Kindness

My dyspraxia was worse than normal this morning. Now there are coffee grains all over the floor. A product of too loud a radio programme, feeling overwhelmed and hurrying. 

I know I’m going to drop something when those stars are in line.  

Usually a millisecond before it happens.

I’m sat quietly at the table Vernon Kay’s sweet Northern Chatter turned off and some quiet orchestral music on.

It’s the Portuguese Love Theme by Craig Armstrong

The gift of oak saplings made yesterday a nice day. The older I get these kindnesses mean so much more than they did when I was younger. Sure kindnesses are always nice when you are on the receiving end of them but when you are single , somehow they mean just that little bit more important and , well…….kind.

I posted on Facebook a blog about my plans to go to London soon recently and one of the replies was from my great niece Ellie who works in the capital asking to meet for coffee.

That touched me greatly.

Another text, this time from Affable Despot Jason , inviting me to his daughter’s 18th birthday party, the words, she really wants you to come, touched me greatly too as did Village Elder Ian’s recent offer to shrink my front garden gate to it will close properly.

Little kindnesses are of such importance

And so in a similar vein, I’m asking for some kindness from my “ troll” here on Going Gently. I’m asking for them to please stop provoking an argument out of nothing. 

I’m big enough and ugly enough to cope with such comments but the drip drip nature of them, usually in the most innocuous of blog entries has become somewhat  wearisome to say the least.

I’m also going to ask people not to react to any when and if they continue to arrive

After this personal request, I hope that will not be necessary.

My mother, for all of her faults, was a kind woman, all told. 

I remember when I was around 10, we lived in a large detached house on the corner of a busy road. On the opposite corner was a veterinary practice, built on the back of a residential house. One day she  had been watching a woman sat in a car outside for a while before she asked me to do her a favour . She had collected several roses from the garden and had wrapped silver paper around the stems and asked me to take them down to the lady in the car.

Being a shy child I refused , and being a shy adult she pushed herself to offer them to the woman in the car herself. When she returned, pink cheeked and sweaty, I asked her just why she had given roses to a stranger. And my mother said that the she had seen the woman take her elderly Labrador into the vets and had seen her return just with his lead.

The woman had been sobbing in her car, presumably after having the dog euthanised and my mother felt she had to do something to offset her pain, just a little.

It’s a big lesson to learn at 10

Not only that my mother was capable of such a small glowing act of kindness when she didn’t always act in a kind way at home.

But also that she was painfully shy and probably in need of such little kindnesses herself 

Ps

Strange thing serendipity 

This arrived this afternoon , many thanks Elaine 

Tall oaks, branch-charmed by the earnest stars

 I’m off to bed shortly

Lots of psychological given last night.

My head needs calm

Hopefully it will be an eristic free day

We shall see…

I got home in light rain. Sitting on the kitchen wall was a pot with three oak saplings in it

No note

No message,

Just three baby oak trees.

I love gifts like this

According to Anthea on London Road., the village has no oak trees

It has now

Pride’s Gone

 It was the end of Pride March yesterday in London and again I missed it. 

Next year it’s on my list ( my bucket list) even though the TCA is going to hold some Pride Friendly event  in the village. 

Bunty and I looked at each other and smiled at the thought of everything rainbow in Trelawnyd 

“There must be more than just you two in the village” Di Smith noted and the conversation swayed around a bit as Bunty and I discussed the subject of dressing as nuns in a singalong Sound Of Music 

I’m a dead ringer for Mother Superior 

I will leave you with this Pride Video 

Shot on the street with his neighbours in support

Enjoy

A Turd In The Vegetable Bowl

 I slept in today

My bladder played up a little last night.

I walked into the kitchen blurry eyed and there it was, sitting proudly onto of a large red onion

A turd the consistency of a mr whippy

It just looked like one of Mathew Bourne’s wigs from The Nutcracker

Roger jumped on a chair I had left next to the cooker and sprang onto the kitchen tops with a grin which said proudly 

“ I did that!”

I had to stand for a long while…… processing the view

I’m working nights for two.

So today is a lazy day. I’ve made illy coffee in the Mokka and had free range eggs and garlic beans for breakfast.

Bloody lovely.

Yesterday I went to see Eirlys in her lived farmhouse not far from a chic Eleanor’s. 

Her husband John , died last winter, so her grief remains pained and angry.

It was good to see her. 

Eirlys taught me how to care for hens properly . She had a mixed flock of up to a hundred and all free ranged over her fields and lay in plastic buckets, inside tyres and feed troughs in her huge barn . Covid and John’s ill health has whittled the flock down to just four birds and it was weird sitting there without seeing a pecking beak and a glassy eye.

We talked about loneliness

And she vented, as we all need to vent.

The words like vomit, feeling easier when out.

And I asked to help me as one of the stewards on the flower show, which she happily agreed to.

I was just getting back into Bluebell when she called me from the house and she darted inside and hurried to the gate where she pressed two free range eggs into my hand

Have them for breakfast she said

And I just have , and bloody lovely they were too.

Now, this IS funny….well it’s funny as it is embarrassing

It’s about a chance conversation with a chap called Geraldo

When Colin and I were in Venice we both occasionally had a look out for any interesting Italians on Grindr. Colin being more of a gay dish than I had plenty of dings on his app

Me? Well I had one lol.

And that was with a melancholic designer , Geraldo who looked rather like Stanley Tucci’s younger and more reflective brother. 

We chatted on and off for the duration of the holiday, and he was helpful suggesting places to go and restaurants to visit. 

He told me He was always busy but loved to make pottery so, all excited I showed him a photo of my stubby horse and my obese camel

He seemed impressed but wasn’t forward in showing me a photo of his work

So I chased him up yesterday and he sent me a link

Apparently he is a renown potter, has a studio and teaches interior design in Venice

I almost died 

I can’t believe , like Roger and his turd  that I had shown my fat pony off as a piece of art!!!

Enjoy

I could watch this all day

 

The Trelawnyd Telephone Box and other stories.

 

Village leader Ian and I painted the now defunct village telephone box yesterday. It’s faded charm now a vibrant Pillar Box Red. It’s door fixed, it’s insides all ready for change.

The Trelawnyd Community Association has bought the box for the village 

Please welcome our Information Hub and mini library.

Sailor John has designed the shelving and notice boards , so soon it will be a hub for bits and pieces not covered by the hall.

Not only will it house a tiny library, there will be emergency items such as a first aid kit and  a puncture repair kit, local maps for walkers, information on local sites of interest and history, a village history book 

And even a small food bank.

We are also planning a little solar light inside 

Sweet.

Yesterday was the day we three on our counselling course was to find out whether we’d all be on the same course in University in September or not.

The course was over subscribed over North Wales so if all were accepted after interview several applicants would have to be put back to the next course which doesn’t start until January and which is based at the Bangor campus a good hours drive from the village. Donna , Caroline and myself all wanted to be starting in September at our local campus so there was much frantic what’sapping going on before we all realised that we would all be starting together. I was rather moved by it all as were my fellow potential counsellors. I think the three of us, all more mature students , understand the significance of the path we are about to take.

Not an easy journey for sure, but an important one and one made better for us all being together.

I will leave you with a beautiful comment

A wish , of someone nearing death.

It caught me totally unawares when it was spoken to me and I hope I’ve remembered it correctly,if found similar sayings online but that doesn’t matter

“ I hope death is like being carried to your bedroom by your father, when you were a child, 

Or the time he lay you down on the couch on the sofa in a darkened living room during a family party

And you could hear all of the laughter from the next room”

It’s rather beautiful .

Mary

This morning I sat in the kitchen reading chair to read.

After a while I felt as though I was being watched

And I lifted my head from the book

It was Mary watching me 

And she was still and mindful 

Her gentle brown eyes never leaving my face 

She does this often

And I feel loved

 There is sorrow enough in the natural way

From men and women to fill our day;
And when we are certain of sorrow in store,
Why do we always arrange for more?
Brothers and Sisters, I bid you beware
Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.

Buy a pup and your money will buy
Love unflinching that cannot lie—
Perfect passion and worship fed
By a kick in the ribs or a pat on the head.
Nevertheless it is hardly fair
To risk your heart for a dog to tear.

When the fourteen years which Nature permits
Are closing in asthma, or tumour, or fits,
And the vet’s unspoken prescription runs
To lethal chambers or loaded guns,
Then you will find—it’s your own affair—
But… you’ve given your heart to a dog to tear.

When the body that lived at your single will,
With its whimper of welcome, is stilled (how still!).
When the spirit that answered your every mood
Is gone—wherever it goes—for good,
You will discover how much you care,
And will give your heart to a dog to tear.

We’ve sorrow enough in the natural way,
When it comes to burying Christian clay.
Our loves are not given, but only lent,
At compound interest of cent per cent.
Though it is not always the case, I believe,
That the longer we’ve kept ’em, the more do we grieve:
For, when debts are payable, right or wrong,
A short-time loan is as bad as a long—
So why in—Heaven (before we are there)
Should we give our hearts to a dog to tear?

What’s going on

 Any tech bods out there…..consistently from early June the traffic logging in to Going Gently everyday has increased from 200,000 hits a month to over 500,000 ( 6-7 thousand a day to over 18)

There must be a practical and computer based reason for this hike. 

The last increase was a 100,000 hike when my husband and I split in July 2018

A Curate’s Egg

 I went to see the early showing of Indiana Jones and The Dial Of Destiny today

It was good, in parts. 

It started off in the usual cracking pace with a digitally enhanced Ford looking every bit his 40 year old self fighting the dreaded Nazis on a wartime train. This time Spielberg is not directing, but with James Mangold at the helm he might as well done so for we had nods to every Indy Adventure filmed since the 1970s.

I liked that his female sidekick was Phoebe Waller-Bridge.wisecracking and wide eyed , her action shots looked a bit odd due to the fact she is so tall and slightly ungainly but she almost stole the show from the 80 year old Ford who wasn’t fazed by being filmed in his underpants.

As usual the set pieces, a chase in a ticker tape parade, a horse chase in the subway and a tuktuk battle in the narrow Tangiers streets could have been stolen from a dozen action movies since Raiders of the Lost Ark , and they and the truly ludicrous ending didn’t really surprise anyone.

Goodbye Indy , it was nice knowing you.

Out Of The Blue

 

Yesterday I received an email from a chap who has followed Trelawnyd online for a while

It was a very chatty letter which told me that his grandfather had in his possession schematic drawings of the original Memorial Hall and these he had recently collected from his brother in France.

He had framed these rare documents and contacted me to see if we would like them 

How wonderful I thought.

A fantastic coup 

He asked if he and his family could drive up from Bournemouth to personally drop the drawings off to us and I suggested he came on the flower show Saturday where we would reserve him a table and cream tea in appreciation and where the whole committee could thank him

I’m awaiting his reply.

How wonderful a gift 

How lovely

It’s Finally Reopened

 This summer and autumn, and with rail strikes permitting , I’ve got four trips to London planned .

I’m taking Nu to see La Traviata at the Royal Opera House for her birthday. Having an indulgent Royal Ballet and Les Miserables  time with my sister and will be taking my Nephew Leo to see his favourite Back to the Future Musical .

All have been bought and paid for by overtime shifts, which pleases me

Thanks to the RNT I have to stay an extra night in London with Nu so we’ve booked another play in the west end and gleefully today I’ve booked tickets to the newly reopened National Portrait Gallery, which is one of my most favourite places in London.

I’ve missed it so, for there is nothing better than going there on a rainy London afternoon and having a long mooch

Arse Into Gear

I’m on catch up.

Animal Helper Pat left a not on the garden wall last night for a Flower Show programme for her and friend Anthea ( who has the second best garden in the village). I delivered them before taking the dogs out then grabbed a few hours sleep before Ewan phoned me to remind me to pick him up for his hospital appointment. This afternoon I’ve got the rest of the programmes to deliver to targeted villagers, The Randas, The Joyful Cameron’s , Boffin Cameron, Hattie, Heulwen and a few others.

Mrs Trellis picked hers up early

“ I’m not up to the boiled fruit cake” she warned “ my wrist is a bit limp”

I didn’t ask why.

The posters need hanging on the noticeboards and the planters need a water.

I’m still tired so am drinking hot strong coffee from the Mokka at the kitchen table

Auntie Glad’s daughter emailed me suggesting a cup in her mums memory in the Show ( I need to sort that out)

We have five weeks to go.

It’s sunny and the humid air has been flushed away by the thankful breeze.

And I need to get my arse into gear

Two hours later and a bit of progress has been made. Lovely to see the adorable Ma Cameron who was genuinely  excited at the prospect of the show’s return, and many of the old committee from the now retired Prestatyn Flower Show all are on board for exhibiting. 

I’ve seen the Flower Judge and Veg Judge and confirmed they will be attending, 

Affable Despot Jason was out and about , he feigned exasperation 

I expect you want me to crest more novelty vegetable animals again ? He asked

“ The ruder the better” I said 

“ Leave it to me” he replied.

The Side Ward

I thought I was done with anecdotes from my nursing days, but this story sort of dredged itself out of my memory after watching a tv drama about the Withdrawal of treatment from a child patient on intensive care

Over Twenty years ago I was a ward manager.

The ward was a twenty bedded spinal injury ward with over fifty staff to look after 

We incorporated acute spinal injury care, four patients on long term ventilation, and had two high priority beds for sick spinal injury patients.

In short we were busy.

What we seldom had was emergency admissions, for most of the patients had to be assessed carefully in their admitting hospitals before transfer over to us. Sheffield was a regional speciality and took patients from as far as Lincoln, Cambridgeshire, Derby, Suffolk and Norfolk.

I remember one elderly lady being admitted over a bank holiday from Sheffield itself and it stuck in my mind as a student nurse was central to her story.

The patient was elderly. A much loved matriarch of a big Yorkshire family. She had fallen down some steps and had sustained damage to her cervical vertebrae. 

It was a catastrophic injury, with no chance of survival as the resulting paralysis was encroaching on her ability to breathe and long term ventilation was not viable given the lady’s age and premorbidities . 

Usually such patient’s are cared for on intensive care or a suitable ward where they would be made comfortable and where the family could be supported. 

Because we were a spinal Injury ward we were happy to take her. 

The student nurse, who was called Michael, was a third year student with little general experience , but he was keen and wanted to “ take” the patient with support from me, so we worked together as she arrived.

From the get go I could tell he was nervous, especially as the patient arrived with all of the bells and whistles of an acute patient. She was flat on her back, on a scoop stretcher, with neck brace, monitor leads, flashing beeps and high flow oxygen everywhere.

I told the student our job was to “calm things down”, and before the family arrived that’s exactly what we did. We placed the old lady onto a hospital bed, ensured she was pain free and with instructions from the consultant who had interviewed the family at length, to let nature take its course.

Michael went white when he heard the instructions. He had never seen a withdrawl of treatment before, so I remember taking him to one side in the anti room to the side ward to prepare him.

I explained that the patient and her family were aware of what was going to happen. She had already been given an infusion from a syringe driver which was reducing her pain and anxiety and I had already checked with her entire family would be up with as soon as we he’s settled her. 

She was conscious but very weak, and time was of the essence .

Michael said he was ready, and together we removed the patient’s hard plastic neck brace and we washed her face and combed her hair and sat her up a little until she could see around her. 

At every little job the patient gave a tiny mouthed thank you and I could see Michael was near tears at every turn.

I gave him a few more gentle instructions and after a short conversation preparing them , I let the lady’s husband  and sons and daughters into the room.

They moved slowly around the bed, like sleepwalkers and I asked Michael to pass me the noisy oxygen mask from her face so she could see her family and they could see her. The noisy oxygen suddenly hushed the room, which immediately became less clinical and more personal .

“ My Old Girl” the husband said gently and he kissed his wife after asking permission from us two.

we slowly  stepped back into a corner.

and let the family surround her.

And Michael cried quietly to himself, as he watched 

“ Our Job is to make this as easy as we can” I told him. 

It won’t be long. 

And it wasn’t .

Almost two hours later she had peacefully passed away. Free of the bells and whistles of intensive care.

I taught Michael the tricks of giving the family little jobs to do when they watched and waited, to brush her hair, to wet her lips to talk to her when they thought she wasn’t hearing them,  jobs that gave them a little purpose in a nightmare moment and made sure he took in trays of tea with a teapot full, so someone in the room would have a job to do the pouring.

I taught him to assess the patient condition only if she needed medication to ensure her comfort and after it had all concluded , he accompanied the family to the car park in a final show of respect and solidarity.

We laid the patient out together too. And I asked him how he was feeling when the room was empty and almost ready for the next patient .

He looked tired and much older than his twenty five years

“ I’m not sure I want to be a nurse today” he said 

But he came to the Dog And Partridge on a triplet Lane with the ward staff for a drink when we had finished 

And where we all got a little drunk.

Indiana Jones and the Family From Wales

 

Harrison Ford is 80

Fuck me, when did that happen?

I notice he’s leading the charge in another Indiana Jones movie

This time with the glorious Phoebe Waller Bridge in tow

I’ve asked Gorgeous Dave if he wants to go and see it next week

It’s a big boys film  for sure.

In 1984 my entire family dressed up in evening gowns and dinner jackets to go and see the “Premier” 

Of Indiana Jones and The Temple Of Doom. 

It was showing in the local Scala Cinema and we booked tickets in the balcony section much to the confusion of the ladies that ran the cinema on that night.

We even got in the local paper 

Me and friend Nia

A few months later and buoyed up with our silliness we all dressed up as cowboys and Indians and went to watch a local version of Oklahoma to support my uncle and aunt who were in the chorus 

And Just Like That

 The first episode of the second season of And Just Like That aired last night and it was a bit messy if truth be told. Messy as the original series was all about four white women and now it is about seven diverse race and sexuality women.

There’s a lot to cram in so to speak.

I’m still a fan, and like season 1 all will settle down again after a running start with too many breasts on show.

I popped my elder sister’s Birthday gift. She is away for her birthday on the 28th. We chatted for a while and I was pleased that she said that recently I had been looking more relaxed, more centred more myself than I had for a long time, and I have to say that I agree with her. 

It’s taken me almost five years to the day to resolve myself to the ending of my marriage. 

Some people would say that’s too long, but covid and lockdown coupled with the fact that my ex never told me why the marriage ended for him all were factors that prolonged the healing process.

Couple that too, with the mistake I , like many hurt people make, and that is I looked to the person that hurt me the most to make me feel better.

And that never really happens , 

Not in real life

My sister picked up on an inner lightness 

Something insidious and gradual 

Shit, I’ve just noticed that the RNT have issued more strikes in July. One day clashes with me going to London to take Nu to see La Traviata at the Royal Opera House…

Smile and glide

Smile and glide…there will be ways around this…..hey ho

It’s raining ever so gently and Roger is sitting by the back door watching everything.

Dorothy is asleep in her reading chair and Mary is curled up on a kitchen chair with one ear pricked.

The patio plants make the kitchen bright and cheerful, and the sweet peas mirror that mood as the climb next to the blue, firework agapanthus 

I’m meeting my sister in law for lunch , then will have a sleep before night duty

And just like that it will be tomorrow

All is pretty well with the world today

 

Kitchen Table

 

I’ve been sorting my finances out today. 

That means changing my phone providers, sorting a better deal with broadband and getting rid of my landline. I’ve streamlined some accounts and cancelled unwanted frivolous items such as Disney + ( which was a total indulgence as it kept me up to date with the Walking Dead) 

With interest rates going up yet again it seemed like a prudent thing to do today.

I had a row with a Nazi Cyclist today too who rang his bell so insistently on the Dyserth Walkway for me and another woman and a dog to get out of his way that we barely had time to gather our thoughts. Dorothy got flummoxed and walked directly in front of him which caused more shouting on his part and he was most upset when I reminded him it was a walkway and not an official cycle track

https://seearoundbritain.com/venues/prestatyn-dyserth-way

“fucking dog owners!” he yelled

“Nazi Lycra wearer” was my robust reply

A good shout sometimes clears the tubes

Hey ho

And Old Faces 2

 

This afternoon, I loaded Bluebell up with cold drinks, flower show programmes and a watering can full of water and set off to publicise the Show.

It was hot but with the windows open, bearable. and only a few seconds drive East of Trelawnyd I stopped at Marion to take my first programme to Irene Murray.

Now Irene is a force to be reckoned with. With the late Sylvia and Gladys Jones  , she was the third matriarch that co ran the original show, and did so with a keen eye and no messing,and I wanted her to know that the show was returning soon and she was tickled pink and rather moved that it was. 

I left her to drive to our neighbouring village of Trelogan to catch up with Graham, my first potential vegetable entrant. He’s a delightfully friendly chap who sings in the village choir but he is also a magnificent grower of vegetables which I was privileged to see in his crammed polytunnel this afternoon.

Getting his veg into any show is a real boon for any Flower and Produce Show and I was excited to have him aboard, especially as his carrot tops were in a word, MAGNIFICENT !!!

Onwards and upwards! 

Next stop was Terry, my old Quiche nemesis from my early days in the village. 

We had gone head to head in the baking classes for years with the plaudits swinging both ways each time entered. 

With some old testosterone reignited he’s agreed to enter the Quiche, Boiled Fruitcake and Scone classes in a misjudged attempt to topple me

We both couldn’t help grinning at each other

“old Times “ he said with a chirp.

My next stop was the beautifully rustic Still House , just off Well Street and I was glad that Ma Manley was at home, for I wanted to encourage her into our arts classes as she will be running the new arts and crafts club in the autumn , a club I’ve already asked to join .

Ma Manley is a lovely woman with a long flowing white hair and a style that shrieks local hero/ Whiskey Galore/ Earth Mother

I hope I’ve won her over.

Tomorrow I have more characters to catch up with, so I just had time to water the new planters at the Church gate, the ones donated to the TCA by Jackson’s, before getting home for tea,

It’s been a good day

A photo of some of the original Flower Show Committee 

Irene is third from left

Terry is fifth .

Old Friend 1

 

Another old friend returns,

The Trelawnyd Flower Show is reborn on August 5th.

And the schedules are out.

I’ve got much to do today. 

Jackson’s Nurseries ( which lies a stone’s throw from the village) donated several planters to the TCA and I’ve picked three up this morning and have placed two either side of the Church gate and put the last one by the noticeboard.

I will personally deliver flower show schedules to the old flower show committee and to people who have already requested them. 

I love the fact that inside the programme the TCA has honoured Auntie Glad

The Moment I Fell In Love With Venice

The view of the Grand Canal from the Museum

 Ok this will be my last Venice post for a while.

I wanted to write this yesterday but the post deserved time, emotion and thought and effort 

To me it’s an important post for an important day 

all I can tell you is that I have been captivated by Venice from the get-go, captivated , entranced, impressed from the first time I saw it properly the moment we approached it from the North East causeway but I truly fell in love with the city when we had a break inside the subtle Guggenheim museum and walked on an almost deserted museum terrace which over looked the Grand Canal at midday.

From the calm, beauty of the deserted museum on Sunday morning , we left the mutedly lit  Pollock’s and Picasso’s for the bright, blue beauty of a thoroughfare packed with boats and people and movement. 

And It was joyous 

My friend Colin giggled as I waved without any embarrassment to anyone in the boats on the canal  who would wave back, and I guessed understood just why I did it.

And wave they did, almost as if they could feel my excitement and pleasure of that one moment pure moment .

A big black guy , showing off to his girlfriend in a motorboat, a group of schoolgirls on a vaparetto and a family of women in hijabs in a water taxi they all waved to me as I waved to them from one of the most impressive and beautiful museums in the world, on a sunny hot day , when the water looked duck egg blue and Sun shone so happily .

It was a glorious wonderful moment that I will never forget

The terrace at the museum

Home Today

As you all can probably tell, I have totally fallen for Italy

Just as Tom Stephenson probably did over a busty Sophia Loren when he was a teenager.

Always late to the party, this quick jaunt has seriously healed a little hole in my psychi, one I never knew was still there and even after a few days I feel lighter and brighter and eager to move on to Barcelona next month and Rome in the autumn.

A four star hotel, lovely service,plush surroundings, cracking food and long easy conversations over sunny views all help to lift the spirits.

Last night we had to laugh, as a young couple who had sat silently next to me on the plane in to Venice despite my welcome saw me sat in our favourite cafe/bar.

Both smiled broadly and waved just as I had waved so energetically at the passengers in the water taxies and Vaparettos on the Grand Canal from the veranda of the Guggenheim .

Caught under the Venice spell, too, I thought…

Just like me