Normal Service Has Been Resumed

A particularly busy and crappy shift on Saturday and another busy night shift last night means that my body clock has been bounced around like like a good pole dancer on a slippery pole.
My patient, as it turned out had suffered a spinal injury, and so, for a change I could flex my ( considerable) spinal injury knowledge to tick all the boxes, other nurses couldn't quite reach so to speak.....I am a bit of a show off  on the quiet.......( quelle surprise! I hear you chant)...and so, I left work with a sense of tired satisfaction that I had completed a job well done

After night shift, there is nothing more delightful than early morning fresh air. The claustrophobic surroundings of work get kicked into touch, for spring green sunshine and within seconds of getting back to Trelawnyd, I have flung open the cottage windows to let in the sights and smells of home.

These are the times when I feel lucky.

Chris is working in London all week, and so it's just me and the animals at BwthynY Llan until Saturday afternoon.  I drop him off at the station with a kiss then return home after dribbling a strong costa coffee  take out all down my front as I negotiate the difficult bends back over the hill...I then make two cheese filled bagels and me and the dogs, with Albert in tow, wander over to the field  to share them under the graveyard elms, surrounded by the ever moving carpet of birds and two rather scruffy Scottish ewes

The best bit after night shift.........

I am home.......

Baby Oaks

Last year, the Jubilee year, The Flower Show Committee supported the work and enterprise of the village Carnival Committee with a notable donation.

In return, they kindly passed over to us a box of Oak tree saplings from Prince Charles' Highgrove estate, the remainder of which had been earmarked for planting in a local " Jubilee Wood"

The ten saplings were a welcomed gift, as last Year's Flower Show Objective was to replant some native trees into the old Church Yard. Trees that had died away or which had been removed by some over zealous strimming by the local council workmen.

Too small and fragile to plant out in the more robust graveyard, I placed the tiny, bare sticks into my allotment for the winter and although  I was not that hopeful they would survive, given the dreadfully wet, cold and miserable time we had experienced over the past  year or so, strangely enough they have, albeit in varying stages of growth.

When they are strong enough, we will transplant the Jubilee Oaks to their final resting place surrounding St Michael's....a future reminder to the residents of Trelawnyd, that The Flower Show Woz here!

Beautiful

I listened to an interesting debate on LBC Talk radio the other day. The presenter ( the affable James O'Brien) discussed how he and his wife disagree slightly on how they verbally support their two little girls. James, almost on a daily basis, tells his daughters that they are beautiful. His wife prefers to highlight their " beautiful behaviour"' a kindness, a Noble deed, a polite word. For her, their self worth is not just skin deep so to speak and she thinks it is important not to concentrate on the physical, nice as it is to hear.

I listened to the discussion with interest, and was reminded of it again , when I was on the phone to my elder sister just yesterday when we were chatting about her grandson who has a short term but painful disability. I reinforced that he comes from a supported and level headed family, who has instilled self worth and confidence into their child from the start. Huge skills that buffer the brickbats of life. The boy, I am sure,will do very well indeed.

My parents did not have had the skills or the knowledge to emotionally support their children. We were never told that we good at anything, we were never told we were beautiful. We were never told we were nice people....In general good deeds were overlooked and minor discretions were pounced upon....then it was normal...today,subscribers to mumsnet would be screaming from the rafters if they witnessed it.

How something's change. 

How, for the most part, has parenting changed.

This morning, out of the blue, but probably on the back of this blog subject, I remembered a moment in primary school when I had a poem printed out in a collection of pupils work. It was a wonderful and celebratory moment that I can still almost experience  and certainly appreciate some 41 years later, That poem game me some vindication and pride in myself, vindication and pride that I should have received from my parents consistently throughout my childhood...

I was feeding the ducklings this morning with a large plate of sloppy egg.

And I have just remembered that I told them both just how beautiful they were looking and how clever they were at scoffing the lot from their plate

I would have made a decent parent me thinks

.............Despite my upbringing.

51 in 26 hours

I am 51 in 26 hours time

This would be an ideal gift 

It's a scotch Egg T shirt

!

Eggy Ducklings

Things remain a little insular here

I am still acting a bit like an over active Mother hen

I am not complaining....

No more fox attacks......( touch wood)

As yet!

Thought I would post a duckling update.

unfortunately one little chap died suddenly a few days ago

But these two are doing well

Enjoy

Sue Bates from Work

I went into work today to deliver eggs.......a staff nurse called Sue was on duty ( she's a cheerful sort of soul) 

She caught me drinking a cup of coffee in the sitting room with a " I loved your blog about William stuck in the bath" comment...

" I always read your blog before I go to sleep" she added.... So I thought I would big her up before I went to bed this evening....

Thanks sue....... You always make me Larf at work so

Keep on reading

X

Ps forgive the illustration...... I didn't have a " sue" photo 

Light Pollution

Now you don't really need to know this, but we generally sleep with the curtains open. When you are a middle aged man, there is method in this madness, for the glow from the street lamp in the lane, illuminates the room adequately enough for you to negotiate the pit falls of the " middle of the night trip to the bog"

Of course, I  innately now know the set up.......get up, turn right, two steps, turn right again......four steps, feel around the door, turn right...walk forward  six steps, feel for toilet seat and sit down with a sigh ( yes I always sit down to pee in the night......it's safer) but having a bit of light shining through the window , does allow a person to at least see which dog has sneaked into your warm spot after you have grappled with the old prostate.

Having said all this, I am now a firm believer that the village street lights should be turned off  in the wee small hours. Ok leave them on until midnight, so that the final die hards at The Crown can find their way home, but turn them off until say five thirty or six, so that the early risers can back their cars out safely for that morning commute to work.

I am beginning to hate light pollution....

mind you.....Living with someone who wakes early doesn't help either, as on a daily basis, Chris will be wide awake around four or four  thirty only to check email or read the news on his iPad. Now even though he is, for the most part silent, the sudden flash of screen light is often enough to drag me out of a  Russell Crowe based dream and into the land of the early morning undead...and as you all must know by know by now

I JUST FUCKING WELL DON'T DOOOOOO MORNINGS!

And so, what is the solution? 

Turn off the street lights......close the curtains, position a weak torch next to the bed so that " pee runs" remain safe and wear a Joan Collins eye mask the rest of the time....

There, job done! Simples!

Ps couldnt find a photo of Trelawnyd in the dark...so you will have to be content with the above

Trelawnyd in bright sunshine

Pps. Chris had an excuse to be awake at 4am this morning ... North Wales experienced a small earthquake......me and dogs slept though it

Going Gently

When I started writing Going Gently , way back in December 2005, all I wanted to achieve was a sort of diary that would chronicle a lifestyle change between city and countryside. Over the years, almost everything has been immortalised in this strange non place which is the Internet, the interesting,the sad, the happy and for the most part, the mundane.

Having a " tablet" means that little moments can be captured when they occur, so to speak, and so the above photo was " captured" just before bed last night.

It's been a tiring holiday weekend, the fox attack on Friday has ment that in between sorting out practical anti fox measures ( a local gamekeeper!) I have spent much of my time acting like a worried sheep dog.

Last night, I was wet and cold and knackered after a third day " keeping an eye on things"

Perhaps animals sense that sort of thing, for Albert sat on the back of my chair all night long, with a supportive paw balanced sweetly on my shoulder