Sunday

 This piece gave me shivers, when he was singing the woman next to me grabbed my arm briefly in a gesture of pure astonishment. The lisping choir have just performed a glorious Beethoven which I would have loved to see.

It’s 6.16 am and I look like a panda 

I feel happy this morning , nothing to do with work but everything to do with Facebook which allowed to me to reunited with an old friend from psychiatry who I lost contact with in 1986. 

Tracy B looked like Sophia Loren, she was an exotic creature who always wore red skirts and dresses with high heels to match. A brunette with piles of curls , framing a Mediterranean face and a smile like a split watermelon, she was a beautiful creature that charmed everyone who met her. 

Why she would “ adopt” me as a friend bugger only knew, what with my sad jumpers and bow tie, but during our shared work on Ward One at Bootham Park Hospital in York we were good friends. In a vein of  Holly Golightly mates in Breakfast in Tiffineys. 

Bed

 I haven’t worked two twelve hour day shifts over a weekend for a long time.

I leave at 6.30 and return at 20.45.

It’s well after 9.15pm when I sit down with my bean and chorizo soup made from the slow cooker.

The dogs are eating their dinner in the kitchen

The twins I think are upstairs eating theirs. 

I miss Winnie as my feed need sucking

I’m buggered

Another similar shift tomorrow. 

I’m Watching some nameless reality shit on tv  for a half hour

Then either Bun or Weaver balanced their arse over the side of my mother in law’s tongue on the window ledge 

And gently shat in it! 

I’m off to bed!!!!!!

California Suite (1978) |

A good thirty years before she was made infamous for her washpish one liners in Downton, Maggie Smith proved herself to be an incredibly comedy actress in the likes of Neil Simon’s Californian  Suite.

She died recently, reducing the living British Natural Treasure tally to just, Judi Dench, Alan Bennett and Ian McClellan.

Any National Treasures I’ve missed?

I’m working long days this weekend so now I have been cooking some healthy meals 

A hearty bean and chorizo soup, pandan noodles with prawns, a Cumberland sausage stew 

Long Day

 I had three clients and a supervision hour today

It felt a long day.

I worked 10am to 3pm

Instead of going home we drove into Cheshire to have tea with an old friend on the last day of his holiday.

He’s recently became a widower after 36 years and cried after Roger hugged him crossed legged in only the way Welsh terriers do 

The dogs loved the pampering.

It rained all the way home and I’ve realised that I don’t enjoy driving at night 

Another nasty realisation that I’m  getting older. 

The twins bounced downstairs when we arrived after dark 

And walked, yowling, inbetween everyone’s legs before dinner was served.

I hate coming home to a dark house,

But the kittens , as Albert did before them, 

Make it feel like home.

Bake Off

 

Some years had Bake Off breaking its neck to be as inclusive to every Tom, dick and Harriet and so this year feels a little different. Ok with a few cultural differences, such as a Dutch gay man who has the oddest English accent since Dick Van Dyke in Mary Poppins and a powerfully built Valkyrie from the Czech Republic who looks as though she could hold her own in a pub fight, we have a gaggle of cheerful Gays, a sweet Asian schoolgirl , a comical cockney lad and a couple of ordinary looking lasses from Wales and Lancashire. 

The thing that remains wholesome about Bake Off are the contestants,who are generally shown to be pretty nice people. That’s the strength of the entire programme. Of course the Welsh woman had to have a chicken called Fanny around which she designed her first showstopper , freeing Alison Hammond to call out gleefully How Does Fanny Taste ? One of a whole plethora of double entendres we will be subjected to,no doubt this year.

Ps….I spoke to Weaver’s son today at his request, and was happy to help with some practical issues. She remains with us , but is incredibly frail, as you would expect. 

I will keep you posted. 

Mary watches the Children

 

Tv

 I have only a few favourite tv programmes 

Reruns of the zombie apocalypse The Walking Dead. ( of course)

The boffin quiz Only Connect 

The silly and playful Taskmaster

And now on Monday nights reruns of CALL MY BLUFF,  plucked from around 1974 

Bluff was glorious. Not much playing around , but with enough humour to tickle, we had Frank Muir and Patrick Campbell playing a parlour game about the correct definition of words.Muir was a famous comedy writer and Campbell a journalist and The 3rd Baron Genavy and both played the programme for gentle laughs. I loved it when I watched with my mother when I was 10 and I love it now over 50 years later. Tonight we had the sailor Robin Knox Johnson taking part, a  real hottie

Mortimer and Lighthouse go fishing is another sweet watch 

This is another simple premise where the two old friends ( and stand up comics) chat over time spent fishing in a river . It’s a lovely piece of tv where real affection between two funny men surface constantly 

Oh and Gogglebox

Caught short

 I took the Welsh out for a wee and stopped to talk to Trendy Carol ( blonde streaks and new Ponytail v nice) she told me that villager Glenys had passed away. She had been ill for some time and leaves a gentle sad husband who I often talked to over the kitchen wall.

I dropped a sympathy card off at his house and as I drove off Bluebell’s gear stick came off in my hand ! 

Luckily I was pointing for home downhill, so I coasted back to the Church and waited  for the RAC to help, which they did wonderfully. The technician loved my Garfield T shirt which made me preen like a schoolboy. After he had gone I was caught short and had to hide behind the lytch Gate in order to have a desperate and crafty pee.

For gods sake I’m 62

My sister called around to give me an unwanted Victorian armchair which has replaced the cheerful yellow chair in the living room. 

I’m not sure if I’m well enough for University tomorrow , but this week I have a nursing study day, my counselling day and then two long days at hospice over the weekend.

I’m of to bed early tonight. 

Hey ho

 

Being LEFT WELL ALONE

 My bladder played up in the night. 

The pain isn’t bad , it’s just cramping so I drank lots of water took an extra antibiotic and paracetamol at around five am then walked the dogs and went to bed.  I woke again around 9am then again at lunchtime when I realised that I’d left the kitchen door open and both the twins and the Welsh were sharing my bed albeit in different corners. 

I felt too rough to separate them and when the spitting started I just thought may the best cat win.

This is only my second UTI In a year so I’m doing very well. And this infection is a result of my pharmacy not sending me enough tablets  on my last prescription, something which is happening more frequently in North Wales I noticed . 

I’ve lit the fire, fed the animals and have retuned to bed with a hot water bottle.

I am beyond caring when I hear Roger trying to sit in the cat litter tray in a Valiant attempt to use it as the twins do.

Sat

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Bombing

Today is just a chatty post

I returned to work last night and the change in routine antibioticsfloored me.

I slept a couple of hours today then took the Welsh to the vets.

Mary has an ear infection again. 

I left Roger making lurve with the receptionists whilst Mary put up with an examination and a first dose of steroid and antibiotics which she had via the meat and cheese of a pre bought McDonald’s cheeseburger.

Genius 

I sat down with a cuppa and the twins and the purring sounded so loud from their plot on the sofa top, it sounded as if wartimebombers were going over.

My sister Janet had to have her dog Ossie put down today so I've called down with a takeaway for her and her hubby as well as gin and whisky. My elder sister Ann was already there with beautiful roses from her garden. I wasn’t surprised

Bun and her fish cushion

Newsflash

 The twins have both crossed the bannister borders and are now occupying enemy territory 

Mary leans to say hello to Bun

Why

 I never have a problem with crying, or so I thought.

A film such as Touch had me dirty crying in my cinema seat only a day or so ago and I cry and talk about crying enough but only yesterday I realised it is a solitary thing which is never shared with anyone but Nu and Mike, and even then rarely.

My own therapy is the putting to bed of my grief of my separation and my therapist has been as ruthless as I wanted and needed her to keep to my brief.

I was exhausted yesterday, totally exhausted.

We talked about invasive and repetitive thoughts .

And she asked me about being busy, but this next observation floored me when she said quietly

“How can you move on with a head too full of whys?”

I looked at her and she mimed an action which beautifully summed her her comment

she put a hand out on each side of her head and whirled them around, 

And I cried for the first time of being understood and validated .

I will leave you with the lisping choir and one piece I remember from the zarzuela concert 

No news

 Summer is back, albeit for a few days, and the garden is bright and the sky an azure blue. 

Malinka Le Vay walked past the cottage,with her dogs, and looked as warm as the sky.

The horses in the livery stables bow their heads together in the glow of  midday and the bullocks on the field at the end of the lane sit and chew in the grass with their doe eyes closed.

Apart from the traffic on the main road, the village looks quiet, delicious smells come from The Crown’s kitchen when I drive up to get my McDonalds coffee 

I drove to the Storyhouse and read some notes from college. Ten minutes turned into two hours 

Now I’m home , walking the dogs and cleaning up kitten detritus 

I’ve bought a new kitchen clock. It should be delivered today

Lee Millar

It’s been a nice weekend of film watching ….from the cheese filled The Wedding Planner, to the worthy The Critic and the toweringly good Touch , I’ve seen some quality films, and so it’s lovely to end the weekend on another high with Lee 

The story of Lee Millar’s War Time photography career makes for an interesting watch. Slightly too old for the role ( my sister pointed that out) ,Kate Winslet still shines as the damaged former model who spent a frivolous early adult life in the South of France with her beautiful French artist friends, totally unaware of the horrors to come. With the support Vogue editor Audrey Withers ( the striking Andrea Riseborough in academy award mode ) Lee chronicles the liberation of Paris and the fall of Germany including the liberation of the death camps But does so at a heavy cost, of lifelong untreated PTSD , treated only by herself through alcohol and tablets. 

There are some beautifully observed scenes, especially when Lee meets up with her French model friends in Paris after the liberation.  . The crushed Solange ( Marion Cottilard) and artist Nusch (Noemi Merlant) are comforted by Lee and you can almost feel the real warmth of Kate Winslett gushing forth on screen. It’s an amazingly moving moment.

The audience should ignore some clumsy writing though ( the fact that Lee was sexually abused as a child  is thrown in a rather arbitrary and heavy handed way) as the visuals are strong enough to carry the film on their own.

I will leave you with the first official photo of Roger and Weaver, taken yesterday morning in the living room. Bun remains shy and careful 

Blue Angel

 

I watched Last Night Of The Proms last night

American Soprano Angel Blue looked remarkably moved by the roars of the crowd 

I liked that.

Auld Lang Syne upset me a little . I couldn’t remember the time I sung it let along link arms with another person whilst doing so. 

It’s a song best sung drunk

Another thing for my bucket list,to do.

It’s a grey blustery day here and the village feels as though it’s hunkering down for winter. Affable Despot Jason will be hibernating until April 

Islwyn’s autumn bonfire on the pony field will come and go with only the kittens to observe him. They miss nothing from the bedroom windows and he likes to fire it mid afternoon.

The cottage is quiet and my mindfullness has changed into a doze on the couch. The Welsh are sharing the reading chair in the kitchen , the twins sat carefully on the landing their front feet folded beneath them.

This afternoon I intend to watch The Wedding Planner with a family sized strawberry trifle

Touch

Iceland just before lockdown sees an elderly widower Kristofer (Egill Olafsson) receiving bad news from his doctor, who suggests helpfully that he puts his life in order rather quickly. Haunted by an old memory. He flys from Iceland to London in search of an old Japanese restaurant. 

A flash back occurs

In 1960s London young Kristòfer (Palmi Kormakur) is a quiet, easygoing Icelandic student looking for a job. He starts pot washing then cooking for the owner of a Japanese restaurant Takahashi-San  ( Masahiro Motoki) and starts a secret passionate  affair with his daughter Miko ( Kôki)

During their courtship Miko admits to Kristòfer that she and her father are Hibakusha, survivors of the Hiroshima bombing ,and are now people viewed by some, as damaged and unclean. Soon after father and daughter disappear from any contact.

During lockdown an aged Kristòfer now flies from London to Hiroshima in search of his former love,

What will he find ? Will the pair be reunited and why was Miko forced to give up her first love in the first place?

Touch is a beautiful, beautiful love story , with Olafsson literally breaking your heart as the benign, big hearted Icelander battling with a loss of memory and a lifetime of grief.

You will be dirty crying at the end, and will remember this very different love story for a very long time after first seeing it

The Critic

 

The one thing about Ian McKellen is that he has balls

Cast as a vicious, nasty Queen, a critic for a failing 1930s newspaper, the camera lingers over his calculating scheming face in almost nauseating close up. We see him naked in the bath and at other times indulging in rough trade sex at the local park.

He’s not a nice character but McKellen seems to revel in the role.

Playing Jimmy Erskine, McKellen is a powerful man, used to the luxuries of his position. But when the Vicount Brooke, son of the previous owner takes over the business (an underplaying Mark Strong) Erskine is taken to task and told to be nicer to the actors he demolishes in print. 

Brooke is obsessed with actress Nina Land ( Gemma Arterton) as is his son in law (Ben Barnes) who is unhappily married to cold fish Cora (Romola Garai) and all of these characters come together rather disastrously when Erskine blackmails Land to help him keep his job.

You can tell that the main jist of the plot comes from a complicated and successful book as you are left wanting more from the characters. 

The man of character ( Strong) his cold antisemitic  daughter ( a cracking turn by Garai) and the wonderful Lesley Manville ( as Land’s mentally more robust mother) all sadly have little to do as we concentrate on McKellen and his odious manipulations. 

The hidden gay lifestyles, a sudden appearance of the facist black shirts ( who Erskine valiantly challenges in the street. Are touched upon but would have been more interesting explored as would the other characters but McKellen plays such a monster so well, your eyes never leave his beady eyes and smiling face.

Soup

 This made me laugh , in a way I like; a big belly laugh which erupts,

Unstoppable.

I’m off for a few days now, and have just been figuring out what to do. I’m going to see Lee with Kate Winslett this afternoon and The Critic this evening. (With my sister) . I’ve also booked to see an Icelandic movie Touch tomorrow. Not many friends are around that the moment, Chic Eleanor has moved out of the village and is away, ( we’ve arranged coffee soon) and Dave ( aka Gorgeous Dave) has effectively ghosted me, which I’m sad about. I can understand the ghosting of acquaintance / friends , (we all go through phases of meeting new people who don’t quite fit into your psychi) but for a friend of ten years or so to suddenly vanish from the radar without some sort of narrative is a shame. 

I miss him. 

Bit and Bats

 Everything feels changed somewhat. 

I’m back in university with less academic essays to worry about but with an increased client number to deal with. We have a mental health component too which should be easier for me given I’m still registered as a psychiatric nurse.

And so Tuesdays continue with 8.30 to 2.30 in lectures followed by my personal counselling at 4pm and Choir at 6 pm. Thursdays I’m now seeing clients from 10 am and 4pm. Supervision is usually on alternate Wednesday mornings. My two hospice shifts work around all this where possible. 

Autumn term brings autumn with it and the villagers are planning the apple festival weekend . 

Soon it will be Christmas 

I’m tired just writing all this. 

Off to bed shortly , but I want to read yesterday’s 9/11 comments first.

Typically much more interesting than anything I could write .

Weaver is still with us, by the way . Just to let you know