No 21

No 21

With Weaver warming to me with the new dog free late evening slot , I was reminded of another animal I possessed with a somewhat bad tempered nature

I will repeat the story of Number 21
The rather sweet photo of the piglet on my side bar somewhat intrigued a follower recently and they wanted to know more about her and why I had celebrated her in such a way.
They may be surprised to find out that Number 21 was a pure monster.

Some years ago now , after some weeks preparation I came home with two piglets in the back of the old berlingo. The little boar was a perky saddleback and the sow piglet was a feisty Gloucester old spot.
I planned to fatten both up for the table.
From the get go, I was determined not to get attached to the two of them and so always referred to both by their ear tag numbers.
It was not hard not to get attached to number 21.
She was a real bitch.

Where Number 12 grew into a massive, benign six footer teddy bear of a pig Number 21 developed clear psycopathic tendencies . Mercilessly she bullied her sty mate, nipping and biting him away from any tidbit that I or the neighbours threw for them and over a two month period she caught and ate at least twelve chickens who were stupid enough to wander into her enclosure. ( I had put the losses down to a fox until I actually saw her attack and rip to pieces a sleepy buff Orpington who had chosen to sunbathe in the wrong place.


When she was fully grown I refused to enter the sty without a pig board or a stick for protection for where Number 12 would nibble my fingers playfully as I stroked him Number 21 would try to take great chunks out of my wellies , thighs and buttocks when the mood took her.

I was constantly paranoid about her and the dogs as I had no doubt that if she caught one of them she would have killed them within seconds and this fear was substantiated by the sight of her once disembowelling a newly deceased female turkey called Gloria, a body that I lowered into the sty at 8 am one morning and one that had totally disappeared ( beak, feathers and feet included) by noon.
I shed a small tear when Number 12 wandered good naturedly into the abattoir in Denbigh a year to the day after he arrived.
I didn't miss Number 21 at all.
But she sure did taste good!

No 12 and 21

Italia

 

I was pleased that the Italian Winter Olympic ceremony was universally praised this week, a sort of under dog moment. 

It was simple classy, relatively cheap and very effective. 

I liked it. 

I’m on night shifts again, and still full of virus cold, so much so that even mentioning let alone thinking it is boring me. 

Wait For Me

 Wait for me , a song from the musical HadesTown is doing the rounds at the moment 

It’s a powerful piece which strangely has become the backdrop to the story of how two snails endeavour to reach the ark. 

How odd. 

I’m full of cold which is tiresome and cancelled meeting a friend in Liverpool which is a pisser. 

I’ve just had breakfast in Tesco’s cafe and cleaned the inside of Bluebell

I’m one crazy exciting bitch !

Saying What You Think and the 10 pm Curfew

 I was never a fan of Dr Who but I rather liked this clip where the real Vincent Van Gogh was given the chance to realise that he was infact a much loved and celebrated artist. It seems kind and right and so unlike reality that meant that Vincent never realised his talent when he was penniless and dying. 

Emily is a nurse , I have worked with over the past few years. She is leaving the hospice for pastures new and she is young, gobby, confident, questioning and potty mouthed and I adore working with her. Last week I told her that fact, but I balanced the usual I’ll miss you with some home truths. 

I told her she was a good nurse, and one that would make an excellent sister but I also told her why I thought so . I acknowledged her strengths , and without embarrassment gave her examples of her good practice . The older I get, the more important I think it is to be positive and truthful and celebratory about people.  

Emily is in the middle back row and the chap in the cap is Ben another dear friend who leaves soon

I will miss them both so much 

Go on try it. Say something nice to a friend, celebrate a strength, acknowledge a skill. 

Look at Vincent’s face and tell me it’s a bad idea……..

And thank you to Gemma from Melbourne , who emailed me with a suggestion 

“ Put the dogs to bed on the kitchen reading chair at 10 pm , put a log on the fire and call the cats , and just see if the dynamic of no dogs and just me has on Weaver” 

So I did just that, and stretching out on my trendy blue sofa I settled to watch A Bridge Too far.

Almost immediately did Bun come for a cuddle , but minutes later Weaver sat uncomfortably on the back of the chair. 

The dog’s absence had suddenly opened up them for cats time 

And half an hour later I was scratching a slightly moody but receptive Weaver behind the ears as she purred a dog free purr 

Simple psychology 

But I had missed it 

The Lovers, The Dreamers and me

 A few days ago Disney brought back a “one off” episode of The Muppets which seems to tap in to a universal and collective need for childhood nostalgia. The above sing a long with Kermit leading a 2000 strong audience in The Rainbow Connection is a testament to this fact, especially as the audience was quite willing for forgo the fact that the puppeteer was obvious to all that sang a long with a green felt frog.

Adults, quite simply have and retain their childish capacity for wonder, fantasy and innocence. Remember ten year old Imogen singing the glorious doll’s song from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang at the village Show rehearsals and how all of the grown ups suddenly became all bleary eyed and silent as we watched her open mouthed.

I remember once watching a homeless woman singing You are my Sunshine , my only Sunshine to her old sick  dog , with so much passion and feeling on Colwyn Bay Promenade that it hurt like a punch.

I remember too sharing with my old Irish therapist that the song Moon River had a great significance to me and quietly she sang the words 

“ two drifters off to see the world, there’s such a lot of world to see…..” in a thin, reedy alto by an eighty year old counsellor with “ we’re  after the same…. rainbows end, waiting round the bend , my Huckleberry friend ..Moon River …and me…….”

And I joined in with the last line with my shaky bass…..the moment, raw and all rather special because we had sung it together. 

Face down in the litter tray

 I’m tired today. 

It’s all due to the Queen and an unfortunate encounter with weaver the psycho cat .in the middle of the night.

The Queen ( Gawd Bless her) has spent the last five years staring up the lane into the village from my spare bedroom window. The lifesize cut out was a gift from my friend Jane which she presented to me at Manchester Airport before we left for Barcelona .

She’s a talking point, and I find her presence amusing.

I’m also rather fond of the old gal .

Around three am this morning Mary and Weaver had a spat . The yowling woke me and I got up to find Mary cornered helplessly by the airing cupboard after a crafty old lady pee on the bathroom shower mat I was in no mood for silliness so I gabbed a pair of damp underpants from the radiator and threw them at Weaver who stalked angrily into the spare room 

Here she had a tantrum 

I’d just got back into bed when an unholy crash thundered filled the night

Weaver had knocked the Queen from her window seat complete with the large wooden box which I’d used to prop her up with. 

The Queen , now lay helplessly,  face down in the cats’ litter tray

Leaving her felt strangely treasonable especially as her face was smeared with the end product of a can of whisker’s chicken bits .

I searched the bathroom for a packet of wet wipes and finding none proceeded to dampen toilet paper with soap and warm water

It all felt suddenly very surreal, as I wiped my former monarch’s cheeks clear of cat poo in the wee small hours of the morning

Goodnight your majesty I called out when I had finished 

God Bless

🎤🎶 Rise Like a Phoenix · Eurocanción Sinfónica · Grupo Talía

Last night I caught up with affable Despot Jason , his wife Claire and other villagers for the pub quiz.

Again it was exactly what I needed, froth, humour , silliness and good natured banter, even though I was over tired with working three nights , I knew I needed the contact and the warmth. 

The new publican who fielded the queries that I was ok a week ago came over to say hello, which was sweet, he told me he was glad I was alive ….not an affirmation you get often , lol 

We won the quiz which was a bonus ( see below) 

Mary was chesty when I got home and I took her bed with me to sleep the night under my arm . At my 6 am wee break, I was amused that Bun had joined her! Paws clasped around her cardigan.  

I’ve got friends booked to meet me this week 

“ Mir geht es gut”

Chuckle

January has left with a bit of whimper and for me it’s been good riddance to bad rubbish.

I still feel lethargic and a little “ out of sorts” but already I can feel the afternoons  are lighter just a little bit longer. 

There is hope in the air. 

I am on my last night of three, and my recent  night at the cinema before nights reminded me that I was human and benefitted for a change of scene. 

Monday is the village Pub quiz and I’ve arranged to go with affable despot Jason. 

And the velvet voiced Linda has given me the most gentle of kicks-the-arse to sort of a Trelawnyd Productions meeting the week after next.

The older you get, the closer physical wellness affects psychological wellness. This, for me is compounded by the time of year and social isolation .

Everything is enmeshed and feels somewhat complicated.

My head and thinking is fuzzy

It’s not rocket science , 

Just one step in front of the other, and start ticking the mental list off.

I know I’m coming out of “ something”

Whatever something is ?

For when I helped a patient to stand up and he fearfully held me close grabbing my uniform I relaxed the tension in the moment by reminding him “ we are not engaged as yet” and that he had to buy me a gin and tonic first before I would even think about it” 

My head wants and needs to laugh 

In January I think everyone’s do

Moira Rose Confronts

One of my favourite actresses died yesterday. Catherine O’Hara was a gifted comic and actress. She stole more scenes than lassie in her time and when in her sixties, forged out a new following by creating the amazing character of  MoiraRose in Schitt’s Creek.

She will be missed

28 Years Later

The second film in the third franchise of 28 Years Later has breathed some new energy and life into the story of infected zombie types and the feral well in post apocalyptic Britain. 

Now we have the car crash drama where the Jimmy Saville look-a-like killer group headed by the dim but manipulative Jimmy ( Jack O’Connell) finally meet up to the unhinged but ultimately benign Robinson Crusoe Dr Ian Kelson ( Ralph Fiennes) and his Man Friday Infected Alpha ( an extraordinary powerful performance by Chi Lewis Parry. Don’t forget we have Spike (Alfie Williams ) from the first movie who is reluctantly conscripted into the psychopathic group and Kelly (Erin Kellyman) a fellow member who shows some much welcomed empathy, so the scene is set for a violent ( and too violent to be honest) sequel that keeps you on the edge of your seat. 

Not an easy watch , but an interesting film with Fiennes on spectacular form 

Janet hated it 

Chi Lewis Parry, a strangely attractive “ zombie”

 

Love Matters - Grupo Talía

I’m pretty good in a medical emergency. 43 years of experience helps somewhat I guess. Today I had to deal with someone  who apparently overdosed on antidepressants which necessitated an admission to the ER. 

A calm head and a no challenge attitude is vital here.

Someone has to take charge, direct the action and and give the right degree of support, think of Colour Sergeant Bourne ( Nigel Bruce) from Zulu crossed with  Dr Lazarus ( Frances Sternhagen ) from Outland 

Firm fair and humorous.

And never EVER  look worried 

I was supposed to go to the cinema tonight but got home too late

I ended up sharing a scotch egg with Mary in front of the fire

Mary

Mary’s official passport photo taken by Cameron 7 years ago

 She has progressive heart failure 

The Spanish Vet told me nothing I didn’t know. 

Mary sat blinking between us her cataracts evident under the surgery lights and she coughed heavily on cue

We talked about options and settled for medication only 

Take her home and love her the vet suggested

We were out of the door before she had finished her speech.

Roger tottering dutifully behind, fully aware of the seriousness of the visit.

I met Chic Eleanor for lunch and before we parted she asked me what was bothering me

I told her about Mary as she busied herself rearranging my scarf and before I could make light of things she wrapped her arms around my neck in a hug which almost broke my heart in its care.

Darling man I so understand she said 

🎤🎶 ESA DIVA- Grupo Talia

The lisping choir is on good form today. ( I was in the audience for this one) 

I took the Welsh to the beach , had avocado on toast for lunch and collected logs.

Not an exciting day, but one enlivened by a very loud cashier at Marks who bellowed across the cafe that my debit card had been rejected. ( it hadn’t, it just requested the pin as an extra security measure) but  that didn’t stop the group of grey hairs ooohhhing and arrrhhhhhing  in hushed tones together as I schelpped my walk of shame back to the pay desk

I only got one blob of egg and a single streak of avocado down my jumper today 

I FaceTimed the German and he pointed the fact out all the way from Hintertupfingen 

Watchman

 

In 1989 I had never looked after an orthodox Jewish patient, let alone supervised the care of one recently deceased. My patient had a large extended family with various male spokesmen who centred their interactions with the one male doctor on duty as well as myself. 

As a gauche young man and an inexperienced nurse, I knew enough to be respectful and open to the family’s needs and was introduced to Benesh just before my patient died. 

Benesh was a Shomer . A mature Jewish man of faith and seriousness, who had been asked to attend as a watchman over my patient from death to burial. He was quiet and respectful, but was keen to explain his role to me as I provided a link with the clinical side of the ward.

He explained his job of reciting Tehillim ( psalms ) as he physically guarded the void , left by the departing soul. His patient was therefore not abandoned in anyway, and I remember feeling the power of the support quietly being emitted by these respectful young men as they went along with their work.

Is there anything else I should be doing ? 

I remember asking Benesh as I entered the single ward.

Be quiet and deliberate and respectful he said with a smile and in my 60s that respect for stillness and tradition remains with me .

It shows in a need for an unhurried  quietness which seems innate and normal to me.

I saw God on the train

I love this poem by Lucas Jones. Its pace and masculinity and power and rawness is refreshing. Last night of three this week, and I’m eating beef stew . The Welsh are at Trendy Carol’s and I’ve realised , yet again, I have nothing much to say. 

I hope this changes tomorrow 
 

Haggis

 I cooked haggis for lunch

Believe me there is nothing nicer than sliced haggis, fried alongside an egg.

Bloody lovely

I added boiled broccoli to balance out my sugars and drank a couple of jugs of ice cold water.

I also caught up with some friends on line

Bantering conversations about how crap LOTR movies are 

Silliness and stimulation , I like to call it. 

Food for the schoolboy who still lurks underneath my breastbone 

I’m working two nights 

Skunk Trail

 

My relationship with avocado is a complicated one 

It’s sloppy and covers shirt fronts with quite some ease, even when you are acting on best behaviour .

My German Friend has only shared a meal with me three times now 

Each time , I have experienced some food detritus issues.

I shared with him the moment I thought I had clicked with a professional gay guy at Chester’s Jaunty Goat a few years back. Me and him swapping smiles , when my smile centred around his trim beard ….his  smile underlining the irony of a skunk sized avocado slime trail down my front.

Why don’t you just wear a serviette ? Was the German’s simple reply 

I’m dozing in front of the fire and Roger is gently licking the front of my pullover 

Tomato sauce with chilli and garlic 

Let Go

This video is amazing

It not only underlines the importance of “debrief” after a particularly emotional piece of drama and filmmaking ( in this case the famous emotional romp ending of Hamnet)  , but it sorts of encapsulates what it’s like to be truly human. 

Years ago, I remember feeling so free……with inhibitions hidden by darkness and alcohol and youth

Dancing in the dark ontop of Weston Park Hospital roof in 1990

 

The Risk of Turning into Lugaretzia

 

As a boy I adored any writings by the naturalist Gerald Durrell. 

I recognise that we own the same observational humour as well as the ability to share a true story, with relish, and so this morning when I spied Mr Lugaretzia, gnashing his gums in the queue at the petrol station, I made a detour by the fire lighters in order to avoid him. 

Now Mr Lugaretzia is a nice man, but he is a boring one. He is fixated about his bad health, a subject one can cope with during your first half dozen or so  meetings, but after several years of bleeding gum, stories, hospital appointments and GP’s diagnosis quandaries, I have been left a shell of my former self when social niceties  are involved and spend much of my time now hiding behind bushes to avoid him.

But what has this to do with Gerald Durrell you ask? 

Well Lugaretzia was the name of his cook when he was a boy in Corfu. A woman of great suffering , a hypochondriac who would gladly slow every wound or malady to her captained audience of English School children 

Now you get it? 

We all have the ability of becoming a Lugaretzia.

I’m not far it myself . 

And this fact annoys me greatly. 

Think of someone else John 

I keep telling myself . 

No fucker wants to hear about your fucking blood sugars

I sent some flowers to Nu this morning. She’s been in hospital overnight, I’ve got gifts to send to a friend in Dublin and a letter to write to another friend in Argentina 

It’s not all about me 

Another Day Another Lunatic

 I’m longing for summer

Dust on the main road, and every widow wide open 

This is an old post from a summer a decade ago

A sunny day and the " Marian " lane seemed almost black with mayflies this morning. Everyone seems out in the sunshine. Fan of The Walking Dead pensione John escorted Auntie Glad to the town bus still holding his mug of tea and policeman Ian could be seen chatting to Basil the farmer at the top of High Street, they both waved. I thought I'd spied Trendy Carol driving by, wearing something interesting in chiffon but I couldn't be sure. The sun was too bright on the main road.

Mary and I had just reached The Crown ( for those that don't know, The Crown in the village pub) when, far in the distance we spied a strange figure emerging from the heat haze on the road.
The vision looked almost ethereal
It reminded me of Omar Sharif on that camel scene in Lawrence Of Arabia
Slowly......details started to emerge from out of the mirage,
Until finally Gay Gordon on his invalid trolley trundled magnificently into view
" Hello Flower" he bellowed " Nice day for a drive!" Obviously oblivious of the string of usually fast moving traffic wanting to pass....
" You'll kill yourself on that thing" I called out after the final lorry had rumbled by
And Gordon bellowed out a lusty laugh....." My legs needed an airing" pointing at his corned beef shins.........bugger knows just where he had been!
Mary bounced up into his lap,she as most dogs seem to like this strange loud village character and Gordon was thrilled to find out her name as his " lady friend" with whom he shares his life is also called Mary. Big Mary, as you may remember looks like a large cheerful scatter cushion with half the stuffing removed.!

A delivery van wizzed by, inches from Gordon's oversized shopping basket, but he didn't seem to notice and I said my goodbyes. " see you soon!" I called
"TALLY HO!" He sang out as the invalid trolley shot off into the village!
There is something almost valiant about Gordon I always think!

He died shortly after I posted this story