Catch Up

 

As a student nurse , I knew this view very well. 

It’s the view of the west side of Sheffield from the multi story Royal Hallamshire Hospital and I love this photo in particular as in the recent snow storms a few schoolboys had written this greeting to all of the patients whose wards look out over the city.

How sweet is that?

Thank you for all your best wishes for Albert, who is brighter today , although certainly not out of the woods health wise .

In the middle of the night, tired of the cramped conditions , I retired to my own bed followed by Mary and Dorothy. Roger remained on guard and was fast asleep on the floor when I got up at 8 am for their walk. 

Albert stirred from under the bed when I moved it aside and looked at me angrily

He hissed when I tried to examine him 

He doesn’t look well and has lost weight but, still there he was, so I left him be and took the dogs out.

He was sat on my bed when I returned. 

I crushed some cat food in my fingers and put it in front of him.

And he ate it. 

But not all. 

I’ve left him with towels on the floorboards and the fan heater on.

I have a plan.

I will take him to the vets tomorrow if he gets worse or remains off his food. But I’m not wanting heroics. 

He’s a cat who hates being touched, abhors strangers and loathes vets and the thoughts of investigations and blood tests and let’s see what we can do ? is not kind for the type of cat he is. 

I’m in two minds  to take him up to the surgery but its 17 miles away and well out of the vets visiting district.

But we wait and see.

Albert

Thank you all for your comments and concern

It was Roger who found Albert under the bed, in the a spare room as soon as I brought him and the girls back from Trendy Carol’s.  Albert had curled himself  up inside a firm Sainsbury’s carrier bag and looked poorly. 

I can’t believe I missed him

Roger ran up and down the stairs five or six times before I realised he’d found him. 

By the look of him, I think Albert has had a cerebral event , probably a stroke.

But he looks comfortable and is not distressed 

I’ve given him some painkillers and water via a syringe and all of the dogs and I are lying on the bed with Albert quiet underneath us.

I’ll see what the night brings

Animals….they break your friggin heart don’t they?

Albert’s Gone

 He was it of sorts yesterday afternoon and took himself upstairs to lie on my bed with a swishing of his tail. He ate only one small meal first thing and his gait was hesitant when he went to sit in the window seat as I made the bed.

His head was hunched and his tail remained thrashing.

He then pawed the soft cushion underneath him like a kitten pawing for milk.

This was not like him.

When I came up to bed last night, he wasn’t there , nor was he in the spare room .

I searched the cottage and I couldn’t find him.

The churned up snow on the patio had already frozen so there were no paw prints to see and there is no sign of him this morning. 

He’s not at the neighbours, the garden or the sheds and I’m somewhat worried given his hatred of the cold and snow.

He’s an old boy with only a broken leg in his long life that ever needed treatment and he hates the vets so much.

I’m working the late shift today 

Snowed In

Snow bored already

It was supposed to have cleared overnight but this morning it was over a foot deep in places.

Roger and Dorothy played in the snow until Dorothy’s nipples went blue 

Mary like the sensible matriarch she has retired to bed for the duration .

Albert  just pissed on the bathroom floor. 

Just checked on provisions …fully stocked with dog and cat food, half a loaf of bread, three eggs, one haggis and two cans of gin 

I’m fine

Bloody Hell

I managed to get Bluebell up as far as the Church gates this morning , thanks to Peter Morgan who lives further down Cwm Road.

The snow is heavy and unexpected 
 

Joyland

 

I know nothing about the Pakistani film industry, absolutely nothing at all, so I was interested to see Siam Sadiq’s gentle and dignified exploration of a family whose lives don’t quite measure up to the ones they wanted for themselves

Wheelchair patriarch Abba ( Palman Peerzada) shares his ramshackle crowded Lahore flat with his two married sons. The elder son ( Sohail Someer) has four daughters and the household is run by his wife (Salwat Gilani) and the gentle younger unemployed brother Haider ( Ali Junejo) whose wife Mumtaz ( Rasti Farooq) has a successful job as a makeup artist. 

This complicated family dynamic is put under strain when Haider eventually finds an unlikely job as a backing dancer to a transgender singer Biba ( Alina Khan) and as the pair embark on an affair each member of Hadier’s family have to reevaluate their lot as life for each one changes from the path of their expectations .

This is a sad, gentle film where tradition and honour are awkward bedfellows with modernity, personal autonomy and fluid sexuality.

It’s beautiful film to look at too, with most of the filmed shot in rich , earthy colours within crowded tenements and theatres ,

But, it’s sadness makes you realise that overly rigid social constraints still feature in some societies much  more than they do in our own

International Women’s Day

 Even if it is , I’m being kind to myself day today.

A movie, Joyland at the Storyhouse this afternoon , then a take out pad Thai with chicken from my favourite stall in Chester Market.

The temperature has dropped considerably today and it’s trying to snow 

The dogs are all curled up tightly in the reading chair in the kitchen 

Auntie Gladys ….we overcome the wind

 

When you die at 103, most of your peers have already passed away

That’s the price you pay for longevity I guess.

With the choir , I counted around 100 people at Llanasa’s pretty church this afternoon. 

Too many to have been accommodated at St. Michael’s

What I didn’t know was the Auntie Glad wanted her service to be in the bigger church.

As her daughter Rene shared with the congregation , it was because she didn’t want anyone to stand outside in the rain.

There was no rain today, indeed we had bright spring sunshine for the duration, and as the male voice choir softly sang Abide With Me , the sun shone brightly through the stained windows of the little Norman Church, giving the whole place a sense of if not cheerfulness, but of warmth.

The Trelawnyd-ites were there early. Rowenna, Christine the old Church warden, Jenny the old postmistress. Animal Helper Pat, Irene,Heulwen, Derek and Me from the Flower Show. Mrs Trellis and others all sat straight in our pews and let the singing wash over us like a wave.

I’ve not heard better singing at a funeral, and I doubt I will hear the such again, and as Auntie Glad’s feather light coffin left the Church, the Choir almost whispered O Iesu Mawr to accompany her home.

We all nodded at her coffin as it passed.

Rene, Glady’s daughter who lives in England seems to have inherited much of  her chutzpah from her mother, and she gave a long, lovely Eulogy, even mentioning my blog as a welcomed source of village information. 

The afternoon tea in the village hall afterwards was pure Gladys too.

A selection of sandwiches, scones with thick butter and lashings of strong tea.

I gave my goodbyes earlyish as I needed to write the blog before leaving for college tonight. 

And before I left for my classes, I walked over to Gladys’ grave to look at her family flowers as the sun cooled towards dusk.

Islwyn had left the grave pin perfectly neat , and as I sat I listened to my Spotify account this piece of music was playing in my ears.

Nothing welsh , or traditional , or even sad, just a uplifting African based piece of choral work Waloyo Yamoni ( We Overcome The Wind) and for ten minutes or so I sat on Auntie Glad’s favourite bench and let the music wash over me as I had my second but-not-so-unhappy weep of the week.

A field of Dreams

The gravedigger has arrived to open up Auntie Glad’s family grave . It’s her funeral tomorrow. The weather is foul, but village elder Islwyn ( our unofficial gravedigger) is hopeful the sun will be shining

She deserves that much, he said simply..

And so I think it’s fitting giving this blog entry an airing again. I was remembering Gladys as she should be remembered and it’s from a post written , about an event I held in the village over fifteen years ago  now.

A " Field Of Dreams " Moment

My family often nag me to amalgamate the better parts of Going Gently into some sort of bestselling paperback. The Prof says whimsy sells, and I guess he is right given the plethora of " heartwarming" and " uplifting" tales of life changing encounters middle aged pongos like myself experience when lifestyles change and temple hair is lightening from brunette to a gentle grey.
On the way to the panto the other night, my sister remembered what I call a " Field of Dreams" moment which she said would be a " Satisfying " denouement to the chapter where two middle aged gays first moved into a tight knit Welsh village!
Nine years ago, I held my very first " allotment open evening" It was on the back of similar open evenings my sister organised at her own town allotment, where friends and family had the opportunity to survey her vegetable beds, have tea and cake and make a contribution of a charity of her choice.
My first allotment open was a small affair, but it was important to me as I left several hopeful posters around the village inviting everyone to attend. Attendance by the Trelawnyd-ites meant everything and as the 6 pm opening deadline loomed close, My sister remembered me gazing up the lane in a sudden downpour of summer rain, worried that no one would come.

I should not have worried ...for the " Field Of Dreams " moment arrived as powerfully as anything ever seen in a sentimental movie or tv series! the only thing that was bloody lacking was a sudden swelling of a musical score, for at exactly 6 pm and valiantly led by Auntie Glad hidden underneath an oversized umbrella, a long line of village characters weaved their way down the Church lane from the main road and towards the field to support the event.

It was a real Hollywood moment amid the wet grass and Slightly damp Victoria sponges.

Perhaps, my sister was right. It is these kind of moments balanced with the sadness of those normal life dramas that make a story readable and accessible to all. Light and froth peppered with emotional romps......perhaps that is the formula..

And I will always remember Auntie Glad nodding her head at me, with those sparking blue eyes, eager and interested, as she passed by that evening

“Good Evening Mr Gray!” She trilled “ I told you I would come “

I cannot think of a time she let anyone down

Sunday Night

Sometimes you are not always your own best friend 

I need an arm around me tonight 

Sometimes we all do

Love Contractually

 

If you want something frothy and forgettable , sweet and likeable go and see What’s Love Got To do With it? It won’t tax you too much, it will make you cry at least four times and it could have been a much more serious and far reaching movie, if it tried.

But it settled for ROM COM status.

Childhood friends Kazim ( Shazad Latif) and Zoe ( Lily James) have grown up next door to each other in an affluent London suburb. He is a serious Muslim doctor , whose only hidden flaws are cigarettes and occasional  alcohol. And she is a serial singleton, filmmaker who lives on a boat on the Thames ( !)

When Kazim decides to allow his parents to assist him in finding a wife , Zoe is allowed to film the who process, a film which challenges everyone of what they think is the right way to love. 

Written by Jemima Khan and directed by Shekhar Kapur, we still have to put up with the usual Asian stereotypes, but some like Asim Chaudrey great turn as Mo the Matchmaker are probably very true to life.

Froth and Rubbish

Days are like Pants 

Up one day, down the next.

I’m not down today, just a bit fazed.

There needs a lightness of touch from somewhere 

Something frothy and perky.

Unfortunately there’s not much froth and perk about today.

Apart from Roger who has just learned how to masturbate 

Anyhow I went to the TCA members meeting which reminded  me I have a lot to do 

And the day is cold and grey and unappealing as it was yesterday.

I’ve arranged to meet my sister to see the Lily Allen rom com What’s love got to do with it ? 

Which will be the frothy bit of rubbish I need today. 

Pants

 Once you are on a roll, things have a tendency of moving on at their own pace.

I’m thinking of the Queen Mary’s stopping length, here but the same can be thought of holes in underpants.

Last night I found a hole in my underpants .

I was in the bathroom and this sort of thing happens , so irritated I threw the underpants out of the window onto the patio, to be retrieved  later to put in the bin by the back door.

Now galvanised , as I warmed  to my task, I had a quick check of my undercrackers drawer and found four more gusset challenged sets all with holes in and threw them on the patio too.

This seemed sensible to me as I often throw used bleach bottles, empty shampoo bottles etc out on the patio to be retrieved later for recycling.

At 9 am there was a knock at the back door and Trevor’s gardener stood there wanting to know how he was. 

Nothing was mentioned about the five pairs of underpants lying on the patio 

Thank you

Over six years ago fellow blogger Meanqueen visited Trelawnyd  

She has just donated a considerable donation  to the new TCA committee and is one of life’s good eggs 

Thank you my old friend …
 

It’s all go …….again

 I’m making a huge chilli for the above night do. It’s our chance to publish the TCA’s work to the villagers that don’t know what’s happening.

It’s Auntie Glad’s funeral on Tuesday . I heard the male voice choir will be singing at the Church which will be an emotional moment for all , I’m sure. It’s sad that her own Church is closed but fitting the service will take place in the bigger Church of Llanasa, the village she lived in before she was married

Bucket of coffee time is curtailed today , I’m doing overtime at work later

So What Happens Now?

Last night the tutor of the level 4 Counselling course FaceTimed our group to discuss if we wanted to move forward in our training come September. 

She was pragmatic, cheerful and helpful 

And She has given me quite a lot to think about today.

A day that I’m feeling rough after my fourth covid jab.

I’m 61 this year. 

And I’m finding the rigours of nursing just a bit too much after forty years in the role.

I have a mortgage to pay for until I am 70 and bills and expenditure is on the rise.

And so I needed a plan.

And that plan, originally, was to retrain to be a qualified counsellor.

There is an outlay for this endeavour, which I may or not get help with, 

There is the academic challenge too , as well, as I know I have to work hard to get on top of all things Uni.

But then you add to this all of the doubts of self belief 

Can I cut the mustard as a counsellor? 

Can I do it?

The “ new” tutor clearly outlined the “ checks” in the course that ensure you are fit for the role.

In all of the 100 hours skills practice I have to do with real clients I have to pay for intensive clinical supervision every month. More if I require it. 

This supervision is not cheap and is an incredibly stringent safety check of my potential competence 

Added to this in year one and two I will have to pay for my own counselling experience.

A journey which is necessary if you are to practice 

But a journey which has its own worries and it’s own challenges.

There are two of us, in my present group that are older students.

Both of us on journeys we didn’t expect in our sixties.

We looked at each other at the end of last night’s tutorial and smiled gently together

“ Are you going for it ?” Donna mouthed

“I’m going to try” I mouthed back

And try I will

The Shawshank Redempion

 

Oh I did enjoy my night out with Georgous Dave  last night.

We went to see Owen O Neil and Dave John’s adaptation of the film The Shawshank Redemption at Theatre Clwyd and from the get-go it was clear we were watching a quality piece of theatre.

I think most people know the film, so I won’t worry too much about spoilers , suffice to say we follow the prison life of Andy Dufresne (Jo Absolom) who is incarcerated in the notorious Shawshank Prison during the 1940s. Bright and optimistic and shouting his innocence in the double murder of his wife and her lover , Dufresne strives to change his lot and the lot of his fellow prisoners by making their existence a little more humane even though the Governor, officers and two predatory prisoners all connive to destroy him and his innate goodness. 

Dufresne makes a lifetime friendship with Red Redding ( Ben Onwukwe) who like Morgan Freeman did in the film, narrates the piece with similar chocolate tones but with more of an impish take on the much loved character.

From the get go the play is brutal and compelling to watch. The sets full-fill the brief wonderfully as do the small but very able cast and I loved the ending where the two friends finally meet again against a stunning and unexpected tropical sky, an ending much better than the more talky film ending

Not a dry eye in the house.

So it’s Tuesday, 

College day,

Covid jab no 4

I’m cleaning Bluebell later and am making spiced sweet potato soup 

Betty

 Three blogs in one day ! 

I’ve just got home and heard the sadness of the death of Betty Boothroyd 

She was a bloody one off 

For those that don’t know she was the speaker of the House of Commons, MP , a Yorkshire woman and former tiller girl. That one sentence sums her up nicely .

A class act

Kindness

Kindness has a power all of its own when it is witnessed
In an Istanbul football match yesterday the crowds donated thousands of teddy bears to lift the spirits of the babies and young children caught up in the recent earthquake .

And the.act of giving lifts the human spirit

Badgers

 It was around four when I heard Albert “ Chatter” 

It’s a funny sound and a rare one in this house as I can only liken it to a very small person shaking a very tiny set of maracas. 

Cats usually chatter at birds that they can’t reach or ambush and Albert is no different 

But the chatter was in the middle of the night 

And the only birds around at that time are a pair of barn owls that swoop silently across the valley from Marion Mawr.

Albert was sat in the window seat looking down into the lane with wide yellow eyes.

I got up and wrapped the quilt cover around my shoulders and joined him.

He moved over without averting his gaze.

He was watching a pair of badgers in the lane who were trotting after each other somewhat playfully.

February is the mating season for badgers.

Living in the country has its upsides and downsides. But how many people can say that they have watched badgers courting outside their windows at night? 

Not very many. 

The boar wagged his fat bottom as he trotted into the garden and stopped to listen as Roger sleepily barked once  from the kitchen. 

They pottered and played for a while like hairy pigs.

Badgers are noisy animals and grunt and snort when they explore and as I grew cold I left them too it and returned to bed where Dorothy spooned me without waking up.

I heard Albert chatter some more before everything returned to a sort of silence again

I asked my google cube what time it was 

It’s now chatting as a butch man and told me in a manly way that it was 4.22 am

I asked it to play a tropical rain shower which it did and I fell asleep almost immediately with no dreams of badgers or of Pedro Pascal or of anything of note for that matter

Day off today. 

A walk, 

Some shopping,

And theatre later with Gorgeous Dave 

We are seeing the stage version of The Shawshank Redemption 

I’ve just put out the reclycling and saw a few untidy holes in the borders of the front garden 

The badgers have removed many of my spring bulbs from beside the stone wall.

And tufts of grey hair can be seen stuck in the lower branches of the hydrangea that faces the West

You can’t complain

Not when you’ve left the gate open