Irritation and Mooching

 

I try not to book anything into my diary on the day following night shift.

I’m not in a place to really be sociable or to be able to concentrate .

It’s a mooch day

A sleep followed by a tidy of the cottage which strangely always looks as though a bombs hit it after three nights on duty.

I walk the dogs, sleep until midday then go to the supermarket for provisions .

I’m here now, nursing a strong coffee in the cafe after following the store detective whilst he was tracking an offender. 

I get a lot of sad vicarious excitement at doing this, as I am in tune with his non verbals and know when he’s sussed a shoplifter. 

Today it was a skinny, well dressed young man trying to slip vodka into a backpack 

Soon, when covid is less of a worry to all I can return to my shopping trolley game 

You know, the one where I sneak arbitrary and very odd items of interest into the shopping trolley of someone I know.

My best “ attack” on record was with Gaynor The Mad Organist , a victim who was unaware that I sneaked two packets of tampons, a large box of Brillo pads, some budgie seed and a large pomegranate into her trolley by the time she got to the check out.

It’s cold and very blustery today. 

My laburnum sapling is holding up in the Churchyard though 

I went to check on her earlier.

The village was quiet and pretty deserted save for the ‘effin man who is banging away fixing the porch roof on the new build behind the cottage. 

He has little regard for bothering his neighbours and the noise woke me early 

I’m tired and somewhat irritated and ignored him when I got up to shop. 

Best to keep my mouth shut especially when I’m tired.

This afternoon and evening will be more mooching. 

Internet, saved documentaries on the iPad to watch, blog reading and and messaging friends 

I’m having Korean curry for supper, a frozen portion found at the back of the freezer washed down with three quarters of a bottle of Chablis, a gift left wrapped in a Jiffy bag , I’m presuming by Trellis on Thursday. 

Well I’m presuming it’s her as she’s the only person who leaves me the odd bottle of something with one large glass taken out from it 

I cant read post nights so will watch tv and some old films and maybe phone a couple of friends

The cold is affecting Albert today. 

He’s limping more than usual. 

I set up the fan heater in my office and put a cushion in front of it. That’s where he lying with his hip facing the warmth.

I don’t feel very interesting today

QUERY (2020)

The Storyhouse has a season of LGBT + themed movie shorts coming soon and I’ve booked to see as many as I can fit in. 

The movie short is a much maligned and overlooked part of movie film making.

I saw this film called Query on a virtual film gay film festival during lockdown and fell in love with it.

It’s a simple tale well worth 8 minutes of your time, and shows just how good a movie a short can be in the right hands.

Group Pressure and Church

There is a pub trip planned for my work colleagues tomorrow. 

Beers and an important rugby game.

I’m glad I’m at work.

The pub trip I can do, but watching competitive games generally don’t  catch my imagination as much as most and the tribal and verbal part of supporting my hometown is somewhat lost on me.

Am I repressed or am I not swayed by the crowd ? 

I suspect it’s a bit of both if the truth were known.

Anyhow, like I said , I’m glad not to be there

I wouldn’t pretend to be interested in who made which try 

And that can dampen the atmosphere sometimes I concede.

And I don’t really drink during the day…an anathema to many sporting fans I know.

I’ve never screamed my head off watching a concert, or laughed hysterically at a comedy gig

Though I have got quite giddy at a great play, or the ballet when the mood has taken me.

I’m not one for pretending to pray in Church either.

During prayers I keep my head up, and listen politely .

I find the pretence of praying much worse than doing nothing.

During my brother’s funeral, the vicar gave me a “ look” when my head didn’t bob with the others

I didn’t look away.

Speaking of Church. 

Yesterday I received word that the Bishop has made the final decision that our Village Church is to close. 

Our request for it to become a pilgrim Church has failed also which surprised me somewhat as I thought we had put up a robust argument for its change of status.

We await official news of what will happen to the building itself and the glebes which border it. 

The fields will be sold I am sure . The building’s future will be difficult to gauge given the fact that it houses a cemetery which is in use by the village population.  

We will wait and see……

Hattie’s painting of St Michaels & All Saints

And Just Like That, The Perfect Ending…….

 Spoilers

Now I have to be honest from the get go

I loved the last episode of And Just Like That……

After just nine episodes ( some of them very clunky) the season finally reverted back to the Sex Of The City of old and got back into its well paced and solid stride.

The finale closed a few doors and opened others

Carrie let go of Big and starts a new career and a kiss with her hunky promoter 

Miranda goes to Los Angeles for a few months to support Chay ( it will end in tears)

And Charlotte remains the frilly back bone of all after a disastrous Bar Mitzvah is made good.

Ok we can all do without the infertile Black Professor storyline but  the unapologetic Seema (Sarita Choudhury) is an energetic addition to the cast even though the men ( Steve and Harry) have been under utilised so far.

Anthony ( Mario Cantone) thank god is still blessed with all of the great one liners ( as well as a rainbow yarmulke ) and I loved Hari Nef ‘s introduction as the wise transgender Rabbi Jen. 

She stole the show for me.

Hari Nef as Rabbi Jen

And so we are set for season 2 …..and I hope there will be a season 2 

And after a clunky start I loved the fact that just after Carrie gently scattered Big’s ashes into the Seine , she arranged to meet with Samantha off screen in Paris for cocktails thus sort of reuniting the friends albeit long distance one last time

Samantha will not be returning we all know that , but with peace made everything can move on nicely

And that’s where the series gives all us 50 somethings hope 

It moves on nicely.

Village News

The day has gone.

And just like that ……

I went to bed for an hour not long after midday and woke at 5 pm.

Everything was dark save for my sister’s fairy lights above the patio which twinkle away quite merrily, the back of the cottage now feels warm and loved.

I’m on nights again 

Until Sunday 

The dogs and I have walked around the village and all is quiet.

The Community Association is organising a post lockdown meal at the Crown in March and I received the email today inviting me to go. 

Dorothy H ‘s old bungalow has sold on London Road.

The huge trees surrounding The Rectory have been pruned by a tree surgeon and their silhouettes are stumpy against the night sky.

Oh and someone out of Trelawnyd placed a rare set of plates with prints of the village houses on them on the village Facebook page for sale which I endeavoured to buy for the Hall to display but they had already sold which was a bummer.

I messaged Affable Despot Jason asking him if he wants to go to the comedy club night at Theatre Clwyd and have arranged to meet up with Chic Eleanor and friends for a dinner party in between shifts.

Albert has had his wormer and will be soon killing baby rabbits to eat from the Churchyard Warren and Dorothy fell asleep, sitting up by my side earlier, happy that her bottom was touching my thigh

The Ballad of Mulan

 

I went to see the one woman show The Ballad Of Mulan at the Storyhouse tonight which I really enjoyed even though there was only 4 other audience members .

The story of Mulan’s ten year service in the Chinese Army , proved to be more harrowing and tense than anything portrayed in the Disney musical and the performance by Michelle Yin was top notch .

With so few people in the audience she kept looking at me during her monologues and I felt the whole production was just for me.

How lovely was that ?

A Mixed Bag

I’ll start off with a video of the Llandudno goats, who, after the recent storms have popped back into town for shelter and a bit of change of scene 

I had a nice nice last night, three mini gins, a packet of hula hoops and the Korean disaster movie Exit 

Bliss

The Korean movie business is indeed BIG business in the Far East and their take on my beloved 1970 disaster movies is an interesting one.

They are big budget, big stars and big effects just like their predecessors were but they have definite cultural differences which, in my mind, make them so very interesting.

Exit is an odd ball

Set largely in a large Korean Hotel we meet a loud extended family celebrating the patriarchs 70 birthday.

Only son Yongnam ( Jo Jung Suk) is a bit of a loser , but just so happens to love mountain climbing . He meets up with his mountain climbing crush Eiu Ju ( I’m Yun Ah) who just so happens to be the deputy manager of the hotel just as a mad terrorist unleashes poison gas in the city .

With his family trapped in the hotel, unable to reach the roof, Yongnam uses his climbing skills to get himself , his family and his potential and resourceful beau to safety .

Think  of a Korean Die Hard, Cliffhanger mixed with Towering Inferno and you will get only a flavour of this sort of comedy drama. Korean movies always seem to have a traditional versus modern divide. They are not adverse to have the hero and heroine cry like babies when the chips are down and most of the characters scream incessantly when under stress.  

I loved it even though it was rubbish.

One thing I love about South Korea is the traditional Hanbok dresses that many of the female characters wear in the movie. The juxtaposition between old and new in the new shiny Korea is a common theme in Korean films 

Anyhow today the village is brighter and Lots of people are about. Groups of men with shotguns unlocked have met West of the village on the grass verges for a shoot. 

I’ve been putting together a plant shelf on the patio. 

I used to pride myself at being able to look after a ventilated patient with 6 infusions and 10 syringe pumps running together without batting an eyelid.

The plant shelf took me 2 hours to construct and I still have pieces left over

“ I am A Pig From Hell”

There is a famous scene in Steel Magnolias where Clariee (Olympia Dukakis) offers up Ouisa ( Shirley McClaine) to be slapped by a grieving M’lynn ( Sally Field). 

It’s an important scene as it not only lightens the mood of a very difficult time in the narrative but it also underlines the importance of humour, when used for good at otherwise dreadful times.

I met a friend for brunch today.

She is literally dizzy with grief, so over coffee and a cooked breakfast she sort of vomited out her thoughts and feelings until she had almost run out of steam , like a clock.

I then felt it time for a bit of frivolity, I’m pretty good at judging when frivolity is appropriate.

I had recently received a message from a mutual friend which mentioned the world CLUNGE I had never heard the word before , even though I could hesitate a guess at its meaning  

I asked my friend what she knew and without thinking and in her best and very loud Miss Jean Brodie voice she picked up her phone, logged into Google and enunciated very clearly 

“ CLUNGE…….C. L. U. N. G. E …….CLUNGE !” 

Now we were sitting in the very busy and very select cafe in Llandudno at the time and my friend’s voice was rather too loud and very quickly the place went almost silent

Apparently  CLUNGE is not a very nice word .

Our subsequent fists-in -mouth muted hysteria was the ideal release my friend needed 

We laughed until we almost cried 

Integrity

An  ex prime minister with integrity 

Gives it to Boris 

 

A Funny Thing Happened…….

 When I was a ward manager I used to keep a notebook in my office. 

In it I used to record stories gathered by staff and indeed patients about embarrassing things that ever happened to them.   

Nurses excel at telling such stories and I had some crackers written down in that book, a book that was lost after several house moves and changes in employment.

One of the best stories was shared by a friend called Ruth who moved from Spinal Injuries into Prison nursing in order to have a break from the stressors of working in the acute sector. This move always baffled me given the environment , so I wasn’t surprised when Ruth returned to nhs work a year or so after leaving. She told me this story of one of her last days at Doncaster Prison.

As a nurse, it was expected for her to be able to frisk a prisoner if she thought the need was there and it a fit of bravado one day, and in front of several prison officers she frisked a prisoner who was acting suspiciously in one of her clinics. 

She located something bulky in one of his trouser pockets and speaking like some sort of extra from Eastenders she demanded to know what the prisoner was secreting.

Finally, after a tense stand off, where she continued to grab at the obvious shank, he answered her demand of knowing what he was hiding and said quietly 

“ It’s my erection” 

I love that story. And subsequently trolled though my , oh-so-many-stories of embarrassing derring do. over  the past half hour 

I found this one from several years ago now from the blog archive

Enjoy

Gravitas

A rough looking type and his missus parked their car behind the cottage in order to check over the plot of land which is up for sale just up the lane
He half blocked old Trevor's driveway and returning home Trevor beeped his horn for the bloke to move.
" You can get a fucking bus through there!" the man snapped angrily and taking an instant dislike to him I stopped the dogs as I passed
" He's an old man and he needs you to move your car!" I said carefully giving the man a very direct look and irritably he did as he was instructed, scowling at me as he did so
Only when I returned home did I realise what I was wearing this my plucked chicken hat…..

“ Who Am I ? Meg Ryan?”

So shrieked Miranda to Che when she made a romantic gesture with a box of cookies in hand in the last episode of And Just Like That! 

She was trying to be something they were not.

If you understand my meaning.

I’m not Meg Ryan . 

And to be brutally honest I’m not Tom Hanks either.

And life isn’t a Rom Com with linear lines of sight towards the final reel.

Life is a bit messy and it shouldn’t be left to serendipity and the action of others.

I’ve booked a short Airbnb holiday, and another film course on zoom. I’ve arranged to join another choir ( the LGBTQ Proud Mary’s in Chester and my Filofax with the birds on it is full of tickets for plays and films and comedy club nights and gigs all planned to be seen between now and the summer. 

I’ve saved and sorted money for the new bathroom and cottage repairs and have let go of the field and I’ve made a score of new firm friends over the past year and even made earthward spoons which look like a caveman has designed them. 

And life is still not a rom com and that’s ok.

The night shift has been long tonight. 

Perhaps too long.

It goes like that sometimes when the patients are settled and medicated appropriately and symptoms of cancer and of illness are soothed and minimised .

Normal sleep is the desired and necessary outcome.

A colleague placed a gift in front of me earlier 

Two expensive scotch eggs, bought with thought and care

And I thought that those Scotch eggs are the real life most of us are lucky to have.

A snippet of affection from someone 

A laugh at a play

Or a gossip with a friend over lunch.

A good film,

So so tickets at the Royal Ballet,

Singing and on line learning and being friends

I’m not Meg Ryan,

but I can be a passable Rosie O’Donnell

This isn’t a moan or a plea for positive affirmations…so,don’t leave any please

It’s just a collection of thoughts and observations 

About stuff……….

'Think of Me'

Maya Angelou once said “ I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you Made them feel”

I like this quote…..and I was reminded of it this week after learning of the death of Barry Cryer.

For those that don’t know Barry Cryer was a comedian, writer, celebrity panelist and performer. 

His career spanned 70 years and almost universally his peers have eulogised the same things about him as a person.

He was warm, and generous and funny and he made them feel good.

I saw Cryer perform live twice . Both times in the famous Radio 4 I’m sorry I Haven’t A Clue.

The first time was in Sheffield in the early 1990s. The second in Llandudno a couple of years ago.

Both times I was struck with just how joyous and generous and warm he was. 

Warm people are so attractive, they suck you towards them like lights do to moths and they seem to warm the soul somehow

Cryer seemed such a man

It would be nice to be remembered like Cryer has been remembered , just over this short few days since his death 

……..fondly.

  

Airbnb

 

I have a week off in March and have just explored the possibility of taking the girls with me on a mini break.

Ive decided to return to Sheffield again, but instead of a city centre hotel I’ve trolled the accommodation available over a few days midweek and have booked a small cottage not far from my old house in Hillsborough.

Taking the girls with me takes away the need to rush home after seeing friends in the city. It also opens up different activities, such as a walk in the peaks and that return trip to Chatsworth House which was so sadly cancelled just before Christmas. 

No rushing home means more old mates can be caught up with .

I’ve not used Airbnb before and on the surface it looks excellent value for money as long as you are careful and spend your time homing your searches…..

I almost booked one place which looked quaint only to read in the reviews that a whole forest of pubic hairs had been found in the bedding ……

And Just Like That Episode 9

The 9th of the 10 episodes of And Just Like That was a cracker, and a cracker for one vignette featuring Charlotte’s dinner party with Anthony and his new boyfriend 

Just as the guests arrived Charlotte had to run off and teach daughter Lily how to insert a tampon and the new boyfriend , realising he was in a Jewish household proclaimed loudly that the Holocaust was a falsehood. Anthony’s subsequent shriek of “ Get Out “ had me crying with laughter.

I have to say that Carrie’s new beau has lovely hair btw and the trajectory that the series has now taken is quite wonderfully fresh turn.

I told my friends Mike and Jane all this on zoom this evening , but it was somewhat lost as they don’t watch the new series xx

 

Men Friends

Yesterday my friend Colin collected me from the cottage and we went to lunch 

We had a lovely long chat over celeriac soup which was drizzled over goats cheese and walnuts and put the world to rights over steak pie and poached haddock and poached egg

Now in my late fifties I’ve cultivated more male friends than I ever used to possess.

And more male  gay friends which may be a surprising fact for some. 

For years my only gay friend was Nigel, who is still my go to when I want an objective, occasionally waspish and totally honest opinion about something. 

Now I am single, I have a few more.

Chaps that understand more of the nuances of the gay world later in life.

My straight male friends have increased in number too, a fact I love too. 

Over the past decade sexuality seems to mean less in male friendships than it ever used to be

I applaud  that fact so very much.

I’m planning a visit to Sheffield soon and one completely necessary friend catch up will be with Mike, a friend of thirty three years.

Now Mike is a true Yorkshireman 

He’s a Straighter than straight, blokey, butch, football fan Yorkshireman .

and sounds like an extra from the film Kes

And in the 1990s I came out to him while we were drinking pints at the Dog And Partridge on Trippit Lane . 

When I nervously told him I was gay , he took a measured sip of his bitter

smiled lugubriously and said carefully

“Does this mean that I have to go to gay bars occasionally ?” 

“Only occasionally “ I told him 

He nodded and replied quietly  “ I can do that” 

Grace Davies - roots

I heard this for the first time today as I walking the dogs at dusk and it caught me by surprise 

Enjoy 

Am I Too Old For Snoopy?

 On my days off Dorothy gets me up around 8 am for a wee.

We then race each other back to bed for a lie in, where I know she will eventually wake me again around 10 30 or earlier depending on her pent up excitement pre proper walk.

This morning the Church bell woke us both.

At first I thought that there must be a funeral being called in but being Wednesday morning I then realised that is was a Church service in progress.

Someone inexperienced was pulling the bell, the bell that was rejuvenated by the Community Association and last rung by Hattie and myself during the clap for carers evenings….

Anyhow the bell rang around a dozen times setting off the lonely hound that lives in a kennel on London Road.

He howled like a banshee for ages 

I walked the dogs and was stood drinking a bucket of coffee on the patio when Church service was over 

And Mrs Trellis appeared sans bobble hat. 

She wore her best church coat.

The red one.

She looked at my T shirt and told me I looked cold and when I moved my arms added brightly 

“ Aren’t you a little old for snoopy?”

I suddenly had a Carrie Bradshaw moment when I looked down an realised I was wearing my snoopy T shirt.

“ I don’t know , am I too old to wear snoopy? I asked and she thought for a moment 

“A little” she replied seriously .

I’ve kept the T shirt on.

I know, I’m a real rebel bitch

I’m meeting my friend Colin for lunch at Porth Eirias too

But I may wear a jacket 

Over snoopy of course.

Belfast

 

“Autobiographical” movies of childhoods seen through the eyes of a child are fairly common in film history .I Remember Mama, Kes, Little Women, The Yearling ……The list is a long one and so I was interested just how Kenneth Branagh would share his Protestant childhood in a divided 1969 Belfast.

Like all childhood memories Belfast is an seemingly endless series of vignettes. A scene dominated by a remembered and much loved one liner, or a fleeting memory of childhood humour such as a drunk auntie singing Danny Boy. Cinematic moments such as a much loved trip to the theatre with his granny ( a nicely underplaying Judi Dench) or a hospital trip to see his dying grandfather (a twinkling eyed Ciarán Hinds) have all been added to by the luvvie that is Kenneth Branagh , so the narrative is just a little drawn out and is overly sentimental, a detail you can forgive somewhat as it obviously a story of a boy loved so completely it almost hurt. 

Catriona Balfe ..many of the shots of the film were taken through open windows, an obvious childhood memory 

Jude Hill plays the eight year old Branagh with wide eyed appeal. Jamie Dornan is suitably buff as his heroic father but the main acting honours go to Catriona Balfe as Branagh’s young and long suffering mother who tries to keep the household going throughout everything.

Kenneth Branagh is just a year and a half older than me, so his childhood memories , even though they were experienced during the troubles had a certain resonance with me. 

His relationship with his grandparents, his love of cinema, his sense of feeling loved, his memories of humorous  events could have been directly snipped from my childhood and those parts of the movie I loved.

But for me, the whole thing was a little overly sentimental, and a tad overlong

Cold

 

It’s cold this morning, very cold.

Overnight even Albert tiptoed on my bed in order to secrete himself next to a warm Mary, a move the elicited a jealous growl from Dorothy which was loud enough to wake me up.

A sharp tap on the Bonce was all that she needed to be silenced and peace was restored.

All three were still in bed when I woke, cuddled up in a knot of paws and legs and tails.

And all three didn’t want to move when I called them 

I needed to get up earlier today, as it’s Bluebell’s service.

I’m just grabbing a quick coffee now , in order to think about my day. 

Apart from Bluebell I’ve nothing sorted until 5 pm when I’m meeting a friend to see Belfast.

Im not a huge fan of Ken Branagh ever since he did the dirty on Emma Thompson ( who is a goddess in my eyes ) 

I still love her feisty Beatrice in Much Ado About Nothing who replies to Don Pedro’s comment that she has a merry heart

“ Yea, my lord, I thank it, poor fool as it keeps on the windy side of care “

A great line in a so so film

I caught up with Nu on the phone and laughed a lot 

Anyhow the field gate is open. I wonder if there is a funeral today. It’s not mine anymore so I’m not privy with such news.

It’s a cold day to be standing in the graveyard

Jug

 I’ve now got four days off before nights

I’ve booked Bluebell in for a service and tyre sort out 

Cinema with one friend 

Lunch with another 

Bought this jug on a whim 

I’m feeling a bit down despite my friends