When in doubt, TWIRL YOUR EFFIN’ ARSE OFF!
The Prone Trolley
When I worked In Sheffield’s Spinal Injury unit, the occasional patient would have been able to mobilise out of bed by using the Prone Trolley.
These patients were usually ones with older spinal injuries but with new, more acute skin problems or pressure sores on their bottoms and sacrum.
The prone trolley was in fact an adapted theatre trolley , which the patient could like face down upon, usually with strategically placed pillows supporting hips , sternum and feet.
The patient would move the trolley with his arms, which would propel the front wheels, allowing him or her the freedom to navigate the Spinal unit, and at the same time no pressure would be exerted on the more vulnerable sore bits , allowing them to heal naturally .
These patients would generally be covered with a light sheet , below which they would be naked and paralysed .
One patient I remember who used the trolley was a bit of a wag , I shall call Norman
Now Norman was in his thirties, and it would be fair to describe him as a bit of a joker and a wide boy. He would spend his time with the newly injured and sometimes more sensitive patients on bed rest and was one to joke around and play tricks on them and the nursing staff , who put up with his antics with uncharacteristic thin lips.
I remember one day when Normal pushed himself onto the balcony garden of my ward, he entered into some ribald joshing with several of the patients on bed rest. Unbeknownst to the staff, a couple of the patients had clubbed together and with the help of a visitor turned the tables on poor Norman and an hour after he came he announced to the staff sitting at the nursing station that he was returning to his own ward for tea.
The staff said nothing as he wheeled himself past the nursing station and allowed him to pass my office which was at the end of the corridor without further comment.
As Norman wheeled himself merrily part he shouted out a greeting which I answered
And I turned to watch him pass I saw that his fellow patients had secretly removed his sheet allowing the world to see a large expanse of buttock with two large capital W s drawn in lipstick on each cheek.
And placed very carefully between the butt cheek itself was a hastily picked daffodil, standing proud, yellow and very tall.
In The Garden
It’s a glorious day, bright and sunny.
I haven’t done a great deal but wash my new duvet set that Dorothy thoughtfully pissed upon last night and pot up the little french half hanging basket by the front door which had dried out in the dry spell we’re having.
Sea Pinks or drift as it is also known as, wasn’t my first choice for potting up but I think they will look nice flanked by simple white violas , against the old stone of the cottage walls.
I repaired my gargoyle , fixing him back on his plinth with some fixative and spoke to Mrs Trellis as I brushed the paths free of blown rubbish.
“ I knew you were in “ she observed “ there is washing on the field gate”
Dorothy dozed on the lawn as I watered the planters
And as she looked so comfortable I laid down next to her in full view of passers by and promptly fell asleep
My Coffee Is Good
Trelawnyd from above the Gop
Late April is perhaps the best time of the year to see Trelawnyd, especially on a sunny day.
For those that read about this rather insignificant little village, I am sure most will have their own mental pictures of it, but I am aware that apart from some photographs I have never attempted to describe this place where some 500 souls make their home.
The village is situated some five hundred and fifty feet above sea level in the Clwydian Hills and is tucked on the South facing base of Gop Hill, which is the second hill in the range if viewed from across the bay in Llandudno.
Gop Hill and the Neolithic Burial Mound( the village lies bottom right)
Gop Hill is partially wooded , but the slope which backs onto the village is grazed and is covered in gorse bushes which glow gold in April when they start to flower.
I am looking at the Gop as I type this green and gold against the blue sky.
On its summit lies the Neolithic burial cairn, and the black stick figures of dog walkers can just been seen standing on the top.
The village is protected from the North Winds by the hill and lies along one road ( London Road) with the church and school dominating the West flank and the Village Hall and Pub bordering the East.
The centre of the village lies nearer to the Hall with the older houses dating from the 17th and 18th Century spreading North and South just a little.
My cottage , one of two built in the 1660s lie down a little lane which follows the boundary of the Church wall. The lane snakes down the valley to the Felin ( Water Mill) before climbing again to the South, so the village is comfortably surrounded by hills and is perched above a valley which slopes gently down to the coastal plain and the sea which is only five miles away.
The largest building in the village is the Memorial Hall which was built at the turn of the century by the Greek Consul to Liverpool Mr Michael Antonia Ralli in memory of his wife Polymnia
The Golden Gorse covering most of the southern part of the Gop
I went to Mc D ‘s and got a large coffee to start the day properly.
It’s sunny and lots of friendly faces are about.
I feel recharged today. Proper sleep has helped with that as did a good debrief with a friend about sad case at work which laid heavy on my mind
I’m off to buy a wisteria this afternoon and tonight I am catching up with Gorgeous Dave for a beer in his garden.
But for now I’m typing this at my office desk and as I look out of the window I spy a couple of villagers I know chatting in the lane. Pippa walks down, past them with Meg
And from the gardens comes the crow of the little bantam as he answers the call from the riding stable cockerel.
The sun is bright on the houses that border London Road and above their roofs I can see the golden gorse on the Gop glow a warm yellow.
My coffee is good
Slipping Through My Fingers
Still tired tonight...just recharging
Hot bath, video call to an old friend , crisps , big cry, ABBA
All is almost well
Catching Up
I slept until 6.30 am when I took the dogs for a wee , then slept on until noon.
I needed the rest.
I walked the dogs properly
Did a large shop and bought some luxury puddings for Trendy Carol and her hubby.
Over the last 10 days I have worked 7 twelve hour shifts and every one of them trendy carol has baby sat them in the afternoons.
When I got home it was upsetting to see one of the field ponies had been sadly euthanised . She had apparently suffered from ill health for a while and had deteriorated recently. Her body will be collected later.
There is nothing more forlorn than the site of a dead, much loved animal lying still on the ground
I’ve just written this whilst eating a small tub of coronation chicken
A real treat for the day
And now I’m half playing at tidying the house,
The bantam cockerel who lives in the graveyard called in early for homemade sourdough
Land of Morning Calm
My last shift today, no 6 out of 9...I needed that bucket of coffee this morning
I think, like many people I know, foreign travel will not really feature in my plans this year.
A friend has just invited me to Sitges in September which I’m seriously considering albeit for a long weekend rather than a two week break but apart from that , I think , like thousands of others I will concentrate on meeting up with friends in Blighty ...namely London, and in Yorkshire and in Liverpool and indeed in Wales.
Next year things change as I am planning to go to South Korea !
How’s That for a curved ball ?
My friend and colleague Ben is moving there with his wife and daughter this year and in the spirit of adventure fellow colleague Ruth and I thought we’d throw caution to the wind, and don our explorer hats. to “ do” the Far East Country which still remains a mystery to many westerners and meet up with him in the process.
Note to self
Time for some overtime .....we may even visit Busan lol
Ps village news...a couple of days ago it was Auntie Glad’s birthday
She was 102.
She will have no recollection of me and the flower show and of tying bags of scones on the door knob of the cottage
She won’t remember the last show when she opened the proceedings with a bravura speech
And she probably not remember often sleeping in the sun outside her front door on sunny Welsh afternoons
Interlude ....I’m at work Again
I’ve got three long shifts together
This just about kills me , what with PPE and the fact that I’m wearing a couple of hats because yesterday I was community working and now I’m on in patients covering sickness
Hey ho
Enjoy the music
A Wisteria Arch
Yesterday the weather was superb, very much like the skies and temperature over Windsor.
After the funeral the dogs and I pottered around the garden.
Dorothy shadowed my every move with sad eyes. Mary just laid by the gate , hopeful that someone would say hello to her and Albert sat under the honeysuckle and pretended to be asleep.
The ponies saw me in the garden and ambled up to watch us.
I love having them in my field,
Their presence makes the field come alive again, like it used to be.
My sister has transformed the garden , the bluebells and pockets of aquilegia, iris and euphorbia are all springing up as is the hydrangea in the old french cooking pot I placed in the gap by the holly bush .
This year I thing I will plant a wisteria and will trail it over an arch by the front gate.
It may bloom before I die....
I’m working in the community today,
Nice weather for it!
My tiny hamster ears do not cope well with face masks
A Touch Of Class
Nuala texted me around three to see if I was watching
Of course she knew I would have been.
I found the whole thing rather moving.
It wasn’t grand, I thought, but more beautifully choreographed and the more personal touches such as the use of the land rover and his riding carriage with his gloves left quietly on his seat were simple and powerful reminders of the man.
A Kiss Is Just A Kiss
Last night I got home just in time for The Big Gay Quiz. Our team won a respectable fourth place, which was fun. Afterwards I watched the lovely gay, Yorkshire Farmer film Gods Own Country which is a delight and incredibly moving.
It must rank as my favourite gay movie
Anyhow....
There is a famous line in Gone With The Wind when Rhett Butler turns on the spoilt and game playing Scarlet O’Hara
“Open your eyes and look at me. No, I don't think I will kiss you, although you need kissing, badly. That's what's wrong with you. You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how."
It’s a cracking quote and is one that got me thinking on my commute home yesterday.
Where did I have my first proper kiss?
I’m discounting the time I was unexpected kissed by a policeman in full uniform when he came around to the psychiatric unit I was working in for a brew on night shift.
I was more surprised than romantically aroused when that happened, so much so , I just stood there like a pudding and was still puckering with closed eyes long after he had exited the building...
Hey ho
Happy days
I think my first, properly romantic gay kiss was with the older brother of my first girlfriend .
I was 18. He was 26
He was in the RAF ( hummm there is a uniform theme going on here) and I was a bank clerk and I ended up sharing his bedroom with him at my girlfriend’s house when he was home on leave.
I can’t remember the whys and wherefores
But I do remember the kiss
Chaste and gentle and of so pivotal in the life of gauche teen
It would be several years later when the kiss’s ripple spread wide on my life’s pond
But it sowed the seed towards my coming out
Luxury
I’m writing this on my lunch break...it’s 17.29 lol
Hard shift made better by a gift from a local ice cream parlour to all the staff
Bloody lovely
The Daughters I Never Had.
Albert and his deformed leg
For this week I have been working one day off one day on.
And apart from meeting up with an old friend this afternoon, all I have done today is sleep.
Feeling that I’ve wasted a bit of the day , I woke up enough this evening to be more productive, and in the warmth of dusk I’ve listened to David Sidaris as I potted up more cheap coloured plants by the back door.
Albert watched me from the sunny garden wall, his deformed leg stretching out painfully before him.
He blinked slowly at me in that silent hello that cats do when when you catch their eye.
Then sat still pretending to be asleep.
He remained there, until the sun shifted and I had retreated to the kitchen in order to oil the work tops and feed the dogs.
The cottage is tidy and I’m pleased.
I sit at the kitchen table and reviewed my to do list.
I didn’t cross anything off today.
In the middle of my list, just under
Inform car insurance company about my speeding fines
And just above,
Pay fucking vets bill
Was the words
Hattie’s gift
Hattie leaves the village in a few days.
For several years she has lived in one of the cottages by the old post office. They are tiny street based cottages accessed to the rear by a tunnelled ginnel located every third home. and hers had its own pretty little back garden which faced south .
Now she and her boyfriend are moving out of the village to a new build in the next village a jump to their own home which is wonderfully exciting and fortunate in this time where the housing ladder is so difficult for young people to climb.
I will see Hattie in choir of course, but some of me will still miss her move from just around the corner.
She is a young woman of warmth who possess a big heart and she is a person who has the envious and innate talent for making people smile.
The villages took her to their heart readily and easily .
She reminds me of my nephew’s partner, Rebecca who possesses similar traits, the both of them, in my mind ideal daughter material.
The daughters I never had. I thought idly today.
I would have made a good dad me thinks, and I told Albert that when he followed me indoors
He blinked at me in his agreement
Hattie and I at the Folk concert at the village Hall
Every Day , say something
I’ve blogged ( more or less) every day since 2006
It’s a labour of love and strange as it may seem, it’s never been a chore, even on days like today when I’ve finally managed to sit down after a work shift minutes after 9 pm, I never not want to write at least something.
Blogging is a friend I need to say hello to every day
The Great British Sewing Bee is on the tv, the dogs have been fed and walked and I’m wondering what to chat about.
I want to be urbane and witty and wisecracking tonight, but it just won’t bounce forth and that’s fine ,
And so I’ve slipped on my fat bastard jogger bottoms , lit the fire and am now watching the 12 talented and rather sweet sewing nerds do their thing, as my feet throb gently like two hairy and slightly podgy Belisha beacons.
Hey ho.........hey ho
Horses Noses
The ponies are back in my field.
A mare and a colt
Two friendly souls who like to blow down their noses then breathe in your smell.
They please me
I drove to the Mostyn Gallery shop and bought a print for my bedroom and some bespoke greetings cards
I had take out coffee on the beach
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Love
One of the privileges of working in palliative care is that you work alongside people that truly love each other.
Looking after someone who is dying that you care about is a labour of love and where as it is not always possible or practical to always achieve the death that so many of us want ie at home in your own bed, there are a whole plethora of services , like ours, which are specifically designed to help that wish be realised but not without commitment and care from loved ones .
I have witnessed true love at these times.
And I have just witnessed it today, so powerful it was that on my way back from the community to the hospice I had to sit in my car on north Shore for a few moments and watch the sea with the windows wide open and with the breeze gathering my thoughts and soothing my feelings.
I have witnessed.....
Pure, undiluted, warts and all love
Desperate love
Tired and hopeful and hopeless love
And I am moved , every time I witness it.
To be loved that strongly is such a privilege.
Nutmeg Gnocchi with a chilli courgette sauce
This is a therapeutic and easy supper dish
I made it from scratch today
Here is my masterclass
You will need
2 potatoes
Garlic
Chilli x 1 red
Butter
1 cup flour
Nutmeg
1 egg
1 courgette
Seasoning
Parmesan
Mash 2 potatoes and allow to cool
Grate one courgette, chop three cloves garlic and finely cut one red chilli
( this is for the sauce)
Measure out Half a teaspoon of grated nutmeg
Put one cup of mash into a bowl add nutmeg
Add One cup of plain flour
Add one egg
Mix and kneed into a dough
Cut into quarters
Roll into rough rolls
Cut into 3/4 inch pieces and flatten sides with fork
Boil a saucepan of water and drop gnocchi in. Meantime fry off chilli, garlic in a little oil and large knob of butter. Season well.
Wait for gnocchi to float
Add courgette and fry gently until cooked
Add gnocchi and ensure all is heated through
Season well if needed , add Parmesan cheese and Basil
Eat with rocket salad
Bloody lovely
41 Guns?
The ruins of the Elizabethan house Siamber Wen located just a stones’ throw South of the centre of the village
According to the village Facebook page there was going to be a 41 gun salute to the Duke Of Edinburgh at midday. I went to collect eggs from the livery stables and managed to snap a brief video of the “ excitement” from the centre of the village.
The salute took place on top of the Gop
You can here me and villager Mandy discussing the spectacle
On my walk I bumped into Affable Despot Jason who is a staunch republican.
On my walk I bumped into Affable Despot Jason who is a staunch republican.
“ 100,000 dead from covid and they are shooting guns off the Gop for Philip...makes my piss boil” he commented ....not his usual smiling self. Mrs Trellis passed with her over erect bobble hat on, and she waved
Jason and Mrs Trellis ( with Blue)
Jason invited me for a drink in the garden.
More sporadic gunfire echoed over the valley as I headed for home.
The sun is shining and the sky is an azure blue
I’m making home made gnocchi in a chilli and courgette sauce for supper
Chic Eleanor has invited me for an outside gin at 6pm
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