Drama

 

Blogging can attract a certain type of commentator, a personality that can identify as the persecutor or Critical Parent. In the context of Karpman’s Drama Triangle the Persecutor is an overly critical, demanding and controlling type who actively seeks to maintain power by blaming, criticising and punishing others. 

They are often judgemental and can seek to dominate the interaction by manipulation and the adherence to rules.

They bully.

lol are any of you having a light bulb moment? 

The other roles within the triangle are the Rescuers and the victims and by playing each role the drama can continue. Awareness is the key, awareness and recognising what roles you are playing in the interaction, having the ability to laugh and point at it or like an adult to be able to remove the interaction from play.

Trolls are personality damaged people, they seem unable or unwilling to leave their persecutor role which is an awfully sad place to find yourself in.

Mary Used To Like Cats

7 years ago 

Mary and Albert 

 

Saturday

 

If you are of a certain age and British, this clip will bring back many happy memories of an early Saturday evening. 

Not much to report or talk about today. 

Shut Up And Dance

This is my favourite dance song, not that I do a lot of dancing nowadays.

The video has been edited well as you can see.

It always brings a smile to my face

I met my friend Polly for coffee at breakfast time . She is a doctor and a friend I can trust and bizarre as it sounds she gave me a neurological exam whilst we sat in the Bryn Williams cafe window.

She thinks my arm weakness may be a result of muscle damage and suggested I go for an ultrasound .

I’ve emailed my doctor with her suggestions 

Skirmish

A quiet war has been raging in the cottage 

It’s all very subtle

So subtle I have missed it 

Last night I noticed that Mary wasn’t curled up asleep on the couch as per her norm

I found her sat next to the cat flap looking innocent

If she could whistle, she would have done it

I knew something was afoot.

A flash of eyes told me the story, golden eyes outside the cat flap 

Bun or Weaver were waiting to come in

Mary was the gatekeeper 

And was letting no bugger inside

Old dogs eh ? 

They can be real twats

 

Being Looked After

 Sometimes as Karpman postulated in the 1960s there is a need for some of us to take on the victim role.

I don’t say this lightly or sarcastically, I just think that sometimes us human beings need and want to be looked after. 

My GP asked me what I thought about trying out work with my weakened arm. 

I was wearing my big boys pants and was just about to say let’s give it a go! When something stopped me , 

I wasn’t sure , I was in two minds and I wanted him to make the decision .

Sometimes all you need is for someone to take over.

And he did. 

He signed me off for a month and promised to chase my tests up.

He was kind, and I needed him to be kind.

This morning I rang my old counsellor up and asked her if she had a free moment

She did

And  an hour later I was sat with her talking about my feelings of being ill and the vulnerabilities that unleashes. 

I talked myself quiet for a therapeutic hour

And I talked myself still.

My counsellor shook her head when I prepared to pay her,

She simply smiled and said “ Im retired”

Bees

 I’ve been in college today, only two more official weeks to go and that’s it! 

I got home around 3.30 and was faced with the oddest thing

30 or so honey bees on the inside of the closed window

All buzzing loudly

I opened the window wide to let them out

How odd

Flowers

 

I pick wild flowers from the hedgerow sides some mornings. The hedges are cut regularly to keep the lane open, so I’m not doing a disservice to any species

So Lonely

 The hidden disease in the Modern world is loneliness .

I see this in many of my clients where isolation and loneliness contributes to brittle mental health 

If the nhs can make a friend for people in need, the country would be saved literally millions I can tell u.

It’s so true.

The video is from Trelawnyd villager Kelda who produces a daily video entitled 

“ This is the day in the life of a lonely person who wants to tell someone about their day” 

Kelda is a talented video maker and manager and I hope to get her on board for this years flower show

Watch her tiktok videos they are a hoot, but a hoot with a serious message 

Loneliness  is a nasty affliction .

I know I’ve told the story of the woman I once washed on Intensive Care who shared the fact tha I had been the first person to physically touch her in 17 years. 

Such a fact is more than sobering 

That woman gave me two baby turkeys as a sort of thank you

That in itself says enough. 

I saw my friend Ruth for breakfast last Friday and we hugged a goodbye.

I held on to that hug a second or two more than I usually would 

Such is the physical need of loneliness .

I can own it ….and share it

This afternoon one of my clients had a crisis related to isolation and together, with  the pro active mental health team on call, tragedy has been averted 

And so if you meet someone who talks to you a little too long at the shops or a friend who rings you a little late at night please take a big breath and realise that that person may be in need your input a little more than you realise. 

As a new counsellor one of my clients shared that she had spoken to no one else but me for the whole week. I reminded her that I had heard her and that she had a voice and that made her cry 

And cry hard to hear…….

We should all have a voice

We should all be heard.

I understand loneliness 

I’ve lived it. 

I’ve coped with it 

It’s nasty affliction that no one should suffer from it, so reach out! 

Please do something about it if you can 

  

A Siamese Cat in a Wind Tunnel

 Me and my sister Janet went to the cinema last night. The film The Accountant 2 was shite but we both said it was nice to get out of the house even though the best we could say about the film was that it was short . Ben Afflick’s Botox stole the acting honours.

My first boyfriend overused Botox in later yearsand the last photograph I saw of him ( on a gay dating site) he looked like a Siamese cat caught in a wind tunnel .

Thank fuck I’m not that vain.

Mind you there are no wrinkles on a balloon as they say in Sheffield 

 

Today I’m writing an essay, my last one for university 

I’ve put chilli broth in the slow cooker for supper and breakfast is

Avocado on whole meal toast with poached eggs with The Archers Omnibus of course

Bliss

I’ve given the Welsh an extra large eggs each to play with and eat

Eggs make their coats shine

Solala from Sweden

Ps

The scene of Pope Francis’ lifelong friend the nun, Sister Genevieve breaking protocol unchecked to say goodbye to her friend left me in tears….I loved that the Vatican staff respected her and left her alone 

20 Years

 Arfon stopped his van to chat. 

He’s done it now for twenty years

Always cheerful, in his sing song Welsh way.

His mother Gwyneth lived in the family farm across the shallow valley and was a firm favourite of mine

She too had a sing song voice, which she never raised beyond a whisper.

She and Olwenna Hughes were the First Ladies I met when I came to Trelawnyd

They were peeping in the lounge window, pretty sure that the cottage was empty. 

I caught them in the lane and introduced myself, Olwenna had fat ankles and couldn’t be hurried.

Arfon asked me how long I had lived in the village before we had discussed heat pumps and how he had used the wrong grout to point his farmhouse 

“ Twenty Years” I told him

It is twenty years this summer.

I’ve never lived in one place for twenty years

Sheffield, my spiritual home took 16 of my salad years, York before that only four or so

Arfon was surprised it was two decades at Bwthyn y Llan

I’m still collating my counselling portfolio today and will do so until 7 pm when I’m off to the cinema with my sister, some trashy thriller but it gets me out of the house

I will leave you with the latest offering from my lisping choir

Enjoy

Coffee

 I'm early 

I'm always early.

I hate being late for anything.

Its a trait thats endearing to some( Nu finds it amusing) but irritating to othets ( my sisters are fashionably late for EVERYTHING.)

Im meeting a friend for breakfast and Im 30 minutes early.

Who cares.

I have a counselling mentor at the mental health centre I've been working at, who is no nonsense and Yorkshire in her ways.

She calls a spade a spade which I like and after a long wait, she's given me my portfolio feedback which included a comment about punctuality. 

"John is always well prepared for client appointments with his usual smile and cup of coffee in hand.

He is consistant and has a natural unforced warmth which he uses well to welcome clients and collegues alike"

I liked this informal burst of feedback and thanked her for it, making her blush a little

" dont get too big headed" she added " I could have mentioned the usual coffee drip stains on your T shirts but I didnt"

Im sat here and looked down at my trendy brown hoodie front

Yeap, there they were!

Vinegar Tits and The Crackhead Whores

Vinegar Tits on patrol

 A Memory,

Yesterday I  rested at home. 

The power was off in my cottage and Mandy and John's next door from 6 am ( how odd given yesterday's drama) so we had to wait for the linesmen to put up another line to replace the faulty one which took most of the day.

I wrote notes and made tea from boiling water donated by neighbours

Mr Posnân stopped to chat ( after he spied the flashing lights of the linesman truck)

He chatted about the Ukrainian village like old men do about the past

 He reminded me that over Fourteen years ago, I took in a group of a dozen hens that had been badly mistreated. (He watched me offload them from the belingo)

They had been housed in dreadful conditions , were underfed, bald and dreadfully bullied. 

But I hoped they had potential so I took them in and housed them in their own warm , clean hen house with plenty of food.

They had no cockerel but were watched over by a black eyed grey alpha female who had attitude and like all hens in a large group, they had the potential for trouble, as they outnumbered most of the smaller hen groups in the Ukrainian village

Rather uncharitably I nicknamed them The Crackhead Whores with the alpha singled out as Vinegar Tits ( the hero of the Australian Prison Soap Prisoner Cell Block H

The surviving group, well fed and happy

I learned a great deal from The Crackheads. I learned that With patience, space, time and good conditions the group that survived their first winter would become beautiful hens and great layers And Vinegar Tits became more of a cockerel than any of the resident males, even to the extent of running towards an attacking fox when the less dominant hens and ducks and turkeys galloped for the cover and the safety of the village buildings and the Guinea fowl flew up into the Churchyard Ash trees, screaming their warnings to the field.

I miss those days sometimes but couldn’t return to the hard physical slog it was to keep the field population healthy and happy

Mr Posnän agreed thoughhe still missed the duck eggs

It was lovely to see the photos again yesterday 

Sinners

 Bank holiday Monday I went to the cinema 

I went to see the oddity Sinners by Ryan Coogler. A film which , I understand resonates with black audiences in America, in a similar way Black Panther did. 

I liked it even though it was two distinct films

One, an historical look at the roots of 1920s Black music and culture in rural Mississippi 

And one bonkers vampire movie.

Obviously based on Quentin Tarintino’s From Dusk From Dawn , we follow the tale of twins Smoke and Stack ( Both played with gusto by Michael B Jordan) and their wish to build a nightclub in the middle of the cotton fields. They recruit a motley group to help them  and the opening night arrives with so much attention to detail that the audience is caught up with the sheer power of the mise en sence of the time and place.

As the singers and dancers strum and sing and tap dance, one pivotal scene changes this historical study into a nightmarish horror second half and that is a magical appearance of modern day rappers, street dancers and ancient African and even Irish folk dancers who appear on the dance floor . 

The vampires have arrived and they are not only killers but musical loving ones who use music to charm and feed.

It’s bonkers

Bit it works 

The final half hour is pure 30 Days Of Night with our heroes battling the vampires with stakes and garlic water and fire. 

I loved one buxom , sexy resourceful black character called Annie ( Wunmi Mosaku below)great to see a hero with curves and brains for a change 

I’ve get down to my paperwork today( I’m in the middle of it ) 

This evening I’m going to my sister’s home for supper

It’s nice to be pampered

My arm isn’t any better

Dinosaurs

 The cheerful engineer turned up at 9 am ( I thought today was Monday so forgot he was coming)

I was still in my dinosaur nightware. He was here for three hours photographing and drilling , followed by the Welsh, he said his 6 year old son liked dinosaurs but mentioned it without irony, which I was grateful for. 

I hope the solar panels will be worth it. As he was leaving we heard a crackling in the electrical circuit and he chirped up better get that sorted quicksticks!

I turned off the power

And so the emergency team is on its way! 

Don’t they know I m supposed to be resting? 

Trendy Carol collected the dogs and Mandy and John from next door made tea and provided psychological support

I’ve forgotton to change my T shirt in the hurry to clean the cat litter, which as fate would expect, was suddenly overflowing with excrement 

The cottage smells like a dung heap.

The electricity board had texted to say they will be 20 minutes away 

Shit they’re here

Swedish Death Cleaning and using words

 I have tons of clerical work to do for college

And so yesterday I cleaned the kitchen proper.

The pockets of clutter remain, as you can see

The little jug with the yellow tulips underline “my look” 

I like the little detail.

Today I listened to Women’s Hour. The subject was decluttering and I found the discussion by the guest psychologist fascinating. He talked about the importance of differentiating between sentimental attachment and nostalgic attachment with items we own. It’s an important distinction to make , especially for hoarders . 

The discussion about Swedish Death Cleaning was equally interesting. It’s a well known phenomenon in Scandinavia , where older people get rid of clutter and collections before they die, thus freeing up their chore for the ones they leave behind. 

I like this

I have an urge to put stickers behind paintings and under jugs with loved one’s names on them.

Gifts I want certain people to have after I’ve gone.

It’s a variant on the Death Cleaning thing.

My ex husband emailed me last week . I found the message yesterday but couldn’t open it in my junk folder, but the first line was readable as no title had been added. It simply said Hello John, I’ve heard you’ve not been well, just wishing….. 

A kind thing for sure but I found his careful wording interesting. By saying heard rather than read, he was underlining a more passive role in the receiving of the news .

Perhaps that in itself is another kindness

I wasn’t upset by the message, it was workmanlike and polite  

It was what it was

I think I will go to the cinema today, there is not much on in the art house cinemas in Chester so I may go multiplex instead

lol, anything but get down with the clerical work ……..

Helen Sjöholm

 

I sit at the kitchen table a lot. 

Here I read, write, explore the internet and think.

If the weather is fine and the yappy dogs silent in their nasty new build house beyond the garden wall, the back door is open to the sound of birdsong, the arguing of the sparrows and the caws from the rooks over the glebe to the East.

I’ve suffered the barking earlier, but it’s 11am now, and it’s peaceful 

I won’t talk to anyone today. 

Why would I ? It’s Easter Sunday, but I found this wonderful musical interlude, by the Swedish singer Helen Sjöholm and her support singers

I turned it up full blast and let their voices fill the cottage and Churchyard beyond my garden

Missing Happiness

 

Mary in 2018

We miss so much.

In our busy lives.

I wasn’t still until 7 pm last night

That was 10 hours in motion,

From dragging my sorry arse out of under a wonderfully warm duvet 

To porridge for breakfast 

And the 2 hour search for a piece of leather wrapped around three plastic cards.

Today it’s Cate Blanchet and her Radio 4 debut The Fever,

I switched it off sick of her voice, an hour wasted on a so called worthy cause

It’s cold and I find a jumper. 

Paperwork pilled up on the kitchen table awaiting sorting

Tomorrow I say

No good films on in the cinemas,

It’s a children biased weekend

Hetero normal/ family time

At seven pm last night I looked at Mary’s face as I itched that bilateral dimple behind each ear. 

I used my left hand, my thump and forefinger encircling her head deftly

And she closed her eyes, 

And looked blissful

Totally blissful

Roger was asleep next to her, the twins creeping around the room like bandits’ shadows beyond

But for that moment I watched that little dog’s old face

And her vague smile

And I realised that she and I were truly happy

Wallet In The Freezer

 I’ve never liked Good Friday, both as a child and as an adult.

As a child it was too many chocolate eggs and shit television.

As an adult it is a lacklustre bank holiday weekend, often worked.

Today it’s cold and wet

And the cottage looks like the wreck of the Hesperus.

The reason for the disarray is that my wallet and car keys went missing.

Two hours of searching isolated nothing more than the dirty pair of undies under the bed and a mummified  baby mouse behind the armchair.

I eventually found the wallet and keys frozen solid in a carrier bag with some pork chops in the freezer and spent an uncomfortable half hour in Sainsburys thawing out my debit and nectar card under my armpit before paying for cat litter

The day has been a bust so far, so I bought myself a bunch of flowers to make myself feel better and shouted at the neighbour when I got home for bellowing at one of his yappy dogs 

Talk about transference..I’m making a beef stew

Happy Easter 

Mrs Trellis wins the day

 I’ve seen clients today ( don’t worry I’ve rested my arm) and got home to an Easter Egg wrapped carefully in tissue paper. 

The accompanying card and letter was from Mrs Trellis who thanked me for the amaryllis plant I had given her last Christmas.

( I actually gave her the plant at Christmas 2023 but whose counting)