Baggage

 

The weather is atrocious today.

It’s wet and blustery and the village feels hunkered down underneath the protection of the Gop Hill to the north. 

It’s a day to pull up the drawbridge, which I have done.

My sister sent up a portion of casserole which is heating up on the stove.

I’ve made dumplings to add to it. 

Proper suet dumplings with lots of dried thyme and garlic .

I’ve read ( Alan Cumming’s  Baggage an excellent read) watched bits of  Les Miserables on stage, pottered with paperwork and walked dogs where we dodged the showers with some alacrity .

I’m going to make a few phone calls to friends later, watch SATC and get my feet licked to death

Ps Thank you Donell for you card and gift x 

Llandudno 3 pm ish

 I was walking back to my car when I heard a sing song Welsh voice say “ Hello John!” behind me.

A woman pushing an expensive looking baby buggy had just crossed the road .

She looked familiar but I didn’t know who it was at first.

Initially, I thought she was a relative of a hospice patient, but I wasn’t sure

She was, in fact,  my divorce solicitor .

I hadn’t seen her for over two years.

She asked me how I was and I confirmed that I was fine, working full time and doing ok

“ How are your dogs ?” She asked “ The Scottie who was so poorly? “ 

I thought it strange that she had remembered George so well and I updated her briefly whilst keeping things light

“ Do you know that you worried me more than any other of my clients have ever done ” she admitted, suddenly serious. 

I laughed nervously and asked her why that was

“You were so crushed when I first met you “ she said.  “all you were worried about was keeping all those dogs safe at home” 

And she squeezed my arm when I told her I had a “new” rescue bulldog 

“I’m not surprised…..” she said, before we parted, “You do look so different now….so much lighter”

She didn’t resemble the “cut throat “ solicitor described by my mediator either.

This meeting caught me on the hop,so to speak…….to see yourself through someone else’s eyes, especially by someone who doesn’t really know you is always a tad emotional .

I shook her hand and said thank you.

And remembered that I had not managed to thank her before

My favourite photo of George, the year he died 

Day Out

 

I didn’t want to sit and read a book

I wanted some breeze on my face 

I wanted to see people.

I took myself off to the Mostyn Gallery which was holding an exhibition called The Ultimate Kiss by Jacqueline de Jong. 

I’m not a fan of avant-garde and so DeJong’s early work depicting erotic and violent scenes with hybrid monsters did bother me. But her later pop art work with its cheerful , jolly colours was eye catching, even to an art dunce like me.

I preferred the first one above, a more traditional piece….a self portrait.

I mooched around Waterstones and bought Alan Cummings’ autobiography then walked to the pier to buy a coffee, so I could sit and watch the world go by.

The light started to change and the temperature had started to drop when I walked back to Trinity Square. strangely I bumped into my divorce solicitor coming out of her sister office there. We had an odd conversation that I will share tomorrow 

I bought pulled pork and cauliflower cheese for supper

What To Do

 I’m at a loss of what to do today.

There is nothing interesting at any of the cinemas I usually go to.

Stage wise Oliver Twist is on in Chester’s Storyhouse  but the tickets are a bit too expensive and I’m not enamoured  enough to buy a ticket and drive the fifty mile round trip on such a grotty blustery day.

At Theatr Clwyd I see there are just Welsh kids’ stuff on offer and everything else seems shut.

I’ve walked the dogs, drank coffee and listened to radio 4 

I’m going to get in Bluebell and go somewhere

I’ll post the photos later

Teams

Well it’s a time for a change from Christmas Card Gate.

The cottage looks like the Wreck Of The Hesperus and I’m getting things ship shape again, with cards being wrapped up and put away, clothes washed and floors scrubbed clean

I’m also sorting out my Christmas gifts one of which is a lovely Lino cut of a wood, a gift from my twin sister. 

I’ve taken down a framed award I received on behalf of a ward team I once ran and swapped it for the linocut. 

I’m in the process of finding a place for the award and have been left musing about all of the teams I have been a part of over the years

Each team I have worked with has possessed it’s own strengths and weaknesses.

Of course this is governed in part by the type of leadership employed for and by each one and the mutual support systems set up between the individual members.

The massive Intensive Care Team was perhaps the most structured, technically astute and cohesive team whereas the  psychiatric ward team, by nature of the work was more lateral thinking, humorous and anarchic. 

I am conceited enough to think of the spinal injury team I once lead was one of the happiest but it was certainly the most eclectic given it’s teaching hospital status, speciality and situation in the melting pot that is Sheffield in South Yorkshire. 

Sheffield nurses, in my experience are much more vocal and militant than any others I have worked alongside.

Not a bad trait I think.

The hospice nurses in general  have a pace all of their own and remind me of the African nurses I have had the pleasure of working alongside with in Yorkshire . 

Nurses that glided but were never hurried

Teams run well where support and respect is mutual, management is fair, evident and consistent and humour is encouraged.  

A mixture of sexes, ages and lifestyles help too

it keeps on the windy side of care

God Almighty what a palava over frigging Christmas cards

Lighten up

A Cheap Card, Hastily Written..

 

I usually take down my Christmas decorations and cards on Boxing Day night. If not then, the day after at the latest. After the 26th , to me the frippery, just looks, messy.

I’m working a long day again tomorrow , so just can’t be arsed collecting everything now.

My tired feet need a bulldog’s attention 

So I’m sat with almost both big toes in Dorothy’s mouth surveying the Christmas cards looped on string curves under the ceiling beams.

I am thinking about my mother.

I don’t think about her often.

I inherited my love of receiving cards from her as every year I would observe almost obsessional behaviour as she would carefully document each card as it was received in her much used Christmas Card Journal , ticking away in black in that year’s column . 

If, God forbid, no card was received ( especially if one have been sent ( this too was documented btw ) then a Red Cross would be entered into the year column .

Two consecutive red crosses would mean no card would be sent the following year.

She was ruthless

She was easily hurt 

And she was precise 

This year I was reminded of her. Sitting on her couch behind a heavily laden coffee table which was covered in carefully arranged piles of cards. Sheets of stamps, a selection of ball point pens a ruler and a very large gin and tonic. 

I remember her now, as resembling the old lady from the far side all be it as a wiry haired brunette and not a blonde………

I make light of this huge undertaking of hers, but it was quietly important to her and sometime in the late1970s, I remember her  sadly reviewing a card sent by someone she once was close to

The card was flimsy

A last one chosen from a box of fifty.

It had baubles on it and could hardly stand when it was placed on the sideboard

She was upset and hurt by it and her words have strangely remained with me to this day, 

As she showed the card to me she said sadly, in way of advice…..

“ A Cheap card, hastily written, should Never be sent” 

and…my mother was right 

Boxing Day

 6 am bucket of coffee time.

I’m waiting for my lateral flow test to complete

I have to test before every shift.

Christmas Day ( Now Updated)

 I’ve just got back to Bwthyn Y Llan

I’ve seen my sisters and their husbands , my nephews, niece, and great nieces and it was a loud cacophony of Christmases missed.

I’ve had a lovely day, a bit of cry on the way home and have watched a pitch perfect Queen’s Speech with a nice cup of builder’s tea

The dogs have climbed aboard, as they always do

And just like that, Christmas is almost over

The Queen’s Message

If Winnie was still here, this is how she would look this morning

I hope everyone reading this will have at least a peaceful day.

It’s been a funny old two years, has it not? 

Slightly easier of late, but still a time 

of challenges and some sadness.

But like the shopworn Carlotta out of Follies we can say

I’m still here

Happy Christmas 

 

Xmas Eve

 

Xmas Eve has been lovely for a fucking change …..

Lovely chatty walk with Gorgeous Dave on the promenade , a film text marathon with nephew Leo  then extra strong gins with villagers Nick and the velvet voice linda on Well Street  followed by a zoom meet with my touchstones Mike and Jane  from Sheffield 

I feel loved and cherished , something I’ve not felt for a long time 

How good is that ?

Lovely people 

Happy Christmas 

Hey ho

Occupational Therapy

 

There is nothing more soulless at Christmas than radio music  

If I hear Slade again, I shall scream 

I’m wrapping gifts and painting awful decorations on my “paper” gifts and have done for most of the morning

Occupational therapy for the mentally bewildered as I prefer to describe it

I’m listen to classic FM which is doable 

Merry Christmas Eve

Enjoy Tom Chaplain …all of us will understand the lyrics …” all running on empty” 

SATC episode 4 ( spoilers)

 Two and a bit hours at The Crown was lovely 

Chic Eleanor was on fine form and wore a scarlet pashmina because it was Christmas 

I have perspective after seeing her

The rest of the night has been Sex and The City- Just like That episode 4

The series is getting better and better for me

Tonight the ‘girls’ new friends come into play …Black Charlotte ( a fantastically wisecracking Nicole Ari Parker ) is a breath of fresh air, Miranda has a sexuality and drink issue, and Carrie moves back into her apartment …this all happens when white Charlotte cancels Harry’s colonoscopy in a coffee shop, 

Stanford wants a divorce ( that killed me), and Asian Seema ( Samantha stand in)  is selling Carrie and Big’s apartment 

So much going on….too much politically correct to be sure , but really I loved it

The episode had a great deal to say about real friendship 

But I WAS slightly drunk lol

Hey ho

Trelawnyd Pre Christmas

 

Mrs Trellis marshalling one of my field open days a few years ago

The Hat!!

It was dark yesterday afternoon, when there was a tiny tap tap tap at the Lane window.

It was so quiet even Mary missed it.

It was Mrs Trellis with a gift,a card and some bad news.

Farmer Basil’s sister Mona had passed away last Monday 

She was in her nineties and he is in his eighties, and they both had shared the glorious old  Georgian farmhouse overlooking the village  since they were children.

The farmhouse is called ochr y Gop ( side of the Gop Hill)

I invited Mrs Trellis in but she refused due to covid, so we talked in the dark wet cold until my teeth chattered 

Mrs Trellis is cooking a partridge for Christmas dinner……a pheasant, she informed me, if Basil accepts a plate.

This morning I popped up to Ochr Y Gop with cake and a sympathy card , Basil is a darling man and one who has always been kind to me. His sister, Mona was the school mistress at Gwaenysgor School ( our neighbour village) in the 1940s, and also often cooked a mean ( and bloody massive) scotch egg for my flowers show’s cooking section….I remember that they looked like robust hand grenades 

( Their page on my history blog http://trelawnydhistory.blogspot.com/2011/05/mr-basil-davies-miss-mona-davies.html)

The chimney still has not been fixed as yet so I’m relying on oil heaters to take the chill off the cottage

Without the fire , the living room lacks cheer so last night I lit the candles on the mantle to warm the living room 

Chic Eleanor has  just messaged……she’s had a hard week all told 

” Darling John “ she trilled breathlessly  “ Meet me for a G&T at 5 pm,……I insist ! “

I was touched as I always seem to be by her

The last bit of morning, I’ve been pottering around the village. I dropped off matching Christmas decorations to affable Despot Jason’s girls , both still in their pyjamas I must say. 

Liv, who is twelve tomorrow, lay on the couch covered in a blanket with her computer games. She saluted me cheerfully, eyes not leaving the screen.

I think I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be a pre teen off school.

I dropped off final cards and got home after midday to a sweet bowl of hyacinths and card left by Bridget & Family who live on Well Street. She had pushed chocolates into the card envelope.

Colin the postie dropped me a personal card on his rounds, I left him a small bottle of port.

I’ve just opened the last of the posted Christmas cards

And sat quietly with the dogs at the melancholy some of them caused

Hey ho

The bulbs were infact a gift from the village nursery 

Anyhow !

Tomorrow I’m meeting up with Gorgeous Dave in the afternoon for a brusque ( brisk? )  walk, Villagers velvet Voiced Linda and hubby , for an hour, early evening with a bottle of nice Sherry  and my Sheffield friends Jane and Mike on zoom at 10 pm so socially Christmas Eve has seemed to have worked itself out alright.

I’m cleaning Bluebell in the morning at the jet wash.

A real treat in itself .

Thank you to everyone who has sent me a card or gift. I’ve been very touched by everything received

I will leave you with Madge & Bisket 

More Christmas Stories

* see below

The West Cheshire hospital . way back in the early 1980s still had a small and functioning Church. It was a rather unwelcoming, mid Victorian building of red brick, which always seemed rather more utilitarian in its design, for it had few of the period excesses and decorations one would expect from a Victorian house of worship.
Many of the long stay patients, most of which lived out their twilight years on the hospital back wards, would attend Church services on Sunday and occasionally we students would accompany them, especially if there was a "big" service on , say at Christmas or at Easter.

I remember one Christmas marshalling perhaps 15 patients from Irby Ward and with my fellow student helping out ( the trained staff would all be drinking coffee in the office) we walked down for Church service.
The chaplain was a man , I had never met, but I kind of took a dislike to him immediately for his obvious lack of warmth he showed to any of the institutionalised patients filing in to his church.

Dressed in some sort of robe ( robe in a Hospital Church?) I remember quite clearly the look of distaste on his face when one old lady chirped up loudly "Are you God?" from her place in the pews...
His reply was a short and rather sharp "No!"

Late to arrive was a patient called Pat, who was always a favourite with the students as she was "almost normal" in her behaviour and affect. Pat had been in hospital since the 1940s, and although dreadfully institutionalised , still retained a noticeable sense of humour, which was a rarity. She also took a great interest in people and would go out of her way to make a nervous young student nurse welcome on her ward, a fact that was much appreciated , especially as some of the ward staff were well known for not being THAT student friendly.
Pat always had a bad perm,an oversized overcoat with matching handbag (which was filled with fags and sweets) and too much make up on.....she also always had a strange companion in tow, by the name of Phyllis 
Phyllis , too had been in hospital probably over forty years, but whereas Pat was sociable and interacted with staff, Phyllis remained in her own, isolated little world.
Today she perhaps would come under the broad definition of someone with learning difficulties.... back in the 1940s, she would have been lumped with the official title of "Moron".

Phyllis could not speak, in actual she had difficulty breathing, which she did in strange guttural gasps and she had  odd "look" to her as she looked permanently surprised with her pencilled in inverted eyebrows. She had great difficulty walking and would only do so by holding on to Pat's arm, and the two women were devoted to each other as they pottered around the old asylum, running errands and smoking cigarettes together.

Anyhow,like I said, Pat and Phyllis were ever so slightly late for service and as they entered the Church door, we all heard Pat cheerfully apologise to the chaplain who was just about to start his service.
The chaplain walked across to the two in silence showing Pat where to sit down with a wave of his arm, and impatient at the interruption he actually pushed Phyllis, who was somewhat slower than her companion, brusquely to her seat.

I could see a couple of female student nurses in their pink uniforms and blue capes bristle at his behaviour, and as he started his big speech about the importance of Christmas, he looked annoyed at the clip clop of Phyllis' built up shoes on the stone flags as she struggled to find her pew.

I remember thinking... well if this is Christianity in hospital well you can shove it up yer arse!

The rest of the service was nice enough.... the hymns were sweet... the lady that shouted out "are you God?"...did so only once more....and  despite it's austerity the Church felt just that tiny bit festive, no thanks to the Chaplain...
But do you know what made the whole experience a memorable one for me and all of the other students dotted around the pews? it was Phyllis!
For when she and Pat got up to leave...Phyllis  tottered to the front of the aisle, and just as the chaplain was being congratulated by the hospital bigwigs for a job well done... she growled like a lion, squatted down, and pissed all over the floor like a horse!

* my secret Santa gift from work 
 

Alliums

 Two pre Christmas gifts today

Dylan Thomas ‘ A Child’s Christmas in Wales 

From The Velvet voiced Linda and hubby Nick

And metal allium sculptures for the garden from my friend Ruth

Ones that will patina into a glorious orange sunbursts

The Rose

Omicron is scaring people.

I understand the phenomenon  only too well

But  I’m being visited again by that vague uneasy feeling in my gut 

The one that waved that flag about lockdown 

And the horrible, horrible isolation, lockdown brought with it.

My family was due to get together on Christmas Day. 

Despite lateral flow tests and pragmatic plans one sister will not be there.which is a shame even though it’s understandable.

Luckily she lives in the same town as my elder sister so visiting both will be possible on the day

But omicron has left a nasty taste in the mouth 

Similar to that low level anxiety turbulence gives you on a transatlantic flight

Or that snow storm when you a driving home on a Sunday night in the dark.

Choir is meeting back on zoom tomorrow night and I will be there before I go to work. 

And I’m still wanting to go to the Liverpool Philharmonic on Thursday night although am awaiting discussion with a friend to confirm.

Other planned meets with other friends have been poisoned and cancelled 

and I’m facing four days off work after my nights potentially with nothing to do.

A lovely colleague from work has just messaged with an invitation to a get together and prioritising my family meet means that I have had to decline the offer 

I just hate feeling that we are all walking backwards again.

I hate it .

But we have to be pragmatic and flexible don’t we? 

No need for tantrums ….that’s not going to make the hospital scan be organised any quicker even though it may be cathartic in the short term to yell at the woman in the Santa hat sitting on reception.

Yet again we all have to hike up our bra straps and pulls those tits up to attention

And get on with things.

I’ve just texted Gorgeous Dave  with the suggestion of a walk instead of a pub visit on Christmas Eve

Pottery may be quiet on Wednesday and I may be able to finish my spoons off in a deserted corner by the kiln 

It’s past  2 am .and so far we are having a peaceful night all told

So different to the one we slogged through last night for sure.

God were we all knackered this morning.

In the office , our nurses’ Christmas tree is surrounded by secret Santa gifts and it feels hopeful and positive and above Ive posted the village Male Voice Choir singing Bette Midler’s The Rose 

I remember seeing her live the song in a performance at Radio City New York around a decade ago.

She was quite the old trouper even back then.

I feel like that old trouper somewhat tonight. 

I bit jaded with omicron, 

A bit disappointed with more cancellations and plans changed

But buoyed up by Middler’s last verse chutzpah 

When the night has been too lonely
And the road has been too long
And you think that love is only
For the lucky and the strong
Just remember in the winter
Far beneath the bitter snows
Lies the seed that with the sun's love
In the spring becomes the rose.

 

Both Sides Now

Secret Santa

 The arm chair in the living room has caught the afternoon sun and the dogs are quiet for the first time today in their effort to make the most of the warmth.

I’ve been shopping for my work’s secret Santa gift which seems such a simple affair but is, in fact always one that is fraught with difficulties if the recipient works out who has sent what.

The general rule of secret Santa is to pick someone you like and always spend more than the allotted amount. 

I’m still scarred by the plastic antler incident when a sister on intensive care bought me a well intentioned but very nasty looking set of plastic antlers which she thought would enhance a classic gay decor .

Even my patient ( who was seriously ill at the time) felt he could mention that the antlers were a bad choice and my subsequent ratter negative discussion of said present on Going Gently. caused much hurt and a six month period of not speaking 

The sister, eventually forgave my indiscretion but I never forgot the upset and so I have made up for my lack of good grace by always buying my colleagues something nice and never complaining if I received something shitty

Today I bought my Santa gift, two very nice mugs, a collection of measuring dishes for baking, a mosquito repelling kit ( she likes hiking) a bottle of very Welsh ale ( she’s very Welsh) several rather classy Christmas Decorations and trendy shopping bag from Habitat 

I’ve completed my family and friend gifts and will wrap them next week after my night shifts which start tonight. 

This afternoon I’ve cooked gyoza dumplings and udon noodles with broccoli for supper and wrapped some coffee bags and Christmas decorations for the support worker I’m working with later. ( she loves the coffee bags I take to work to keep me awake on night shifts) 

I’m watching the delightfully sweet movie The Holiday and the scenes between Eli Wallach and Kate Winslett are quite lovely.

Family

 My nephew phoned me this afternoon 

To see if I was ok. 

His mum , my sister had told him I had been unwell

And he was concerned.

It was a nice conversation 

He’s going through a divorce and so I understand his emotions,

So we talked about them…..

…after a long time as we parted he laughed 

This was a conversation about you and all we’ve talked about me 

He said

My other nephew messaged me minutes later with an in depth review of the new Spider-Man film

He wrote a good review and I told him so 

He sent me 😁

Hey ho