Goodbye Jennifer

 

Jennifer Aldridge died rather fittingly with a glass of Prosecco in her hand and her sister, Lilian by her side, but all rather strangely this happened off screen as her son Adam burnt the carrots for a family dinner, and husband Brian shared a cheese cracker with Justin Elliot .

I was so surprised I had to stop the car on the Promenade in order to listen 

Angela Piper has played Jennifer since 1963

A year after I was born

Jennifer always reminded me of my sister Ann in a way. 

A fierce mother, a community stalwart, popular , and funny 

She visited me today with lilies and iris for the village pond 

And left on the patio table was homemade marmalade , cheese and chutney 

It’s nice to be looked after 

Web Page

 

I’ve not had much free time over the weekend but I’ve knuckled down and made more than a start on the Community Association web page, which I’m pleased about.

https://trelawnydcommunityassociation.blogspot.com/

That’s one less thing to get done. I have yet to expand the page suggesting the hall is an ideal venture for a “ do it yourself “ wedding. We’ve had a few of those over the years and they have proved to be quite delightful.

There is nothing I want to see at the cinema this week. 

Spielberg’s homage to cinema and his family is on next week but this week’s offering of Babylon has left me somewhat cold.

My book club book arrived Three Hours By Rosamund Lupton 

I will give that a go

“Maoz Tzur” sung by cantors from across Canada.

I loved this

Tired

Off to bed

Mindful

I’m sat at the kitchen table.

It’s cold and I have my bobble hat on.

I’m singing gently to this song from the musical waitress which is on the radio

And I’m sewing by the lane window which has the best light

Sewing the rip in the arse of my work pants.

The rip that started a great deal of night shift hysteria last weekend.

I’m back on nights tonight and it took ages to find my sewing box.

The hardly used one with the chickens on the lid….

Filled with the flotsam of forty years…..

The dogs are watching me carefully.

Confused by the singing

“she is messy but she’s kind…….”

A Memory

“ John can you sort out the visitors for your patient ? we have more requesting to come in”

So asked one of the support workers on Intensive Care when I was at my busiest time.

My patient was dying and we as a team were withdrawing treatment from him which meant that extra ventilatory support and meds keeping his blood pressure elevated would be discontinued after a long discussion with family. 

The patient’s family was with him but as the patient was a popular man, extended family and friends kept turning up at the door. At these times the next of kin would organise which people would be able to visit and who wouldn’t and it was my job to sensitively put those wishes into practice.

I entered our small sitting area outside the ICU and fielded requests to come in.

I had almost finished when a man in his sixties approached and said he was an old friend of my patient.

He had been told earlier of the present dire situation the patient was in and was clutching a small sunflower in both hands. He had been crying.

I know visiting is only for family” he said quietly “ But could you give him this ?”  

He gave me the sunflower

I said I would even though it was against policy to accept flowers and as the man nodded a tearful thank you he almost stumbled through the automatic door back into the hospital corridor.

Something made me follow him and as he caught his breath. I asked him if he was alright 

He pointed back to intensive care

“ He was my sunshine” the visitor said crying and he reached out to hold my hand for a moment

“He was always my sunshine” 

His words and his grief has always stuck with me even until now, some fifteen years later

And I was glad to have been able to place the sunflower next to that patient 

As I had been requested to

Book Club

 

Our Book club is a new one, a spin off of an original 2005 club who has been going strong .

I was first into the meeting room, closely followed by a friendly forty something South African Asian chap called Faisal who I liked immediately because he shook my hand, had a big smile and the fact that his dog had ripped apart his book of the month. I showed him my phone case which Roger has chewed only five hours previously, and he nodded knowingly.

I think we are going to be firm friends 

The rest of the group by chance had all met in the foyer with Alison ,our bubbly facilitator and found their seats some ten minutes later.

The demographic was much younger and varied than I expected . Out of twenty of us , two thirds were in their twenties and half of those described themselves with the pronoun of “ they” . Apart from Alison there were just three older group members, including myself and so the energy in the room was different than I expected. 

One young person dominated the conversation, but I enjoyed listening to the discussions, having not fully read the book of choice. 

I’ll go again.

LGbTQ+ Dumplings

 

I’m going to an LGBTQ+ Bookclub later. I will blog about it when I get home.

The cockerel died this morning as I predicted. 

I’ve read my book and drank tea and made chicken dumplings steamed in miso

Ordinary is Good

 I had a simple and ordinary night tonight.

Supper with  Gorgeous Dave and his seven year old daughter 

Paella with long discussions of not hiding your prawns under the rice and no pudding until you finish

Some showing off in front of the guest 

I made some brownie points bringing a girl’s magazine 

Nothing too heavy 

I sort of played a benign uncle and sat there and listened

It was Lovely

Family

 

I’m sat in the living room alone.

The dogs ( well mainly Mary ) have been reprimanded severely after a surprise attack on the bantam cockerel who was trying to fill up on cat food and bread which I’d put out for him in the snow. 

Instinct took over and Mary was up the garden dragging the poor bird which was screaming at the top of its lungs, as the others piled in to help. Luckily I managed to separate bird from bitch amid a cloud of feathers, but the damage may have been done.

Chickens , especially lone ones often do badly after an attack. 

I left him the remains of the cat food and then made coffee silently in the kitchen. 

Dogs know when you are angry at them and hate being ignored. Non of them could look at me when I came into the living room 

Best to let them stew for a while. 

I’ve been studying the relationships between the Greek Royal family and the other European royals and have found it fascinating. The scenes where Crown Prince Pavlos and his mother Queen Anne-Marie of Greece thanked the crowds for their spontaneous cheers of support for the late King Constantine II were incredibly moving and I’ve enjoyed the subsequent who came from where? puzzle which has various country Royals related to another and all meeting up at what is essentially an extended family funeral.

I’m not doing much today . There is more snow forecasted , and so I will do some laundry, make a rich bolognese sauce and will start bringing together a new webpage for the Trelawnyd Community Association.

Ive just collected handfuls of chicken feathers from the back garden too 

A miserable looking bantam sheltering in the front garden 

Snow

 

I was snowed in again this morning

This happens because of the topography of the lane rather than the amount of snow falling. 

From my cottage the lane snakes upward into the village at quite an angle .

When snow falls and gets iced, the cars just cannot get past the church. 

My sister and brother in law dressed in matching emergency yellow and black ski tops came to the rescue with a food pack and Sailor John from next door dropped off some logs .

Mrs Trellis tied a plastic carrier bag on the gate with two Mars bars inside wrapped in Christmas napkins 

Ive been looked after.

Which is very nice.

Indeed

Tonight as usual I’m crammed on the trendy blue couch 

Roger is snoring gently on my shoulder,Mary & Dorothy and Albert scattered liked curled fur cushions crammed in the gaps .

Albert’s broken leg stuck up in the air 

I’ve been rather moved by coverage of the funeral of King Constantine of Greece 

And the fire is roaring 

I may be single , but I don’t feel alone tonight

Beautiful Morning

 

This more biblical photo was taken over the village at the same time by villager Jo

Empire Of Light

 

Cinema that acts as a panacea to all of the ills in life is a common theme in movie history. 

Cinema Paradiso, Amelie, The Last Picture Show and more recently The Fabelmans all feature characters that are “saved” by the fantasy of film. Indeed it is a common theme that runs through Going Gently where a sometimes sad, middle aged gay pongo retreats to the warm land safe place of his childhood when disasters were all overcome by handsome men in dinner jackets  and spunky ladies in their best frocks.

Empire of Light is Sam Mendes’ homage to the cinematic wonder of his youth. Set in 1980, we enter the world of the Empire cinema on the South East Coast . Although streamlined from its original four screens this beautiful and slightly down heeled  Art Deco building is hanging on in a “ modern “ world and ran by a ragtag group of staff. Headed by a sleazy Manager Mr Ellis ( Colin Firth). We meet the mousy and lonely deputy Hilary ( Olivia Colman),wise cracking and gentle doorman Neil ( Tom Brooke) and grumpy geek projectionist Norman ( an underused Toby Jones). When a twenty something black undergraduate Stephen ( a lovely performance by Michael Ward) joins the staff. The lonely Hilary and he embarks on a friendship and then an affair which is complicated by his youth, her hidden mental illness and the racist overtones of that pivotal time.

Empire of Light is a coming of age movie with twists. Colman is wonderful as always, whether it is in the bravura and very funny scenes where her mental illness finally is unleashed on a pompous charity showing of Chariots Of Fire or in the quiet and painful moments when she is silenced and slightly vacant by her lithium medications and sat on the Promenade in Broadstairs. 

Michael Ward has a gentleness and more importantly an openness of a young man who is just dipping his toe into life and who wants to do so righteously.and Tom Brooke in a brief role is very sympathetic as Hilary’s caring and insightful co worker.

Filmed predominantly and with feeling by Roger Deakins  in Margate’s Dreamland and Broadstairs ( both towns I know well) Empire Of Light has a particular charm and a nice sense of time and place. 

I enjoyed it, even if it was a tad too long and the one scene where Stephen’s Mother ( A dignified Tanya Moodie )reminded him to be “Kind” with Hillary and her illness had me weeping into my sleeve.

Lovely

Nothing Changes

 The Last of Us starts tonight on sky Atlantic 

A tv series based on a video game is about the zombie apocalypse…quelle surprise!

Nothing much changes.

I shall be watching.

I see Carrie Bradshaw is dating good old Aiden In Sex and City’s And Just Like That…. Prince Harry is still banging on in Spare about how bad his lot is..

I’m still reading it , and am now rather bored…can’t you tell?

Days off now. A cinema trip to see Empire Of Light , college, The Lesbian and Gay book club, supper at Gorgeous Dave’s. It’s a full week, before night shift again on Saturday

Nothing much changes. 

I made a chick pea and coconut curry yesterday from scratch, it was nice.

I had extra door keys cut for Trendy Carol and I sent the Beatrix Potter book to my great nephew.

The weather is cold and damp

And I long for some sun

A Walk Around The Village

I checked my landline answerphone yesterday . 

Eight messages since New Year’s Eve 

I never use the phone now except when I call Nigel . 

His home phone blocks incoming mobile calls

Four silent entries, 2 spam, and one from covid help line about my fourth jab.

The final message was a passive aggressive message from Mrs Davies in the village asking if I was alive or not . She said she had not seen me in months and wished me happy new year. 

She’s lonely and had probably fallen out with her son again , so I harnessed Mary and called round to say hello.

Luckily she was out , so I left a note saying hello and apologising for my absence stating I will work full time ( with college) 

I doubt I’ll be forgiven

It was cold and blustery, but the weather did us both good and we had a proper mooch around the village, something I haven’t done in a good while, not with Dorothy hating a walk near the main road. We walked around Bron Haul and I waved at Marion who still delights to share how her gay grandson is doing. No one else was about until we got to High Street where I spied Jo with her three whippets disappearing into her driveway. One of her dogs only has three legs but I never can tell when they are all together. 

We could go up High Street towards the “ posh Houses” on the side of the Gop but as it has started to rain Mary led me into Maes Offa , and down into Byron Street where I spied Mrs Trellis busy polishing her windows from the inside. The lights were on at affable Jason’s neat little  house too, but I couldn’t see anyone to wave at through the small symmetrical windows.

We walked past the dark lMemorial Hall as it rained harder and Mary stopped briefly to give me a look. 

We then crossed the road into Well Street which looked deserted. 

The cheerful Manleys, Velvet voiced Linda with Nick, Bridget and Boffin Cameron all live nearby but again we saw now one when we gave the Pond a once over. 

It looks splendid with its new little jetty and sympathetic planting even in the bad weather.

Mary had a wee next to the well, which reminded me that we need to look at an official opening day

I have so much to do 

Why don’t I ever feel as though I’ve got enough time?

Answers on a postcard please?

We walked back towards home, and Mary quickened her pace, half closing her eyes in the rain

Wendy from Rhoda Arthur waved from her car as did Della driving back from Pen y Cefn Isa 

We stopped briefly to shelter under the Church Lytchgate. 

It looks bare as the massive wrought iron gates still have not been returned from being repaired

I reminded myself to ask about them when I saw Islwyn next. 

Before we left for the cottage and the fire 

I checked on my laburnum , now stripped of its leaves but remaining healthy and strong.

The rain lashed down from the West just after we got home so hard that I had to put a sock in the letterbox to stop the draught bursting into the living room.

Saturday Morning

 Slightly less blustery today. For days you could see the white waves whipping the sea from five miles inland and Trelawnyd seemed to have hunkered down against the Gop as one dark day merged into another.

I’ve started Prince Harry’s “ Spare” and minutes into it, you know you are are listening to a damaged soul, so much so that I’ve stopped reading it today. I will catch up with it in a day or so . 

So it’s a non Saturday. Work later. Sleep in the afternoon.

I’ve put on Classic Fm , but only very quietly. 

I can still hear the wind in the graveyard trees and the tick of the kitchen clock.

I had a Chinese life reading the other day 

Thanks to my Friends in Korea.

 

Apparently my power is at its highest this year and 2023 will be a significant year all told. I have two fires which is rare and have high pride, a big gentle heart and I have a sublime white horse in my heart which means I long for an ideal work no one else will see.

I like dopamine fixes of sex and alcohol and I have a good voice with excellent expression and although I’m good at singing I have weak lungs …..( which it oddly true) 

I have a pure heart and am attracted to people who will look after me

“the clear water cannot sustain fish” means I am straight talking and popular but people may be jealous of me and will scratch my personality …go figure…..there were pages of reflections and thoughts all pretty accurate I must say 

It also underlined the need for routine, which I get…….totally

It was incredibly interesting and indeed hopeful …2023 may feel more positive 

I will leave you with two videos both fascinating  and both incredibly moving in different ways

Dim,Dim, Sweet but Dim

 I think it’s time for a Roger update, given the fact he’s now been with me six months now.

He is 18 months old and not a puppy anymore.

I snort….yeah right! 

There is no hiding the fact that Roger remains dim. Even with the girls providing the ideal role model, he still has not mastered the art of jumping into Bluebell for his morning walk and stands clumsily on the sill waiting to be helped.

Getting out of the car is easier, as all you have to do is pull his lead and hope for the best, but even then, that is a bit of lottery of how he in fact lands. He’s no cat after all.

The cottage stairs he has mastered, and to be fair he makes a rather good job of them once he gets his legs going. 

It’s a bit of a “hurl himself hopefully at them” sort of thing but it works…..eventually.

Like William before him , he is a gentle dog. I’ve not seen him chase bees but he’s a big leaf kicker and skips in this autumn like a little boy does in short wellingtons.

Uncoordinated but delightfully gauche.

Since everyone’s hormones have settled, his resting relationship with Dorothy is somewhat non plussed .

He and Mary will play together and Albert is gently tortured until his temper snaps and claws are shown, but for a lot of the time Roger is on guard. 

He patrols the house and the garden with rigorous efficiency being careful to bark his gentle bark at anything new. 

He is friendly with other dogs but is too quick to say hello and has yet to learn manners with a more dominant male. He smiles with his eyes and trusts everyone he meets and in the evenings will curl up on the back of the sofa next to Albert and place his head gently onto my shoulder

In short, he is a delightful dog

Sleeping on my shoulder

"Standing at the Sky's Edge" Crucible Theatre set

This short drone movie , moved me so very much tonight. 

It was sent to me by a dear friend who I worked with on Spinal Injuries with the note 

“ this will make you cry” 

And it did

And it sort of captured the pride I have for a city I no longer live in , but which I adore so very much.

I had a lovely time touching base with old friends yesterday and this afternoon. 

Tea and cake in Kathryn’s cosy front room with Vince just as sweet as sitting smiling at John H holding court with me and Mike in All Bar One and Jane running through the sodden Sheffield streets with our umbrella giving up the ghost.

Standing At The Sky’s Edge

 

I’m in Mark’s having a coffee. 

Just enough time for a sausage ciabatta and a blog before I meet the others.

Standing At The Sky Edge is a lovely Sheffield own musical. cleverly staged and impeccably acted it explores three generations in the history of one of the Hyde Park Flats In Sheffield. A listed building built in the 1950s  as a “streets in the sky” panacea to slum clearance . 

And so we meet 1960s young couple Harry & Rose . She a loyal housewife , he an idealist foreman in the steel industry, they move and laugh and love in their flat in the sky alongside an 1980s Liberian immigrant family and 2017 Poppy an unhappy lesbian from London in search of a new life in the recently upgraded and trendy housing complex. The three stories unwind on stage together and it takes some very clever choreography to keep the action going and storylines precise and clear but Richard Hawley and Chris Ode for the most part carry the whole thing off admirably .

Of course the in jokes were lapped up by the packed Sheffield audience 

A character brings a bottle of Henderson’s relish as a housewarming gift, the spicy contents loved by the Liberian family who think all English food is not seasoned enough whilst another character slags off Leeds to cheers from the audience, all jokes being lost if the production shifts to London.

I did enjoy it, and was incredibly moved at some of the visuals and memories it evoked. The story of regeneration, hope and positivism balancing the real backstories of urban decay , poverty  and misguided  local government decisions . 

The ensemble cast were wonderful

They even managed to bring in the prop of the I love You Sky Bridge which didn’t leave a dry eye in the house when it appeared 

https://disasterfilm.blogspot.com/2011/08/i-love-you-bridge.html

Sheffield

 I’m leaving for Sheffield. I’ve walked the dogs and fed them and Trendy Carol’s hubby will be collecting them soon.

I’ve eaten a shop bought sandwich with my bucket of coffee because I hadn’t shopped and have just booked my hotel in a slighter rougher part of the city.

I’m travelling by train and should be ‘ome around 3pm.

This afternoon , I will meet my friend John who is dealing with an illness with all of the arch of Barbara Stanwick at her very best and Mike who deals with everything with a laid back attitude typical of a Yorkshireman who is seldom bothered about “ owt”

Tonight it’s theatre at the Crucible with Jane  and tomorrow after a lie in Vince will pick me up and we will drive to see Kathryn for lunch in Derbyshire . I’ve known both since my student nurse days.

Hey ho

After all the shenanigans with the trains I was just about to give Aviva Trains a bashing , but a new 22 century train arrived on time and looked sleek and clean and fit for purpose.

Bit Between Our Teeth

 

The Trelawnyd Community Association of which I am now a trustee has recently taken over responsibility for our village hall, which is at risk of closing

The Memorial Hall is an impressively large building for such a small village and was commissioned at the turn of the century by the deliciously handsome Michael Antonio Ralli. 

Ralli, a Russian from Odessa who was the Greek Consul in Liverpool, strangely made his home in Trelawnyd with his wife Mia and knowing that many of the local men were in need of work , he commissioned a large hall, so that more men would be employed. 

Ralli

With fuel prices high, the Hall being a listed building and overheads as they are, the association has volunteered to take on a rather big job, but with a new committee of volunteers, we will hit the road running so to speak 

One of the first events was my idea, a large noisy, good natured, alcohol fuelled Village Céilidh, a celebration of a new hall management team and a new era