Cold

 It hasn’t gotten much over freezing all day.

The neolithic burial mound on top of Gop Hill is dusted with snow and stands out in relief against the blue sky.

On and around it are the black spots that are the village children and their squeals of delight as they snowball and sledge can be heard down at the cottage, where I have lit the stove early.

Trendy Carol tottered past on the ice wearing a smart faux fur number

I dozed in the armchair after an icy walk.

But I didn’t dream of Mr Hemingway again,

Which was a shame .

Snow and Hemingway

The snow has fallen fast over the Eastern Welsh hills, so much so that I just had time to buy some logs  before Bluebell slid precariously over the road East of the village

I was glad to have finished work for a week. I am tired

Last night I slept on my break , my head resting in my hand

I had a dream that I was dating the writer Ernest Hemingway, I’ve always had a bit of thing for him

He had a thick moustache and heavy stubble and wore a blue woolen jumper with a hole at the neck and he had a touch of dandruff

He also looked 60 which surprised me as I only consider myself as a “young” middle age thing

 

But he had the voice like chocolate and kissed like Doris Day every time I passed him in the kitchen doorway

So I didn’t mind much

 

He also stood smiling at me as I hurried around the cottage looking for Mary to walk before I went to work.

And I tried to cling onto that image when my phone called me back from break with a vibrating tinkle

 

I was very pissed off that it was a dream

 

very

Mary, Dorothy bounce with a friend when out with the dog Walker

God Loves A Trier

 I’ve had my hair pulled, face slapped  and my face mask pulled off several times tonight

Violence seldom happens in the hospice and it’s usually only a product of terminal agitation.

Everything is quieter now but I’m watching the sleeping patient closely. 

Intensive care prepared me well for such occurrences.

It’s only 1.13 am

I’m not complaining , I’ve just read that my former colleagues on the local intensive care unit are having a real crap time of things see link

https://www.dailypost.co.uk/news/north-wales-news/north-wales-intensive-care-consultant-19570872?fbclid=IwAR2PTgdI6rXp6rEvr6fNjSZ5tjGU01XRJ8agZ-PKCWz2qzV_iX2Rj14MLGA

I send them all my love and respect

So many people have forgotten those Thursday nights 

When we clapped for those on intensive care who tried so hard to help the victims of the first wave.

I will leave you with some frivolous and some hastily snapped shots of Albert who has decided that in Winnie’s absence he will settle for a “mini me” in the shape of a somewhat perplexed Dorothy.

God loves a trier 

Never Far From Me

My patient was listening to a message from a best friend living under lockdown in another country

I was changing the medication in their syringe driver and was doing so very quietly.

The message was in the form of a song that I recognised and it’s effects were understandably profound and incredibly moving to watch

I’m on nights, covering sickness then I have a week’s leave.

I try to book a weeks holiday every eight weeks or so.

The stressors of hospice work are very different to those exhausting times, I remember on ITU and Spinal Injuries. They are subtle and insidious and lockdown makes recharging a little more challenging 

Any time I feel low
I just don't know how you know
You are never far from me
You are never far from me

Once again, there goes the phone
How could you possibly know

You are never far from me
You are never far from me

Before the time that you go
There is something you should know
You will always be in me
You are never far from me

The song is a beautiful one. 

The scenario I observed was a beautiful one too...but terribly sad......

And after two night shifts, I’ve sorted out to cover sickness I am off for a whole week 

Weak Sun

 

The chimney sweep is here!

A visitor! 

How wonderful.

He’s a cheerful chap, behind his mask and has already asked where his “ Big bear helper “ was.

He was genuinely  sad  when I told him that she had died.

To give him covid space I took the dogs into the Churchyard and sat on one of the benches facing south.

The weak sun took an age to warm my face and for the first time in weeks I sucked in as much vitamin D as I could.

I didn’t notice old Rowenna’s walking stick until it poked me in the back

“ Mr Gray ! “ she said brusquely but not unkindly “ I haven’t seen you in a long time!” 

“ I have been on night shifts” I told her

“ I have been told you are working too much” she told me 

Word gets around , I thought

Rowenna is a stalwart of the Church and strangely is a far distant relative of mine. She lives next to village elder Islwyn who she always refers to as Billy. Her sister Barbara used to be the champion baker in the village and could knock out fifteen different cakes and a pot of jam in just one morning before the flower show.

Like many older women of Trelawnyd She has a sing song welsh voice and seems always in a hurry.

Dorothy grew bored with the conversation and started chewing my crocs so I made my goodbyes and walked back to the lane where I bumped into Meirion from Maes Offa

He was walking alone , so I just knew his old dog who always accompanied him, had just died . 

He looked awkward as dog walkers always do when without a lead in their hands.

We shared dog stories as Dorothy tap danced for attention again.

He looked sad.

And I tried to be kind.

I put the dogs back in the car and watched my cottage for a while. 

I was waiting for the sweep’s brushes to poke up through the pot before I returned home.

The cottage looked warm and sweet in the weak sun, and the walled bluebirds flying towards the lane , glinted briefly an azure blue

Neighbour Mandy darted down the lane and she waved 

Then jumped when Bluebell’s horn let off a sharp Parp! 

Dorothy again, this time jumping on the steering wheel

Merv’s racing pigeons scattered above the lytchgate   

I waved back at Mandy and looked up at the cold blue sky

I am home 

Eartha

England heading to tier 5

Let’s smile at this fantastic piece

Ms Kitt singing in Japanese 

I LOVE IT 

 

Hostiles

The final scene of the film Hostiles is one of the most powerful, I think,  in recent times.

PTSD sufferer Christian Bale is saying goodbye to the woman( Rosamund Pike)  and child he saved from an Indian attack  and now finally after a whole lifetime of abuse he has the option to join her ( and salvation ) or carry on hating his Indian foes and perpetuating his hatred for ever ....at the very last minute he quietly chooses salvation, and I remember leaving the cinema after I had witnessed this , elated and rather hopeful

How many choices do we all have that actually shape our lives for the better like this 

Answers on a postcard please.

Sunday Lunch

Tier 4 has gotten  me into some awful ways .

My day off and after walking the girls at 8am, it was back to bed until midday.

Not good and a very bad habit to get into.

I’ve chided myself for it this afternoon and had a brisk and very cold walk on the beach in way of penance.  

When I returned home I roasted a lamb shank and made Yorkshire puddings from scratch. 

When they were cooked crisp, I shredded the lamb and filled them and added proper gravy made luxurious with cranberry jelly.

I ate my lunch watching How The West Was Won 

Mary won the lottery and had the bones all to herself

I washed my uniforms for the week

and read several chapters of The lost Language Of Cranes before falling asleep in my armchair.

Back to normal

Coffee on the way to work 

 

Rubber Chicken Immortalised

Winnie’s Rubber Chicken is being framed for eternity .

I have thought this strange thought ever since I found rubber chicken next to Winnie on the kitchen floor just before Christmas. It’s kind of become synonymous with my dear old girl.

I rang the picture framer the day before yesterday, (the one I’ve used for years ) and asked if it was possible to do 

“ You want to frame a rubber chicken behind glass” the picture framer repeated slowly after I had thrown the proposal to him 

“ Yes” I told him cheerfully “ it was Winnie’s favourite “ 

The fact , that he might think that this question was in any way odd surprised me, after all I could have rang him with the request that he framed the last surviving slipper of sex, which I had incidentally found amid a ton of fluff under the bed only a month ago

The picture framer then  ventured into territory he wasn’t quite prepared for.

“Do you want an insert into the frame  some wording .” He asked 

Oh that’s a good idea” I told him. “What about the following” 

“ Winifred Salote Taupo III Queen of Tonga 200? - 2020 “ 

There was a long silence on the other end of the phone

“ I think we can do that “ the picture framer said finally and rather weakly 

He then paused, obviously thinking 

“ What colour frame would you like ? “ he asked 

“ Pink!” I announced loudly 

“ Of course!” he sighed “ Of  Course you do “ 

 

2021

 

This beautiful hand painted card is my New Years Message

A dear blog reader sent it me a year or so ago,

 and it sits next to my favourite paintings in the living room

It’s  message resonates to this day.

Just take my name out and put in your own 

That’s all any of us can do, just keep swimming

It’s 6 am and I’m sat at my kitchen table with my bucket of coffee preparing for work

Winnie’s rubber Chicken is looking at me

And I’m sure he’s smiling 

New Year Eve

The lane up to the village , my cottage is at the top

The cottage with her bluebirds

I got home last night to thick ice and some snow. 

The girls were safe at Trendy Carol’s so I picked them up, fed them and we all promptly went to bed.

I felt dreadful.

But overnight the antibiotics started to do their thing and by morning I didn’t feel too bad.

I’m resting today. 

I Bought a trashy Asian  disaster movie for this afternoon and I will go to bed early which is my want to do on New Years Eve. 

My long awaited turn around on day shifts have come around with a vengeance , I’m working the next two long days and the hospice staffing is pretty low.

Hey ho, be careful for what you wish for eh? 

Now my blog today, is passed over to you commentators, 

It has proved so often to be a good move on my behalf as often the comments are much more interesting than the post itself .

Of course it’s about New Years Eve, 

More importantly a New Years Eve

What is your most memorable New Years Eve? 

I have not really celebrated New Years Eve since the 1980s where it was common here to get dressed up in fancy dress and make a tit out of yourself at family parties and the local pub circuit 

In 1989 that was all finished for me when a friend, Ian Parry, was killed in a plane crash on the 28 th of December.

Frivolity and celebrations at New Year just kind of ceased after that

Perhaps it’s almost time to change this ......? 

Tell me your New Year stories.

 

Willis

 

My low mood recently hasn’t been helped by a recurrent urine infection which now seems to be finally reacting to a second load of antibiotics. 

A fourth dose of Ciproxin had me starting to feel better this afternoon, but as I was scraping the frost and snow from Bluebell this morning, the plastic scraper broke and a piece smacked me hard in the right eye.

Mid morning my eye was bloodshot and painful so I asked our retired doctor who was on duty in the hospice to have a look at it.

He held my head under the glare of a fluorescent light in order to oversee the damage only to be interrupted by the unit housekeeper who immediately made 5 out of 2+2 and gasped an “ohh sorry,”  before bolting  out of the door in fits of giggles ....

Tonight I’ve just taken my fifth dose of antibiotics with a half litre of water and have given myself some eye drops and with the girls piled under my duvet, I’m in bed watching Giselle looking like Shrek 

The Willis are just what the doctor ordered  

Early Morning

My first day shift in nearly four months starts in two hours.

I didn’t sleep and was awake just after 3am and 5 am

At half five I took the girls and Albert for a walk in the frost

A group of four badgers were spinning in the lane outside Trendy Carol’s and for a moment at each ends of the dark lane  we faced each other off before the badgers scattered like fat leaves...Mary yapped and Albert arched golden eyed as they fled.

Dorothy hugged my calf, frightened as always minutes after the encounter.

I settled the animals down on the kitchen reading chair as I made my breakfast, and even Albert was nearby rubbing his face on the chair back.

I’ve just realised .....I miss saying goodbye to a human before I go to work.

Photographs

 Cameron has finally photoshopped the somewhat difficult photo of the Trelawnyd Lockdown Wardens and it is now ready for circulation . I will post this on the village what’s app group too but if anyone wants a copy please get in touch. I will get a copy blown up and framed for the village Hall. 

I think it’s important such an initiative is marked.

Cameron has some beautiful photographs which are for sale framed or unframed . These can be seen on the following Instagram account 

https://www.instagram.com/camackersss/?hl=en

Boys Will Be Boys

I met a friend today

We walked the dogs on Colwyn Bay Promenade and ate sausage baps thick with brown sauce, followed by large plastic cups of strong hot tea at one of the little kiosks at the Rhos On Sea end. 

A woman waiting for  her tea fell into conversation with us about the dogs and presumed we were a couple.

We played along because it felt nice to do so

Small pleasures now rank as high ones in this new world.

The film wonderbar 1934

“My good opinion once lost, is lost forever.”

Another night 

Another weepy film in the dark.

This time it’s Pride and Prejudice with Mathew Macfadyen’s tree trunk thighs 

Oh be still my beating heart!

In a dark living room, I’ve watched a very careful Albert  walk slowly to the blue trendy sofa where Dorothy is sleeping. 

She is snoring as loud as Winnie used to do  and strangely Albert has just joined her, padding carefully like a panther. his big eyes golden.

I held my breath as he curled up behind her, his head tucked tight against his tail and her side and briefly she stopped snoring ,lifted her head and  sniffed him just once with sleepy interest. Then she laid her fat head back down next to his as I let out a sigh

A little thing, but it kind of broke my heart.

Fellowship

 Last night was the most Christmasy I have felt, thanks primarily to Storm Bella, a living room full of scented candles and the film The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society 

It’s a lovely film and is one that strangely resonates with our own lives under lockdown.

In the film the Characters are under curfew of the German occupation of Guernsey. 

Isolated from each other and from any cultural fellowship.

Isola Pribby is a lonely spinster waiting for her Heathcliffe to turn up in her life, Amelia Maugery a widow overwhelmed with grief, Eben Ramsey a grandfather and postmaster and Dawsey Adams an isolated pig farmer. 

All are hungry for the spark, a literary society meeting gives them, but more importantly it is the friendships that evolves from that shared experience that proves the most significant for each of them.

The experiences of these film characters, will resonate with many of us in blog land ,for we too are little islands in isolation from others.

All in need of connection, 

To feel a part of something

Blogging is our own Literary society meeting

I’d love to say that I’m a sort of Dawsey Adams , but in reality I’m a bit of an Even Ramsey crossed with a Miss Pribby

Boxing Day

 

I missed the Queen’s Speech. 

Dorothy, Mary and I met up with my sisters and in laws and we had a walk up Craig Fawr which is a limestone hill which overlooks Liverpool Bay.

Afterwards we ate turkey baps with cranberry and pigs in blankets ( a bab is a bread bun to btw) and swapped gifts.  

I was very fortunate as my sisters added a new scatter cushion and some John Lewis cutlery to my collection . 

I now have the ideal number of both! 

I made a gravy filled Shepherds pie, walked the dogs before Storm Bella hits home and

Wrote my blog half watching Calamity Jane 

Later on I will watch Korean zombie movie Peninsula which was another Christmas DVD  Gift, this one from my nephew.

Dorothy watched over me

And will do all day 

Her sadness continues 

Scotch Eggs, gifts and a fat Cheerful Virgin Mary

I did indeed sleep most of Christmas Eve.

Dorothy attached herself to me like a limpet and watched me snore for the longest of times with wide worried eyes. 

Since Winifred died, she has never left my side and her increased neediness has proven difficult as her relations with Mary are now more strained and increasingly volatile. 

Of course this will eventually settle down

But her increased sadness is worrying.

Like I said we slept most of Christmas Eve.

It was odd not to be organising food, wrapping gifts, listening to the ever depressing Carol’s from Kings or delivering last minute gifts.

And by the time afternoon came there was a little shrine of gifts dotted around the kitchen wall, back door and front door knob.

A cheerful bag with goodies in the the affable despot family. Mince Pies from Hattie, two bespoke scotch eggs wrapped beautifully by the Camerons, books from Wendy & Alun and an unsigned rubber chicken from Aldi with a label which said “ I saw this and thought of You !” on it.

I ate one Scotch egg whilst watching  Disney’s Moana, took a lovely phone call from Anne Marie in Philly then dozed a bit more before walking the dogs again and leaving for work.

I caught Tesco’s in Llandudno Junction just before they closed with alongside panicked husbands looking for non utilitarian gifts for their wives , I ran around and bought four bags of  party food. 

The ward manager hadn’t organised food for the nursing staff over Christmas so I took it on myself to get some..... (a product of years of doing it myself in Sheffield ) and so with a willing support worker in tow, I assembled the tables with covid appropriate foods ( small individual packets and bottles and tubs) all ready for the day staff to enjoy.

Christmas isn’t Christmas on a ward unless you have a food laden table draped with sheets secreted away in a side room for the nurses to nibble on between tasks.

My straight colleague zoned into his inner gay side by arranging swathes of holly into vases for decoration

I was rather impressed

 

We booked another take away for supper ( this time an Indian) and shared it again with the patient who enjoyed yesterday’s Chinese. Then we FaceTimed an ex colleague who was working in the next hospice along the coast and laughed a little 

It was Christmas Day before we knew it.

In between nursing jobs, I labelled some tins of gin and tonic for the day staff and wrapped a few gifts of my own.it was then I remembered Mrs Trellis.

On the way to work I spied her on London road her head down against the cold dark wind. Her bobble hat sticking out defiantly ahead of her

She was heading for the cottage

I stopped the car and she dropped a gift, through the window and onto the passenger seat with all of the aseptic technique remembered by the retired midwife .

The gift was wrapped a green felt and was tied with garden twine fashioned  into a bow 

“ You always giggled at Christine Davis bringing in the baby Jesus” she said in way of explanation

And as I drove away I remembered  all too clearly being in fits of giggles when Rector Robert commanded rather  theatrically for Christine the Church Warden to “ Bring In The Baby Jesus !”

The small figure , being transported in an upturned palm towards the nativity scene laid out before the pulpit.

The Christmas Eve carol service with nativity was an old tradition I always went to in Trelawnyd.

Last night the Church looked old  and cold and lonely.

As did Mrs Trellis 

and I wished I would have thanked her more when I finally got around to opening her gift from my place behind the nurses station .

For wrapped in tissue paper inside the green felt was a rather naivé but charming Baby Jesus alongside a plump and cheerful Virgin Mary, splendid in blue.