Korsakoff’s Dementia

 Reading an entertaining entry on a fellow blogger's blog reminded me of a lady I "nursed" while I was  on student placement to The Merseyside alcohol dependency unit  at The West Cheshire Psychiatric Hospital in the 1980s.
Sylvia was one of those ex colonial types, with a cut glass accent, a weather beaten face and  the kind of spirit that made Britain what it was during the 1930s and 1940s, an arrogant world power.
She was, opinionated and racist, in that old fashioned sort of way that made you smile at her rather than it provoking an angry response towards her, and she had spent her life of privilege in colonial Malaya , for 40 years pickled in pink gin.

God knows just why she had been admitted to the unit. She was far too long in the tooth at 83 to successfully give up alcohol, even I as a student realised that fact, but I suspect that she had been "encouraged " to enter rehab for a formal assessment, as it was suspected that she was suffering from the start of Korsakoff’s dementia.
People suffering from Korsakoff's dementia lack vitamin B 1 due to their alcoholism, and treatment , as I recall is a combination of vitamin supplements, good nutrition and plenty of rest in addition to the "talking therapies" which aim to explore the cause of their drinking behaviour.
"Talking Therapy" was not something that Sylvia took too seriously as I recall

People that have Korsakoff's, often have great gaps in their memory which they cover up with confabulating history accounts.
In one morning group session I remember one Liverpudlian patient asking her just how much she drank before her admission
In her best Maggie Smith delivery Sylvia announced loudly and with some conviction to the group
"If you must know ......I only ever had a few little drinkies after meals!"
The Liverpudlian, missed nothing from her vague reply
"and how many meals a day did you actually have?" he asked with a smile
"34!" Sylvia called out  with a triumphant cackle

The Artist

Dujardin and Bejo

A silent film's  homage to Hollywood's silent age...that's what the much lauded movie The Artist  is essentially about, and I must admit the Star is Born story of the career demise of  the silent film star George Valentin (Jean Dujardin)  took a bit of getting used to as the story cracked on a pace backed only by a jaunty orchestral score by composer Ludovic Bource.

But I did get use to it, and was, in fact, won over completely by the wonderfully engaging central performance by Dujardin ( who amazingly resembles a swaggering Gene Kelly) He charms the pants off the audience and does so effortlessly without really saying a word!

The film's pivotal scene seals the deal when Valentin meets  spunky starlet Peppy Miller ( an equally engaging Bérénice Bejo) As they film take after take of a seemingly innocuous on screen dance sequence, the two characters start to fall in love, and it is this rather sweet and incredibly moving and powerful sequence that gives the movie it's heart, for as well as being a clever homage to the visual tricks of Hollywood, it is, in fact a simple and beguiling love story, that is well worth watching

9/10

Janet & John

This morning on his early morning blog Monsieur Cro introduced us all to his daughter who possesses the spunky and rather original name of Tenpin.

This got me to thinking just why we name the things dear to us, the way we do.

The naming of a child is a significant and huge responsibility.

Get it wrong and that kid may harbour psychological issues all of it's life ( One of my old patients from my psychiatric nursing days comes to mind here ....for his traumatic childhood was thought to be a direct result of severe bullying in school.......an unfortunate product of being christened "Adolph" in 1933 North Yorkshire!)

Most names can date the person who owns it .This is certainly the case of my name as for most of my life I have been referred to as just one part of a double act.

As twins born in 1962, my sister and I were named after the icons of  those 1950's Children's reading books everyone over a certain age will remember with some affection.... for we  were called Janet AND John.

Janet and John aged 26 and 1/2

Sexy Hal (centre)

As a kid, I disliked the reference. I thought it was just that little bit boring and a tad babyish, given the fact that Janet and John didn't do anything of interest apart from chasing big red balls in a suburban garden like a couple of dated middle class bores. I longed to have the ability to change my name and always had the secret desire to possess the more "exotic" Christian name of Roger!.....

Now this was only because I used to be a avid reader of the

Willard Price adventure novels where fourteen year old Roger Hunt and his older brother Hal captured animals from the four corners of the globe ( like you do!)

I also think I had a secret crush on Hal....you can't blame me given his clean cut 1960s looks can you?

Do kids of today have paperback book heroes anymore?....Perhaps the Jake's, the Ben's and the little Jaimie's of today prefer their x box heroes just that little bit more? 

Bloody hell now I do sound like a sad old John don't I?

"I am a lady"

Meg enjoying the sun, in her usual spot in the bedroom window

Yesterday I was moaning about the weather and how it has the ability to shrink Trelawnyd into some sort of ghost village.

Well today, when I got home after night shift, the weather has blossomed into spring and almost early summer, as the wind dropped, the sun came out and the village suddenly burst into life again.

I opened up every window in the cottage, and before cleaning and vacuuming the winter dust away ,I left a large bowl of eggs on the outside wall, so that people out for a walk could help themselves and not bother me.

But of course I was bothered now and then by neighbours and egg customers, but I didn't really mind... it was nice just to see people out and about.

The Good "Ladies" of Trelawnyd circa 1952

One villager chatted about the Jubilee "carnival" which is still in the embryo planning stages .I told him I had a few old photos of locals at the 1952 village carnival where local men all dressed up as society "ladies"

"Oh you can't do that anymore" he told me and he sited an article he had read in the Daily Mail 

which outlined that bigwigs at Exeter University have banned Male students dressing up in drag because it believes that trans gender groups may be offended by the mainly pissed up rugby players parading around in ill fitting mini skirts and sling backs on their male bonding nights out

(interestingly I note that Nick over at http://nickhereandnow.blogspot.com/  has brought up the same subject on his blog) and has dealt with it with his usual dry humour

Micro managers with their bloody nanny-ish ways and worries  seem to make life just that little bit harder to enjoy in our "let's be so careful" modern world. Potential Offence has to be seen at every turn and in every activity,

and generally, ( I would like to think) that in this particular case, trans gender men and women  wouldn't give a flying fuck that some alcohol fuelled 18 year old psychology student is wearing a pair of ripped stockings, a knackered old wig and  some cheap Ann Summer's suspenders.

Then again.... I could be.... oh so very .....wrong!

Ash Wednesday

Trelawnyd sheltering against the gales

The Church bell started to ring fairly early this morning which threw me slightly as I couldn't quite work out why it was doing so. The penny dropped that it was Ash Wednesday when I left the cottage to deliver eggs, as tiny knots of the village congregation braved the high winds and battled their way down to the Church.

The village looks deserted today.

It always does when the weather is bad. The daytime population of Trelawnyd is probably confined to a hundred  or so over 65s, forty schoolchildren , and a few odds and sods like me who either work odd shifts or do not work at all.

Mrs Trellis hurrying home

Apart from a few home carers, the village's elderly warden, the school's staff and a handful of guys based in the industrial units just outside the village, the village offers no employment . The employed population getting into their cars earlier today to weave their way to nearby towns, or across the Welsh border in order to work.

This was always the case, even in times gone by... but then the workers caught buses down to the likes of Rhyl, ambled down to work in the three village shops, bakery, pubs and numerous local farms or made their way, sometimes on foot, to the Coal mine at Point Of Ayr, a few miles to the North...

In , say, 1940s the village population was higher than it is today, and the daytime population was much more visual, with housewives going about their daily business .

Today, apart from a few cars, and the diminutive Mrs Trellis hurrying home , there was absolutely no one to see...oh I am so looking forward to the nicer weather.....the warmth brings the village to life
off to work later

Boxing GOOD behaviour for a change

With all of this embarrassing shenanigans with British Boxers' bad behaviour recently I was amused by these two who professionally and somewhat sweetly saw the funny side in all the seriousness!!!!

Hey Ho

I thought I would try it

It felt a bit naughty though because

I have not been able to do it for such a long, long time

But being alone in the cottage has just given me the opportunity

to give it a go

It proved to be a little bit of a  tussle

But after a couple of years

of elasticated waists

I have just managed to get into a 34 inch pair of pants!!!!!!!!!!!

Sorrel

I have posted this older video, because it does feature a brief appearance from Sorrel, the buff Orpington who had an impacted crop.
I took her to the vets today as I have been unable to clear the blockage so to speak, and the 12 year old vet who I suspect had never handled a hen before was "allocated" to us ( I was hoping that the sex-on-legs George Clooney lookalike was on duty but unfortunately he was "in surgery")
Doogie Howser seemed very nervous and was a little unsure of exactly what to do .He kept nipping out to discuss the case with the George ( who I was hoping would have popped out to give us a second opinion!) and left the consulting room no less than three times.
After weighing up the fact that this practice only performs this kind of procedure under a general anaesthetic and the fact that Sorrel was so frail, we decided that putting the hen down was the best bet and the kindest thing to do.
I couldn't help noticing that when the Wunderkind started to administer the final injection his hand shook, so much, he missed the blood vessel in the hen's wing
As a nurse that has supervised so many Junior doctors over the years I knew exactly the best thing to do.
"They are really difficult to get aren't they? I couldn't do it....... you're doing fine" I said with an encouraging smile.and I spread the wing out wider so he could see a little better.
He tried again
and a couple of minutes later the hen had died peacefully.
Ebb and Flow...
Ebb and Flow...
and Doogie Howser euthinized his first chicken at a cost of £18.70p

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Weight Watcher's weigh in 14 stone 10 lbs
Weight Loss last week 1 lb
Total weight loss since 2nd Jan 1 stone 4 lbs

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