Godzilla Minus One

 

Finally I got back to the movies and boy did I enjoy returning.

Today’s film was a Japanese  version of the country’s own original monster movie from 1954

A retelling of the Godzilla story from the perspective of the post war Japanese people.

It’s an interesting movie and strange as it would seem, a very emotional one as we follow the story of a thrown together nuclear ( literally) family of Shikishima ( Ryunosuke Kamiki) a kamiski pilot who refused to crash his plane, and Noriko ( Minami Hamabe) a young woman who saved a baby (Sae Nagatani) during the firestorm on Tokyo 

One pissed off Dinosaur

This chaste family Unit try to forge an existence in post war Japan where most of the population are haunted by ghosts of the war, living in squalor ,fear of the H bomb threat , and coping with the internalised anger at their own Government for dragging them through a war which degraded them. 

Indeed the whole message from Godzilla minus one ,is about redemption and one of saving face. 

Director Takashi Yamazaki interestingly has the general public, the old soldiers and sailors from the war to fight a rather bad tempered and nasty Godzilla and the destruction set pieces have a wonderfully vintage and slightly old fashioned feel to them, almost as if we were back in the man-in -a-suit 1954 original.

yamazaki also makes his protagonists incredibly real and somewhat vulnerable , and when Noriko is cornered by Godzilla as she travels in a train in the city of Ginza ( a total homage to the L train destruction scene in the original King Kong)  It is real hand to the mouth stuff , as Shikishima turns up to save her.

You care about this nuclear family, and you care about the real people devastated by a war most of them never wanted. Godzilla Minus One has lots to say about the horrors of war and less to say about a bad tempered dinosaur , which makes it such a better film than those recent American remakes who resemble the olympics in 1980 Los Angeles …..when too much thrown at them

Cards

 It’s Friday already and I’m working all day Saturday and Sunday so Christmas week is practically here.

I have another presentation to deliver on Tuesday at college but this is part of a group Ethical  presentation and only lasts five minutes so I have to write this up today, which will be pretty straightforward.

Shortly I’m taking Trendy Carol’s hubby Christmas Shopping and late afternoon I’m going to watch Godzilla minus one which is the Japanese movie reclaiming it’s own monster back

I think it will be fun .

Last night I hung my Christmas Cards, and they started to snake around the living room. With the cost of postage so high I’m not expecting the usual amount, but I’m secretly hoping I can fill the room.

It’s a tradition I got into when I moved into the cottage in 2005

My ex sent me a polite card, 

It’s up with the others.

I’ve bought my gifts, 

I found some rusting wrens online, the types you nail onto of a fence or on a tree branch and have sent them to friends

I think they are quite lovely and have bought one for myself 

My nephew sent me a beautifully wrapped gift, yesterday 

And I’ve had a few more with cards from bloggers which I’m very grateful for 

Mary has a sore foot which Dorothy is licking loudly in the kitchen reading chair

Everything in Wales feels damp

Erddig

 

My friend Ruth and I went out to do the Christmas Thing this afternoon and go to Erddig, a visit which turned into a hysterical sob fest during lunch where she found an extremely long blonde hair in her Turkey bap and proceeded to remove it from her throat like a magician pulling out a row of bunting.The moment was made more special by the fact it had a small knot of stuffing wrapped around its distal end.

We haven’t laughed so long in ages.

The house looked magical in the darkness of a winter’s day, and even though we could only see half of the rooms ( the house is for the most part without electric light so is unsafe to walk around ) what we saw was lovely 

It was good to see her x

Christmas

 

Finally a day for just myself no work and no study.

I’m late with my Christmas Cards, and the sending of gifts so I will get those done today. Next week I’ve arranged to meet up with Gorgeous Dave on Monday and my family for a meal on Tuesday. Wednesday I am having supper with Chic Eleanor and there’s a party most of the TCA are going to on Thursday

I’m working Christmas Eve and Christmas Day 

The Covid Nun

The covid inquiry continues

And I have one small story I wish they could hear.

It’s a story of people going one step further for another human being

Many such stories could be told of that time .

My patient was admitted from home, and I could immediately see , like the wide eyed paramedics that accomplished her, that she was imminently dying,

Her large family , requested just one thing as they ran in after her

She needed and wanted a priest.

I stayed with the patient and hissed a request at a pragmatic smart support worker   “ Get Me A Nun”

During lockdown , it had been almost impossible to get any chaplaincy support, but knowing that there was a nearby Convent I thought a nun was better than nothing , and even though nuns can’t give the last rights they can pray over the dying to give comfort.

An elderly nun duly arrived in what seemed like a minute or so .she was in her eighties and looked valiant as she glided in breathless but twinkle eyed. 

I had seldom seen anything so brave.

The nurses immediately surrounded her, 

Helping her into PPE and mask and gloves and  apron, with gentleness and respect

And clutching a bible the nun hurried to the patient’s bedside seconds before she passed away

I wish the inquest had heard that story , which stands up with a thousand others that should be heard 

A brave old nun, not frightened or bowed by covid 

Lie In

 My academic poster needed uploading to turnitin today , and happily  I did so around 2pm

Before that I had a proper lie in, which was lovely. 

A lie in ( after dog wees) with a cup of tea and hot buttered toast.

Of course the dogs ate the crusts with their sleepy eyes shut tight and we all slept in until 10am which I so needed.

This evening I’ve practiced my presentation ( which is tomorrow) then made noodles and chicken sprinkled with peanuts to eat on my knee in front of the fire.

Tomorrow after Uni , our group is off for an early supper

I’m still wearing my Christmas Jumper

It will need a few squirts of Fabreese tomorrow 

Nurse

 I didn’t want to be a nurse today.

I didn’t want to check scores of drug calculations, too many in most hours to cope with….

On cards and in books and at bedsides and with a tired colleague who smiled when she didn’t want to.

I didn’t want to carefully fill greedy little syringe drivers and set them up bleeping like tiny box robots under pillows and duvets as their patients relaxed and slept

I didn’t want to explain to lost families about the process of dying and I didn’t want to use a quip with a patient in order to make their tearful son laugh for the first time in weeks.

I didn’t want to teach a student nurse about complex pain in a way she understood as buzzers rang and jobs mounted up

And I didn’t want to write up notes , proving to auditors what I did that day and how I did it.

I wanted to lie on a couch in the warmth with someone rubbing my hair until I fell asleep.

And I wanted to eat a meal I hadn’t cooked myself 

But instead , I was a nurse today

….and it was ok 

 

Christina Perri - "A Thousand Years" captured in The Live Room

Coffee

6.21 

This is on the radio 

I don’t want to be a nurse today

Angel

I found this clip rather moving. 

I have no idea just why perhaps 

I’m just tired tonight, sad at the fact a colleague I value is moving to where the grass is obviously greener.

I’m sad too that some people visit here and have to leave negativity when they don’t really need to ,

I’d prefer that these people don’t visit anymore

You wouldn’t invite me into your home and have me be rude to you

Would you?

Like I said I’m tired tonight 

An Arm Through The Catflap

 Dorothy smashed the catflap during a fit of pique a month or so ago .

She’s been through three now since she arrived

She boxes the plastic door like Rocky then feigns any blame after walking back in, wide eyed and open mouthed .

She has no patience with closed doors.

And has muscles in her front legs like Popeye

I’m tell you this as a bit of colour as the new postman happily waved his arm through the flap yesterday  afternoon with the deep baritone welcome of “ Hello Dogs” 

He had no idea I was sat at the kitchen table banging away at my laptop

All he wanted was a mass of dog hellos which he received immediately from three goo goo eyed dogs who obviously have had a relationship with him for ages

He’s tall and butch and bearded

And I nearly grabbed  his outstretched hand myself 

I opened the door and dogs hugged him one by one

Even Mary was smitten 

He passed me my post as he apologised somewhat red faced

I told him to keep abusing my cat flap

He obviously adores dogs.

The above beautifully crafted glass Christmas bauble was in the post he gave me. No name , no note with it, but against the Sitges bulb , it looks iridescent   and rather beautiful 

Thank you whoever sent it.

Enjoy

 The hat on the guy in the woodwind makes me chuckle every time I watch this

Off to bed shortly, working all weekend 

I’ve only spoken to the postman today 

Suo-Gan

I found myself awake at three last night.

It was cold too, so the dogs we all called to bed to act as organic hot water bottles 

I asked Google Plus to play Suo Gan and this version  by Bryn Terfel played.

Suo Gan is a lullaby, usually sang by a woman, so this version was a surprise and a delight.

I’m finishing off my academic poster for college 

An exploration of the differences and similarities between counselling and confession, as experienced by counsellors who are, or have been , Catholic Priests

Oh er missus

Tell us the one about………

 My grandmother was a storyteller.

She filled our childhood with a dozen or so stories, all repeated at our request during bouts of ironing and cake making.

Hearing these tales repeated was just as much fun as hearing them for the very first time 

The anticipation of a punchline, or the denouement of daring wartime adventure was a delicious thing to children who grew up in a sad house. 

And we gulped up the repeats with gusto.

I’ve repeated this story 4 times now and always just before Christmas

I think it’s worth repeating every year, and I won’t apologise for its appearance here again

Christmas 1985

Christmas week 1985 I was  shadowing a community psychiatric nursing sister with her caseload in the deprived and depressing northern town of Runcorn.
Through a succession of faceless maisonettes, we sat on grubby sofas and listened to  sad stories of loneliness, mental illness and substance abuse and I watched as my mentor tried her best to keep heads above water and bums out of the local psychiatric unit.
The last visit of the day was to a woman called Jean.
Jean lived alone in the top of a ten story complex. She had suffered from severe mental health problems for forty years and had recently been placed in her home from long term psychiatric care only a few months before.
I remember her flat very well. There was no carpet in the hall and the living room but there was a tiny white tinsel Christmas tree standing on top of a large black and white tv.  A homemade fabric stocking was hung on the fire surround and just two Christmas cards  were perched on the mantle.
( one of those cards having been sent by my colleague) The flat was sparse but incredibly clean and it was evident that Jean had been waiting for our visit all day.
In mismatching cups we were offered coffee with powdered milk and a single mince pie served on a paper plate and I remember sharing a sad glance with the nurse when Jean presented us both with gifts hastily wrapped in cheap Christmas paper. My gift was two placemats with photos of cats on them. The nurse received a small yellow vase, and I remember Jean beaming with delight when we both thanked her effusively for her kindness. 
When we washed up our own cups, the nurse quietly checked the fridge, noting that several of the shelves were empty . There was a calender on the wall with the note " NURSE COMES TODAY" written on that day's date. Nothing else was written on it until the week of new year's eve, where the same sentence was written.
It was the very first time that I had experienced someone who was so totally isolated in a community setting and it shocked me to the core.

I listened as the nurse talked about medication, as  I waited patiently and when she took Jean into the bedroom to administer a regular injection I noticed a carrier bag which the nurse had tucked away by the side of the arm chair shortly after we arrived. In it was a package of cold meat, milk , bread and what looked like chocolates and a cake.
Before we left, we let Jean monopolize her only conversation of the week and as she retrieved our coats, I watched and grew a few years older as the nurse silently slipped a five pound note behind one of the cards on the mantle.

Note

I met an old friend cheryl for lunch in Chester today.

Which was lovely. 

She thought I was a little Frazzled 

I don’t think I am 

I’m still wearing my Christmas Jumper, I’ve not taken it off since Saturday, even sleeping in it last night as it was -3 outside.

The woman in the thai food stall liked it.

When I got home yesterday 

Outside the back kitchen wall was a container of soup and a lovely tiny card covered in flowers.

The card was from Brian 

And it was a gracious apology for what he said to me.

A big man 

And an apology I need to counter with another apology 

I’m sorry I posted about it 

Enjoy this video, I forgot just how good a good comic Grayson was

Andrew

Brothers and sisters

My brother died just as December showed its cold face in 2011

Twelve Years Ago

 I used to care for my brother every Thursday daytime. He was confined mostly to bed then, with a bubbling tracheostomy and the cruelty that is motor Neurone disease.
My presence was more a confidence boost for my sister in law , so she felt content to leave the house for a days' shopping and apart from the occasional meds round and tracheal suction  my day would be peaceful as the dogs would run amok in the garden as my brother slept or watched crap tv.
I remember one afternoon he had a coughing fit and needed his tracheostomy inner tube changed and his airways cleared .
To me this procedure is second nature but that day my brother had become irritated and difficult.
He was angry, and had no voice and as I fiddled with the tubes and catheters his eyes flashed red with anger
Moments later he slapped my hand hard as I reached forward with a suction catheter and shocked and suddenly upset I paused for just one second and said a slightly exasperated " I'm sorry" 
I remember my brother closing his eyes and flopping back on his pillow as I finished the procedure and without saying anything more I cleaned up the equipment  and busied myself with task orientation.
I was ten years younger than my brother and we couldn't be more different in personality if we tried.
I knew I would often irritate him but I never quite knew just why that was.
Initially the gay thing was an issue , but I knew it wasn't really that that irritated him now.
It was more me, my personality  and I get that, me coupled with hidden sibling rivalry  so often experienced between brothers.

I felt that slap long long after it had happened though

And I remembered my training too on spinal injuries as I watched bulldog Mabel bounce around the edge of the pond. The pond she would fall into a week later
Training which said Internal anger was so much harder to deal with than external anger.

This memory is over twelve years old now. I had to look it up on Going Gently finding the post where Mabel finally swan dived into the pond like Shelley Winters in The Poseidon Adventure
See
https://disasterfilm.blogspot.com/2011/11/sock-down-trouser-leg.html

But I suddenly remembered it as though it was yesterday.

I also remember how the afternoon ended as an hour or two later when I went to check on my brother he gestured to a crappy quiz programme on the tv.
It was our habit to watch it together with me inanely shouting out the answers
And he gestured for me to sit to do the same
There was no need to revisit the burst of anger

It was there and it was out,

And it was finished with.

Cheers

Reading an entertaining entry on a fellow blogger's blog reminded me of a lady I "nursed" while I was on student placement to The Merseyside alcohol dependency unit at The West Cheshire Psychiatric Hospital in the 1980s.Sylvia was one of those ex colonial types, with a cut glass accent, a weather beaten face and the kind of spirit that made Britain what it was during the 1930s and 1940s, an arrogant world power.
She was, opinionated and racist, in that old fashioned sort of way that made you smile at her rather than it provoking an angry response towards her, and she had spent her life of privilege in colonial Malaya , for 40 years pickled in pink gin.

God knows just why she had been admitted to the unit. She was far too long in the tooth at 83 to successfully give up alcohol, even I as a student realised that fact, but I suspect that she had been "encouraged " to enter rehab for a formal assessment, as it was suspected that she was suffering from the start of Korsakoff’s dementia.
People suffering from Korsakoff's dementia lack vitamin B 1 due to their alcoholism, and treatment , as I recall is a combination of vitamin supplements, good nutrition and plenty of rest in addition to the "talking therapies" which aim to explore the cause of their drinking behaviour.
"Talking Therapy" was not something that Sylvia took too seriously as I recall

People that have Korsakoff's, often have great gaps in their memory which they cover up with confabulating history accounts.
In one morning group session I remember one Liverpudlian patient asking her just how much she drank before her admission
In her best Maggie Smith delivery Sylvia announced loudly and with some conviction to the group
"If you must know ......I only ever had a few little drinkies after meals!"
The Liverpudlian, missed nothing from her vague reply
"and how many meals a day did you actually have?" he asked with a smile
"34!" Sylvia called out with a triumphant cackle

Funny Men Have Feelings

 

My sister made me a Christmas Wreath 

I haven’t seen “Brian” Since the Flower Show. He’s taken early retirement and spends a great deal of his time golfing. We banter when we meet, which is usually as one of the village events and I like him.

This time, in front of a large gathering he made graphic reference to my weight. 

It was all very jolly but at the same time incredibly rude and I suddenly felt like a picked on child at school than an affable 61 year old at a village fair.

I covered up any embarrassment with a witty retort but wanted to say 

“Why say such a thing to me when you wouldn’t dream of saying it to a woman or indeed a man of lesser good nature?.”

I have no doubt that he meant to be funny

But why say anything like he did? 

It was unkind, and it left me feeling bruised 

It’s All About The People

Kelda made us two videos to share 

 I wish I had taken more of the villagers in today’s exhausting Christmas Fair

Bunty in mufti 

Dave Smith in his usual garb

Dave and Liz 

My sister Janet and Mrs Trellis

Ian and Nick

Cameron

N

Pippa and Anne

Hattie and Adam 

Cameron’s Parents

The exotic Melinka LevVey and the very sassy Loraine

Tracy Manchester with an exhausted Bridget in the background

The Manley’s 

Gwawr and Jack

The day was hard work but fun, and the TCA should be praised for their dedication 

We had a harpist 

A community choir 

And just three members of the Rhyl brass band which, despite being left in the proverbials by their colleagues managed several sets of jolly hymns 

I went for the fat bastard Christmas jumper look seeing that my Victorian outfit didn’t fit

And enjoyed my lantern making

Outland (1981)

One of my favourite actresses died yesterday 

Frances Sternhagen a renown stage and screen actress died aged 93. For many people she was known to play tough talking mothers( and grandmothers)  in the likes of Cheers, ER and Sex and the City but for me her film roles as the tough talking and loyal doctor to Sean Connery’s hero cop  in Outland and as Irene Reppler the 80 year old feisty home made flame thrower  heroine in the monster movie horror The Mist that stand out for me 

She will be missed

In The Mood

A local business sponsored our Christmas Tree at the hospice which was kind. And they set it up tonight which was also kind. My sister has been busy making wreaths for the Trelawnyd Fair and I see
 

That the Village Christmas Tree has been erected outside the hall, 

It looks cheerful enough.

The support worker I’ve been working with tonight brought me a curried Scotch egg

Which was bloody lovely.

At home tonight, my festive penguin is the centre of my decorations . I will never have a tree at home if there’s just me to see it,