Mrs Harris and Other Stories

 

I bought a second hand book online last week and it arrived yesterday. Paul Gallico’s The Snow Goose. The novella was written in the 1940’s and read by me when I was eleven back in 1973. 

It haunted me then, 

The visuals in my head of the snow goose circling the little boat in Dunkirk

I have not read it since although one of Gallico’s later novels The Poseidon Adventure is still one of my most favourite and perplexing reads. 

Gallico’s seems to be haunting me a little for after seeing this trailer I’ve booked to see Mrs Harris Goes To Paris at the Storyhouse 

It’s a gentle movie,I know I’d like 

I didn’t know until recently that Paul Gallico wrote the novel 

Pond

 The velvet voiced Linda and I had our first Pond Open Day meeting last night over one of her lethal gin and bitter lemons . The other members of the TCA have done all of the hard work clearing the land and planting and setting up the decking and the like. 

Our remit is just to sort out the open day which will, I’m hoping include the school children who I suggest will be conscripted into a competition to design a pond logo.

Flintshire council will have a whole plethora of environmental experts we may be able to use on the day and with the promise of free home made cakes and cups of tea, I’m sure we will have an impressive turn out. 

I didn’t stay too late. I’m mindful of not outstaying my welcome as Linda and hubby Nick are such good company so it had just turned properly dark when I left their cosy cottage which overlooks the pond and original village green.

It’s one of my favourite places in the village and one of the oldest. A square boarded on three sides with houses and cottages. The fourth side, the pond and lane leading to the Livery Stables and the ruined Siambr Wen 

Youth club Bridget and her family, Boffin Cameron and his , the Manley’s , Mr Poznań  all live on the quadrangle and each house ,was cheerfully lit up behind Living room curtains and small door windows. 

I walked over to the pond and stood watching the bats flashing in black shadows over the water for a while. 

And I feel grateful I am home

Cack Handed

 Many years ago now, a doctor who was neurologically assessing my patient paused and watched me draw up some medication into a syringe. 

Because I am clumsy I always draw up meds in a certain way which may look conspicuous to those clinical staff that do it day in and day out. 

The way I do it minimises the chance of me dropping the glass vial but does look somewhat ham fisted to others. The doctor asked me if I had a tendency to drop things.

I was intrigued and told him that I often dropped items at work and when cooking 

“ Do you know a millisecond before you drop something that you are going to drop it?” he asked and that was a lightbulb moment. For this strange phenomenon has happened for all of my life.

When I was a child I was called cackhanded

As a teen, I was just gauche and awkward. 

I cannot dance, I am often awkward in my own skin and I fall over when others don’t.

My fine coordination can be lacking and at choir when Jamie feels he wants to push his chorus to some movement to accompany the singing, it is universally amusing that I cannot do both

I am, also well know for food stains down my t shirts

“I think you have a mild form of motor Dyspraxia” the doctor told me and I felt so much better after decades of being called clumsy and by association a bit dim .

I repaired the back door handle today. It was fiddly, especially as  there was a tiny Allen key to negotiate, one   which I must have dropped a hundred times. But after an absolute age I had drilled new holes, matched up the handles with the spindle and got the handle working well.

I’m meeting someone for lunch and have just realised I’m almost late…..

Check my T shirt 

Yeap! 

There’s breakfast egg all down the front of it.

Dreary Day

 

What a difference a day makes.

The weather is miserable, it’s wet and very damp and the dogs are restless.

Dorothy woke me up at 7 am- gently occluding my airway with her throat until I woke up…it works like a dream.

I’ve walked them now twice in the rain, shopped bought a new back door handle ( it broke last night in Trendy Carol’s husband’s hand) and cleaned the cottage . 

By the time I’d bleached the kitchen floor and hung damp washing next to the thermal store it was almost two in the afternoon and I’ve decided to do no more.

Feet are up on the couch 

A Victorian thriller on the tv.

I’ve heard we have a Ukrainian family living in the village . They have children in the school. It would be nice to meet them and say hello. There is a coffee morning on Saturday on in the hall they may well be going to , but I’m working 

The interest rates have gone up today. 

I’ve held off lighting the fire until later

I’ve put a jumper on

Ps in Roger’s Aladdin Crate cave of Stolen goods tonight

Another flip flop, a lurid purple microwaveable bowl ( my soup tea) one dog lead, 

One paperback ( thankfully now chewed) “ Basics of counselling” 

And my best reading glasses with the arms chewed off

The Welsh Orient Express

 Nu and I had a table to ourselves in a coach that looked as though it had been plucked directly from the set of Murder On The Orient Express

It was quite lovely

The train left Chester just after 9 am and we were tucking into a glorious brunch soon after we skirted Oswestry and followed the Welsh border south towards Cardiff. 

The staff couldn’t do enough for us.

A friendly middle aged lady sat opposite us with her elderly parents. They were from Whitstable and it was the parents anniversary . She quipped that she knew that Nu and I were not married and were friends 

“ you never stop talking to each other” she said

It was true , we have talked for twelve hours straight.

The train went through Hereford and entered Cardiff around one and we walked up to Cardiff Castle where our guide showed us through the Victorian house, through rooms King Charles held private meetings in only last week.

The quadrangle at Cardiff Castle

The beautiful roof garden on the top of the Castle’s Tower

We finished at the Castle, had a drink in the sunshine and mooched around the city centre before catching the Northern Belle home.

The five course dinner which was served in the deco dining car was truly lovely and by the time we came to a final halt back in Chester Nu was sipping the last of her port and I had just finished my coffee as the 1930s singer ( complete with spats) sang me happy birthday

I’m so lucky to have Nu

The day was perfect

Northern Belle

 It’s too late to play around with blogger. I have Uni every Tuesday evening until 9 pm and tonight blogger won’t even let me comment at all on my own blog after I eventually sat down fifteen minutes ago.

I eventually gave up the ghost

Tomorrow Im off with Nu on the Northern Belle,

It’s her birthday gift for my 60th…

She’s always come up trumps in my life….always has

What larks Pip

Balancing The Books

 It’s autumn and with yesterday all done and dusted the passing into another season feels so much more poignant. 

I’ve dug out jumpers and made pea and mint soup this morning and walked the dogs at 7.30 am when it felt cold and quiet and darker than I expected. 

And the day has an anticlimactic feel to it, which is exactly what I didn’t want to happen

And so I’ve taken my coffee upstairs and opened the office again.

Roger is happy in the kitchen, where I have hidden tiny bits of dry bagel around his bedding and under the table . He is happily searching for crumbs with satisfied nom noms when one is found.

Mary is asleep on the reading chair.

I am behind on paperwork today. 

Of looking at the bills,

Of checking for the best deals, of balancing the books.

There are other things that need sorting too. 

Online mandatory training for work, the Village Pond open day 

Updating the village website

Organising a meal here for my family ( it’s been over 5 years since I hosted anything) 

A super dinner party for friends, promised and overdue.

My friend Nigel hasn’t visited for a few years too, he needs a date to come over

I haven’t made lists in ages. 

Spare time is wasted on tiktok, YouTube, day dreaming, going out!

I need to make one today.

The filofax is ready.

I feel I need to be worried more about money too

The electricity bills need checking

Bloody hell the website says I’m 700 quid in credit ! 

There’s a turn up for the books! 

Shit, I’ve just remembered Bluebell needs an MOT and service 

Bollocks I need to get dog wormer too! 

11 am and 16 things ticked off so far

Just 15 bigger things to do

Happy Days Again

My nephew went to London yesterday, he’s been a bit low recently 

He went to soak up the emotion and experience of the “Queen’s Weekend”  and also met up with his daughter who lives there .

He sent me this photo last night after meeting up with her and her boyfriend,

They were scootering through central London

I love it so much

Funeral

 

I think broadcaster Huw Edwards explained the pomp and traditions around a State Funeral to me better than anyone else has.

He said a few days ago that a State Funeral is designed to be SEEN .

That resonated with me 

It makes sense.

The lying in state, the Grandchildren’s vigil and the Queue ( which was a phenomenon all of its own)  all had a theatrical, visual and ceremonial power of their own and in the case of the “ the queue” allowed the public to give a nod or a curtsy with their own faces joined in the spotlight.

I’m watching the tv now and will add to today’s blog as the morning progresses. 

Justin Trediau has just arrived who , apart from King Felipe of Spain, must be one of the most attractive world leaders.

The gun carriage has just left WestMinster hall amid a blast of bagpipers 

The hair on my neck , stands up.

142 sailors pulled the gun carriage through the streets from Westminster Hall to the Abbey

I’m glad it’s all over now 

But I’m proud to say , it’s all been done incredibly well, 

I have my highlights……Princess Anne and Sophie, Countess of Wessex have shone out as did the grandchildren’s vigil, not an easy undertaking in anyone’s mind and Charles will be a safe park of hands as king and has already stamped his way forward with his impromptu walkabouts and blustery pen gate.

It’s been a funny old week all told 

Like I said, I’m glad it’s all over

Ps I hope Charles keeps the Queen’s personal bodyguard Major Thomson has proved to be a bit of on line celebrity 

Chewer

Dorothy is just about coping with Roger’s wayward ways 

I went to stock up on “ funeral food” for tomorrow and wish I hadn’t. 

It was worse than bloody Christmas and Tesco’s was packed.

I got my nibbles, bought faggots in gravy for my tea and added pigs ears to my final items.

Roger needs to chew on something.

The new man in my life is a chewer and a hoarder, only this morning I ventured into his crate to find the following items hidden under his bedding

1 hairbrush

1 flip flop

1 small plastic container of olive tapenade

2 pencils

One sock 

I chewed plastic clothes peg

And oddly the red cloth lobster given to me by Mrs Trellis but with its antenna chewed off

 

Rice Balls & Charles

 

Yesterday my nephew Pete rang me up to see if I wanted to go to a local food festival with him .He’s a total outdoorsy speed junkie so this was a change of direction for him so I was delighted to do something different . 

We were accompanied by my elder sister Ann and have just spent an enjoyable hour perusing the stalls and buying up tidbits not usually seen in Welsh high Streets.

I bought a selection of Italian Arancini rice balls and some overly expensive olives and after we had a nice chat and a drink in the gardens of the Glasfryn which is a restaurant overlooking Theatre Clwyd.

Pete showed me a photo on his phone, it was of when my father and mother met King Charles when he was a budding Prince Charles and was taken in the 70s

I hadn’t seen it for years

My mother looks terrified . 

My father just very proud

Queue

 I’ve been toying with the idea of going to London to see the Queen .

But common sense took over.

I couldn’t justify the expense, not with Bluebell’s service coming up 

The phenomenon of “ The Queue” seems to be hotly debated in some areas of the media with reporters accusing people of loving the spectacle  of queue over the prospect of showing respect to the Monarch 

I’m not sure that’s the case, I think throughout all this period the  turning up to watch the proceedings has been the only way that many can feel “ a part “ of things. 

During the processions applause has been the only other way of participation for many 

I get it, totally….

Today I met my friend Polly for lunch at Bryn Williams at Porth Eirias 

The portion size was small but the linguine was tasty enough.

The restaurant is situated in the Sea Activity Centre on the Prom which resembles a soviet bunker from its land side

It was nice to get the wind on my face afterward, and I stood on the Promenade for an age watching the white horses show themselves in the bay

With A Hint Of Orange

I’ve been busy today

Well I say busy…. I’ve been pottering

I’ve just come back after a walk and ate a sandwich on the way home whilst listening to The Archers.

I missed the Linda Snell/ Justin Elliot scene as Dorothy was barking too much.

Today I’ve finished painted my upstairs landing. I didn’t photograph my work because the landing is just too small.

It’s a gentle yellow with a new lampshade to match. 

William’s bum marks have now been painted over on the bedroom door corner where he used to enjoy himself so much

( for those few that don’t know, William was a welsh terrier and not a disgusting ex boyfriend) 

Hey ho.

My friend Neil , rang me to share that Sainsbury’s had orange glasses at a special offer price 

So I popped down and bought the last one. 

My black and white bathroom , has now been filled with accents of orange.

Too much? 

I’m not sure.

As I was painting Roger enjoyed himself in the garden with Albert . They didn’t play as Albert used to do with Winifred .They just watched each other , daring each other to move first. 

After Albert finally tired, I gave Roger a pink lady apple to chew on.
 

I’ve lit the fire again tonight. 

Bright, Bright, Sunshiny day

 

This morning I completed my second speed awareness course. As bad luck would have it I was sat next to a garrulous and rather irritating woman from Llandudno who never stopped spouting rubbish rather than being parked next to a brooding good looking Welsh farmer called Iwan who sat to her left.

“Chalk it up to experience”  he told me in his sing song welsh accent and I nodded gamely, in that way you do when trying to ingratiate yourself. 

The irritating woman monopolised his attention

The Cow ! 

Yesterday, I started my counselling diploma . 

It felt an important day, and was one that gave me a great deal of food for thought.

From yesterday, I now feel as though I have a life plan.

I sort of know where I am going.

Four years ago ( was it four?) I was financially in dire straits. I was retired, facing the prospect of losing my home, was carless, emotionally fucked and didn’t have a plan of what I was doing and where I was going.

Yesterday I saw the forward path for real, and it felt real and right and exciting.

Completing my counselling course will take me to the age of 63. 

If ( sorry when) I qualify I will be then able to take my own clients whether that be in a palliative care setting or privately, and that transition will allow me to retire properly from nursing after forty one years in the profession. 

The counselling course will push me and I need that. It will push me emotionally, professionally and most importantly academically and sitting in the classroom yesterday, looking over Google classroom and feeling slightly overfaced by technology felt all rather exciting.

I have budgeted for the costs and have set aside monies to see me through the training, and my part time status at work will allow me some balance and downtime.

I have a plan 

And it feels the right Plan 

Touch wood.

I’ve just taken the dogs to the beach. When I am driving now, Roger has got into William’s old habit of sniffing and licking my hair as we go. 

It’s a lovely feeling , all told and I am so grateful he has settled in to the cottage dynamic .

So home is sorted, work is going well and the future has a plan .

What was it the Jimmy Cliff song went ?

I can see clearly now ,the rain has gone ……….

Flip Flops

 “ oh Darling John , you are in flip flops!” 

Chic Eleanor was disappointed as she’d planned our early morning walk to be across the fields by the side of the Gop.

I had remembered by posh Northface jacket but had let the side down with my flip flops 

“ Only you” Eleanor tutted 

We walked across the wet fields anyway and typically I fell out of the said flip flops so many times my feet were stained with sheep poo by the time we got back

I didn’t mind too much.

It was refreshing enough

Moving

 This video from tiktok is extremely powerful 

Members of the Scottish public paying their respects to the Queen’s coffin, and bowing their heads without instruction as they pass 

Damp

 

I’ve got some jobs done today. 

This week I have no shifts as I’ve taken some holiday that I was owed….and I want to get those jobs done.

Living in an old building there is always things to do. 

I bought paint for the back of the cottage which is rendered white and I’m planning to paint the upstairs hall into the east wing the same gentle yellow of the living room.

This is a pragmatic decision as I’ve got far too much yellow paint left over from the living room.

Having said this, it’s humid and damp today so it’s not a day for painting.

I replaced the absent kitchen door knob ( it’s been missing over a decade) , and went out blackberry picking to get the air and to feel the fine rain on my face, but there were few fruits to be seen down the lane than I expected, but there are more sloes to be had on the field borders

It was nice to be soaked though, and my feet in my flip flops squeaked happily as I clip clopped home. 

I booked Roger’s first haircut, paid bills and made bean soup, spiced with garlic and chilli. 

And watched the Queen’s Coffin being taken up the Royal Mile in Edinburgh. 

I see the line heckler that shouted that Andrew was a nonce was dragged backwards out of shot like an extra in one of the Alien films. 

Sunday Night

 The fire is lit and the dogs are all resting, Mary with her rubber Chicken by her side. 

I’ve repainted the fireplace wall today , in the same gentle yellow I did two summers ago , and gone have the soot marks which have so irritated me this year.

I have watched the journey of the Queen’s  coffin and loved the fact that a score of  Aberdeenshire farmers saluted the convoy with their tractors as did the horses and riders from a local livery 

It’s cold and wet outside and no bats flew in the lane at our evening walk

How To Be Amazingly Happy

 My friend Dave ( aka Gorgeous Dave) is a typical straight man when it comes to problems. He is not very good at reaching out for a sympathetic ear, preferring to deal with things internally and on his own.

I met up with him last night and he shared a problem

I was glad to be able to listen and wish he had contacted me earlier.

Interestingly we were off to see a one woman review entitled How To Be Amazingly Happy by Victoria Firth which was showing at the Storyhouse 

It was a lumpy show, amusing and insightful at times and a little pretentious in others but Firth was engaging enough with her northern physical humour very much on show and she had a great deal to say about the pressures , we all feel in today’s society, to be happy and contented all of the time.

Firth’s perspective came from the fact she was a lesbian who was childless but I could relate to the way she tried out different “ lifestyles” in order to boost her mood.  Her vignettes on running, not jogging, joining a tap,dance class and baking cakes for the family were amusing enough, but when she started her childless routine things did get a bit bleak and we were glad to make a run for the bar.

We didn’t stay for the Q & A.

On the way home, I decided a bit of fun was the order of the day and we were both cackling like schoolboys before we got onto the A55 for home. My mother blessed me with the ability to tell a good story and I was happy to be able to have Dave’s cheeks aching before he dropped me off in the village

Food For Thought

 Thursday also turned out to be an interesting day. 

The consultant affiliated to our hospice organised a seminar workshop for the staff to explore and discuss the law relating to assisted suicide within the health care setting and had organised for an Australian medic who was a specialist in Voluntary Assisted Dying to lecture us on the subject via zoom

For those that don’t know 

Voluntary assisted dying (VAD) refers to the assistance provided to a person by a health practitioner to end their life. It includes:

• 'self-administration', where the person takes the VAD medication themselves (this is sometimes called physician-assisted suicide or dying), and
• 'practitioner administration', where the person is given the medication by a doctor (or in some Australian States, a nurse practitioner or registered nurse) (this is sometimes called voluntary euthanasia).

‘Voluntary’ indicates that the practice is a voluntary choice of the person, and that they are competent (have capacity) to decide to access VAD.

As you can see the law in Australia seems a million miles away from ours in the Uk, however the criteria for VAD is precise and can only be used with a diagnosis of conditions that are life limiting of only a few months . Conditions such as MND, disabilities or mental health do not fit the criteria. 

It was a fascinating workshop and I felt that the  Australian consultant was rather intrigued that he had been approached by a tiny Welsh Hospice to discuss his role  rather than  by a UK palliative care centre based in say London. 

All of our hospice doctors, a good cross section of the nurses and support workers and a smattering of managers and Board Members turned up and on reflection I still am not sure how I feel about the whole subject. 

Of course the positives seem humane and client focused but when I asked the Australia doctor what situations had “ gone wrong” for want of a better phrase he discussed two cases that were sobering. 

One situation had a patient who had vomited after she had taken the medication and so didn’t die as was expected, while another had another patient taking his medication which was brought into him by a relative whilst he was an inpatient of a general hospital being looked after by nurses who had no clue he was about to take his own life. 

The ethical implications from both situations hung heavy in the air.

Anyhow it’s Saturday today.

It’s early and we have all been out for a walk. Roger is almost fully housetrained now. He walks well on the lead and sits politely in the car, unlike Dorothy who is now always crated in Bluebell and who remains vociferously loud during any journey.

He’s eating better and is less frightened of anything he doesn’t know.

But he is a chewer.

I think we will all go to the beach this afternoon.

I’m meeting up with Gorgeous Dave later and we are going to The Storyhouse to see a one woman show with the title How to be Amazingly Happy