Lunch

 

Looking back towards Trelawnyd from Bryn Williams

Saturday seemed too far away so I arranged with Patrick to have lunch out today.

He drove over from Chester and we ate at Bryn Williams

He had rosotto , I had the fish fingers

It was a nice day

He has a shy smile and a potty mouth

I will see him again 

Shift

 

The downside of palliative care is that sometimes all you do is check and administer important medications. This procedure is carefully managed and two trained nurses have to prepare the drugs and administer them to maintain safety. When your patients have complex pain issues this process can be repeated hourly, and so you can be on catch up for most of the shift.

I’ve had such a shift 

It reminded me of some of the overly technical shifts I used to have on intensive care.

After one of those I used to drive to the beach and just sit in the car in silence with the windows wide open, desperately trying to remove the yakuda monitor bleeps and calls and warnings from my brain  

Tonight I parked on North Shore in Llandudno  and did the same 

I found a half eaten packet of cheese and onion crisps behind the visor and ate them joyously 

Sucking the salt from my fingers 

As the cold sea air flushed through Bluebell’s windows like a cold flannel on a hot brow

I’m meeting Patrick tomorrow, for brunch

Sitting On The Porch with Tim and Apples Everywhere you look

 Blogging has its downsides for sure, 

But unexpected friendships are the upside for sure.

For a few years now I have a friend called Tim, 

His actual name is Mike but as I know a lot of Mikes and Micks , I thought using his name confusing 

Tim was a doctor, he’s straight, has a family, and has suffered from ill health from time to time.

He’s honest and genuine and emails me rather than commenting on the blog

And he’s my friend.

He lives in America and we share the same mindset on many things 

And I have a great affection for him. 

It’s sunny and slightly warm here today and I wish I had a porch with a couple of comfortable wicker Lloyd Loom chairs on it. 

Side by side with a small table of coffee cups and biscuits set in-between  

And we’d talk and sit the morning away together.

The hastily organised and named Apple Festival was a resounding success yesterday. I managed to get out of bed after two hours sleep and popped along to support it. 

Loosely based on harvest festival, apples and autumn the festival saw cider making , Apple pressing , Dave Wilson teaching archery on the stage ( mannequins with apples on their heads) yes there’s a theme here.

Lots of scrummy food to buy, ( apple crumbles etc)and from nowhere lots of local craft stalls 

Im really proud of the way that The Trelawnyd Community Association has rallied the troops this year. Together, we have raised enough money to start a re boot the Hall’s infrastructure as well as to pay for its upkeep and bills in an uncertain and cash strapped world.

It’s future looked bleak 

Now, like the TCA, the hall is thriving.

Btw, Patrick from the book club has been in touch again ( several times!), he seems very nice, chatty and witty. We have arranged to meet next weekend

I’m looking forward to it

A Lesson in Dying

 Some trolls keep thinking I’m asking for advice all of the time

I’m not

Going Gently is a journal for thoughts

It’s not a debating forum 

But thank you for the more constructive comments.

It’s Saturday morning and work is finished for two days, but as there is an accident on the A 55 the two trained staff coming on have been delayed which means we will have to stay until they arrive 

It’s the Apple Festival today in the Hall, an idea which came from nowhere, but I will need a sleep and the do starts at eleven, so I will miss it today. 

I don’t mind. Work has been busy

I’ve observed this before, but so many people get to a ripe old age nowadays without ever properly experiencing a death. The whole process is not understood, is feared and seldom talked about.

It needs to be talked about 

Myths need debunking

Fears need calming

The story of my last Ghost hen is a lesson in this need

“Some of the village children come down to the field to collect eggs. Today they came late which was lucky as I had failed to check the coops because I had been up to my brother's house for most of the day.
I dished out the obligatory enamel bowls and ten minutes later the kids darted back to the cottage to inform me that one of the hens was ill.
"I think you have a hen with asthma" the little boy informed me seriously
and he took me over to the pond to show me the breathless hen.

It was Ruth, the final ghost hen , who was gasping for breath.
The children squatted down on their haunches with interest and asked a whole load of questions as I sat down next to the hen.
"Why was she gasping? ....why was her head a dark colour?......why was her eyes shut?"
Initially I was not sure of just what to say to a couple of seven year olds, but I guessed that it was pretty much ok to tell them the truth gently and without any fuss.
So carefully I explained that the hen's heart was giving out and that she was not in any pain but she was dying, and that was why she was a strange colour and she was making an odd noise.
I also told them that she was an old hen and had lived over a year past the date. she was expected to die
The children nodded somberly and we watched the hen together for a while before they informed me that they were off home.
"will you bury her when she dies?" the boy asked before he went
"Yes I said" (I didn't have the heart to tell them that I would leave the body by the badger set in the next field)
"That's good!" he said.standing up.
By the time the kids had gone. I sat down next to Ruth and let her rest her straining head on my foot .
I didn't quite have the heart to pull her neck, and I am glad I didn't as moments later she died.”

Dates

 An evening invitation to the cinema next week has sort of changed into an unexpected date and I’m not quite sure how I feel about things.

True I bang on about being isolated and lonely but I seldom write that I want someone new in my life.

Have I actually got the mind space and the time for someone new?

I’m not so sure.

He’s texted me a lot after I didn’t turn up at book club

Which is flattering  enough, but really…. am I bothered enough at my age to start to negotiate  the rituals and and hard work dating requires?

I’m not sure.

I will go on the date with an open mind 

It will be interesting having a conversation away from a novel for a change 

It may be lovely

I’m just not sure

Self Care

Monday I spent a productive day in the library. Yesterday we covered Research, Ethics and personal development. And for the first time in a few weeks I felt prepared and part of things.

Today I caught up with jobs and took the Welsh for their haircuts, something they both generally like. At the groomers they can bark their heads off with impunity , like toddlers letting rip in the village toddler group. They always return home after the groomers, smelling sweet, wired and will crash and sleep for hours on their arrival back home.

I took advantage of that fact and drove to Chester . Yeap  Phad Thai noodles and a classic Spanish film The Devil’s Backbone 

Nothing fancy , but just what I needed

News

 Last night I binged watched Anne With An E , the latest and best version of the classic novel Anne Of Green Gables 

I loved the fact that much of the adult drama was an exploration of the relationship between ageing farmer bachelor Mathew ( R H Thompson) and his prickly elder sister Marilla ( Geraldine James) and how their dynamic changed by the arrival of pre teen Anne

This scene is magical, totally credible  and beautifully acted and oh so refreshing from insipid romance scenes in the likes of Downton Abbey.

One of the guys from my Chester LGBTQ+  book club has been texting me a few times when I was ill which surprised me, I’m catching up with him next week to see a movie

Tonight I’m meeting up with my friend Sue, ( she owns the ponies)I have known her for years and years and years but have never been out with her on a one to one. 

It’s about time 

So we are off to The Crown later

I still sound like a consumptive on steroids

Catch Up

Nineish and I’m in Colwyn Bay, coffee in hand.

I’m writing the blog and sipping coffee, in Bluebell 

Still full of enough mucus to fill an average walrus but physically miles better.

A few minutes away is where the Uni library is located

I intend to catch up with last weeks sick day there as well as practice my IT

The beach is a man made one and is quiet this morning

There is a autumn chill to the air…..

In Uni now, still coughing and spluttering so asked nice library lady if she could find me a private room for the day , which she did 

 

After Babet

I hardly slept last night, but finally after 5 am I eventually heard that sinus click in my head which told me my virus had turned and the badness was now streaming and the mucus loose.

My headache is gone and the weeks morbid fascination with feeling unwell is passing. 

I opened my bedroom windows wide and washed the bedclothes 

Babet has left behind a sunny morning which has aired the cottage from last weeks miasma 

I made strong coffee in the Mokka, hung the duvet on the field gate and watched the view of the hills Cefn Du and Moel Maenefa to the south East after I had washed the floorboards and poured the coffee sweetened by honey into my usual bucket cup,

It sounds dramatic, but it feels that illness has left the cottage

sick hen

 Yesterday and today I felt a little like that sad Muddy Coloured Hen 

Physically, I hadn’t turned the corner with this bloody virus and whereas I wanted to curl up in warm straw in a sweet smelling henhouse  ( a clean hen house has the nicest of smells and because hens exude heat are surprisingly warm at night) 

I made the mistake of going to work last night

I wasn’t firing on one cylinder let alone all and I had a family that needed me to take charge where

I needed someone to pick me up and rest me in the crook of their arm.

I’ve done that myself today and have not gone into work tonight.

The fire is lit, vicks rubbed again on the soles of my feet 

And I’ve made simple chicken and lentil soup with cheese grated on the top

Which I’ve not eaten

Off to bed soon with Miriam Margolyes new book smutty froth, that’s the content, not the title 

I’ve left this video of the muddy coloured hen just for Raymondo 

Just to show that she did improve 

The Muddy Coloured Hen

 

It’s been a bloody difficult shift all told and I feel rough 

This is a repeat of an old post from a decade ago

It will please the animal lovers here

And those who pine for the Ukrainian Village

2013

This spate of wet, blustery and cold weather will see off the old and the sick within the hen population. Several of the nondescript " refugees" that arrived in the autumn have already faded away, their bodies keeping the small badger population in the next field topped up with protein during the sparse winter months.
Such is the way of the world.

Last week one of the refugees ( an old muddy coloured hen) started to look somewhat frail and unwell. She was light and off her food, so I popped her in with Phyllis Diller , gave her a short course of antibiotics then placed her back in her own hen house to let nature swing her one way or the other.
The hen neither improved or deteriorated , she remained stubbornly " unwell"...so it was inevitable that the other hens, who often mistrust a fellow that is " different " in any way, would start to pick on her.
On Christmas Day the muddy coloured hen disappeared. I suspect the other hens had driven her out into the field to die, so I thought nothing more about it.....I had more pressing things to think about......
That was until I locked the animals up for the night yesterday.
It was almost dark and terribly squally when I  tottered from one hen house to another in my hat and scarf.  The Ukrainian village was deserted, for even the sheep had hidden themselves away in the bad weather, so it was a case of lock the doors and leg it back to the cottage.

I was just dragging my wellies through the mud, when a movement from the hawthorn hedge caught my eye. I thought it was a rabbit at first, but out of the darkness, about thirty feet away crept the muddy coloured hen.
Purposefully, she made her way over to where I stood, and stopped an inch from my foot. There she stood hunched and sad obviously waiting for me to " do something" before the darkness really hit home.
When the shit hits the fan, animals will often overcome any natural shyness with humans, in order to maintain their own safety....it's a strange phenomenon , and a rather a moving one to witness.
It is also not as rare as one may think.

I picked the bland little hen up and tucked her safely away in my coat where she shivered quietly against the crook of my arm before I found her a space in a spare coop with food and water....and I thought to myself that I had just witnessed something rather wonderful.....a small little moment of contact between a nondescript pea brained, sick old hen.....and a 51 year old fart who was rushing home to keep warm

Flooding

 

I’ve been asleep all day but after taking the dogs to Dyserth this morning I posted on the village website that the bends down the hill have been flooding fast .I’ve just checked the website and see flooding is more widespread. 43 of the closed schools in north Wales are in Flintshire ( my county) and closer to home Helen Papworth has posted that her and Ian may be cut off soon in their house down the lane from me.

I took this photo at 10 am to show how despressing and dark it was

The youth club has been cancelled too. 

I’m going to work, I cannot afford any more sick time and the worst of my cold is over. I tested negative for covid and will wear a mask tonight, but I’m sure that won’t stop my troll having a Stoke at the thought of it all.

It’s been a horrid week since Sunday, and I’ve not had a proper conversation for most of that time, horrible echos of lockdown haunt me today

I’m going to have another couple of hours in bed

Big Cold Hands

 

I needed some self care today

Well to be honest I needed that on Tuesday where Russell Crowe with a damp flannel in hand wouldn’t have come at all amiss

I would have paid a fortune for him to to dap my hot nether regions and to spoon me some matzo balls and chicken soup into the corner of my mouth but 

Alas

That was not to be.

I’ve got to look after myself😥

Thanks to Trendy Carol ( wearing something flowing and suitably autumnal) and her hubby, the dogs went over to their garden to play after their walk and I could go back to bed.

I listened to the start of the recording of In The Psychiatrist’s Chair with Jimmy Saville but fell asleep until 2pm after which  I had a long shower, shave and scrub,which made me feel a bit better

I moved several loads of wood out of the rain and cleaned the kitchen an effort which wiped me out totally 

I’ve lit the fire and picked the dogs up before falling asleep on the couch

I dreamt of Russell Crowe rubbing my feet with his big cold hands

Lemsip

 I sound like a seven year old boy.

I had to cancel a pub visit later with my oldest friend Sue. She has the ponies and lost one recently on the road at the top of the village. The pub visit was supportive. I can’t go, I can’t speak 

We have rescheduled for Tuesday. 

Coincidentally her brother delivered a massive big of logs this morning. 

I couldn’t talk to him properly either . 

Usually I would have put them all under cover this afternoon but I haven’t the energy 

I went back to bed at 11am but couldn’t sleep.

Islwyn has felled the dead ash tree in the graveyard and his chainsaw has been noisy 

Storm Babet is expected , he said, and he’s fearful the ash could collapse on his churchyard shed.

I’m drinking lemsip now

I need to go out for an extra tutorial , the one I rescheduled from Monday. I’m covid free and will wear a mask but I need to go, no matter how stupid I sound. 

I missed university all day yesterday.

It’s not like me I’ve eaten nothing today.

Dorothy has made the day a lot worse.

She has an itchy bum and left a foot long skid mark on my white duvet cover.

I haven’t the inclination to strip the bed as yet

Yael

 A few days ago I contacted Rachel to see if Israeli blogger Yael was ok. 

She told us that she was safe

I emailed a Yael myself too and have just got a message saying she was ok

It feels more real to hear from her in person

What an awful time

Fix It

 

I didn’t know that I’d lost my voice until I took the dogs out and called Roger to keep up

A rather strangled “Ro—-Ger!”, something Lady Bracknell would come out with echoed forth. 

I’ve COVID free but feel rough.

So not much to report today. 

I’ve caught up of the Jimmy Saville docu/drama The Reckoning is a chilling a sobering look at another era which didn’t see abuse in plain sight.

I remember meeting him at the Guttman Games in 1990, which is when all of the eleven spinal injury units in British met up in Stoke Mandeville Hospital to play wheelchair sports. 

I knew nothing of his sexual reputation save for the fact that most of the Aylesbury nurses disliked him intently

To me he was a creepy patronising old freak, a gob shite that wore too much jewellery and who tried to have a say about patients when he had not authority to do so. 

He was Stoke Mandeville’s cash cow , with his own office in the new wing

And I disliked the Spinal Injury Unit’s need to be sucking up to him.

Steve Coogan is excellent in the role of Saville, a complicated, lonely damaged man

The vanilla slice incident

 I feel rotten.

A product of sitting on a crowded train, tube, theatre last week I suppose

I’d booked myself an IT tutorial for University this afternoon and got up early after a short sleep to take a neighbour in to hospital for a blood test.

I’ve cancelled the tutorial until Wednesday 

I doubt I will be in university tomorrow either

At least I’m covid free.

I called into Sainsburys and bought flowers,  vicks, and a vanilla slice ( to soothe my throat) 

Unfortunately I lost most of it trying to negotiate  the Rhuddlan roundabout at speed

Never bite into a vanilla slice whilst turning a sharp bend and changing gear.

I could have wept

Bitches

 Just occasionally the two bitches will fly at each other 

It’s rare, and it’s frightening to watch but often it’s more noisy than anything else

But it happens

Bitches like people fall out

And bitches, unlike dogs

Never forget a fight.

All this happened when I was cooking Thai noodles with chicken

Dorothy has been grumbling at Mary for days now, usually over a position which is closer to me, and when she gave Mary a last growl when they shared the reading chair mary flipped and the fight started.

Well it was less a fight more a latch on and growl fest, but whist  Mary is smaller and has less power, her heart is true terrier and she will never back down .

I tried the wet mop head, and a couple of belts with a croc, but they weren’t having any of it. Roger complicated matters by bouncing around them, bring ineffectual as always, so eventually I sat down and waited for the girls to tire.

There was no blood, but after what seemed like an age, they were still locked together but noticeably quieter

A final loud, shout and a quick slap with the crock and they reluctantly separated only to be told off smartly by me then totally ignored. 

The girls hate that the most. 

Im off to work shortly 

And still I haven’t looked at either of them

The Choir Concert

I needed the Choir concert tonight 

It was the perfect and what’s more importantly local, home grown quality concert that reminded me that not everything nice can be found over the border.

The Trelawnyd Male Voice Choir (https://trelawnydmalevoicechoir.com/index.php?id=4)

peformed a set of three quarter Welsh Songs supported by a quartet of teenage singers from Ruthin School who were an absolute revelation and delight 

It’s was a lovely night

Made better by the above impromptu moment in the interval when half the choir sang happy birthday to 8 year old villager Sophia who is the delightfully polite daughter of Polish Monika, the hall’s caretaker.

Lots of the village turned out, Village Elders Ian and Helen , The velvet voiced Linda, Bridget and Andrew, Mrs Trellis ( looking lovely in pearls) Pippa, TCA Dave and Jean ,Mr Poznan in a bow tie, Gill and Gentleman farmer Peter from my Choir, et al

Ps they sang Gwahoddiad perfectly

Just like this

Spitalfield’s Vase

 

The dogs have been spoilt rotten by Trendy Carol and her hubby, but were still happy to see me. We’ve had a long walk this morning in the showers and they 

are now steaming quietly in the kitchen reading chair and are asleep.

It’s the charity concert by the village MaleVoice Choir in aid of the TCA tonight, but in the meantime I’m doing chores

I bought this vase at Spitalfields Market and filled it with garden flowers