An Old Camera

The lisping choir at its best, look at Silvia at 1.46 when the harmonies merge, her face kinda breaks your heart. 

I found an old camera this morning in a travel bag on the wardrobe shelf. I used to film short videos on it for the blog before my mobile phone  when the Ukrainian  Village still stood and the mechanics of which  were so hokey that Tom Stephenson used to comment that he thought a helicopter was permanently hovering over Bwthyn y Llan .

The film was dreadful , a wordy, dull and improbable study of a dying Freud’s discussions with CS lewis about God’s existence, worthy I guess but terribly dull, sorry Freud’s Last Session

Back to work tomorrow , an extra shift to cover sickness .

Hey ho

Sweet Charity

 

The problem with watching an amateur theatre production is that there are always a few actors that let the side down . It’s the nature of the beast, and one that you make allowances for.

Last night, Janet and I went to Theatre Clwyd to see the Chester/Wrexham TipTop Production of Sweet Charity and boy was it hard to see where amateur ended and professional started

It was a quality production all told .

Musicals live or die on their popular set pieces and the glorious Rhythm of Life song in this production was a doozie, with the large cast belting out their roles with real professional confidence. Not one performance reminded me I was at a amateur production ….a fact supported by my sister who asked in the interval 

Why are tickets for tonight so cheap? 

The selfie didn’t turn out

We had a lovely night out , I love nights like this one, that surprisingly impressed 

Lunch In

 

The sushi have been a mindful make, what with making a prawn paste, highlighted by salmon and anchovies, some have beetroot and carrot, that gives a sweeter taste, others have cheese paste, tartare, cucumber and coriander. 

A financial advisor called today. He was amused at Roger who whilst giddy had trouble running up and down the stairs.

“ He can’t coordinate” I explained “ He just runs at the staircase and hopes for the best” 

He refused the offer of sushi 

I’ll leave you with the lisping choir Grupo Talia

Counselling and Patio

 Thursday is my counselling day. In the morning I see my own clients and in the afternoon I continue to see my own counsellor. Every other Wednesday I see my own supervisor and every month I have joint supervision from my placement supervisor on a Thursday lunchtime.

Today was the day for that too.

This afternoon,  I feel a little counselled out, so braved the cold and sat on the patio with a coffee, closed eyes to the wind.  

I sat like that for an age and it felt very good.

The wind whipping away negative thoughts allowing space for the objective and the balanced.

Village leader Ian ,dropped by with the Flower Show Schedules and I’ve just dropped the first one off at Jenny Morris’ home, surrounded by the most delightful allotments . She is the “ face.” Of the flower show this year 

Im meandering to the end of my annual leave weeks and I have recharged nicely . The patio planters look pretty and colourful, another small job done, a list line ticked

Tomorrow , Janet and I are off to see Sweet Charity at Theatre Clwyd and Saturday I’ve booked to see 

“ Freud’s Last Session” at the Storyhouse 

It seems an appropriate film given the counselling feel of my holiday

I’ve learned a great deal this week, 

That’s why I’m weary and tired

Tomorrow , I’m making sushi 

Bloody lovely 

Choir

Last night I went to the 10th Birthday party of the Gwaenysgor Community Choir. 

It was lovely seeing everyone Margaret and Richard from Trelawnyd was there with the Turpins so I caught up with them before catching up with the ever happy Hattie, Heulwen and Derek  before touching base with Jamie sporting a fledgling 1940s RAF Moustache.

I’ve missed choir but have been sanguine that something had to give between, college, counselling days and work. 

I’m not superwoman

I can’t juggle every ball that’s thrown my way. 

My plan is that I return to choir in September.  

It’s a good decision , especially as I was moved to tears by some of their latest songs, so powerful and strong.

Grupo Tallia and Gwaenysgor 

I can live with two choirs in my life

Going Gently

 I didn’t follow Michael Mosley at all, but like thousands of people was saddened by his death. He seems to have been an all round good guy and his death by natural causes has shocked and surprised many. 

In my experience , people, often behave like animals do at the point of death. They can become agitated and disorientated and often have the urge to hide away on their own . Blood chemicals disarray  , hypoxia and delirium all play their own part in this, but in my view there seems to be something more primeval in play. 

There is often a need for people to be on their own. 

To be away from the sickbed, 

To be alone from the clan .

This phenomenon is well know amongst hospice nurses, who invariably warn relatives of what could happen if vigils are broken, even for the most shortened of times. 

Often families wrap this age old behaviour into some sort of altruistic sparing of their loved ones feelings and I get that totally , but at the end of the day , I sort of understand more the urge to hide away somewhere cool and dark and comforting as the body systems slowly shut down one by one.

Necessary Shopping

A cat flap kit ( Dorothy smashed the last, one in a fit of pique) 

4 litres of white masonry paint ( to paint the back of the cottage which is looking decidedly grubby,

A large bottle of white vinegar ( to clean out the washing machine)

An insulated lunch box carrier for work and counselling days ( in rainbow colours) 

8 pigs ears ( assorted ears , assorted pigs)

1 city break scented candle “ experience the vibrant energy of a rooftop bar overlooking the iconic Manhattan skyline”  ( smells like peony)

Various tinned goods ( to fill gaps in cupboards)

2 pairs of boxer shorts with a sports gusset 

Small tine of condensed milk ( bugger alone knows why)

I potted blue salvia 

I box Mango slices

Batteries ( various sizes) 

24 cans of discounted just to be out of date Diet Coke

Ibuprofen tablets 

Plastic containers ( 24!)

Dog shampoo and food and a measuring glass for cooking

Stamps

I know not an interesting post 

Life is mundane 

You'll Never Walk Alone (Carousel) - Stephanie Blythe

Indila – « Dernière danse »

The weather has turned twice this morning.

I was up early ( for me) and took the Welsh to the beach for a long walk along the Prom.

We shared a cheese Flatbread on the way home and I treated myself to a large white coffee, which I’m still sipping , even if it is cold .

It was windy but not cold on the beach but now it’s started to rain and I’ve been in the garden cutting roses and am chilled and damp.

I’ve filled in the gaps with honeysuckle 

By 1pm I was hungry, after all the Welsh Had eaten most of my breakfast. 

The treat today was fish and chips, and when cooked by an experienced chippie , is a meal worthy of any Michelin star chef.

Bloody lovely

Pitstop

I never share full films here. The opportunity seldom arises, but this little gem of a gay film , was something I saw in Theatre Clwyd perhaps ten years ago now, and it’s messages of hope still stays with me to this day. 

It’s called Pitstop by Yen Tan

It’s PRIDE month this month and Bwthyn Y Llan still waves it’s rainbow heart from the window and the Queen’s Head from my spare bedroom. 

I’m very proud to be one of the few gays here in the village 

Friday

 It’s Friday already. 

And what fun, I’m not working the weekend because I’ve taken annual leave this week and last. 

This means instead of four full days taken with college, counselling, and work, I’ve only had to deal with my counselling day which is going ok at the moment. 

I enter the day leisurely and think of what I’m going to do only after preparing breakfast which gives the day its pace. Luckily the Welsh are even more laid back and refuse to even get up for a wee early.

It’s like living with teenagers.

I’ve made avocado toast and strong coffee and read the blogs and the tiktoks. I’m down to a dozen all told, and prefer the newsy chatty  over the ones who badmouth others whilst showing off their mental dexterity.

The internet is a sad Aladdin’s cave for the angry and the mentally ill I’m afraid.

I’m off to the cinema to see a western but I forgot it’s the Duke Of Westminster’s wedding today and Chester will be gridlocked

Anyhow I cancelled my ticket and went to the cineworld in Broughton to see The Dead Don’t Hurt.

A glum western with a French/Canadian heroine in the shape of the talented Vicky Krieps 

I loved the way as a dirt poor she always looked dressed by a Paris fashion house

Pondwork

 

The village pond is looking lush and very clean, but weeds needed clearing and marshalled by village leader Helen some dozen or so volunteers lent a hand at six pm to do the work

Great to catch up with everyone 

Home

 I took the Welsh out for a walk around 9 pm 

It was dusk and the bats started to race their way in zigzags down the lane 

I was reminded of nights past when I had lots of animals to care for 

And I mourned those days just a little tonight 

This blog entry was written 14 years ago

“

........It is 8.30 and the evening remains warm, dry and quiet. I am sat under the elm which borders the Churchyard and from this advantage point I can see every corner of the field. No sightings of Mr Fox as yet!

George is sat quietly in Maddie's old spot at my feet and the Welsh terriers are tied up next to the water butts and look asleep in the evening sun. Everything seems calm and serene.

The pace of the animals is slowing down in preparation for the night. The four female turkeys have separated from their daytime meet up and in two groups of two are ambling slowly towards their respective stags. Jane and Lizzy (the slate and Bourbon girls) make their way down towards Bingley in the far pig house and Gloria and an almost bald Theresa wait patiently just a few feet away. They know I will be shortly moving them into their shelter with Boris, who is still huffing and puffing away in the back ground.

The indian runners stand uncertainly just beyond the turkeys. They are eyeing me nervously and are also waiting for me to direct them into their duckhouse. I am late tonight and they know it............. and I am just that little bit amused that it seems to bother them.

The hens are all gliding their way to their own hen houses in groups of two and three. The buffs swinging their fat bottoms as they walk heavily home. The only birds that don't move home wards are the six ghost hens in the furthest coop. They remain still and silent in a sad looking flat group in the warmth of the sun, yet the very fact they have all taken the chance to leave the safety of the hen house proves to me that at least the natural light and heat they now feel is in fact healing.

The two new foals in the field beyond the stream are galloping around is silly circles together and I can see Albert sitting on top of the Church wall watching them with some interest before he jumps down into the grass and rubs his head against those of William and Meg waking both dogs up.

The guinea fowl totter past and leap the 6 feet to enter the old Graveyard. They chatter noisily when they spy Albert, then move on to sit under their roosting tree, muttering to themselves like grumpy old people 

I take a long measured breath in, as one of the roosters crow

And think to myself 

I am home

Wednesday

It’s Wednesday and I’m having a day at home, some of me wants to go out on another little adventure but needs must, and the cottage looks a wreck.

Yesterday I had Pad Thai noodles and went to see a documentary on the National Museum , but although  it was worthy and at times interesting , the seating at the Storyhouse is so comforting and warm, I spent 60% of the film asleep and grunting and snoring .

I have leaflets to deliver for the TCA, and a flower show meeting to organise too, not that too much has to be organised for the show now, since all the judges are in place and the Choir ( my choir) has agreed to sing. 

It’s the 10th anniversary of the Gwaenysgor Community Choir next week and I’ve been invited to a drinks and nibble do to celebrate which is nice .

Friday I’m going to IKEA with a friend and tomorrow after I see my client , I’m having coffee with a fellow trainee counsellor from my course for chats and debrief

It seemed sensible just to stay home today and potter and clean and make lists.

My own counselling carries on a pace.

I’m sort of in tune with my therapist now and she can challenge me with a look rather than a statement.

This video sums up a little what I’ve explored over the last 8 weeks, a good lesson to learn

 Apologies, it’s not an exciting , interesting post today, I don’t feel particularly exciting or interesting

I could sleep all day

The Queen Anne

 

On spec, my brother in law Tim , sister Ann and I drove to Liverpool, to wave the newest Cunard liner well on her first voyage. Tied up at the Princess Dock , the ship looked huge and beautiful and I was suddenly  hurled back to my childhood where Shelley Winters got stuck in an ornamental Christmas Tree and Stella Stevens just wore panties “ what else do I need?”

Thousands of people turned up to watch the Queen leave port, and we all waved our phone lights as the tugs pulled her out into the pool and the fireworks magically lit up the sky. 

Jota.La Dolores.Orq Metropolitana.Danza: Sara MartínTenor:Miguel Borrall...

Videos are surfacing of the concert I went to a week ago in Madrid, I will post them as and when they

arrive, this was the final piece of the show( before the 5 encore pieces that is ) 

Agrado's Monologue (All about my mother - Almodóvar)

I loved yesterday. The weather was glorious as my friend Ruth and I drove to the PictureHouse to see All About My Mother

The famous 1999 movie by Pedro Almodòvar was on a rerun , presumably to celebrate Pride Month and I hadn’t visited it since the early 2000s when I think I had it on dvd. 

This film, because of its bold signature use of red , should be seen of the big screen. 

It’s a sumptuous looking drama set between Madrid and Barcelona and is a study of motherhood in all of its facets and complications. 

For those that don’t know, I will try to give you a flavour of the piece.

Manuela ( Cecilia Roth) is the loving single mother of 18 year old Esteban, a budding writer and theatre obsessive.On a trip to see aging actress Huma Rojo ( Marissa Paredes) in A StreetCar named Desire , Esteban  is tragically killed, after which Manuela goes of the search for Esteban’s father, who is a trans woman, called Lola, living the low life in Barcelona. 

On her travels, Manuela joins forces with a nun ( Penelope Cruz) made pregnant and HIV+ by Lola, a feisty trans sex worker Agrado ( Antonia San Juan) and Huma who is still appearing in Streetcar’s tour around the country. And the film explores how the quartet  ( and others) deal with issues such as motherhood, acceptance, and forgiveness  we see the lives of the women the piece with Hollywood  references not only to Streetcar but to All About Eve.

It’s showy, funny, loud and at times incredibly moving with great performances all round especially by Sam Juan , whose foul mouthed turn as the whore  who literally doesn’t give a fuck in incredibly brave and touching all at the same time.

This is a women’s film obscured by gay and trans issues, a tribute to Douglas Sirk from the 1950s and it’s glorious in every way.

As we came back out into sun shire we watched people dancing salsa outside the Chester Market which was an absolute joy

Then went for a lovely relaxed but ordered lunch at Hamayuu 

Remembering The Importance Of Gardens

Back to almost normality today. My friend Ruth will be arriving soon and we are off to the cinema, it’s a sunny day and I’m writing this in the garden 

My garden has had praise recently from many of the locals, positives I passed onto Janet when I saw her last night at my birthday meal. 

It’s a sanctuary of peace, not too neat and tidy but ordered in its own way. 

The honeysuckle obscuring the front door, is 

Flowering as the little hazel and oak saplings thrive in their pots ready to

be planted around the village 

Gardens are a haven, and I’m lucky to have one that works for me, and I’m reminded of just how important your own little piece of garden can be to a person

The memory

 Patients with facial tumours can be a challenge to look after . Not only can tumours bleed and bleed badly, but they can cruelly infiltrate soft tissue, and bone snd cartilage  obscuring airways and the ability to see, speak and communicate .

They also mask personality, create shame and allow fear to grow and patients can find themselves hiding away in side rooms and at home, out of sight and out of mind. 

The student I was working with asked for some “advice” with one such patient  and after a moments reflection I told her that we had two vital weapons in our arsenal.

The first was the fact that the patient had the most beautiful blue eyes, 

“Focus on those lovely eyes” I told her, in any procedure , in every wobbly moment , 

Focus on those eyes”

And the second I showed her and the patient together.

It was a gloriously sunny day and I turned off the door alarm in the patient’s bedroom and opened his patio door wide into a private garden filled with agapanthus, roses, rosemary and honeysuckle

“ I can go outside whenever I want “ the patient said quietly, hands stretched into flower beds, their voice suddenly rather emotional and I replied “ of course you can” as the student nurse gave a watery smile as she grew a few years older.

Company

My friend Colin arrived last night clutching a good Prosecco in one hand and some Aporol in the other, a lovely nod to Venice, I thought. We had dinner at The Crown ( again!) and came back to the cottage for drinks and entertainment from Roger who had gotten himself all too giddy with the unexpected company so was racing around doing zoomies, with intermittent stops to lick the skin behind each of Colin’s ears which he suddenly found strangely irresistible.

“Is he always like this?” Colin asked slightly perplexed,

And Roger was off galloping up the stairs again, grinning like an idiot.

“ I’ve no benchmark “ I replied as Roger ran into the toilet and skidded loudly on the Vinyl flooring.

What could have been the toilet brush bounced across the floor.

The behaviour continued until Colin left for home this morning, after which Roger wound down completely like a clockwork toy. Affable despot Jason called around with a card as did Mrs Trellis and Llewella widow of Ralph The gentleman farmer stopped to wish me happy birthday which was sweet  

Chic Eleanor Says Happy Birthday For Tomorrow

 

Chic Eleanor always makes a fuss of me when we meet

Lots of “Oh Darlings“ and big hugs which I love , 

And she never pulls her punches even when inside a venue, where she can be overheard 

She is honest and loving and free with her emotions 

That’s Another thing that I so love about her .

We shared a bloody lovely Scotch Egg starter and talked without taking breath for two hours straight. 

I was once approached on a period train journey  by a fellow traveller who noted that Me and Nu had never stopped talking for hours over dinner and drinks. 

I can always tell best friends  rather than a husband and wife, she said, they talk constantly 

A great way to start my Birthday