Sorrel is upstairs, deep in her morning ablutions. The spare room feels somewhat like a sauna, as she is too frightened to even open one of her windows, just in case Albert drags another small dead body up there for her delectation. Her nerves are shot to ribbons. When she goes to bed, she is effectively "under siege" in her room, and I was sure that she pushed a towel into the crack under the door last night...just in case a dead mouse would manage to limbo through......
So like I said, Sorrel is upstairs and Chris is pottering around the cottage getting ready for the day's events . I have noticed that he has suddenly taken charge of my famous "Mrs Hopkins' slippers"...the very slippers he slagged off with some gusto when I was presented with them last year. How comfort takes over from snobbery when it suits We are off to see Jane Eyre today.....
Dolly's video "slayed 'em in the aisles" didn't it? .....and it was meant to....as sometimes the best way to get a message over whether it be in a documentary, film, tv programme or even a piece of art, is to set the emotional juices going. I take after my father in this respect, I can cry at the drop of a hat. Having said this, it is only today that I realise that I have never actually cried in front of my family...not since I was a boy , no I prefer crying in the safety and anonymity of a darkened cinema or in my own front room...and the floodgates will often be opened full and wide when the subject of my "release" is a sad tale of an animal. especially if accompanied by some emotional music..
yeap cheap sentiment will get me every time
Now at work, I can reign the emotions in behind a thin veil of professionalism This is a vital skill for a nurse to possess..especially on Intensive Care, where at times the patients can be literally "dropping like flies" but just occasionally, I feel that the showing of emotion in the work area can be therapeutic to patients and their relatives alike, especially when there has been a bond between nurse and patient.
I have blogged before about the time of how a diminutive Scottish sister and I were once asked to wrap the arms of an old lady who had suddenly died around the shoulders of her grieving husband in a last close embrace and I know I have written about the time I shed a tear watching an Alzheimer patient waltzing delicately around the day room with her husband, oblivious to the reality of her situation .
But today, in view of that sad little "Dolly" Video, I was reminded of a "little" moment that occurred almost as an aside , on the busy ward I managed a few years ago now.
The ward was busy,but because the staff on duty were motivated and worked well as a team, there was, as I recall a kind of energy in the air as the late morning jobs were being completed before lunches were delivered. We had received the first emergency admission of two booked for that day and because a junior nurse was practicing being "in charge" of the ward, I had been allocated the admission. It was not a hard case in so much that the emergency turned out to be an elderly man who had been found by his neighbour at the foot of his stairs. The man had sustained a devastating cervical injury which was ascending. He was unconscious and his breathing was compromised, so put quite bluntly..... he was dying.
My job was simple. I was to make him comfortable, I was to locate the family and take care of them all before and after the patient's death. As it turned out the man had no family, only the neighbour who had found him, and I was surprised to see a rough looking young woman in her 20s turn up to the ward asking to see him, after all , I had envisioned the neighbour to be a vital kind of spinsterish lady perhaps being in her 60s.It even crossed my mind that this woman was perhaps this old man's drinking buddy of sorts, especially given the state of her
The young woman, who had, she informed me , three kids of her own back home, called on him daily with a meal, the paper and perhaps a wee "tot" of something and had done this for the past year or so since the death of his wife. She informed me in her thick Barnsley accent that there was no living relatives that she knew of, for me to contact and asked if she could sit with him for a while which of course I agreed.
When she saw him, by the look on her face, I knew she understood the extent of his injuries and she started to cry, letting her tears splash onto his hand which she held up to her face. As she did so,I noticed that she had a homemade tattoo stating "MOM" on her forearm I removed his oxygen mask , so that she could see him properly and sat down next to them both as his breathing became more erratic
" I don' really know him very well at all" she explained after a while,"But I wanted to come in"
I remember looking at her cheap skirt and at the tattoos again and I felt a little ashamed of myself at jumping to the more negative of conclusions.
"All of us should have someone there with us at the end eh" she added sadly " someone to cry over us? " She was nice, she was sincere and she was caring.....
And I had to bite my lip just a little more when I nodded my agreement
I have said this before.....funny what you remember isn't it?
I am a good host when visitors come to Bwthyn-y-Llan for I am more than capable of "making an effort" when I am in the mood. However.. I do take after my robust Liverpudlian Grandmother, when it comes to hospitality for like her, I am a bit of a "feeder" when it comes to visitors. Anyone that arrives on the doorstep is always offered a cup of tea, whether they be the delivery man or the dog groomer lady....if I have notice then a homemade cake or pie ( pies are easier) is usually in the offering, and failing that, there is always an emergency visit to the spar, that can be initiated even though their selection of cakes is rather...well.........working class to say the least. After filling Sorrel up with eggs, bacon and fried bread this morning, I have packed her and Chris off for a day's shopping in Chester (I cannot personally think of anything worse than trolling around designer shops even if they are hidden away inside the scenic "rows" of historic Chester) With half the day free, I can prepare dinner for later, do a bit of baking and flex more of my hospitality muscles. To be honest it is not hard work looking after my mother in law. She is undemanding, grateful and will eat all that is put in front of her.
However ( and I have blogged about this before as Dot elluded to in my previous post-see Sorell and the mouse) my mother in law just cannot "do" the countryside.
One brief trip on the field will send her into what can only be described as a "muted hysterical state of 65 year old Kentish womanhood" and the mere "sideways look" from a turkey is enough to bring on a sudden bout of hyperventilation!! so..... you can only guess what she transforms into when surrounded by 49 birds, two pigs and a cat who enjoys disemboweling small fury animals.......
it's not a pretty sight.
Sorrel is still recovering from the unexpected view of a rather flattened shrew, which was thoughtfully deposited outside her bedroom door yesterday evening.......thank god the baby rabbit incident had not occurred when she was around...for I couldn't quite face visiting her daily in the rubber room of the local psychiatric unit
Yes Chester was a safe bet today.....a couple of hours in Marks and Spencer , and she will be effectively cleansed of rodents, chickens and psychotic turkeys
My mother-in-law has a slightly unhealthy obsession with Downton Abbey....so it was unsurprising that we took her to one of our local country Houses this morning for a fantasy visit to Upstairs Downstairs land. Erddig (pronounced Er- thig) is a beautiful National Trust House situated a stones throw from the English Border. The house was built in the late 1700s and remained in the Yorke family until 1973 when it was taken over by the National Trust, rain damaged, practically derelict and still without electricity. Today, most of the house and grounds have been restored,ideal for a lady who harbors the fantasy of being Lady Mary!
My Favourite room in the house.. the Sweet White Bedroom with the Chippendale bed
The scullery and kitchens were more interesting to me than the main state rooms ...me thinks that in a previous life I was a housemaid........hummm things haven't changed much for me in this life
Run by a extensive volunteer staff, the house is a delight to visit.....
I have been asked by Pat ( the affable and hard working, warden for the village Sheltered Housing) to do a BIG UP for her table top sale, which takes place this Saturday at the Memorial Hall -between the times of 11am and 3pm.
Lunches are available to buy and there are many stalls to view at the sale
Proceeds for the day will be given to the Macmillian Cancer Nurses, a brilliant and well deserving cause.
So if you have a spare few minutes on Saturday why not pop along and support her event
My mother-in-law Sorrel arrives this evening, so I have been up early washing windows and titivating vases of flowers before I go to my brother's for the day. The weather has changed, but has done so for the better today, and the weak sunshine and warmth has really lifted my spirits, especially given the miserable wet and windy conditions we have endured for most of the past month. I carried around my portable radio as I worked, and the piano version of "Sheep may safely Graze" was playing.......it seemed the perfect accompaniment to the morning's work...quite....quite beautiful (play video below) As I pottered around, a ghostly little face watched my every move from the upstairs window. As I lifted Boris out of his house, a pair of worried little brown eyes anxiously noted the position of my hands,, just in case I was showing him a little too much affection and as I turned back to the cottage carrying a bowl of raspberries , a little face lit up, hoping that I had returned home for good.
Meg has always had a fixation with me. She is only truly happy when crushed tightly by my side or sat triumphantly on my lap, yet even when she is there, (within a knat's crotchet of my beating heart), she never looks totally relaxed . It is almost as if she is in a state of constant fear that I or she will be somehow separated and I always feel that this constant low level anxiety, she seems to possess' must be consistently and unendingly exhausting for her.
Indeed on the 35 minute drive up to my brother's house today, all she did was to lay on the passenger seat as I was driving, her eyes never leaving my face throughout the journey.....
I have my own female stalker...
The geese stalk me too, but they do in a slow, benign and rather pedestrian kind of way, which never fails to amuse me. Wherever I go or what ever I am doing, eventually all four will wander slowly into view, their eyes curious and interested, their heads up and proud. If they cannot quite see the activity of choice, then inch by inch they will crowd forward in order to get a proper look and when satisfied with the result, will sit comfortably in the grass nearby. It is a habit of theirs I always welcome.
My final stalker (apart from the constantly asthmatic Boris) is Bunty Now Bunty is a two year old cochin,, who only loves me because I buy her constant adoration with a sneaky morsel of dry cat food everyday. She is as cheap as that....all it takes is a a brief glimpse of a "go cat" fishy nibble (always held up between thumb and forefinger as I walk down the lane) and she goes completely weak at the knees. Literally frothing at the beak in excitement, she will often gallop the length of the field ( not easy with heavily feather feet I can tell you) to clamber up into my lap in order to receive her personal titbit It is a small moment of pleasure for her and a rather larger moment of pleasure for me....
Anyhow, enough of this "me me" adoration
I will leave you with a little coincidence. (sparked by Cro's latest posting)
I bought this vintage water jug and glasses at Auntie Gladys bric a brac stall recently only to find out later on that it originally belonged to my twin sister!
This is the third time I have purchased items which have been owned by Janet...a couple of years ago, I went into a local antique shop and pulled out two separate items to buy. Both items, without my knowledge , had been owned by my sister who had sold them on to the shop only a few weeks before....
It should not surprise you that we have the same taste. ps just found out c/o Janet that she had never owned the glass set.... sort of pisses on my story somewhat...but you get the gist!
I am finding it hard to walk today, I certainly cannot get my wellingtons on over my bruised toe which now has taken on the colour of chapped liver! so I have walked the dogs around the Marian in crocs and have limped my way around the pigs enclosure with a bucket, like Quasimodo. I also delivered some eggs to a cottage on London Road rather early and bumped into all of the village school children waiting patiently for their bus to arrive to take them down to Prestatyn High.a few miles away. The kids all looked trendy and relaxed in their "lounge suit" uniforms and not one of them had the "look" of a miserable geek with no mates....... someone that didn't fit in with their peers. I was such a kid.... for I really hated my school days. Where as many of the more popular lads larked around with their mullets and kipper ties, I was walking home alone, with my blazer all buttoned up to the neck, my school bag slung tightly around my shoulders. I had friends, I am not pretending that I didn't, but they were friends typical of teenage boys, for they were transient and fickle........and not loyal and needy, as the friends of a pubescent gay schoolboy probably needed.. And so like so many 70s lonely boys , I lived a life of fantasy and daydreams.
I wrote my own screenplay for a modern day Welsh Disaster movie. I collected stills from my favourite films which I ordered week by week from the British Film Institute library I wrote long fan letters to various celebrities ( I obtained their addresses through extensive research through the Prestatyn library's whose who) and was cock-a-hoop when Olivia de Havilland sent me a signed poleroid of herself outside her Paris home! (not quite a typical high point in a normal 15 year old's existence)
Hummm on reflection I haven't changed very much
. *the photo has nothing to do with this post, but I kind of liked it
