Scotch Egg Resus

Dorothy was poorly this morning and refused her breakfast

This worried me greatly as she hasn’t missed a meal in five years, 

So I fussed around her as she lay quiet on the kitchen reading chair and even contemplated not going to Chester to meet my friend Ruth for lunch so worried I was 

But Bulldogs are not bulldogs for a reason and by four o’clock , the scent of a sliver of bespoke scotch egg wafted around the kitchen brought the girl back from the brink of death

Ruth treated me from the butchers in the new Chester Market

I gave Dorothy a half egg ( a true prize in this house) to clinch her full recovery

Joy Ride | Amazon Christmas Ad

Hysteria

 I miss laughing like I did when I was a child 

I think we all do

Laughing so much you cried

When a drunk Auntie Betty trapped herself on top of a child’s slide with a packet of chocolate buttons melting down her cleavage 

When Gran Fry got locked in the lavatory and was calling out for help

When one of the posh girls from Brynterion Close put on a dance show and shouted out “Crumbs” when she fell over

Great moments of pure humour.

Night Nurse Hysteria is a common phenomenon on busy wards.

It often occurs right at the end of shift and is culmination of over tiredness, stress, the need to debrief and realisation that you will have to do the whole thing again the next night.

Once I was sat at the end of my patient’s bed on Itu, totally knackered.

A domestic decided she was going to clean  the floor with a loud buffing machine and in a low voice I threatened to kill her with a drip stand if she didn’t stop 

The domestic knew me and knew I was joking but the nurses around me saw the funny side of the threat and started to laugh.

I remember laughing until I cried as they did the same, the Filipino nurses still polite , shielding their mouths with their hands 

And that morning all you could hear was the bleeps of the monitors and the strangled hysterical laughter of the staff

Little Fuckers

 I was working in the library most of today.

A gaggle of 17 year old boys trapped me in the multisex toilet on the ground floor thinking I was a mate of theirs and all shouted Arrrhhh!!! When I finally managed to push it open, much to their horror. 

I did see the funny side but that was after bellowing a very loud “ YOU LITTLE FUCKERS!” In shock ( a shout that brought the librarians galloping down the stairs with red faces and heaving bosoms) 

I was down to work on Saturday but I brought in a favour and now have the night off. It’s casino night in the village which was a riot when held previously so me and a friend are going along

I’ve also organised a Japanese lunch out with another friend on Wednesday which should be fun and several more activities after that . 

Janet is also taking me to see Giselle which will be a real treat as long as the wili’s impress 

My ex gets remarried in a few days time , and I’m all a bit mixed up with things to be honest 

Best to keep busy

Fucking hell…I’m tired of these up and down emotions 

It’s like being an effin teenager in this house

Red Flag

Well surprise surprise

Patrick’s life turned out far too complicated for one Welshman to want to deal with . 

I’m not saying much more but suffice to say young children and a wife are involved.

I wished him well today, and he did the same to me

He wasn’t surprised 

This has happened before no doubt 

And I would suggest will happen again

Complicated always means someone eventually getting hurt

Don’t post platitudes about finding the right person please

I’m fine just slightly disappointed 

This video reminded myself of me

It’s a bad habit I’ve always done in pet stores

A red flag for some no doubt

Bonfire Night 1975

 

I was going to go to the cinema in Chester early evening, but the city is hoping to hold a firework show at the Roodee and parking will be a bitch so I’ve decided to stay home.

The fire is lit and the dogs are bored

And I am reminded of a bonfire night from 1975.

Seventies Bonfire night for us Brits was a big night. 

Council fireworks on the beach brought out the crowds even though it was bitterly cold and my sister Janet and I were wearing matching duffle coats in the back of my father’s car. 

We were adjuncts to his role as head of the town council 

And even at eleven we knew it .

The fireworks were watched together without him

And he marshalled us only when the press photographer wanted a “family” photo.

It took him a few minutes to arrange his chain of office over his sheepskin coat .

The photographer shouted for smiles and my father hugged both of us

Something he never did in real life.

And my sister half smiled through the cold 

Whereas my stern expression never changed at all.

Even now I can sniff out a physicality that is false 

And my back still stiffens 

New York

 Exactly six years ago I went to New York, Facebook reminded me of this fact overnight ! 

The weather was amazing as I recall

72 degrees!!!  I miss the city so

So I’ve booked, my next trip, for June next year 

Duvet Day

I’m in bed.

It’s cold and although I’ve lit the fire, Dorothy and I have returned to bed and have had an extra sleep. I’m on nights just for one shift tonight ( days and nights in the same week…yes I know) 

Now, I’m listening to Desert Island Discs with Patrick Grant which has proved to be a rather moving.listen whilst hiding under the duvet.

I’m looking a little like his side kick Esme Young with my Mr Motto glasses on.

Note to self order more reading glasses on Amazon.

It’s blustery outside and I ain’t going nowhere

 

Watching Roger

One blogger asked about this music on a previous post, so I thought I’d repost it. 

It is all rather beautiful .

It’s half term in University, but I have to write an essay so will be going into the local campus library to work. Trendy Carol’s Hubby has taken the dogs.

Work needs shifts covering but I couldn’t face another day like Monday

When I walked the dogs this morning great untidy V’s of honking Canada geese flew over to the west and Mary, Dorothy and I stopped to watch them for a while.

Roger hadn’t a clue where they were and looked vaguely around the field borders in the hope of finding the location of the noise.

He’s so sweetly dim

It’s colder and feels like Autumn

I got home after four, picking some shopping up for Trendy Carol’s hubby as I did so. 

I also bought some very strong cheese which I’m going to toast on hot buttered bread later as a treat. 

There is nothing better than a cup of tea with cheese on toast.

I thought I’d share this little Roger moment tonight. 

He was sat quietly in the Trendy’s Trendy conservatory when I called round

The girls were asleep on a couch, but he was standing guard watching a pair of blackbirds spar in the dusk gloom. 

I stood and watched him for a while, wondering what on Earth he was thinking and in that time he spied me standing there. 

He didn’t bark or jump up, or even wag his tail but he sort of nodded his head in recognition and although I couldn’t see his face clearly

I could tell that my dim sweet boy was smiling like a loon.

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