This song is a gift from a young woman to her single mom
It’s delightful
Rowenna
Old Rowenna died this morning. She was 92. islwyn’s aunt and matriarch to many still in Trelawnyd, she was a lady of purpose and opinion. When she was well Rowenna marched rather than ambled, she marched that older ladies March with the handbag tightly looped over their left arm.
Rowenna, ( far right) with some of the village People.
Arriving at my last garden open
Later I met my sister in law for lunch at the Red Lion in Dyserth, and had proper thick Welsh rabbit and tea. What a bloody treat!
When I got home it was getting cooler ,
Tomatoes had been left in a bag upon the kitchen wall by Animal Helper Pat
No where else to go today.
No where else I’d rather be
Nap soon on the couch
Dogs fed, kittens fed, fire lit
George Grundy crying on The Archers
Friday night
No messages on my phone
A Tight Perm
" Pay particular attention to the details of your work.
Paying attention to detail makes for the personal touch...it is thoughtful and it is kind"
This was a particular manra of my tutor Mr Brint , back in my psychiatric days
I remember it well as in one lession we had, the class was taught how to put ladies hair rollers in!
The ladies were a group of "patient volunteers" from the long stay ward and Mr Brint and a tired looking Occupational therapist were showing us all how to shampoo and set!
" Hair and make up are vital for good self esteem" Mr Brint trilled " Everyone can be made to feel beautiful "
He looked over at me as I manfully tried to roll my patient's grey locks around a roller which resembled a hairy caterpillar
" And how is your lady looking Nurse Gray?" he purred
I looked at my lady's head thick with haphazard looking rollers
" She looks like a German mine!" I told him honestly
His heart was always in the right place
Speaking of tutors, my out standing essay was finally second marked yesterday
I’m averaging a B for last year’s academic work which is bloody good going, given that I’m a definite bit of a plodder.
Hey ho
Wednesday
I watched the paper thin but entertaining comedy crime drama Ludvig tonight in my underwear,
My uniform lies next to the washing machine
Only a few minutes are left in a long day.
Not enough time to read blog comments
Mary is stalking BUN and Weaver, hoping for a Bottom lick
They are United and a force to reckon with
Roger is on my knee looking worried, if he was a real toddler
He’d be sucking his thumb
I watched two minutes of the following news and gave up
To depressing.
My counselling day tomorrow
Bed again
Conflict
My thoughts are with fellow blogger Yael tonight
As the bombs reign on Israel in this fruitless, mad stupid conflict
I’m tired after a full day in college and I’m off to bed early before another 12 hour shift tomorrow
Bake Off then bed.
Very rock n roll
Bun melts
Mary and Bun
The affair continues, almost side by side tonight during Call My Bluff
Roger is frightened of both kittens
Tracy
Tracy circa 1987
My time in York (1986-1989) is when I grew up.
I was by no means wild, Gawd forbid that!
But I chose a new and wide set of friends, I had a moderate amount of sex and I assumed some responsibility at work
Tracey B was a part of this journey. She assumed the position of the two sisters I had left at home.
She liked me, she mothered me but I also made her laugh, which was a skill, I had learned through my psychiatric training.
You were liked if you were funny..
Over the past 48 hours Tracy and I have shared little snippet's of our lives.
“ Oh by the way …sort of things”
Perhaps a little fearful of over facing the other.
I have always been attracted by strong warm characters when I left York for Sheffield, Nu was waiting for me and in a swirl of a red skirt and a twirl of a Spanish like wrist , Tracy was gone.
No mobile phones or internet then
People did disappear .
I have the opportunity now to thank her for her warmth and friendship.
I was gauche and very Welsh and uninformed when I went to York.
I was just 24 and a young 24,
She was of similar age but a life time ahead of me and I was dazzled by her Sophia Loren smile and her wild hair and the way that people reacted to her.
My York years were my own very personal salad days.
Through Ally ( an OT friend of Tracy’s) I developed my love of the stage and for Opera. Through Dave was clumsy sexual awakenings and from Cheryl my ability of becoming a good friend.
Tracy made me laugh, though.
Laugh, long and hard without shame or worry.
Boy, and did she make me laugh
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
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.
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.
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
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)