ITU

I am writing this blog entry on my break..intensive care is quiet (at the moment) with all the patients sedated and ventilated, so all you can hear is the faint "hiss" of suction and oxygen and the gentle "push push" of the ventilators breathing for their charges.

The sound can be rather soothing, especially when the alarms of the fukuda monitors don't go off, and the peace of this evening is rare and appreciated...

generally the unit is fraught and noisy, and after an 11 hour shift all I crave is the quietness of the field and the howling of the wind in the trees.......

lets hope the rest of the night remains as silent as it is now......

Work day

I have not had a great deal of time to do very much today. Just enough time to complete the supermarket shop, spend another 60£ at the vets for flea treatments for the dogs and Albert as well antibiotics for William and supervise a brief but welcomed visit by cousin Carol and her hubby Ken, who brought a huge pile of treats up for the animals.
Working tonight, here's hoping for a quiet night on intensive care....yeah right!

ps

had to laugh at my friend Geoff's turn of phrase in his blog relating to a condensation problem on our chimney breast (see http://onceinalifetimeinwales.blogspot.com/2010/01/that-friday-feelin.html)

I love this photo!

I love this photo.....
Working for 17 years on a Spinal Injuries unit, I was always reminded that nothing is impossible to be attempted after paralysis has initially devastated peoples' lives...
This photograph embodies that living spirit, I observed in patients time and time and time again....
On reflection ( and you will need to read the previous post) it is this strength of ordinary people that I do miss from my Sheffield work days.

How we got here!

The first of my huge allotment beds has been dug over and manured today, and I feel as though I have turned the corner in starting to clear up the damage, and untidiness of winter.
As I have worked I have thought about something that blog reader Jim wrote on yesterday's blog; he stated:

"I must say John, I am jealous of how you live. Though not glamorous, it seems to
have a charm, and be charmed"

In many ways I agree with what Jim said, but I must admit the change from living in a Yorkshire City with a charm and personality all of its own to entering a small and in someways closed village community was not always the easy one that I may hint to in my sometimes overly fluffy bunny blog.

Believe it or not, I never really had an overwhelming urge to live in the country. Chris did, and was always quite vociferous about it, but I was always happy living and working in Sheffield. I had reached my objectives career-wise, and had experienced the highs (and lows) of running my own ward, and our social life was busy, varied and supportive....so when and why did it all change?
Well I got to thinking about this today, as I indulged myself in the repetitive dig-turn, dig-turn of the allotment clearing, and, as so often is the case with large life changing decisions, it was a series of "small" events that precipitated my change of mind.
As a ward manager, I witnessed changes within the Hospital trust that I had difficulty "selling" to my staff. Corporate loyalty was stretched to the limit sometimes, and quality of care was always demanded but sometimes was difficult to attain with job freezes, audit needs, and the "hands tied" rules of job's worth policy, HR demands and clinical protocols.
Colleagues that had been friends for years left the service through one reason and another, and this left managers like myself more and more isolated, as our "touchstones" and like minded professionals disappeared.
I left the Spinal Injury unit, still loving my job, but being realistic enough to understand that things would not always be the same, an event that I think is not unique in middle aged men who are questioning their lives. Chris' wish to live in the country, gave me the springboard to try something new after 17 years, and I thought "why the hell not!"...without giving the reality of rural Welsh life a proper in depth thought

At first my energy of the move went into the two cottages that we bought. Our first cottage and weekend holiday home had to be sold and a new property sought and sorted!
During our first year here, building work needed organising,decorating needed to be done and a whole garden needed to be built and designed. I was happy at doing all this, as it gave me a focus and a goal, which took over from my old work responsibilities, but after the initial adrenaline rush of hiring and firing, I was left with a slight "dip" of "what now?"
And so the animals started to arrive!
In drips and drabs, more dogs galloped into our lives, a couple of pure breed hens lived in the garden which was only the start of things to come, and the excitement of feeling responsible for a group of little beings instead of 50 staff members started to fill all of the gaps for me.
The animals and the accompanying allotments opened up relationships within the village community and I learnt to socialize more with the locals and with village groups which was a new thing for me. Friends were made, and roots laid down in community events and in a space of another year Trelawnyd became "home" in the truest sense of the word.....sounds easy eh? ....not always.......to be sure.....and I so still miss Sheffield and my friends there ( but strangely not my previous manager's position)..yet, on reflection,blogger Jim was right, I know I lead a charmed (though not glamorous) life

Turkey dances

Most of my day has centred around scraping manure and slurry from the pig enclosure into impressive piles of fertilizer next to the allotments. Not an exciting day, nor a particularly interesting one, but these stinky jobs need to be completed.
The one positive thing about all this repetitive work is the fact I have had an opportunity of watching the newly formed turkey flock from close quarters, and what an entertaining little bunch they are too.
The four youngsters (now sexed as 2 stags and 2 hens) are robust, mischievous, bright and greedy birds who spend long periods jousting and larking around like teenage boys after school.
Out of nowhere, one will take a fancy to start an odd looking kind of skipping movement, and suddenly all four are gambolling in crazy circles, wildly flapping their great big wings like idiots. This "crazy" behaviour carried on throughout the day, albeit in short bursts; and the rest of the time, the four turkeys indulge in their other passion, namely eating.
Every time I venture into the feed shed for something 8 huge black soulful eyes zoom onto my movements and the babies start calling and gobbling excitedly, bouncing up and down as if shouting "Me!!!me!!!!me!!!me!!!"
Call me a softie, but I always succumb to this blatant and hammy begging, and the turkeys know it...and as always they get offered a large handful of corn or wheat, which they bolt down within seconds . No wonder they now resemble four brown feathery barrels! and no wonder I am going through a sack of corn a week!
note their beaks, sharp and painful if they accidently peck you during a feeding frenzy...I should have clipped them short when they were poults

The White Ribbon -

hummmmmm

The White Ribbon

The last couple of minutes of THE WHITE RIBBON, was spoilt for me,only because the new digital technology at Prestatyn's Scala Cinema, let everyone down by removing the subtitles from the screen!
Having said all that, the audience generally worked the final conversation out for ourselves not that it gave any clear cut conclusion to one of the best films I have seen in the past few years.
The White Ribbon is an unsettling,suspenseful and truly gripping ensemble piece set in a small isolated German village before the start of World War 1.
The village suffers a series of seemingly unrelated but unnerving dramas over a period of a year. The village doctor is injured in a riding accident, a woman is killed in a sawmill and two children are tortured and beaten. At the same time other more "minor" mishaps befall other seemingly upright and respected families. The parson's pet bird is butchered, the Baron's son is bullied and a baby becomes ill in mysterious circumstances, and the narrator (who is crucially an outsider and the villager schoolmaster) by default tries to to work out what is indeed going on.

Director Michael Haneke cranks up the sense of dread and malice slowly and deftly, especially when the onion skins of respectability are peeled away from the characters, revealing a community run by extreme discipline , punishment and in one awful case, sexual abuse. The Children of the village are key to this movie. as they roam around in the background in an ever present pack, yet, we are never fully sure that it is their abused personalities that are central to the strange events and heavy atmosphere.
Everything in The White Ribbon is left open ended and unsettling, and as the villagers are finally led into the war, we the viewers are left with more questions about the approaching fascist threat, a decade or so away and we are left wondering about what role the children will play as they approach adulthood in the changing German world
Key scenes linger long in the mind. A child frightened and alone searching for his sister in a dark house. A tearful teenage boy being lectured about the horrors of masturbation, and the dreadfully calm verbal abuse delivered to the doctor's mistress, all add up to unsettle and wrong foot the viewer time and time again.........and I must admit that it is a long, long time since a film opened up so many avenues for analysis and review after the last reel is over.
I gave it a brilliant 9.5 out of 10

Grumpy Old Women

Last night I caught a re run of the tv programme Grumpy Old Women, the talking heads show, where celebrity middle aged ladies grumble about the woes of life.
Now, I not going to complain here! In fact the whole series is quite hilarious, especially as I found myself agreeing with everything these women had to say about the trials and contradictions of life.
Here are my recent top 3 gripes

• People talking in the cinema
• People speeding through the village
• People talking to animals as if they understand English

People talking in the cinema

Now, this is my biggest bugbear! and the older I get the less tolerant I have become of this discourteous and unthinking practice. When we were at the Scala recently enjoying George Clooney at his most flirtatious, two lads at the back of the cinema were indulging in what could only be described as a full blown and animated debate! After a brief, rather British moment of tutting, I got up, walked slowly (and you always have to walk slowly for the best dramatic effect!) over to where they were sitting and leaning right over them said in a loud firm voice " can you both shut up right now?"I have always found this direct approach to be the best action as it not only embarrasses the chattering culprit but it gives a warning to the rest of the audience to keep quiet!

Now, I don't discriminate with other social groups here! In my experience older ladies at the arthouse cinema in Theatre Clwyd are the worst offenders, and all have to be treated in exactly the same manner.....firm and fair (much to the embarrassment of Hazel, who can be often seen sliding down her seat almost onto the floor!) The last time I told two well dressed matrons off, I received a "hear hear!!" from people in the back row!

People speeding through the village

I am becoming obsessed with speeders! Balancing on the narrow pavements, often with two dogs in tow, I now seem to have the innate ability to judge when someone is driving "dangerously" over 30 miles an hour and offenders often have to "suffer" the surprise and shock of me, and middle aged man in a silly woolly hat, pointing at them with a disgusted look on my face whilst mouthing "TOO FAST!!!! TOO FAST!!!!!" in an exaggerated Helen Keller type of way

We have a zebra crossing in the village, and sometimes when I am waiting to cross it, drivers will ignore the fact that I am standing there and will drive ahead regardless....I now have a somewhat devilish plan to shock these kind of drivers, and occasionally will make a big exaggerated show of stepping forward (with no intention of walking out!) subsequently the drivers have to slam on their brakes and I can walk out in front of them smiling sweetly and bathed in the warmth of a small victory !

People that talk to animals as if they understand English

Now I have blogged about this subject before and it drives me NUTS! so much so, that when I go to the vets and have to sit in the waiting room with the usual crowd of fellow pet owners, I will do so only when I am listening to my digital radio so I don't have to listen to the drivel that some people come out with!

I remember one lady that had a badly behaved collie which was snapping and growling at every other animal in the room. She talked to the animal constantly in a strange sing song voice, telling it it was a "bad dog" and explaining at length why it was there,what was going to happen to it and why it should behave a little better!

After 20 minutes of this constant chatter and her inability to control her unsocialized animal , I was beside myself and when I finally went in to see the vet, I turned to her and said "I would give up, if I was you, he obviously does not understand English!"

................It is official........I AM a grumpy old git!

Goodbye Solo

Goodbye Solo (2008) at Theatre Clwyd this evening is a little gem of a film that skirts away from every cliche and platitude when examining depression, suicide and motivations of friendship.
Solo ( Souleymane Sy Savane) is a warm natured, talkative and perceptive Senegalese taxi driver working in a unnamed American city. He picks up a morose 70 year old William ( craggy faced Red West) and takes a booking to transport him to a mountain view point, which is a well known suicide spot, The film then chronicles Solo's never ending attempts at finding out just what may occur on this journey and shows his efforts in trying to prevent it.
The strength of Ramin Bahrani's movie lies in the fact that the audience is totally unaware of both mens' motivations and pasts. We are not even sure that William indeed wants to end his own life, and are left guessing at every twist and turn of the plot, All we are "given" is the odd and difficult relationship between silent old man and soulful immigrant, which is underplayed and subtle to say the least.
Savane gives the character Solo the gentleness and loyalty of a dog who has an unexplained connection with his crabby master, and it is this unwritten connection that makes the film so terribly moving. There are no cliches of sudden revelation or bursts of emotion to satisfy the audience in a clean cut emotional romping kind of way, and the ending isn't wrapped up with satisfying resolution, all we are left with is a strangely effective story of a very odd relationship
9/10

Buzzard

This morning I have lugged tons of stones down to the pig pen, to create a platform free of deep mud. I know the pigs seem quite happy without it, but I guess I am bowing from pressure from a few locals who perhaps feel that wet mud may be a little cruel, if left untouched.
Anyhow, as I was talking to one of the villagers who was walking her dog, the guinea fowl started their usual cries of warning, and down dropped the bird of prey again, this time quite blatantly towards the hen enclosure further up the field.
I saw the cockerels run forward and as I hurried the 100 yards or so, I could see it was not Bunny or indeed Mary the buzzard was after but one of the old and sick black rocks which had been left to free range.
I had treated the droopy old hen for a while, and for several weeks she had become quieter and more lethargic, a case of old age I guess, and yesterday's attack I suspect was a first attempt at ambushing her and not the smaller bantams as I had suspected

By the time I had scared the buzzard off, the black rock had been killed, probably more by shock and surprise than by tooth and claw, and was stone dead by the time that Maddie raced up for a sniff.
Now I haven't got all upset about this, as it was only a matter of days for the old girl and at least the whole thing was a quick and speedy check out for an aged hen . Nor do I feel rather jinxed, given the recent guinea fowl disaster; it is,like life is sometimes, just the way of the world.

Woolly hats

The day has been cold again, so out has come the woolly hat and the extra thick socks, all of which remain tightly in place even when I am sat in front of the fire with my usual blanket of dogs. Today I have used up some Christmas gift tokens and have treated myself to a pile of quality seeds for planting in the allotments come March. French beans,climbing beans,hardy broad beans onions, shallots, beetroots, seed potatoes and a host of other veg, will supplement my usual seedlings that have been swapped with various individuals from the village and my sister's co-operative allotment, and I have bought a few luxuries, including a large packet of yellow poppies seeds, which I will sow by the reducing manure heaps, to add a little colour to the field later in the season
my favourite bantam Mary, (below) had a bit of a scare this afternoon, as she was on the receiving end of a potential attack by some sort of bird of prey. I heard the cockerels growling a warning (whilst the three remaining guinea fowl screamed and whistled from the Churchyard) and I saw the bird drop like a stone into my small enclosure which houses the more delicate pure breeds and Bunny the disabled hen.
I presumed it was perhaps a buzzard , swooping down onto Bunny, but it was a smaller hawk of some kind and it seemed to be after Mary, the smallest of the my bantam hens.
The attack, in fact, came to nothing. The hawk must of thought better of it all, or perhaps the cocky little bantam Cockerel, Roger, could have scared it off, but before I could even trot over to save the day, it had swooped up and out of the field, with only the scream of the guineas to mark where it had been.
My idea of having the guinea fowl as watchmen over the others, perhaps might of been a good idea.

The word is pronounced "Itttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttt!!!!!!"

I despair for modern Britain sometimes.....
Take, for example these two "role models" Fooballer Jamie Redknapp and his model wife Louise waving the flag for Thomas Cook holidays.......
THEY CAN'T EVEN SPEAK THE QUEEN'S ENGLISH!!!
when I was at school , the word "it" was pronounced with an emphasis on the T........when on earth did it become just plain "i"?
I am a crabby old git

Thelma Ritter

The rain has lashed down all day.It has remained gloomy, dull and rather depressing, and the only brightness in an otherwise black day has been the welcomed return of the Churchyard snowdrops, which now carpet the wall boarders.
Chris has had to do some written work and has attended Church this afternoon, so I have become all Thelma Ritter- ish and have busied myself with cleaning the kitchen properly (whilst indulging in the odd wisecrack at Chris' expense)
The dogs have become somewhat stir crazy because of the weather, so I delivered eggs,collected coal and took them for a blast on the beach, which was a slight shock to the system given the icy rain and wind.
What I need is a good movie evening!!, so I have lit the fire, and tonight we are going to watch my cheapo supermarket dvd buy..the French Thriller Tell No One!
I saw it a few years ago (see old blog http://disasterfilm.blogspot.com/2007/10/tell-no-one-simple-pleasures-and-glen.html) and loved it......I haven't had the heart to tell Chris it is Subtitled,,,, (he hates subtitles with a vengeance)

Saturday joke

made me titter......
night in with reality tv....................
sigh

End of An Era

The last of the great British movie stars died today. Jean Simmons, that demure (though not-so-squeaky clean in real life), English rose of Hollywood, and movie star since the 1940s lost her battle with cancer at the age of 80.
To me Simmons was a bigger star than the unofficial "Queen" of the Brits Elizabeth Taylor, yet like Taylor, Simmons possessed a steely strength and talent under her considerable beauty, which kept her working steadily for over 60 years.
I loved her performances, and even in some of her more crappy films, she always stood out from the crowd..... who could forget her characters such as Young Estella in Great Expectations (1946),Sarah Brown in Guys and Dolls ,Varinia in Spartacus (1960),Sister Falconer in Elmer Gantry (1960) and my personal favourite, Julie Maragon in The Big Country (1958),a film that she was famously quoted to have quipped "Who do I have to fuck to get off this movie?"
I am sure by blog friends Bel-Ami and Alex will have more articulate tributes to Miss Simmons, suffice to say, another great old dame of British cinema has disappeared forever

Up In The Air

Up in the Air is an interesting film, as it is a serious comedy of two interlocking parts. The first is a wry and sometimes painful look into corporate America (and the phenomenon of buying in a company to effectively "fire" your own staff), whilst the second is an affecting study of first love in middle age.
Juno (2007) director Jason Reitman wisely chose George Clooney as Ryan Bingham, the man that jumps from city to city to do the firing. Clooney quite effortlessly becomes the suave and likable, but ultimately emotionally bankrupt employment grim reaper and like his Nemesis Cary Grant, he is at his best whilst indulging in the sexy and ever-so-funny banter with Eva Marie Saint look-a-like,Vera Farmiga, who plays his female businesswoman mirror counterpart.
The two are quite lovely to watch together. and their chemistry is much more impressive than Clooney's wonderful turn with Jennifer Lopez in Out of Sight.......Both Farmiga and Clooney are twin sharks in the corporate world with Farmiga purring "Think of me as yourself with a vagina," however the amusement of their laptop/mobile phone sexual relationship turns slightly sour when Clooney's character actually falls in love with her.
Clooney has never been better as the isolated Bingham, with Farmiga and the prickly Anna Kendrick as the new whizkid on the block being standouts in an excellent cast.
Praise must also go to the score of actors that play the employees on the receiving end of redundancy....their brief yet vital snapshots of shock and despair, are convincing and incredibly moving.Ultimately , the film has lots to say about how people view themselves; some people are defined by their job and status, others by the relationships they engage in, and some, hopefully like the majority of us, define themselves with a bit of both
I loved Up In The Air
8.5 out of 10

Toxic parents

It was with great sadness that I listened to the news that two young brothers aged only 10 and 11, have been sentenced to an indefinite period of detention after their prolonged and sadistic attack on two 9 and 11 year old victims.
It was reported at length, that these two boys had sustained a lifetime of physical and psychological abuse by toxic parenting, and I found the explanation of their violent behaviours by a child psychology expert, illuminating and ever so slightly hopeful.
She explained ( and I apologise as I have forgotten her name), that childrens' brains are literally changed by the the abuse they suffer,( physical changes to the frontal lobe) and the only punishment that these damaged children require is "sustained periods of affection coupled with robust and consistent supervision".....she concluded quite eloquently that then, and only then could the damage to these children be effectively reversed.
Not rocket science to be sure, but it is a welcomed comment of sanity at a time when people are baying for these two little boys to be locked away.
There are always going to be "toxic" families, indeed in my professional career, I have come across so many fragile and damaged individuals that I couldn't count them all, but what I do believe, is that it is better to remove these children from parents who shouldn't be caring for a goldfish let alone another human being. As Judge Judy states, these parents are "fully cooked", and in many cases are beyond the help of talented therapists.,....their children however are barely "half cooked" and therefore have a chance to develop normally if helped intensively .....perhaps the fear that paralyses social services to act and remove kids from the home, should be encouraged to be put on the back burner by all of us.....I say get the kids out and away safe......into homes that love, respect and affection is normal and not just something that can be watched in a quiet moment of a pirate dvd!
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/south_yorkshire/8473978.stm

Caught with my pants (off)

After five hours of lugging wheelbarrows of stones from one side of the field to another, I was left tired and incredibly dirty.
I have been tipping the scree from behind the Church wall into the pig enclosure, by the gate to provide the girls with a mud free platform upon which they can be fed and checked over.
And although the work has been back breaking, it feels rather satisfying to have completed a large and necessary job.
When I got back to the cottage, I peeled off my filthy work pants, socks and underpants and put them into the washing machine, and dressed rather bizarrely in just my "Poseidon Adventure" T shirt, I made myself a cup of coffee!
Now why have I told you this small nugget of personal information, I hear you ask? well, it is only "interesting" as I hadn't noticed two Scottish Electricity workmen standing at the back door window waiting to tell me that they were about to work on our power supply cables!
I don't know who was more embarrassed, them or me!!.......as I dragged the dog blanket out of the basket to hide my modesty, I babbled that I was cleaning my dirty pants and that's why I was nearly naked......The two middle aged workmen were not impressed! (by anything!!!!!!!!!!!! erhmmmm!

The guinea fowl survived another night,even though I did catch Alf walking around the churchyard under the glare of the street light from the lane at 9.30 PM!!! I chased him up into the elms and he too made it safely to morning.
Above Alf with Hughie with the small shy Ivy hiding behind!
Ok enough of fowl...we are finally off to see Up in the Air later!

Life IS a movie

Bel-Ami was right when he likened the struggle for life here on my little field as something from a Lillian Gish movie.........ok my animals have not bounced across an ice covered river in their stocking feet, but the last few days have been rather dramatic for a few of the more junior members of the animal population, that is to be sure.

This morning, I walked out into the sunshine with a heavy heart as not one of the guinea fowl could be seen waiting by the hen houses for their morning's ration of corn. I fed and watered the pigs and then called out in the churchyard for Hughie and there was still nothing!

So I as I started to open the first of the hen houses, Rogo the cockerel inside let rip with a lusty crow, and suddenly I heard a familiar chatter from the field wall and there stood Hughie, calling out excitedly with the two surviving junior guinea fowl (who I have now named Ivy and Alf -after my great uncle and Aunt) in tow behind him.

It was just like the end of Lassie come Home!,and all that was needed to complete the scene was some soaring violin strings and a box of Kleenex.

Mr Bel Ami, you ARE right sometimes......"life IS a movie"

ps All guinea fowl are safely up in the tree this evening! (jazz hands!!!!)

Duvet fights

My sister called up this evening in a gesture of support. Both of us watched with baited breath, as Hughie led his new small family band up into the Churchyard elm, and both the little blue male and the tiny black female ( I worked out she is a female as she has been calling the typical two syllable call of "buck wheat" all day.) scrambled up behind him with a great deal of difficulty.
The 13 hen houses have all been locked up tight, and extra door latches have been attached as well as extra heavy stones repositioned in front of poop doors and on roof openings.
Anyway, enough already........I have done all this to death on the blog.....Fingers crossed that everyone is ok by morning!


The cold weather has increased the surreptitious nocturnal events of "duvet jumping" in this household.....and the whole thing, as small scale habits often do, has gotten completely out of control!
Duvet Jumping is the term I give to the sport indulged by the dogs to illicit the most prestigious and comfortable part of the bed in the middle of the night. Now only George has true permission to sleep on the bed at night as he alone curls up well out of the way of legs and bums at the very end of the duvet. Yet over the past few months Meg, William and even Albert have now joined the merry throng, which has caused us many warm but uncomfortably "crushed" sleepless nights.
For Meg, it is purely a need to be close to me at all times. for William, it is a joyful game, which starts when Albert uses the cat litter tray in the middle of the night. Albert will open the kitchen door in order to reach his tray, thus giving William a 3 second window to wake up from his bed on the floor and negotiate the rapidly closing door in order to allow his entrance to the rest of the house.
He will then joyfully swallowdive onto the bed (making as much noise and fuss as possible) and will try to oust Meg from her position of power in beteen Chris and myself. Meg will cling to her piece of the duvet with the tenacity of a limpet, and will usually win this almost silent power struggle
Only Maddie, has any sense at all ( and I include Chris and I in this) as she always sleeps peacefully AND ALONE on the couch....
we must be mad