist is in fact the weak link in a chain, and so all it usually takes is a calm firm
‘ No I disagree” by one hardy soul present for the bully to be exposed and power to change hands.
This firm and fair” approach works with most bullies, especially when accompanied with a smile but a more robust response may be needed if the bully is more confrontational.
Once a few years ago, I was challenged over something by a village bully.
I could have explained my side of the argument too with a calm, comfortable “No I disagree!”
I chose to half bellow a loud “ Oh do fuck off!!!!!” across the village green before walking away
That, as I recall worked very well too
“ You Have To Be Careful with Your Loneliness”
So said Neil Horan in an interview with the BBC yesterday.
A fifty something gay man living in London, he once suffered isolation and loneliness before coming out in the 1980s and is liking those feelings to experiences now under lockdown.
“ You have to be careful with your loneliness...it is a separate illness to say depression and needs to be treated as such”
From I can see there are a myriad of ways people have been coping with months of enforced isolation.
Frazzled Cafe is something a friend of mine has used recently
It is a charity for those who is finding life a challenge at the moment and has the mantra
“it’s ok NOT to be ok”
Not a counselling service , Frazzled Cafe offers an online zoom service where peer support can be obtained in a large group. Indeed one of its founders comedienne Ruby Wax actually facilitates several of the meetings that can be accessed daily.
I love the innovation and the positivism of such an enterprise at this time where the Office Of National Statistics report that 8% of all adults ( some 4.2 million people ) have reported to always and often lonely.
Mrs Jefferson from her pensioner bungalow rang me the other day to check up on how I was
I haven’t seen you walking the dogs for a while” she said “ I wanted to check up on you as you live alone”
She lives with a husband with dementia and her call made me a little ashamed that I had not checked on her ( leaving the job to the village street wardens)
“ Have you found a man yet? “ she finally asked
I told her I have not
Her grandson is gay and now married
She’s very gay friendly and wants everyone to be in a gay relationship.
Psychologist Vivian Hill says that “ The decent into winter can be a significant factor how people feel about loneliness” and I get this only too well with night duty recently. Four nights on mean five nights without any significant natural light on my face even though I walk the dogs as soon as I get home
Under my boffin friend Nigel’s advice I am taking vitamin D daily.
It will boost your immunity he said seriously .
I need to talk to best friend Nu too....I’ve never gone this long without not physically seeing her .
Ten months or so....is too long.
My normal self help areas seem to be shrinking rapidly. Despite the relaxation of the lockdown in Wales the cinemas that are left are mostly closed .
I’ve booked to see a rerun of Uncle Vanya filmed at the Harold Pinter Theatre in London which is showing in the valiant Colwyn Bay Independent Cinema next week and have five whole days off before my next run of nights where I intend to catch up with a few friends for coffee and walks and just talking in the daylight which hopefully will turn into sunlight.
I’m very mindful that it has rained almost every day for weeks
Another factor which can compound loneliness.
Arnt they fabulous 👍
oh Christmas Tree
Oh dear
The Rockefeller Christmas Tree in New York has been erected under beautiful blue winter skies and for some strange reason its a balding and somewhat raggedy affair.
Perhaps it’s a metaphor for 2020
Who knows .
I remember as a child having such a tree.
Bought as an afterthought from the greengrocer on Meliden Road, it was bald and patchy and ever so sad looking, but to my sister and I who bought it, it was an underdog who had to be made the best of.
Bottom branches were literally sellotaped into place.
The gaps were filled with fairy lights and thick snakes of tinsel and if you squinted long enough the whole finished article looked cheerful enough
Like I said as long as you squinted.
Christmas trees mean different things to different people and we all have our own connections to them.
For me it’s Shelley Winters and the cast of The Poseidon Adventure climbing up that impossibly blue 18 foot monstrosity in my 1970s childhood but this memory has since been superseded by traditions of Sunday trips to Calver in Derbyshire to pick up the tree for the Sheffield front room.....and after that various incarnations of the Nutcracker tree, at the ballet
You know the one that grows like a beast when the toys are sleeping.
I haven’t had a tree for a couple of years.
I did buy one of those tiny ones that the supermarket sells last year but it was too small to be viable and I planted out into my new back garden.
It’s still there , bright green and cheerful and still with its battery lights on it
Another metaphor for 2019 perhaps.
On night shifts all week
Bears
After yesterday’s titty talk I thought we’d go all butch today
And why not? , despite protestations from my old friend Nigel, I can do butch
( strange spell check went immediately to bitch rather than butch there)
I received this postcard from Mathew (from Georgia ) this morning
Apparently it’s Ajax by Giovanni Demin
Mathew said to “Enjoy the beard”
I will Mathew, I love a man with a beard....
I guess we all have a type .
My first crush was a straight friend in his late teens.
I was a couple of years older
He was built like an American football player and was able to grow a beard not long after sitting his O levels so I’m not surprised I have been attracted to big mature men with easy smiles ever since
Masculine bearded guys are referred to as bears in the gay world, and in my experience Bears tend to be the most “ sorted” and “ friendly” of all supposed gay subgroups ...if you have to pigeon hole a group...
I remember going to my first gay pub in Sheffield in the early 1990s which was hosting its regular bear night
Ten minutes in, I had been asked to dance by a hirsute, broad smiling, rotund Dentist from Penistone called Dominic who was kitted out in a leather harness, that, thirty five years later Dorothy would sport quite gayly around the lanes of Trelawnyd
Funny old world
Hot Bra
I miss the village post office.
I miss the complete disarray Jenny the postmistress was always in when faced with something more complex than an order of more than two first class stamps
She was surrounded by paper that often threatened to engulf her completely.
I miss those untidy days.
I have to travel to the next village to post my parcels, so today went to the Spar which doubles as post office and supermarket to get my nephew’s birthday gift sent.
I waited patiently as two women argued in front of me about social distancing and hid behind my mask
The wait was rather long, and so I was grateful to eventually leave the claustrophobic queue , pay for my post and leave the hot shop.
When I was outside I pulled down my mask and took several gulps of fresh cool air with a sigh.
“ Now you blokes know what’s it’s like to be a woman! “ so said one of the women who was involved in the argument
I nodded and smiled politely
“ We have the same feeling of relief when we take our bras off after a day at work !“
And for once I was lost for a word of reply
Gwyrch Castle
My power is off
Candles are lit and the fire is already on.
So it’s perfectly human in the cottage
Luckily I put in turkey meatballs with risotto rice and pasata in the slow cooker this morning , so the food is warm and tasty and wholesome.
Winnie has joined us all on the couch from her spot on the reading chair and I’m watching
I’m a celebrity get me out of here on my phone covered in dogs,
Gwyrch Castle looks beautiful I must admit
I’m working Christmas Eve on night shift...I wonder what Christmas Day will be like this year
Hey ho
Fairy Lights
I bought some battery run Christmas Lights from Lidl today and they cheerfully illuminate the hearth and art wall this evening
I don’t do Christmas decorations now , but some bulldog and scotch egg baubles ( a kind gift from Kim F) add to the”look”
Weaver has emailed and is safe and well and is writing her Christmas Cards
Happy days
Night Nurse Paralysis
There is a well known phenomenon amongst night nurses on long standing night duties and that is the odd sounding Night Nurse paralysis
It is rare, often clouded in secrecy and shame ( as many still think it’s a product of mental illness or a feeble mind) but it is an actual condition that affects many when they are properly sleep deprived and stressed
Dr Mathew Jones Chester described the paralysis thus
“A black shape gathers in the corner of the room, as if from nothing. I can see it, like a huge bat, massive and caped. It fills the room and comes closer and eventually it's around me, cloudy and dark. I feel its pressure and it's holding me and then, under its weight and power, I feel I'm sinking and being dragged down.
'I fight to bring myself back round, but I can't - and this is the awful part - I can't because I'm totally paralysed. The best I can do is make a noise in my throat in the hope I'll bring myself round. It's horrible.”
I have never experienced it myself , though I have seen it’s effects just once when I worked at the West Cheshire Hospital back in the 1980s. I was sat opposite to a Dutch enrolled Nurse in an alcove next to a dormitory of who was described in those years as Psychogeriatric Patients
The nurse was knitting, I was reading a book.
Suddenly I was aware that the nurse had stopped those well worn repetitive movements and I glanced over at her.
She was stiff in her chair
Perfectly still. Her hands were in her lap and her eyes were wide open but unseeing.
Her head was shaking very very gently, as it would during a minor tremor
To say that I was terrified was an understatement and I remember calling out the nurses’ name Fenna? which was totally ignored.
I got up and flew down the ward, through a connecting corridor to an adjacent ward where I found another enrolled nurse emptying a bucket.
Breathlessly I told her that Fenna was unwell. The nurse was sanguine
“oh she goes like that on nights , talk to her quietly and she’ll come around in a few minutes. It happens all of the time”
And that’s exactly what I did.
I walked back to the alcove , put my hand on the nurses’ shoulder and I talked to her until, she blinked and shook her head like a patient coming out of an anaesthetic
She looked frightened
Then embarrassed
Then grateful to be back
Moments later she had returned to her knitting
And I had returned , with just one eye on my book
Until This Evening
Winnie eating breakfast this morning
Night shifts effect everything and provides a backbone to a new and rather odd routine and mental state. I finish handover at work around 7.45 am and get home around 8.30.
I never really remember the drive home
Which is worrying.
I am greeted by all manner of faces and expressions.
Sleepy and hopeful from Winnie.
Anxious and grateful from Dorothy.
Smiling and waggy from Mary
Hungry and bad tempered from Albert.
Dorothy and Mary are placed in Bluebell,
Winnie has a mammoth pee in the garden and Albert is fed
The accidents of the night are mopped up
And I take the girls for their walk before returning to feed them separately
There are squabbles if they are not separated
I’m too tired for squabbles.
Today I’m wrote this at the kitchen table listening to novelist David Mitchell talking to Lauren Laverne
I’m about to put a baking potato in the slow cooker for my tea.
I only drink water before bed.
I check the home answerphone ...no messages as per normal
My phone has 5 what’s app messages, all unanswered as yet
A friend at work has given me some luxury pillows and I stuff them into clean crisp pillow cases whilst listening to Mitchell’s last choice of Domenico Scarlatti’s sonata in F minor
Sublime
It’s 9.53 am
Time for bed.
The girls are waiting for me to climb the stairs.
Winnie is already asleep in the kitchen reading chair and is snoring softly.
Albert is out watching rabbits
I lock the doors and shut out the real world
Until this evening
Blog Friends The Weaver Of Grass
Yesterday’s comments were much appreciated and timely and showed much good humour and bon viveur in blogland.
That’s how it should be.
Not leaving snide comments on others’ blogs
It’s seldom you have to click on the “ load more” box to read them all and I’m grateful for such interest as I am for the score of emails , suggesting ideas and giving advice from people that know better.
My thoughts today are with The Weaver Of Grass who we have not heard from since she had a fall at home a broke her hip a while ago now. The jungle telegraph has worked its work and all we blogging friends know is that Pat was taken to hospital .
The comment box has been disabled and many of us, who consider her as a dear friend of over a decade , are concerned, and are waiting to hear that she is ok.
That’s why blogging can be so sweet.
Friendships are made despite the trolls and the unhinged
And Pat is a dear dear friend to many of us
Let’s wish her well.
A Book? Yeah Right ....!
Isn’t there a saying which goes something like
“ If you want something doing, give your job to a busy man ( Woman)”?
I’m back at work today, which is timely, and last night, after nearly three weeks enforced isolation inactivity, I left choir halfway through our zoom meeting, ignored Bake Off ( which has become incredibly boring without the more interesting characters ) and in a surprisingly short four hour period organised and plotted out my book of Going Gently
Seeing the words written down, is an odd feeling.
Mainly because the sentence looks incredibly pompous
The book won’t be any work of art. ( of course it bloody won’t) but it may be a frothy, light and hopefully occasionally moving version of Going Gently’s better bits.
Cherry Picking fifteen years in the life of a middle aged Gay man, who left a status job in a much loved Northern City to play at the role of county gent, smallholder and smug Village Linda Snell won’t be easy, but after a bit of playing around, some unsurprising dramatic licence ( !) some judicial cutting and pasting, the Skeleton of a plan has been made.
And all in four hours sat at the kitchen table...going through broad chapter titles and flicking through lists in filofax notebooks.
Now all I need is a title.
Going Gently is already the title of a very mighty fine novel by David Nobbs and so I feels prudent not to reuse it even though that may well be the way forward .....has anyone any ideas ?
Answers on a postcard please!
I shall leave you with a brief video taken this morning. It shows Dorothy’s progress with Walking ALL ON HER OWN ...I found my voice towards the end of the film....
High Line
Facebook has an irritating habit of reminding you of something you have experienced years ago
Today it poked me about a rather special walk I did in Manhattan three years ago to the day.
The High Line runs from the trendy meatpacking district around 14th St , through Chelsea to the West Side on 34th street. It runs for going on two miles and follows the elevated train track of The New York Central Railway.
The elevated railway is planted out simply with low maintenance grasses and flowers and trees and has wonderful views of the Hudson River to the West ( when you are walking North) and the city scapes aka Rear Window to the East.
It was a warm November Sunday when I walked the High Line, with high blue skies and silvery deco skyscrapers bordering my view like a theatre set
Tourists ambled alongside New Yorkers in magical nodding good nature
And I remember thinking as the sun reflected in silver fish ripples on the Hudson that life couldn’t be any better than this
Remembering it ? .....emotional highs ......with a tiny bit of broken heart
The Crown Returns
The new landlady of the village pub is in fact a former landlady called Ceri
The young woman with a young family who, with her husband Nathan has braved the covid economic decline is in my mind one of the real heroes of this dreadful year.
The Crown reopened last night.
It was a very different pub to what Affable Despot Jason and I remembered.
Table service only, on line booking , no standing at the bar
But every table , throughout the pub and restaurant was filled by villagers happy to have the pub lit and warm and alive again.
Ian and Jo ( without their three legged whippet) Tim, Tim ( Nice and not dim) Trelawnyd Val, Village Leader Ian,
It was nice to be there to support the opening night
Booking for tables can be done here on line via Facebook
I will leave you with this video which is doing the rounds
A former New York Ballerina, suffering from Alzheimers is played Swan Lake
Enjoy x
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