Carrie is dating again
Just like in the old days
She looked lovely
Even when she puked
But I was a bit shocked at the Miranda’s “ finger me “ moment
The series is back on form
Crockery
I spent the morning measuring the living room, stairs, landing and bedrooms.
I’ve picked the carpet which will replace the existing one and the ancient bare floorboards in my bedroom will, at last be covered too , silencing the occasional middle-of-night tap dancing by the dogs.
I know I will get a few lectures about how carpets are not very practical with dogs and a cat in the house, but I don’t really care.
I like carpets.
I ordered a new washing machine on line then I’ve photographed the field as only today, I’ve finally decided not to renew the yearly lease and I want to prove to the land agents that it’s been left in good order.
End of an era I guess.
This afternoon, I finally tackled the living room cupboards and removed an old mismatched dinner service bought as a job lot at an auction many years ago.
I’ve never really liked it and only kept it out of apathy
It’s of no quality and is well out of style so in a fit of devilment I spent a therapeutic twenty minutes smashing it to bits in the bin.
Mrs Trellis stopped just as I smashed an old tureen without it’s handle and Blue stood on his hind legs to look inside the wheelie bin at the bits.
“ Looks like fun” she commented, her eyes twinkling
I offered her a soup bowl to throw but she declined it.
She was wearing her overly erect bobble hat
This afternoon , I cleaned the soot out of the cupboards and refilled them with books and jugs, cups and glasses.
Very satisfying
Big Thinks, Welsh Subtitles
I have nothing at all planned for today.
This is a big change for me, as you all know, because I do like a plan and I do enjoy a list.
Today I earmarked as a thinking day.
Now I do think a great deal, like most of us I do…but I have a bad habit of thinking about the wrong things.
I procrastinate
I day dream
I worry about the wrong things,
I waste time.
I watch tictok in bed
Watched lovingly
And so, today I’m having a “ think and do” day
I’m sorting out paperwork, through ideas and am information gathering.
Decisions left about things will be made.
Loose ends tied up
Plans formulated
And lists will be ticked off…
The chimney engineer has just been and his quote is 700 £ cheaper than my first estimate
I could have kissed him
I’m adding his quote to my list of to do things on my desk
Oh by the way my Welsh is getting better.
I make it a point of watching the clunky but long lasting welsh soap opera Poble y Cwm ( People of The Valley) and even though the Welsh is a type more spoken in South Wales , I can almost get by without subtitles
Boiling Point
Another food orientated day.
I took leftover dumplings and stew to a friend of mine before I went to Chester.
My friend has a son and ex partner on intensive care, both very poorly with covid.
It’s sobering to realise that things are not over for many where the pandemic is concerned .
I then took myself to the Storyhouse for an afternoon at the cinema.
Long takes in film are not a new phenomenon. Film fans will easily remember those famous tracking shots in Goodfellas and the seminal Touch of Evil as well as those lengthy but somewhat theatrical takes in Hitchcock’s Rope but I can’t think of a film that has been totally shot and choreographed in one single take.
Boiling Point is such a film.
Set inside a city restaurant we follow the fortunes ( and several misfortunes ) of the eclectic group of staff members led by a harassed and brittle senior Liverpudlian Chef ( Stephen Graham) who is trying to juggle, bad hygiene reviews, staff problems including a hysterical pot washer, disillusioned sous chef , and a french salad station worker who can’t understand scouse. . Add to the mix the sudden arrival of a much hated food reviewer, a racist customer flexing his muscles against a black waitress, drug taking and incompetent staff and a front of house manager more interested in Instagram reviews than staff support and you have all the ingredients for a dizzying drama.
Director Philip Barantini has produced a relentless film, with the camera swooping in and around the restaurant in question like an owl who misses nothing.
It is exhausting to watch and the constant motion continues for nearly 90 minutes, a remarkable feat in itself given the number of actors and the amount of dialogue and action which has been choreographed within an inch of its life.
Having said this, despite the expected chef rants and conflict moments there remains tiny gems of real pathos in this movie. The sadness of the black waitress ( Lauryn Ajufo)who has to deal with a racist customer , isolated and alone amid the chaos is poignantly palpable and the moment where the warm hearted pastry chef ( Hannah Walters) hurriedly discovers her teenage helper has self abused is incredibly moving even though the scene lasts mere seconds.
Graham and Vinette Robinson (as Carley the sous chef) , lead the ensemble with great energy and chutzpah.
It’s an exhausting watch to be sure but one that makes you think twice about the times you have enjoyed a meal out in a trendy eatery.
Lamb Casserole
A friend’s mother died last night.
I asked what, if anything, I could do to make things even remotely better
She told me a lamb casserole with dumplings and a bed for the night
And so that’s what I’m preparing
The power of simple food can’t be overestimated
It says, without really saying that someone cares.
It brings back the comforts of Childhood
It doesn’t demand anything but the use of a spoon
I’m just been peeling veg.
The casserole pan is warming
The fire engineer comes soon to look at the chimney and I’ve just received the new lease for my field which village leader Ian is about to check with interest
It’s dull and overcast but the cottage is warmed by the oil heaters and feels cosy.
As promised I’d leave you with a photo of one of my new cushions from John Lewis
I will spare you a photo of the washing up bowl lol
Fat Bastard
More food this pm !
An early dinner after shopping for yellow cushions in John Lewis
Too much food in fact
Mowgli in Bold Street, Liverpool…street food
Bloody lovely
Healthy eating tomorrow
And Just Like That…..
Brunch has always been my favourite meal of the day.
I always think that you are always almost too ready for it too which makes it even more delicious
I made eggs Benedict this morning in a half arsed and slightly pretentious homage to Sex and The City, the city I last visited just over three years ago.
I’m overdue for a re match, me thinks.
Anyhow this morning, I ate my eggs and drank my cwarfee to episode 6 of And Just Like That
And it was nice.
Serendipity, Holiday Plans and Dear Mr Poitier
I’ve mentioned serendipity before on Going Gently and over the last three years have cited at least two serendipitous events that have brought much needed windfalls of money unexpectedly into my lap, each one at a time that it was most needed.
Today, I listened to the news of a proposed interest rate rise, acknowledged fluctuations in tax, energy bill hikes and a proposed increase in national insurance with a prickle of worry.
I’ve saved up the money to repair the chimney throughout the year but still have outstanding jobs that need addressing, with an old cottage, or a period house of any age, many things are works in progress
The bathroom needs a drastic upgrade from its 1980s utilitarian facelift, dear old Bluebell won’t go on forever, and the living room is in dire need of new flooring.
Those are my must haves on my 2022 list as well as my counselling course fees which seem to me looming just out of reach like the mountains of Mordor
Nice things like holiday travel costs, and other less necessary incidentals have been cast aside in my head until now, the year I will be reaching sixty.
Until recently I had more or less forgotten that I have a small private pension,
I took it out when I was a student nurse and have dribbled very small and regular amounts into it well before I had ever thought of kissing my first man on the lips.
That was an age ago now, and a bright shiny pamphlet and official letter, opened up only yesterday told me of my options .
One of which will pay for most of my needs for the year and then some.
My relief is palpable and couldn’t have come at a better time for after 8 am this morning , I’m on holiday.
I have eleven days off and am starting to book things to do ( though mindful it’s also nice to do nothing at all)
Theatre with Chic Eleanor, a reflexology massage, a pop over to Liverpool for a meal at Mowgli with a friend, cinema at the storyhouse, a walk with another friend, an overnight jaunt to Sheffield. Pottery and choir.
Oh and plenty of time to potter and to read and to paint the upstairs hall to the west wing and to plan my new bathroom with a power shower to die for……..one that will force blissfully hot soapy water into my aging nether regions .
I’m very much looking forward to it all.
I will leave this positive post on a bittersweet note as I must lament the passing of Sidney Poitier.
I think I first became aware of him in the 1970s when I saw him in the television showing of the film To Sir With Love
I had never seen such a beautiful black actor before, and certainly had not “ experienced” seeing one who commanded such respect, gravitas and power on screen.
The film was hodgepotch of dated cliches, even back then, but to me as a pre teen I think I instantly recognised his dignity and power against racism. Racism that was ingrained into the very fabric of the middle class ,Conservative urban Wales way back then.
The famous slapping scene in In The Heat Of The Night wasn’t lost of me either, although that was a film I visited a few years later. The Look on Poitier’s face as he returns the slap from the southern Plantation owner Endicott is stunning and no wonder it was referred to at the time as the slap that was heard around the world
Remembering
* nothing to do with the post, the visuals just amused me
I think I can be forgiven repeating a good story from the Ukrainian Village days yesterday.
I had little to say and no news to speak of.
Repeating a good story reminds me of being a child, when, my sister Janet and I would push for my grandmother to recount stories of daring do from her wartime years.
Of course we had heard them all before.
Many many times before…….
The embellished stories of getting trapped in a blackout on the sixth story of a warehouse only inches from an open pulley door and with rats running over her feel….of running for the shelter as the bombers were over and for dressing my uncle Jim in a chenille curtain and high heels as they were being evacuated from their bombed house on Louisa Street, Liverpool
We knew them all and delighted in how they were delivered, with a wry smile over the ironing board or sat behind the colander being filled with shelled peas
I was only thinking of my grandmother’s storytelling yesterday when taking the dogs out for a walk
We were passed by a skinny man in Lycra out jogging and a phrase my grandmother other used suddenly popped into my head like an exploding firework ,
….fifty years after I first heard it
“ The muscles on his scrawny arms stuck out like sparrows’ Knees!”
Sexing Camilla ( a revisit)
No news. On night shift so I will post an old post from way back in 2013
Enjoy
Sexing Camilla
My profession (aka. Paid job) is as a wildlife ecologist,so I can finally offer you some professional advice John! Since Canada geese are not sexually dimorphic (they have the same plumage), in order to tell the sex of the bird you have to get up close and personal with them. This entails grabbing the goose, putting it on its back between your legs on the ground with the head tucked under your body and pressing hard with your thumbs on either side of the vent/cloacal opening. If it is a gander, a corkscrew shaped appendage will pop out. If not, you have a female. On goose banding days we do hundreds of them at a go. We also do bag checks of duck hunters and it is much easier sexing a dead goose than a live one!
So said the delightful Sherry from Spinners End Farm and this morning I took her advice, grabbed Camilla/ Charles ( delete when appropriate) when I let the animals out of their houses and in one swift movement popped the goose on his back and straddled him.
Everything was going swimmingly, even though Camilla was honking like an express train, and I was just about to flex the old thumbs around the aforementioned cloacal opening when all hell let loose.
I had just had time to turn my head to the right when I was hit in the face by a flurry of claws, beak and red feathers.
No doubt spurred on by Camilla's distress calls, Eric the diminutive cockerel had suddenly decided to go all super hero and batter the shit out of me, and luckily for him I was in an ideal position ( with my hands busy) not to be able to defend myself.
Eric got several more karate chops in before I made a run for it.
Camilla remains unsexed
And I got my arse well and truly kicked by a six inch high cockerel
Normal
It took a great deal of self control but I have just placed the last two F&M scotch eggs in the freezer.
Out of sight, out of mind.
I’m back on nights for three, then I’m on holiday
It’s back to healthy eating and health lifestyle from today.
I made a huge batch of spiced coleslaw which will keep for a week as it is sloshed in lemon juice and made a massive Korean noodle chicken salad with lashings of coriander which can be eaten hot or cold over the next few days.
I haven’t left the cottage , except to walk the dogs and missed Mona from Ochr Y Gop’s funeral which annoyed me greatly.
Too bloody full of myself with London to find out!
Hey ho
No other news to report.
I’ve chased up the heating engineers , the weather has turned colder and this morning I lamented my usual forgetful nature when needing my gloves whilst out.
London II
Slightly hungover this morning.
So after an extra long hot shower, I ambled in the rain and the deserted London streets across Chinatown, down to Piccadilly.
Fortum&Mason’s restaurant 45 Jermyn Street is a very elegant place indeed and Nu was sitting waiting for me when I got there.
It was lovely to catch up in person and I felt very decadent eating kedgeree and sipping very strong coffee in one of the red leather booths.
Following breakfast, I left Nu to go to Pilates and did some book shopping, before hiding in from the rain in a coffee shop before meeting Steve from https://shadowsteve.blogspot.com/
Who was charming and funny and allowed me to monopolise the conversation with typical Southern politeness.
On the way home x
( I treated myself to two F&M scotch eggs for tea………bloody nectar truffle scotch eggs 19£ for four)
London
It’s just past 2 pm and already I feel I’ve done lots.
My favourite sushi place Tobiko on Garrick Street is closed so I’ve ordered take out from sushisamba in Covent Garden and am eating it outside my hotel before going to meet my friend Alex
As it happened my decision to come to London was sort of governed by a vague invite to attend an old friend’s celebratory memorial which took place at noon today in a knackered old church hall in South Camden.
My friend who died back in December was an old medical colleague who got back in touch with me through Facebook three years ago.
He was quite seriously ill, back then and our correspondence through messenger, had become quite regular, at times profound, and sometimes, oh his part, regretful.
I’m not saying anything more about this , except I was glad I attended. The celebrant, galvanised the small and very eclectic “ congregation” quite wonderfully and minutes after 1pm, I was walking past the British Museum
Quick shower then out to the South Bank where the book stalls are all out and busy with browsers
Rita Moreno - Somewhere
I predict Moreno will win the Best Supporting Actress Oscar for the same filmed story 50 years apart.
In Darkness
In darkness you can hide and get lost and be invisible and be intimate.
You can be yourself without the glare of eyes, of judgements, of shame or of ridicule.
You can sit back in a darkened cinema and loose yourself.
You can disappear too and never be seen
Thirty years ago I danced with some friends on the top of a multi-storey hospital at night
A backdrop of lights worthy of Manhattan in South Yorkshire.
I’ve remembered it before.
Without a care,
without self consciousness
Joyous silliness,
dancing shadows against the skyline
Three years ago in choir.
A hard song made easy by sudden darkness.
No awkward glances at each other, no worries about harmonies
Voices that lifted the beams of the village hall
Worthy of anything seen on stage
Forty years of monthly night shifts, all possessing a different pace to days
Some bad, most ok.
Occasional sleepless nights of worry where the dark drags too long and too silently
A few family bedside vigils where silence whines.
Childhood nightmares,
sick in plastic blue buckets.
Holiday views from balcony, windows and warm Spanish beaches.
Shadowing Fruit bats circling the Sydney Opera house like chattering eagles.
Last night a faint misting of rain on West Shore with the roar of an ink sea
Last week drinking coffee in the black of an afternoon cinema was bliss
Last millennium shy sex with the curtains shut
Just a few thoughts last night
Whilst driving to work …..
in the dark
Letters after Your Name
I slept from 9 until 1.
Then a combination of bright sunshine through a chink in the curtains and bulldog restlessness woke me up, forcing me to take the dogs into the garden.
I spoke to Heulwen and Derek , Wendy and Mr B all enjoying the sun in the Lane
I could tell Mr B was reading the words on my T shirt.
It was a Christmas gift from my nephew
Film director Paul Greengrass, Vanessa Redgrave and bloody Tony Blair amongst the recipients.
For those who scoured the list of awardees, you may of overlooked one name Tim Walkden Williams who as it turns out is my brother in law.
He is now an M.B.E !
How good is that ?
Back to bed xx
Happy New Year
I’m not a fan of New Years Eve
This has not always been the case, but since 1989 and the death of a close friend in last throes of the year I have not really had the energy to revisit old festivities.
I think this is a shame , but it’s been done and dusted and out of choice I have always volunteered to work through New Years Eve.
Tonight is no different. I’m working nights tonight and tomorrow.
Perhaps it’s almost time to revisit the evening albeit in a very different form.
And so what do I wish for 2022?
It’s not rocket science but all I want is a happier, less isolated time
That’s not unique to me, so I should really add that I also want a healthier time…2021 has not been too great on that score, and I’m a little tired of negotiating medics through the veil of covid and tiptoeing my way through hospital corridors .
I also want to stop feeling sorry for myself at times
It’s easy to do this when you are single
And I bang on about that too much.
I have to stop associating being single with being lonely.
I am so lucky.
I have friends and family and lots of them.
I just have to take advantage of things and of time more effectively
I guess that’s a resolution of sorts
So in that vein, and covid permitting I’ve decided that I’m going to London on Monday.
I’ve just booked my usual hotel.
My friend Alex is in town and I’ve just had a message from Nu to say she can meet me too
The trains will be a nightmare but fuck it
I’m starting the year as I mean to go on
Be nice to each other, be kind, be well……
….Happy New Year
Sex And The City ( spoilers)
Episode 4 set the girls up with their new friends, oh and with Stanford’s ( clumsy) leaving so I was interested to see where episode 5 was going to go.
Episode 5 was a powerful piece all told…with more depth than many of the fluffy bunnies give it credit for.
The girls’ lunch ( with Anthony acting as Samantha) was really joyous
Carrie has hip problems, a fact that underlines that everyone is getting old and her solid-as-a-rock relationship with a drunk Miranda is put to the test when Miranda has a dalliance with Che( Sara Rameriz)
Charlotte is dealing with her daughter’s gender identification as well as coping with Carrie’s post op peeing, Miranda is suitably sexually confused, while Carrie is high on post on drugs and Anthony steals the show with his impersonation of Baby Jane Hudson
The series is morphing into something more complicated and grounded now. With everyone older and slightly more flawed. The scene with Miranda orgasming with Che while poor Carrie has to pee in a bottle in the next room underlines this beautifully and the subsequent interaction between Miranda and Carrie is incredibly moving
It’s all a bit less frothy at times now but when we get older , don’t we all get less frothy ?
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