Chasing The Day

 

Jane and I went to see The Rocky Horror Picture Show at the Lyceum which proved to be a night of pure energy. Jason Donovan played Dr Frank ‘n Furter ( with a surprisingly good voice) and The Head Of Steam pub was nose to nipple with Yorkshire brutes dressed as transvestites before kick off time. 

The energy was electric , great fun ,and a panacea for Jane as things for her has been somewhat rough recently.

The Lyceum , wisely , let the audience rule the evening, and although I would have been happy with just one half of the musical, it was worth the visit for the real fans’ reactions.

Today I met my old neighbour and friend John for breakfast and a gossip in the Hillsborough Coach house cafe ( v v impressed) then had a full roast dinner in Banner Cross’s Turnip and Thyme with Mike, Bev and daughter Maisie, which was Warm and normal and funny and comfortable 

There’s nothing like meeting old friends, and I even coped with zigzagging across Sheffield in Bluebell , braving the congested roads and remembering with some nostalgia , a city I knew well.

These guys have kept me afloat , for years

We finished our long lunch around 3 pm and after big hugs, I was on my way home through Broomhill , chasing the day westward as the light faded into evening

It’s all very Bridget Jones

 

I’m meeting Jane in All Bar One around 6 pm, it’s five now and the place is heaving

I had forgotten just how Saturday afternoons used to go here in Sheffield 

Too many drinks in the afternoon, 

Cheesy chips on the way home 

Sleeping it off on the huge couch at Wynyard Road in front of Pop Idol

I’d planned to meet Mike for early door drinks but he’s quite rightly carry out Christmas Tree duties with the family, all of whom I’m meeting tomorrow for lunch. So before the theatre with Jane later, I’m soaking up the All Bar One Christmas early night drinking vibe.

The music is louder than I remember it

The lighting more subdued 

Office workers cram the tables, shouting over the din of the Christmas party goers

Everywhere there are fairly lights and it’s dark outside

All very 1990s Bridget Jones

Decs

 The night shift was so so.

I was tired coming home but still noticed the bag , sat near to the back door.

A bag full of goodies.

Someone, I have no idea who,has just left me a bagful of Christmas decorations

How bloody lovely is that? 

Thanksgiving

It’s still just Thanksgiving

I’m on the cusp.

I like the sentiment of the American Holiday

Lets be grateful 

Let’s celebrate thanks .

So what Am I grateful for? 

My sense of humour and my emotional intelligence which have dragged me sometimes through work, life and balancing Uni with some sort of alacrity.

My home, St Trinian kittens , thick Roger and old Mary. I feel I have a home to come home to every day, even though invariably it looks like a bombs hit it.

My family and friends and my villagers, the people that keep me going

Work that tires me but which still stimulates me , and gives me the money to have a life beyond the cottage

My colleagues,

Those small oasis of quality cinema seats 

Bluebell

For my sister’s gardening skills

Talia Groupo ( the marvellous lisping Choir of Madrid) 

The blog and your support, I may look like I take you all for granted but I’m grateful for your care and thankful for you following me 

Ps scotch eggs, Russell Crowe’s manly persona, the Sagrada Familia 

Not Enough Time

 Flying visit to Sheffield on Saturday . 

A trip to the theatre is my Christmas gift to Jane

And Sunday lunch with Mike and Bev is a long overdue gift with my old urban family.

I’m working tonight and need to sort another poster presentation by Monday

I have clients most of this afternoon

Hey ho lots to do

Last month I treated myself to a Lego Statue of Liberty

It’s still sat on the kitchen top in its box

My radio in the car has been turned to radio four for days now , it’s the constant blaring of xmas songs already being played that’s doing my head in.

Of course I make an exception for the lisping choir who lisp their best through the English parts of this song….its wonderful 

Breakfast

Wednesday

My supervision day followed by my personal counselling

I met Chic Eleanor  for breakfast

I haven’t seen her since she moved from the village

“My Darling John” echoed around the cafe

And people turned to see her hug me, the pashmina swishing like a cape

And they smiled

The Tree

 I worked last night and went straight into university this morning. Surprisingly my presentation went well, well enough for me to feel somewhat christmasy at teatime.

So much so that I bought a miniature Christmas Tree from Sainsbury’s on my way home.

Bun was intrigued from the get go and watched the lights through narrow eyes before turning her back on it.

Weaver just ignored it and sat under the sofa with a Christmas reindeer in her gob. One of the gifts I need to send to my friend Nia in Australia tomorrow.

I’m off the 20th of December to the 28th and I’ve filled most days with something nice, whether it be meeting my friend Nigel in Chester, and then my friend Colin for a concert at the Liverpool Philharmonic, or having friends Nick and the velvet voiced Linda over  for dinner alongside Chic Eleanor. 

I am also catching up with the family on Christmas Day after seeing a film at the Picturehouse on Christmas Eve Day  ( instead of doing nothing) The film Christmas Eve at Miller’s Point looks just up my street. Oh I want to see the traditional barrel rolling in Denbigh on Boxing Day and on the 27th it’s Wicked  and lunch with my friend Ruth

Carol Of The Bells

I’m covering sickness tonight and stayed in bed for most of the morning and early afternoon . I woke around 2pm disorientated but with a nasty smell in my nose. Mary needed a shower and had one , we had a walk then for a treat shared a cheese bite share box from McDonalds before going back to bed. 

The village looked cheerful in the winter sunshine 

Malinka Ley Vey was out walking and I saw that the village Christmas Tree had been erected by Dai Ellis and David Paulus. Now Mr Ellis and I have never got on but I do respect his constant commitment to Trelawnyd and its residents . 

Credit given when it’s due

A Thoughtful Way Home

 My shoulder was aching at work today and I asked a member of staff if she could rub it for me.

This she kindly did with some banter talk about her regular masseuse and boy did her hands feel good and my aches felt better after she had finished.

Apart from hugs at Sioned’s leaving do, I can’t think of when I last felt someone’s hands on me.

It’s a sobering thought 

I miss hand holding and phyicality  and everything in between     

I am resolved to book myself with a local therapist 

Wintery

 It’s stormy .

I took the Welsh to the beach and we hugged the Promenade wall to keep out of the wind.

I’ve made a fish pie and the fire is lit.

It was my nephew Leo’s birthday yesterday .

He went to see Wicked and said he loved it.

I’m not sure I’m going but this scene intrigued and moved me

A lovely silent performance by Cynthia Erivo

Leaving Do

 Every company, Charity , ward , and hospice has its rules and regulations. 

And every one deals with a hierarchy that enforces the status quo with varying skills and exhausting constraints 

On a night out  tonight  , with a  much loved colleague leaving 

We are just people saying goodbye to an old friend 

Just people 

Friday night out

 I loved this snippet in the village Facebook yesterday

Sweet……

Amy Hulson-Jones

19 November at 18:52  · 

Just wanted to say a big thank you to the two lads who gave their home-made sled to my children tonight. My kids were using their coats to slide down the Gop Admittedly, my parenting skills can be questionable at times but the parents of the two lads we met tonight have nailed it Thank you for your kindness!

Sophie Shute

This will be Jenny Morris boys I’m sure. Absolutely lovely lads they are. I saw them walking down with their sleds 

I’m going to a leaving do tonight , which is a rarity as work remains a 60 mile round trip .

I’m catching the train from Prestatyn to Llandudno around five and am walking to a small brewery where the do has been organised . I’m going early and will be leaving early as the trains home are limited but I want to go as I respect the nurse that has left

And for once with colleagues I can relax and have a drink  

Ps I love this video, pure joy

 

More Lessons

 I was 21 when I first administered the " last Offices" to a patient, I must have done it hundreds and hundreds of times since

The elderly man had lived seventy years of his life in an asylum .

He had no family, no friends and had a life devoid of the normal happiness's that the rest of us take for granted. 

He had no belongings to speak of and even his clothes were picked from the generic clothes store and I remember feeling incredibly sad at the overwhelming " emptiness " of a life not lived.

The ward sister opened a window as the man died and crossed herself 

A nicotine stained enrolled nurse in her sixties had the job of talking me through the procedure of " 

laying out" , a job , I am glad to say, she took incredibly seriously.

She showed me how to shave the patient, wash him with a reverence he deserved and dress him carefully in a shroud . We combed his hair precisely then wrapped the body in a sheet, securing the last fold over his face with a safety pin and a gentle comment of " good night"

When we had finished, the enrolled nurse lit a cigarette and took a big drag of it.

Sensing I was still a bit shaken by the whole experience , she offered it to me which I refused,  then shared with me her own personal philosophy on the situation.

" Every life is important" she said carefully ......."no matter how it is lived..remember that fact"

 

That was in November 1983 on Irby Ward at the West Cheshire Hospital 

41 years ago

It was snowing

 I have never forgotten it.

Roger’s First Snow

 

At dog walk one yesterday morning the fields looked grey and icy and very cold

Roger who has never seen snow before, looked perplexed as he went on tip toe into the white ice

Is was up to four inches in places and he looked uncomfortable and looked to Mary to teach him what to do. 

Every few seconds in he bit mouthfulls of the snow and let the coldness fall at his feet.

He’s a darling 

I loved him even more when he sat down at one moment, his eyes wide with shock with his arse in the cold

During college he sat next to me facing the camera 

Watching everyone on line as Welsh terriers do 

The counsellors on line waved at him and called his name at the end of class

And he smiled as terriers do and sat unmoving like a puppet  , enjoying the attention offered.

It’s 6.15 am and the lane is covered again with snow, fingers crossed I can get to work

Hey ho

 College on the ball, email sent out very early doors that lectures would be on line .

Just having short break

Jenny from the other side of the village sent me this

When Things Go Wrong

 This post is an example of " everything went wrong that could have gone wrong".

Yesterday, at work , I recalled the story of Sue a patient who needed and received some excellent nursing care from a curly haired, potty mouthed and naturally funny staff nurse called Ruth, who I have been dear friends with for over 35 years.
The story, had a somewhat sad ending for after four months or so on the rehab ward, Sue suddenly suffered a major physical complication and died unexpectedly on intensive care . She was only 26 years old.
We had become very close with Sue during her admission, and so it was natural for us to want to attend her funeral, which was across the Pennines in her home city of Manchester, and so early on the morning of the service three spinal injury nurses and three spinal injury patients left Sheffield in two cars to show their support.
Now Ruth and I travelled in one car and with us was a young man called Nick who had been paralysed from the waist down in a car accident and Marie, a young woman injured from the neck down following a fall. Both were wheelchair bound and both had developed a special bond with Sue during their admission.
The other car was driven by a nurse called Paula and with her was another patient called Pete, who was able to walk very shakily on two sticks.
Things didn't bode well after we stopped at traffic lights in rural Derbyshire  for as Ruth muttered her signature oath of " Hell's Teeth!"  her car stalled and refused to start. It was only then when I realised that we were totally responsible for three patients, each one with their own individual care needs.
It was a sobering thought.
Anyhow we eventually arrived at Sue's family home in a back street of Manchester just as the hearse left for the Church, then everything went tits up.

• Ruth's car finally died, leaving us stranded with no knowledge of where we were going
• Ruth started to flag down passing cars in a desperate effort to elicit help as Paula and I managed to lift Nick and Marie into her car so that at least we could get them to the service
• Ruth then incredibly stopped a cheerful plumber called Mick who agreed to transport me, her and the patients' wheelchairs across the city as a favour. Never was a stranger so helpful
• After getting to the Church we unloaded both van and car, set the patients up in their chairs then bolted to the service which was just finishing. By this time Ruth was literally inconsolable 
• The " wake" we were then told was located in a working men's club back across the city and Sue's family insisted that we all attend, so after organising more spaces in more stranger's cars we eventually arrived fraught, sweaty, and extremely stressed at one of the grottiest  council estate clubs I have ever seen.
• Then everything REALLY took a turn for the worse. 
• As we were setting up the wheelchairs ( brought for us by a couple of pensioners driving a nissan micra), Marie suddenly complained of a pounding headache. She looked flushed and unwell and couldn't quite focus  and we all suddenly knew that she was suffering from autonomic dysreflexia, a condition that is a medical emergency in high spinal cord injury patients. The condition can occur when a urinary catheter is blocked and if the cause is not rectified patients can have a pathological rise in blood pressure which can effectively kill them. The only treatment is to immediately change the patient's catheter.
• " Get her into the club" Ruth yelled and between three of us , we lifted Marie out of the car and raced THROUGH the wake where a few hundred people were drinking beer  and eating sandwiches) 
• Luckily a white faced club official saw us coming and pointed to the " ladies snug" which was deserted and on an unused billiard table  , Ruth and Paula managed to change the blocked catheter which immediately reversed Marie's symptoms. 
• While we were busy, several red faced drinkers had helped Nick and Pete into the club and were plying them with bottles of beer. This was just after 1pm
• By seven pm, the AA had got Ruth's car started and we were on our way home. Nick and Pete were much the worse for wear and Ruth was beside herself with the stress. " I'm going to get sooo drunk tonight " she promised as we eventually got back to the spinal injury unit and after having to explain ourselves to the matron for our late return, she did exactly that, after talking a bottle of rum from another friendly rehabing patient!

The last thing I remembered of the evening was when I opened the taxi door  outside Ruth's house in

the wee small hours and she fell out onto the road drunk as a skunk. " HELL's TEETH" she slurred cheerfully "'I think I've just broken me finger.........hey ho" ......and I am afraid to say that she indeed had...but it wasn't diagnosed until the following afternoon....

Now you all know where " hey ho" comes from!

Bun

 Night shifts are like black holes, they engulf everything . 

I’m reading before I go to bed. The day is damp and cold and murky and the fire is uncharacteristically lit and has been since 10 am.

I have Ramen noodle broth for tea.

It’s quiet 

Wet days dampen the sounds from outside.

Bun is a gentle soul. She’s affectionate and calm and already motherly despite her young age .

She’s warm too, and has stationed herself behind my neck, claws sheathed and eyes wide open .

Her expression is benign. 

Whereas her sister Weaver is almost paralysed with uncertainty, Bun has conviction and a sense of character. 

Gladiator II

 

Said simply, Gladiator II is the movie Ridley Scott would have liked to have made twenty four years ago, if CGI would have been cheaper. 

It’s more or less a remake of the original but set 18 years in the future when Maximus’ son Lucius ( by Connie Nielsen’s Lucilla ) is a grown man. Hidden in Namibia, Lucius ( Paul Mescal) is taken prisoner by a tatty haired General ( Pedro Pascal) and conscripted into gladiator school where he finds out his history and decides to become his father’s son.

Unlike the original this version bounces along at a cracking rate. The set pieces are impressive, the baddie ( an ever smiling Denzel Washington ) is fit for purpose and Mescal makes for a handsome and more charming Russel Crowe character in the lead role.

Alas impressive as he is , Crowe had a on screen masculinity and a certain beauty in his original role of Maximus that Mescal lacks, and sex on legs Pedro Pascal is underused too, and looks more of a bomb site than I can after working night shifts. (Didn’t the Romans invent hair brushes?)

The film pays homage to the original’s mighty score by Hans Zimmer and to the vocals by Lisa Gerrard

But it’s still the film Ridley Scott would have made in 2000 but couldn’t.

Nuff Said

 

Blitz

Blitz is Steve McQueen’s homage to wartime Black culture and he has produced a meticulously recreated WW2 nightmare of a simple Lassie Come Home ish boytime adventure piece, crossed with something that wouldn’t feel out of place in a Dickens novel .

The story isn’t complicated.

Saoirse Ronan is Rita, a warm hearted mum of mixed race eight year old George ( a plucky Eliot Heffernan) They live in London’s east end with grandad ( Paul Weller) until George is evacuated . 

and it is here that the boy’s own adventure story starts when the boy jumps his train and in an effort to find his way home, fights his way through one of the worst blitz raids of the war.

Even in let’s-pull-together wartime Britain McQueen shows London as a racist melting pot, where white officialdom and villainy conspire to prevent George’s reunion with his family. And where the main hero is  kindly Nigerian Ife ( Benjamin Clementine ) who suddenly becomes George’s surrogate air warden father figure. He has the heart of McQueen’s drama, and shines in one pivotal scene when , in front of the admiring George he sorts out a nasty racist incident in a crowded shelter with incredible emotional dignity.

 

In a matter of a day or two George is kidnapped by  a looting gang headed by a grotesque looking Kathy Burke. Is trapped, 1970s disaster film style , in a flooded underground station and is nearly killed in the flaming dockyards near Tower Bridge as his poor mother waits at home with bated breath .

The amazing Kathy Burke

Like I said it a simple tale, told well. I loved it