Choir

Last night I went to the 10th Birthday party of the Gwaenysgor Community Choir. 

It was lovely seeing everyone Margaret and Richard from Trelawnyd was there with the Turpins so I caught up with them before catching up with the ever happy Hattie, Heulwen and Derek  before touching base with Jamie sporting a fledgling 1940s RAF Moustache.

I’ve missed choir but have been sanguine that something had to give between, college, counselling days and work. 

I’m not superwoman

I can’t juggle every ball that’s thrown my way. 

My plan is that I return to choir in September.  

It’s a good decision , especially as I was moved to tears by some of their latest songs, so powerful and strong.

Grupo Tallia and Gwaenysgor 

I can live with two choirs in my life

Going Gently

 I didn’t follow Michael Mosley at all, but like thousands of people was saddened by his death. He seems to have been an all round good guy and his death by natural causes has shocked and surprised many. 

In my experience , people, often behave like animals do at the point of death. They can become agitated and disorientated and often have the urge to hide away on their own . Blood chemicals disarray  , hypoxia and delirium all play their own part in this, but in my view there seems to be something more primeval in play. 

There is often a need for people to be on their own. 

To be away from the sickbed, 

To be alone from the clan .

This phenomenon is well know amongst hospice nurses, who invariably warn relatives of what could happen if vigils are broken, even for the most shortened of times. 

Often families wrap this age old behaviour into some sort of altruistic sparing of their loved ones feelings and I get that totally , but at the end of the day , I sort of understand more the urge to hide away somewhere cool and dark and comforting as the body systems slowly shut down one by one.

Necessary Shopping

A cat flap kit ( Dorothy smashed the last, one in a fit of pique) 

4 litres of white masonry paint ( to paint the back of the cottage which is looking decidedly grubby,

A large bottle of white vinegar ( to clean out the washing machine)

An insulated lunch box carrier for work and counselling days ( in rainbow colours) 

8 pigs ears ( assorted ears , assorted pigs)

1 city break scented candle “ experience the vibrant energy of a rooftop bar overlooking the iconic Manhattan skyline”  ( smells like peony)

Various tinned goods ( to fill gaps in cupboards)

2 pairs of boxer shorts with a sports gusset 

Small tine of condensed milk ( bugger alone knows why)

I potted blue salvia 

I box Mango slices

Batteries ( various sizes) 

24 cans of discounted just to be out of date Diet Coke

Ibuprofen tablets 

Plastic containers ( 24!)

Dog shampoo and food and a measuring glass for cooking

Stamps

I know not an interesting post 

Life is mundane 

You'll Never Walk Alone (Carousel) - Stephanie Blythe

Indila – « Dernière danse »

The weather has turned twice this morning.

I was up early ( for me) and took the Welsh to the beach for a long walk along the Prom.

We shared a cheese Flatbread on the way home and I treated myself to a large white coffee, which I’m still sipping , even if it is cold .

It was windy but not cold on the beach but now it’s started to rain and I’ve been in the garden cutting roses and am chilled and damp.

I’ve filled in the gaps with honeysuckle 

By 1pm I was hungry, after all the Welsh Had eaten most of my breakfast. 

The treat today was fish and chips, and when cooked by an experienced chippie , is a meal worthy of any Michelin star chef.

Bloody lovely

Pitstop

I never share full films here. The opportunity seldom arises, but this little gem of a gay film , was something I saw in Theatre Clwyd perhaps ten years ago now, and it’s messages of hope still stays with me to this day. 

It’s called Pitstop by Yen Tan

It’s PRIDE month this month and Bwthyn Y Llan still waves it’s rainbow heart from the window and the Queen’s Head from my spare bedroom. 

I’m very proud to be one of the few gays here in the village 

Friday

 It’s Friday already. 

And what fun, I’m not working the weekend because I’ve taken annual leave this week and last. 

This means instead of four full days taken with college, counselling, and work, I’ve only had to deal with my counselling day which is going ok at the moment. 

I enter the day leisurely and think of what I’m going to do only after preparing breakfast which gives the day its pace. Luckily the Welsh are even more laid back and refuse to even get up for a wee early.

It’s like living with teenagers.

I’ve made avocado toast and strong coffee and read the blogs and the tiktoks. I’m down to a dozen all told, and prefer the newsy chatty  over the ones who badmouth others whilst showing off their mental dexterity.

The internet is a sad Aladdin’s cave for the angry and the mentally ill I’m afraid.

I’m off to the cinema to see a western but I forgot it’s the Duke Of Westminster’s wedding today and Chester will be gridlocked

Anyhow I cancelled my ticket and went to the cineworld in Broughton to see The Dead Don’t Hurt.

A glum western with a French/Canadian heroine in the shape of the talented Vicky Krieps 

I loved the way as a dirt poor she always looked dressed by a Paris fashion house

Pondwork

 

The village pond is looking lush and very clean, but weeds needed clearing and marshalled by village leader Helen some dozen or so volunteers lent a hand at six pm to do the work

Great to catch up with everyone