Civil War

 My sister came this morning and did the garden. I left her to it as I had a counselling session then planned to go to the cinema. The garden looks lovely and will burst into colour next month

I got into Chester a little early, so went to the Storyhouse to have brunch. kedgeree and crinkle chips 

Bloody lovely it was too.

On my nephew’s suggestion I went to see the drama Civil War which, as it turned out was an inspired choice. Set in  a civil war in modern day USA, we follow the fortunes of four war reporters ( two Journalists and two photographers played by Kirsten Dunst, Wagner Moura, Caylee Spaeny, and Stephen McKinley Henderson) Each character is essentially a representation of a whole person, each one showing a recognised facet of someone who has lived man’s inhumanity. So Dunst is the PTSD sufferer who has seen too much, Moura the thrill seeker, Spaeny the rookie and Henderson the old lag who cannot retire even though he is well past his sell by date.

Together the group travel from war torn New York to Washington  to see the President deposed from office , and it’s a grim and terrifying journey where anarchy reigns and life is very cheap indeed . director Alex Garland cranks up the tension until the very end of this unexpected gem of a movie 

Not an easy watch, but an important one.

Our Beach

 

I’ve circled Trelawnyd and Colwyn Bay

We got up early, around 8 am,and drove to Colwyn Bay beach. The Promenade there is wide and clean and pleasant to walk on  and on a Sunday in fine weather , the place feels every European , what with the promenaders, wild swimmers and get fit enthusiasts, all looking busy. This morning we had prayer groups on the beach and several Male  show offs with their own portable sauna, Jogged back and forth from sea to heat.

We walked to Parasellas’ where I bought 2 sausage baps and a coffee. The Welsh sat on their own seats at the outside table and we shared breakfast, which was fun. 

We ambled back along the Promenade to Porth Eirias and I had another coffee next to the “sculpture” of the cormorant as the Welsh watched a posturing standard poodle nearby. 

It was heading for eleven when we all returned to Bluebell and the car park was already full to bursting.

And it was time for home

Tempest

 This is something I hope to see on my next London trip

Friday Observations

 It’s Friday and it’s trying to be sunny. The Welsh are quiet today after their walk and Roger is sat in my bedroom window watching the grave digger and village Elder Islwyn dig a grave for a lady on Erw Wen I've never met.

I had a tutorial with my senior tutor , she says I’m doing fine, even my academic work ( which I find a challenge) she says is fine . “I like how you write “ she said , which meant a great deal 

Anyhow, the village coffee morning needs helpers tomorrow but as usual I’m working. 

I’m not complaining, weekend work means more money and bills seemed to have shot up this month. 

At least Flintshire County Council is not bankrupt but their monthly bill rise is a real shocker.

I’ve had to pay for Dorothy’s cremation too. The ground had been overly saturated to bury her.

I didn’t have the energy to do it myself.

I have some wriggle room but I will need to book a few extra shifts in April and May as my nephew Leo is coming up for a visit ( his first alone) and I’ve got London trips to see Nu (theatre and the Hampton Court Flower Show) and with Janet to see A Chorus Line at Saddler’s Wells and Buckingham Palace.

Sheffield too is calling me back home as it has a want to do , so I’ll message Mike for a date to meet up

I see that old showboat drag queen Myra DuBois is playing the Ledmill 

I’d love to get to visit the place one last time…….

Roger is barking his what the hell is going on bark 

The mini gravedigger has obviously overfaced him and I’m finishing my coffee before I wash my face and brush my hair in order to meet my family for lunch at the Dinorban 

I will leave you with the lovely lisping Spanish Choir 

Enjoy

How To Handle A Lemon sucker

 

Lemon suckers leave a sour taste in your mouth unless you add something sweet to the mix in order to lessen the acidity. 

I’m getting better at this, thanks to personal development, but I’m still inclined to bite rather than to diffuse In the company of these people, your words become your weapons, not to destroy, but to defend, to protect and to deconstruct their thinking. When they turn things downward, negative and sour, you can turn it right back around again. Lift things upwards, be positive and empowering. 

Question their thinking, ask them why they would choose to take the negative perspective they have? Ask them if their perspective is helpful? You see the more you question them, the less they share their acid tones with you as they don't like being questioned or challenged and will feel less and less inspired to share as they are not getting the response they desire.

As a good friend says ‘act as a sweetener’ around these people. According to Huxton (2017) “ Inside every ‘lemon sucker’ is a great person waiting to escape the misery they are causing themselves and others. They just need to be shown, guided, questioned, nurtured and encouraged to look inside themselves, to explore how they are affecting their own status quo and well-being and that of those around them.”

I don’t want more practice. But I need more if you know what I mean .
I’m being mindful today. It’s colder and we’ve had the odd shower, during which I’ve collected the houseplants and put them outside for a natural bath and drink

I’m going to the theatre later
 

Being Silly

The Randa Girls are no longer girls but young beautiful women, I noticed a new photo of them on their mums Facebook page. I was on my way back from Liverpool , seeing some old friends

Eight years ago they were little girls 

And I occasionally still miss babysitting them after school, it was the last real time I enjoyed being truly silly

Children notice everything.
We had just bathed and towel dried Mary and placed her back into her crate when Eve noticed a big blob of curry sauce on the oven glove which was looped over the oven door handle .
" Errrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrhhhhhhhh! " she called out rather theatrically " Wot's that?"
I made a show of sniffing the brown lump and told both girls that I thought it " smelt of poo"
Suddenly I had both girl's rapt attention
I poked the lump with my finger and lifted it to my nose
" yes it's poo!" I announced and as the girls looked on with surprised frowns
I popped my finger into my mouth
Screaming filled the kitchen.

Late in life , I have learnt the lesson that children love and need silliness.
And the " smuttier" and " dirtier" the silly activity...the happier they become.
Unfortunately I don' t recall my parents ever being silly.
When I picked the girls up from school yesterday afternoon, Eve asked if we could " smash the apples again" ....as " it was fun" We had picked apples from the orchard and had jumped on the soft apples with our shoes so that the geese could feed on the bits the last time they came around after school.

Last night , when affable despot Jason arrived to pick his girls up , he was faced with suddenly dipped curried digits and shouts of "Dad! I have poo on my finger" , and like all experienced parents he smiled a patient smile .
I covered the fingerholes before I replaced the curry in the oven.

Blowing eggs in the garden

Chips

 I’ve always said Carl Rogers never struck me as a party girl

Earnest and not a bag of laughs

I could be wrong 

It’s been all a bit heavy in University today

Hence the chips for lunch 

André Rieu - La Paloma (Live in Mexico)

Like I said earlier today has been busy but it has also been productive and funny and with Roger showing latent hormonal infatuations on a scale that Winnie had for workmen in overalls 

The day made me smile .

As did André Rieu and his orchestra of many colours in their Mexican concert from a few years ago 

It was bonkers

Totally bonkers 

I watched it on sky , and was drawn in by the good nature of it all 

The humour, the obvious enjoyment and the energy of the locals  was a delight to watch 

And with everything news being shite at the moment 

A few daft frocks, some toe tapping songs and ten thousand Mexicans going bananas 

Wasn’t a bad way of passing an evening 

I see he’s in concert in Sheffield later this week ! 

No time

 

I’ve been busy.

I completed an essay this morning, which only needs the referencing doing.

Did the weekly shop and took Trendy Carol to pick up her car from the garage.

She was wearing something bright that shrieked springtime in a light cotton 

Roger is in love with Trendy Carol 

Unlike his alpha male , Roger is clearly a ladies man 

He spent the journey to the garage lying in Carol’s arms, just looking up into her face

It’s exhausting to watch

You can almost smell his hormones.

In between jobs I listened to a biography of Antoni Gaudi on Radio 4 and the story of Christine Granville who was the first female spy of WW2 and so engrossed , missed. The pharmacy trip on the way home.

The cottage resembles something post drugs bust

Hey ho

Small World

Carlos

 On my coffee break, yesterday I messaged Nia Hâf 

Are you ok? I asked

She lives with her family in Sydney 

And seconds later came the wonderful xxx reply 

The world is a very small place sometimes.🥰

Ben

At teatime, I was sat with my coffee and sausage bap ( with glorious fried onions thanks Hospice Chef) in the staff room and I was messaging my rather tipsy friend Ben in South Korea on my iPad.

It was 2 am over there and we had a big fat manly virtual hug before he fell asleep on the couch! 

Nia and family

At home I caught up with friend Argentinian  Carlos on his holiday cruise  to the Falklands, epic and moving, he loved it

And all this from North Wales! 

 all this has happened today x

What A Gay Day

I loved it when it went all German 

 

Catch me no catch Unless he's a matchless match.

 

I’ve been writing an essay most of the day and have only seen one person this morning, which was Polish Monica who was out for her run. I did however receive a somewhat mysterious follow up message from Mererid a lady I don’t know well at all and who lives on the side of the Gop. She texted me yesterday saying

 “ Hi John, I wonder if I could pop down to see you for a few minutes when you’re available please? Will explain when I see you!! Mererid” and this morning adding “ Sorry to be so mysterious, it’s just I’d like to speak to you about it face to face. Nothing at all to worry about. See you later between 5 and 6 , thank you.”

I was intrigued 

She arrived just after five pm, and sat on the couch rather primly only to be bounced on by Roger who has no understanding of social etiquette. 

It took me a while to drag him off her, and she had the slightly tousled look any attractive woman had after my father had wished them Happy New Year at one of our family parties .She tried to concentrate  but it was hard after Roger waved his paws  excitedly from under my arm.

It put her off her stride just a little

Anyway to cut a long story short , she wants to introduce me to a friend of hers from just outside Chester

His name is Richard and he has all his own teeth! 

I’m very flattered lol

Beach

 The weather is spring-like this morning, and that’s glorious.I have an essay to complete so I’m on the way to the uni library, but stopped at the beach at Colwyn Bay to drink coffee and have the breeze on my face. 

It will do

 It’s been a sad week all told. 

A troll rather stupidly asked why Ive been talking about death so much recently 

I’ve been to two funerals this week and work in a hospice ! 

Duh

Go figure! 

I watched myself interact with my colleagues today, and noted their movements too. A hug here, a touch on the arm there. Ruth’s arm through mine, a rub of a shoulder there by Tracy who was half joking about me wearing my Christmas jumper to the service

Reassuring touches, like Elephants touching trunks when frightened by a herd death

We are all animals really. 

Tonight I couldn’t settle, until Mary climbed onto the couch next to me. 

Typical of the Welsh , she threw herself backwards into the crook of my arm and there fell asleep with her head up.

I so needed this little hug today

Ok It’s not fingers running through your hair until you fall asleep kinda contact you’ve craved all week

But it will do………..

Yma o hyd -

Written in 1983, Yma O Hyd is a song of defiance against loss of Welsh Culture and language. 

Written and sung by Daffydd Iwan, it has become a popular song at football and rugby matches but today I heard it for the first time at Ann’s funeral and was greatly moved by it.

Twenty five nursing staff turned up from the hospice, a phenomenal number given our small ward numbers and I wish that we could’ve  gone in uniform as we used to do in the 1980s before infection management, audit and risk  assessment were the words du jour.

Turning up in uniform with the female nurses stiff in their black capes, was always seen as a sign of deep respect.

Ann’s service spoke of love and affection for a woman who was so very loved and respected and those are the hardest of services to deal with because emotions are so very high. 

The crematorium was packed to overflowing which spoke volumes with mourners standing several deep  in the vestibule in front of the chapel .

As the words Ry’n ni yma o hyd “ We’re still here” rang out

The congregation were given rose petals to place gently on Ann’s coffin 

Sweet

TVs 911 had a chasted gay moment on screen which was sweet and unexpected last night . Chasted is good 

A few years ago I remember nursing an Indian lady who had been admitted . She was in her late 60s and although she had a large number of visitors from her extended family, she had never married or had children of her own.

All of this lady's personal care was carried out by female staff but I do remember one occasion when she required a turn in bed and only one female support worker and I were available to do the deed.

I explained the situation to the patient and assured her that by folding the sheets in a certain way, I would not compromise her modesty, and she agreed I could help with a quiet passivity.

Just before I started to pull back the covers, I remember the lady reached over to her locker to pull out a face flannel which she placed over her own face before the turn, and I remember the support worker ( a delightful Welsh lass called Ann ) putting her hand over her own mouth in a gesture of sympathy.and concern 

Even though the lady agreed to me to help, she just could not face to watch 

me complete this everyday and usually unthinking procedure.She was just too ashamed

With great presence of mind, the support worker took the flannel away and gestured to the patient that I would close my eyes during the whole turn, and I would do as I was told , which the patient agreed to with a huge sigh. She took charge of the procedure and treated me with an appropriate “ bless him” attitude which suited the moment . I bowed to her gentleness and instinct.

I shut my eyes and the turn was done, without me seeing an inch of uncovered flesh.

I loved Ann for this moment 

Eddie’s chaste snog with Tommy may be just the briefest glimpse of Californian  innocence.. but it did remind me of one of those red letter moments only good nursing can give someone
.....a bit of sweet humanity.

It is Ann’s funeral tomorrow, an unexpected funeral for sure, 

I, like everyone at St Davids Hospice shall miss her greatly 

Memory Lanes

 

In the early 1980s my friendship group dispersed to Universities and hospitals around the country.

We’ve all done ok for ourselves, with the sad exception of Ian Parry who became a renown freelance photographer based in Tooting, but who sadly died in a Russian Cargo plane leaving Bucharest in December 1989 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ian_Parry

Before our natural parting of the ways, and as avid CB enthusiasts, we spent much time at the more liberal  houses of the group’s parents, drinking tea by the gallon, and hanging out in untidy lumps as adolescents do. It was the funeral, of one of those parents today. May ( Mother of Janet ( whose CB handle I have forgotten ) and Diane, who was known as Cherry Blossom. 

May’s door was always open to teenagers and I was nice to be there today, to acknowledge the fact and to support old friends both of whom , I haven’t seen for 35 years.

I had forgotten that years ago I had given May a small figurine of Lorne Green as she was obsessed with the man after seeing him in Bonanza as a girl. It was with her in the coffin,I was told in a whisper, when I joined the meet and greet line.

I liked the fact that the Bonanza theme tune was played as everyone got up to leave the service hall, even though I had the urge to gallop to the music like Miranda Hart did on her tv programme . 

I walked out with Helen a charming, horsey public school girl of my former group who had blossomed into a gentle fifty something Priest who has recently returned to wales. 

We smiled together as The Bonanza music filled the hall and the curtains closed silently.

Sunday Morning

 Storm Kathleen continues to whistle it’s way across North Wales tonight. It was peaceful at dusk when I drove to work, so much so, that I stopped at Colwyn Bay Beach to photograph the metal silhouettes of the holiday makers there. 

It’s overcast again, and like many bloggers have shared recently, I too long for for the sun to return, strong enough to dry out the patio of green algae or the mud from the farm tractor wheels to be set into a proper dust, which billows upwards after they pass the cottage in great clouds.

In Sunday tomorrow and apart from sleeping in for a few hours , I have nothing planned. 

Lunch out would be nice but everyone’s busy with, what my depressed friend always describes as “ family time” and I get that. I’ve told them to call me when they feel like that. 

I can always do lunch out! 

So I think I will buy a chicken and do a full roast

With mash and roast potatoes and dripping Yorkshires’

With golden gravy and sweet piles of carrots.

God’s own country.

The Welsh can have boneless leftovers and I can light the fire and watch some Netflix.

Next week, I’ve got two funerals to go to. So my big woolcoat will take some bashing.

I will leave you with a few favourite video clips

The delightfully actorish Catherine Russell  for starters , who reminds me very much of Chic Eleanor 

This is kelda, she’s looking for more followers , I’m loving her gentle humour too and hope to recruit her to the Flower Show Committee soon..please follow her videos link below

https://www.tiktok.com/@nrom11?_t=8lJWpawYInh&_r=1

The Lisping Choir

 My favourite Spanish  lisping choir is now smoking ! How very non PC 

I love this to death.

It brightened up a long night

Looking forward to get to bed today

Hey ho

Perfect Days

I’ve reflected on yesterday’s blog, the subject of which , seemed to have gotten lost in the telling.

My choice of wording to describe , what I see is the second nastiest condition after MND , stands.

To me, the word cunt is synonymous with the biggest exclamation of hate. It’s “ gender” is immaterial , to me it’s not misogynistic at all, but more guttural .

Anyhow the word stands and if you as readers decide to go because of it , I wish you well 

Today’s blog is lighter though Perfect Days is a film that could be seen as subdued by some. Well worth seeing, it’s a gentle tale of days-in-the-life of Hirayama (Kōji Yakusho) a middle aged toilet cleaner in Tokyo. Hirayama lives a life full of ritual and routine, he reads and listens to Nina Simone, and photographs trees around his never changing work routine.

Very slowly we learn snippets about him but over all, we experience his capacity to see the wonderful in the ordinary.

A shaved down simple world. 

I have no spare money at the moment, it’s a product of shortening my hours at work

It’s not a complaint , just an observation.

Vinegar Tit commentators will no doubt remind me that I do go to the theatre more than the average aging homosexual , but I counter that with the fact that I don’t really live an extravagant lifestyle. I drive an old second hand car, I watch a tv no bigger than large book on its side and I’ve one classy item of clothing and that’s a funeral woollen coat from Marks and Sparks

So, if I was honest I HAVE been worried about paying the second year of my counselling course fees , due in September 

But serendipity has smiled at me once again

And I smile and raise a glass to whoever is watching over me in this , the autumn of my life.

On spec I explored my electricity bill yesterday and realised the bill was estimated rather than based on readings that I was sure I had sent in. 

I rang in

Two hours later I was still “ discussing “ my payments in rather a robust manner until, in a fit of genius ,the call taker suddenly asked me to photograph my meter which lies over the front door.

Moments later, she laughed and told me I was suddenly over 600£ in credit and I told her I could have kissed her. 

600£ into the kitty

Buoyed  up I checked my Welsh Water account and realised I was overly in credit in that account too ! Another 200£ into my fee account!

Then I checked the yellow biscuit jar now pride of place underneath the art wall……this has been my Piggy Bank  since a bought it three years ago,  where cheques and birthday money , and money from eBay sales and the odd tenner found in Jean pants have been pushed, alongside pound coins from underneath the sofa, under the rubber seal in the washing machine and inside Bluebell 

The total amount £196.02

So I’m just shy of a grand 

How great is that!!!!!

Five hundred pounds to find until September 

That’s doable, and I’m hoping for a tax rebate this year too….we shall see

Perfect.

I’ve just taken the Welsh for a walk and we picked up a McDonald’s large white coffee as a treat on the way home. It’s important to treat yourself to one small thing everyday, even if it’s a coffee, or a walk, or joining the Storyhouse film society , which I also did this morning. 

Hey ho

Working later, so made Thai Curry soup and picked the first of the spring blooms in the garden, Jews Mallow, camellia, rebus, bluebell and forget me not