No matter how old we are, we all are works in progress.
I’ve been changing the pages in my filofax and I’m very aware of how yin and yang this last year has been.
Covid restrictions being lifted should have meant everything in the garden was rosy but travel chaos, flight cancellations and rail bollocks has put paid to my trips to Rome and Barcelona and London whilst the recession, fuel crisis and financial crash has sobered us all up from our post-covid frivolities
And so, let me get 2022 into some perspective
Let’s look at the positives
I’m on the tentative journey towards a new career.
Not bad at 61 I think.
My family met up for a delightful and oh so necessary reunion in Sitges where we sat together into the small wee hours talking and talking and talking about family shit.
Sadly my nephew divorced but we bonded more over something sad in common.
My love affair with London and with theatre blossomed again, not only, with my touchstone meets with Nu continuing but with catch ups with friends Alex and Jon and Janet of course, and visits to my “ second “ home of the Z hotel, which is tucked carefully behind Covent Garden.
To Kill a Mocking Bird, Cabaret, The Corn Is Green, Six, The Royal Ballet and the dearest of them all Come From Away it’s been a fabulous year for theatre in London and at home.
London eventually meant meeting nephew Leo too whose absence has broken my heart a little more than I ever realised it would .
Zoom meets have dissolved into real meets , Jane in Manchester, Ruth in the wonderfully bizarre and welcoming Findhorn , The Northern Belle with Nu and in Sheffield with Mike and John and Katherine very soon
Dim witted but sweet Roger arrived chasing autumn leaves like a loon and with the thanks of a cheerful and tone deaf builder my new bathroom arrived with a wall mounted heated towel rail to go weak at the knees for . ( I had 232 comments on that blog when I finally unveiled the splendour)
Blogging has provided a mini life line as it has always done and in 2022 I’ve had over 2.5 million hits on Going Gently alone….go figure that one….contrary to some, I must be doing something right.
On a personal note , I will ask for an armistice on troll comments .seriously they do nothing but poison the air that we breathe and after all of the hard few years we’ve had I really don’t need the bother……
Helping with the TCA Trelawnyd Community Association has given me some more direction and purpose and sense of community again and my part time status at work has given me more space for college and home. Both have been incredibly welcome .
It’s all still a work in progress, especially with some health problems lurking in the shadows. Shadows that can’t always be shaken with positivism and humour and which are always sadly there when you live alone.
In the new fanatical crisis we have all found ourselves in, I , like everyone else need to reevaluate things but I’m lucky I have a family that loves me, friends that do the same and I live in a village that cares for me.
Thank you to them and to Trendy Carol and Ewan,…..without them I could never have kept my dogs.
Their support will never be forgotten.
The news that my ex husband is getting married again slapped me across the face much harder than I expected it too but bra straps have to be hoisted and I have to get on with things.
It was one of the last hurdles to face , come to think…
I find life lonely at times and I will not apologise for saying so.
“We feel what we feel “so says Carl Rogers
But like all of us it’s one foot in front of another and don’t beat ourselves up when we get things a little Wrong.
Thank you dear readers , readers who keep coming again for snippets of everyday life of a sentimental gay bloke living in a Welsh Village. Your kindness, occasional sycophancy , good humour , and friendship means a great deal, especially when the shadows gather in an often unkind world
I’m rushing now, I’m covering a late shift at work and it’s already 1 pm
I’m working tomorrow too but have just been invited to the luscious Velvent voiced Linda ( and Nick’s) for drinks later tonight, so that will be a first in decades
I opened it today and hung it under the honeysuckle by the front door this morning.
I feel a bit flat today and after walking the dogs at 8 am I went back to bed in the spare room with Dorothy who licked my feet more out of duty than of want.
Roger had opened his bowels during his mad half hour runaround last night on my double bed
And the duvet cover is now drying on the field gate.
It’s blustery today.
Coldish
I’ve been sat on the sofa for over an hour, trying to get myself going
I had no idea it’s Friday.
I listened to the sporadic chimes, ringing gently through the letterbox and finally collected in the Christmas cards standing on the window ledge
In my friend’s card he had written carefully “Hear the wind and think of me “
Once, many moons ago now, I embarked on a short weekend retreat course in the Lake District.
I remember little about the event save for a few vague memories of group exercises which had more significance then than they could possibly have now, but most had to do with trust issues, self awareness, sharing , personal development and motivation.
One I do remember though and that was an exercise that I think was called Walking The Hedge.
The “ hedge” as it turned out was made up of two lines of the group, an eclectic bunch of individuals made up of psychiatrists, psychotherapists, Occupational therapists, nurses and social workers.
The two lines faced each other and one by one volunteers from the group would be blindfolded and walked slowly down the line. The hedge would gently touch the volunteer ( I’m sure we were told to do so appropriately but with sensitivity) and at any one time the volunteer could be overwhelmed by hands which were described by the French leader as a “ Shower Of Cuddles” “ showerrr of cudd…elles”
I remember feeling dreadfully sceptical and somewhat threatened by the exercise but I participated reminding myself to place my had in non sexually ambiguous places.
It was a strange, incredibly powerful exercise for some
I remember one serious young medic who always seemed isolated from the group suddenly react to the touch “wave” with intense emotion and the more moved he became the more the hands of the hedge seemed to encircle and support him as the French leader slowed the pace of his walk.
It was incredibly moving to watch.
This happened several times with different group members.
And not surprisingly I was not of them, as I had opted out of the Hedge Walk.
Which perhaps says a great deal about me at the time.
On a different level, I remember getting a gift from a patient from intensive care , who I looked after the day we woke her up from an induced coma. I washed her after she was extubated and she confided in me later that it was the first time anyone had physically touched her for 17 years.
The gift, surprisingly was two baby turkeys.
I touch people everyday at work. Even with covid at its highest I would hold hands and mop brows, and put my arm around a relative whose knees had started to buckle in grief.
Now that I’m older, I’ve become a serious hugger
I hugged Gorgeous Dave only yesterday when I bid him goodbye
I think men are much better huggers than they ever used to be.
I wondered about the Hedge Walk and thought, today how wonderful it would be to walk the walk “ again”
I prepared cold Turkey slices and fried eggs for breakfast.
A treat as I listened to Kirsty Young on Desert Island Discs , which, not surprisingly proved to be another treat.
I could listen to her all day long.
I paused her interview to catch up with friends Ruth in Findhorn and Ben in Seoul on zoom and finished it after I came home later, after having a walk with Roger and Gorgeous Dave.
It’s just past 1pm , and already I feel as I’ve done a lot .
I sit at the kitchen table, my back to the window sipping coffee.
All I can hear is the wind, which has picked up from the East.
I have a post covid cough which sometimes feels worse in the middle of the night.
I couldn’t sleep, so I’ve pottered around a quiet cottage.
I showered and tidied up.
I walked sleepy Welsh terriers and drank a smooth cup of coffee at the kitchen table
I cleaned the carpet where Albert christened with pee, a foot from his litter box
And I tried to read my book club book
My cough settled down and I moved to the living room where I sat sipping the cold coffee with the lounge window open.
Listening to the rain.
Dorothy walked heavily from upstairs and stopped halfway to peep through the bannisters at me I told her I was coming back to bed soon and she returned to my bedroom with a snort.
Apart from when I’ve been working I’ve never been up at this time on Christmas Day since I was 10
For the first year ever, I’ve not strung Christmas Cards around the front room. Due to the postal strikes and the cost of stamps I have received noticeably fewer cards than usual .Trendy Carol ( presently sporting a nice anorak with fur trim) noticed and has already commented that she had noticed their absence .
“I always liked seeing them “ she said
No chance of getting any cards now , the strike is on again….no message from the postie on Facebook this week….hummmm
Yesterday I popped my gifts around for the neighbours . Some ham and satsumas for Animal Helper Pat.
A bottle of Châteauneuf du Pape for Sailor John and Mandy and a food hamper for Trendy Carol and her hubby. Mrs Trellis was out when I called around with her gift. I’ll pop it in later today,
Apart from stopping off at Tesco on the way home after nights I have little planned for today.
I’ve got a zoom meeting with friends Ruth in Scotland and Ben in Korea and a few drinks earmarked with villager Della at 2 pm. I’m not a lover a drinking in the day.
It makes me sleep.
Then it’s light the fire, walk the dogs until they flag ( or at least loose some labido ) and mooch in front of Christmas tv with a gin and tonic and my phone and lots of texting
Pretty Bog Standard really.. I guess.
I will leave you with Omaha Cat Lady being……well kind
I watched it again yesterday afternoon with some onion rings and a lascivious bitch under each arm in the hope I would enjoy it
I know I should like it , after all it’s supposed to be one of the biggest screen love stories of the 20th century .
But I just don’t get it.
Rick is too bad tempered. Ilsa flitted from one man to another in a blink of an eye and the film noir stalwarts such as Sidney Greenstreet and Peter Lorrie just got on my tits as did Claude Rains with his jaunty kepis.
I didn’t believe the story and I was bored …..
The love affair between Bergman and Bogart feels wrong to me and as I did in Now Voyager , my affections clearly swing towards Paul Henreid as the quietly spoken Czech resistance leader .
Boy was he a dish, especially when he got the Night Club crowd to belt out the Marseillaise to drown out the nazi singing
I’ve been reading some interesting articles by Imran Ahmed, the CEO of the nongovernmental organisation CCDH ( Centre for Countering Digital Hate) . He discusses people who exhibit the psychological trait of “negative Social Potency” which can be simply described as “ Wanting to upset or hurt” couple this with boredom, a need for attention or personal amusement and you have what my mother would occasionally refer to as a shit stirrer .Professor Mark Griffith from Nottingham Trent University discusses the need to be amplified and adds this concept into the mix.
We all want to be heard but people with Negative social Potency want to upset whist being heard.
It’s a sad way a run a railroad.
And a dysfunctional way of living a life.
I had sausages cooked in the air fryer for brunch today. I made them into hot buttery sandwiches with flat bagels, perfect with a mug of tea. I’m going back to bed shortly as I’m on nights , and I will be taking the girls with me as hormones are raging here still..
I will leave you with a thank you for a pre Christmas gift I received yesterday. A lovely leather bound note book, which is quite beautiful A kindness of which I’m extremely grateful for
I love this video, it’s the Chap’s Choir singing Book Of Love which was produced to support the men’s mental health charity CALM . Campaign Against Living Miserably .
The Community Choir’s Christmas night at the Eagle And Child pub was a rather emotional affair all told. We haven’t had the traditional night out since well before the first lockdown and singing together in public remains a novelty since zoom choir .
We had a rather nice meal and a catch up. Heulwen, Margaret and Dave, from Trelawnyd were there, Hattie turned up from the local nurse picket line and sang and the lovely Lindy swished up like a younger / trendy Margaret Rutherford without her Charlie .( Charlie was her dog who used to join in when we all met up on zoom over lockdown )Gentleman farmer Peter who I sing next to was there too in a fetching Christmas shirt
I promised myself to video the whole performance but I so wanted to sing with them……I didn’t .
I’m so hoping to get back to choir in March .
Conductor Jamie ( Sans his RAF. Moustache ) led the charge in the encore and his new project of Only You really impressed me as it was so difficult .
Every year the garden centre gives every house in the village a gift, a small pot of spring bulbs
It’s a lovely thoughtful gesture and one that surprised me again this afternoon.
Animal Helper Pat , called around with a gift of bara brith wrapped in silver foil and a huge sprig of holly and Sailor John left me a bottle of bubbly and a card .
Tomorrow I’m meeting Chic Eleanor for an early supper in the pub ….lovely
I’d barely been there a month and still lived at the nurses’ home at Clifton Hospital a couple of miles out of the city.
I knew no one properly and I was homesick
And already I had been put onto night duty.
The ward was quiet.
A psychiatric admission ward with ten general admission patients and an attached mother and baby unit with a half complement of two mums and two newborns.
We had three staff of duty. Staff nurses clive and I covered the main ward and Sue who was a motherly enrolled nurse took charge of the nursery.
Around midnight Sue and I were in the darkened office, each of us feeding a baby.
I couldn’t see her face properly just a glint of her glasses from the lights from the snowy garden.
She was asking me about me, and I had been yacking on in the dark for an age.
I had no idea what I was doing but my baby was large and content and sleepy so from the get go..so I was lucky.
“ Are you gay John? “ she seemed to ask me out of nowhere and she nodded when I defensively replied no, just a little too quickly .
“it’s ok if you were you know? ” She said slowly in her broad flat Yorkshire accent “I’ve always loved gay men”
And in the comfortable silence that followed, something quietly and inexplicably shifted in me
Bwthyn y Llan has never been a hot bed of sin to be sure.
Ok, I’ve had my moments, this is true, but Don Juan is not a nickname the neighbours have or will ever give me.
I’ve booked Roger in for his castration in January and after a couple of years of barren wilderness
Dorothy is now suddenly in full season.
Subsequently Roger has become a panting, blob of hairy jelly and Dorothy has suddenly morphed into Rita Hayworth in Gilda.
The air is electric , and filled with eager panting and lots of come hither looks.
It’s like a soft pot video with 12 nipples and fur.
I met my sister in law for lunch today at Bryn Williams and took Roger with me . He sulked like a teen and only perked up when walking back to the cottage to see Dorothy flashing her toilet parts at him through the cat flap with a lascivious look on her face
This morning I took Roger to Porth Eirias where I met my friend Polly for lunch at Bryn Williams
By 3 pm I felt all talked out after at least seven hours solid chatter since Colin arrived yesterday.
I needed the company of friends this weekend
After lunch Roger and I braved the Promenade wind and now, as it’s approaching four , the dogs , Albert and I are heaped untidy bundles on the coach as the fire roars.
We underestimate the therapy which is chatter.
And when I say chatter, I’m talking about that proper two way interaction with friends .
The mixing of ideas, serious one and the frivolous , the sharing of confidences ,silliness and laughter.
The thaw has started and my outside toilet exploded.
I’d missed the fact that the toilet had frozen over totally.
Well as usual I’m gilding the lily a little but the connection into the cistern had completely blown off and the water was spraying up over the ceiling and had flooded the floor and the patio by the time I’d found it.
The stop cock , is located behind the toilet and I’d stored some electric heaters and other crap in the loo so I was soaked to the skin before the deluge was stopped
My screams sent the dogs scurrying upstairs .
How I didn’t electrocute myself God knows
I missed this mornings Christmas Fayre as a result
Sods law.
I’m not too pissed off..
The Fayre was a great success btw, I loved the fact that as part of their remit , the community Association and villager Jo sorted out free food for all from the Olio food waste app.
Apologies for my absence everyone.
Free food for Trelawnyd villagers
I’ve just been stuffing a chicken with sweet onions and garlic
I’m making a comfort meal for my friend Colin tonight,
I’ve made creamed cabbage, pork stuffing with apples and garlic mash potato
I’ve not enough oven space so I’ve bought Yorkshire puds ( I know!!!!)
