" Death At Home"

The other night I had to break sad news to someone over the phone.
I had to inform them of the sudden death of a loved one.
I've done this many, many times over the years.
and it's never an easy job.

Shock is a strange phenomenon. You never know just where it is going to go when it hits and I was reminded of this when I read a rather moving post from Rachel's Blog last night entitled " Remembering Death At Home"
http://roadtokazakhstan.blogspot.co.uk/2016/01/remembering-death-at-home.html

When I was around 16 our paternal grandmother came to live with us. She took over our second living room and was cared for by my mother as she was increasingly forgetful and frail.
Her death one winter's afternoon came as a surprise though not a shock to my sister and me but to my father it was strangely devastating. Moments after her rather peaceful death and with the house full of relatives he tearfully rounded on my mother and screamed " You've KILLED HER...YOU'VE KILLED HER,"
I had never seen anything like it before and I remember standing there in the dining room rather dumfounded by his outburst -looking at my mother for a lead on the whole thing.
For a moment there was silence,
then,  I remember her lowering her eyes slowly with the stinging hurt.  She said nothing at all as my father was led away and relatives whispered " he's in shock, he doesn't know what he's saying"

It was my very first taste of how death can affect people.

Conflict

Contrary to what you may think,  I am not a lover of conflict.
Having said this, my post of a few days ago is a testament  to the fact, I often can't shut my mouth.
Whatever!
I've had a shitty conflict filled day today.
So much so, that I've lit the fire and locked the doors.
Crap tv is the order of the afternoon.

After leaving work this morning I was called an " arsehole" by a fellow motorist who wanted my vacated parking spot quicker than I wanted to leave it, and when I eventually got home and walked Mary and William around the village, I was berated by the owner of the staffies ( see previous post) for threatening him the other day.
Now I don't mind indulging in a lively debate in the street, but being bellowed at by someone in trackie bottoms after a thirteen hour night shift , is just one step too far. I tried to point out that he himself had commented that one of his dogs had escaped his garden, but I think my previous day's comment that if his dog attacked Winnie then Winnie would have come out the victor, was seen as a direct threat....anyhow the screaming fit must of amused the fifteen or so secondary school pupils who were all waiting to be picked up by the school bus.
Nothing ever happens in Trelawnyd at 8.30 am.

I had three hours sleep then was up again ,walking the short legged dogs, this time off the lead on a public footpath George woofed at a passing jogger and as he jogged after him for a few steps the very elderly , lycra clad jogger ( complete with overly trendy cap and bluetooth earpiece ) growled ,
" I 'll kick him in the head if he comes near me"
Now I  am slightly ashamed that I counted this with a robust, nay thundering reply of " and I'll kick you in the head if you go near him YOU KNOCK KNEED FUCKING SKELETON!"

He merely flipped me the finger...the twat.

Anyhow, I know it's not healthy, but after dropping the dogs off, I got out the car and drove up to Macdonald's . In lieu of an emergency scotch egg, I bought myself a cheeseburger, fries and coffee and ate them in the car park. The teenage server was very sweet. She told me to " Enjoy" my lunch with a big smile........
And do you know?
I bloody well did.

One arm Joe

I have just taken the dogs out and fell over a lead breaking my last pair of glasses

I broke a pair last night too....good job they are only 1 £ from poundland

Hope I get a sedated and ventilated patient tonight

It's not very professional having one arm to your specs

Hey ho

Sniffing Cancer

Being a gob-shite can have it's benefits.
Last night I received a chatty phone call from the owner of the miniature chicken coop .
Luckily my diplomatic note had not elicited a " fuck you" response , it was quite the opposite.
After a friendly chat, the bloke took me up on the offer of a run AND an old hen house and will come to give them the once over a little later in the week.
Result!
I get peace of mind, he gets a free coop and the chickens get a proper home.

Anyhow, today's post is revisiting something that happened a couple of weeks ago. I had almost forgotten about it but was reminded by watching the brief tableau of  Albert with his nose inside one of Winnie's ears  The cat loves a good long sniff when both are lying on the floor.
It's one of their many bonding moments.

Anyhow, the situation I am referring to was a brief meeting between Welsh terrier and country rambler. I had tied William and Mary to the field gate and was busy distributing a large bin bag of donated bread to the the geese and the sheep ( every week the DIY lesbians from Prestatyn drop off the bread as a gift but that's another story) ANYHOW, a group of ramblers walked up the lane in the rain and three women in waterproofs stopped to make a fuss of Mary.
I walked back to the gate to see Mary going all goo-goo eyes with two women whilst the man of the group was gently patting a calm smiling William on the head and as I came close I heard one of the women say " Brian he's sniffing your cheek! "
William seemed intent on something. He was stretching his head towards the man's face , very much like he does with me when I have spare food stuck in my beard, and he was sniffing very hard.
The women seemed amused and surprised by this and it was only a second or two later that I realised just why, for when the man straightened up and pushed back the hood of his coat, I could see a very fresh skin dressing over a mark on his cheek.
" he knows what you've had done" one of the woman said laughing gently  " Isn't that strange?"
The man bent down again and again William sniffed hard at his cheek
" I've had a skin cancer removed last week" he said in way of explanation .
Clever things dogs.

Gentle old William 

" Disgusted of Tunbridge Wells"

Oh My God!
That's it! I've gone and done it!
I've finally turned into one of those opinionated old farts that are hated by middle England and everyone else for that matter. You know the sort.
The scruffy old sod who won't ever shut his mouth.

It all started outside the house with the two staffies. I was talking to the good natured owner of Podrick as William and Mary greeted him playfully when the two staffies charged the fence barking loudly, with their owner in tow. Although both terriers were wagging their tails, loose staffies can be unpredictable, especially if they escape their garden and as Podrick, and the Welsh terriers watched their owner started to swat ineffectively at them shouting for them to be quiet.
" The little one is always escaping" the man said and as Podrick's owner politely chatted , I plowed in with a pointed " You need to control these dogs better"
The man looked at me in surprise and said " Mate,  they are friendly dogs"
 " don't MATE me"  I thought but said " You're dogs should be secure, I have a bulldog and if they get out and go for her she would flatten them" ( I didn't bother to add that Winnie has no teeth to speak of  and has a gentle nature akin to Julie Andrews )

I'll get my head kicked in soon no doubt.

Minutes later I was knocking on another door with ANOTHER complaint.
This time, I was more measured and diplomatic ...basically because the home owners where not in and I had to leave a calmly written note. I stopped at a rented out bungalow which has a small chicken coop placed on a concrete path in the front garden. The coop is tiny, with a tiny run and is just big enough to cater for perhaps two small hens. I could see at least five or six birds standing sadly shoulder to shoulder in it, so I left a note "suggesting" that their coop was not fit for purpose and  offered  the hen owner a six foot covered run which they could keep.
I signed the note and left our telephone number.
I wonder if the owner takes me up on my offer or comes around to stuff my note up my arse.

Oh why can't I just shut the fuck up?

Oh there I go again.....I'm swearing again. It was only this morning that neighbour Mandy told me that I swear too much on GOING GENTLY !!!

Reading

I have started to read Sue Perkins' autobiography.

It's an unexpected joy. 

I have always liked the presenter and comedian, even though she can be incredibly verbose at times, yet she writes with incredible warmth and affection for people and situations that I couldn't help smiling as I turned the pages.

She also is incredibly perceptive when talking about how she reviewed old childhood memorabilia prior to writing the book....this extract kind of resonated with me

" Sometimes when searching, I have come across things which cut deep. An innocuous cardboard box with " I love you" scribbled on it in the carefree scrawl of an old boyfriend. A sorry note from a little girl to her parents, a little girl who hadn't yet done anything to be sorry for. There were so many sorry notes in fact that nowadays, in arguements, when I'm being intractable and defensive, I wonder if I didn't use up all my apologies as a kid, leaving me nothing left to use in adulthood." 

Hey ho 

Grandma

With The Prof away, and with an early evening to fill, I took myself off to the cinema.
There were only two other customers in the theatre ( just the way I like it) so I could settle down to watch the fairly unlikely but passable comedy/drama " Grandma"
In Grandma, old Trouper Lily Tomlin gives the title role some welly. She plays Elle Reid, an acerbic, feminist, lesbian writer who has seen better days. She is estranged from her daughter ( Marcia Gay Harden) , has just finished with her latest girlfriend ( Judy Greer) and has not gotten over the death of her long term partner Violet but steps up to the plate when her teenage grandaughter (Julia Gardner) turns up needing money for an abortion.
The gist of the story is somewhat tenuous as it involves Tomlin and Gardner traipsing around Los Angeles bumming money from a selection of Elle's old friends. Of course being a foul mouthed old terrier, she causes more problems than she can solve but eventually a kind of peace is forged between grandmother, daughter and grandaughter
It's an interesting film, for given it's brief running time ( under 100 minutes) it is able to cram in a whole lot of backstory between the characters, which includes a rather surprising turn by old cowboy Sam Elliot, who gives a rather moving performance as Elle's first husband, a man who never got over the break up with a lesbian he was clearly very much in lovewith
The film has plenty to say about love, death and relationships but it is the study of Elle, a woman who has battled with everything and with everyone during a militant, cause driven life which makes for an interesting twist. Tomlin's Elle is a difficult and at times unlikable woman. She pours coffee on the floor of a coffee shop for no good reason except she didn't like being told off for her explicit mouth then can turn on a kind of vulnerable charm when faced with the parents of her ex girlfriend it would be interesting to know just how much of the actress is in the character.
Though not a belly laugh movie, Grandma is amusing and worth seeing for Tomlin's sock-it-to-ya performance alone.
It always has surprised me just how few movies Tomlin has actually made.....I guess Hollywood just didn't know what to do with her.

Au Font Du Temple Saint

Today's blog was triggered by listening to a re run of radio 4's "Desert Island Discs" where old Kirsty was chatting to he bloke who wrote the novel " Brooklyn"

In 1987 I was living in the city of York, and while working as a psychiatric nurse, I was adopted as a fledgling gay best friend to an older and much more cultured occupational therapist called Ally. 

One of the first things she " introduced" me to was live theatre and early on during our social relationship she took me over to the Theatre Grand in Leeds to experience my very first opera.

The production was Opera North's version of The Pearl Fishers

I remember to this day the experience of my very own " Pretty Woman" moment  when " Au Font du temple saint" , the famous " friendship" duet between fishermen Nadir and Zurga , belted out around the auditorium. 

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up in a moment of pure pleasure

It wasn't a mere " I love Opera" moment 

But it WAS a red letter " growing up....there is so much more to life " moment. 

What was yours?"