Treats

Onwards and upwards

Part of the strength of fatclub is the fact that I stick to the same breakfast every morning
Two slices of dry toast and two eggs fried in low fat spray!
As I prepare this feast ( and it is a feast) George totters into the kitchen and waits patiently.
He knows he is the chosen one at this time, for he, and he alone, is allowed to lick my plate clean.
It's his treat for the day.

The shop assistants at the Garage Shop always smile knowingly when I stop by, for Invariably I will add a packet of cheap Spar Spicy meatballs to my basket.
" For the dogs?" They will say conspiratorially, enjoying the " secret" that the dogs are being spoilt
The meatballs are adored by the pack and in Winnie's case are swallowed whole.

The Prof's weakness is a small packet bacon flavoured crisps!
Albert goes wild over slivers of strong Cheddar cheese
And Sylvia's eyes roll back into her head when she is presented with a slice of processed white bread.

We all need a treat from time to time.
And we all need to give a treat from time to time

Before she died my mother went suddenly partial to strawberry tarts and would happily sit in Sainsbury's car park on her piped oxygen munching away on one after another.
Weeks later I would still be finding bits of pastry and strawberry jelly in the footwells and glove
compartment.
Fifteen years after her death, the mere sight of one, sat proudly on a cake stands in the confectionery counter takes me back to those bittersweet days.

Foodtreats are synonymous with love in my book.
I understand the problems based with this but it is ingrained in me from my childhood days when my grandmother sat us children down with a slice of homemade Victoria sponge, a cup of sweet tea and a kiss that smelled of cold cream and baking.
To feed a treat to someone you love, meant you loved them.
This came from a woman who knew austerity and hardship.
Subsequently the treat had even more resonance with her.

Of course treat giving says more about me than it does about any of the recipients.
And it doesn't take a talented psychotherapist to work that one out!

The Village Telegraph

Even though there is a significant " stranger" population in the village now, what with the noticeable increase of rental properties, the news of the popular Mr Lewis' death still raced through the village telegraph yesterday morning.
I was stopped three times when out with the old dogs, with old Stan finally summing up what most people were thinking, with his comment of " He suffered his long illness with bravery" 
Mr Lewis had been unwell for many years.

I nursed Mr Lewis fairly recently.
We thought he was dying then, but he rallied round when a weaker man would have succumbed to a tired and brittle body and I remember talking to him about the forthcoming Flower Show and joking with him about a " difficult" village character we both knew.
It was a gentle conversation which ended with me asking if he was frightened and I remember that he smiled and said " Not really............I have my family" 
It was a reference to a loving family that was always there for him.
They cushioned his fear.

I've just realised that apart from the deaths of my own loved ones, those days of nursing someone who is passing away, are now over.
I must have done it a hundred times in my nursing career, and the whole process, from start to finish, has been a privilege to be a part of.

But I am now happy it is now something I used to do. 

My Dander Is Up!

Safe in the garden? 

My father never backed down from a confrontation.
Once a visitor to his shop called him a twat for taking his time over serving an elderly customer, to which my father promptly punched the guy on the nose!
You could do that in the seventies, twat was a very rude word back then.
My elder sister and I have inherited his dander, so to speak. Neither of us like confrontation but when pushed we can rally forth like Joan Crawford brandishing a wire coat hanger.
We are not shrinking violets when it comes to right and wrong.
Yesterday one of the haylage lorries knocked the top corner from our garden wall as it was negotiating the sharp bend by the Church . I found masonry in the lane, which was lucky as the bachelors had been asleep all afternoon under the hydrangea on the other side of the wall. If the stones had been knocked in the other direction, carnage would have ensued!
I flagged down he lorries as they passed a little later and but my " pissed off and serious look on" 
The secret of sorting something like this out, is surprise. Catch the culprit. Don't let them get a word in, and give them a solution.
Within a few seconds the driver had agreed to return to fix the damage.
Worked like a charm
We shall see if he turns up!

A few weeks ago I was just about to collect a trolley at Tesco when two boys of around 7  climbed on top of them in front of me. I turned to a group of fat armed women who were gossipping nearby and asked if the boys were theirs but only received a passive aggressive " look" ,a shrug of the shoulders and one half arsed comment of " Robert Get down from there" 
Robert, as it turned out, wasn't going anywhere fast, that is until I caught his bum cheeks in the wire mesh of the trolleys as I smartly pulled two apart, he soon shifted then! But it was the attitude of the fat armed women that really got my dander up
I turned on them
" is this trolley park an adventure playground?" I asked them
They just looked at me as though I was speaking Spanish, so I repeated myself but this time in my best Brian Blessed type voice
" Is THIS TROLLEY PARK AN ADVENTURE PLAYGROUND?"
Other shoppers by this time had stopped to watch my heroic stance against the great unwashed so I added with a flourish" GET CONTROL OF YOUR CHILDREN!" 
The fat armed women frowned under their chav facelifts *
" fuck off" the nearest one spat out
Like I said
Confrontation...works like a charm.


* https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Croydon_facelift

Sheffield

We all first met in 1989.
Mostly nurses ( but not all) we trained lived and socialised with each other as the city of Sheffield went through a renaissance of sorts and cleaned up its act
It was ( and is) a lovely city.
Yesterday we all met up again.
A couple of us with greying hair and a few more wrinkles.
A couple of us now retired!
One of us with a daughter heading for secondary school!
Four of us married, two single
All pretty normal from all accounts.
This morning I am off home.
And I wave goodbye to old friends and the super tram thundering over the bridge near Hyde Park Flats
Good times

Super tram from my hotel window

The Water Wall Midland Station

Old Friends

Sheffield

In my home town of Sheffield today! Yayyyyyyy

Still Life II

I have bowed to flattery and as the dogs slept in the garden and a ham joint cooked in the oven, as requested I have snapped some more photos of the cottage in " still life" . There are not many as the cottage is small but you get the gist!
Note...not an aubergine to be seen!

 

Hello, Hello Hello

I was stopped by the police last night.
It was just after 1am and I was driving home after a 6 hour stint at Samaritans
Over the years, I must have been stopped half a dozen times.

I have never been questioned by a discourteous police officer. I've been breathalysed ,car checked warned that I took a roundabout a little too fast and given a close once over but everytime  the officer involved has remained rather chipper and professional.

Historically, nurses and police officers have always had an affinity.
I think it's the fact they have to deal with the public under somewhat difficult circumstances that links them . Unfortunately, over the years I have had to engage the services of the police many times
One time it was a violent drug dealer who woke up fighting after being treated for an overdose that had to be restrained on intensive care! Another time a visitor who had offered to knock my teeth down my fat throat !in my own ward office was frog marched to the cells by a mountain of a Yorkshire cop who had been called out to the hospital three times on the same day!

When I was a psychiatric nurse and only a shy 24 year old staff nurse, I once had to help bring in a sectioned patient from the community. The patient had no insight into his condition and was violent and delusional, so it was the policement and women who had to go in first to secure the chap before I could get in to administer medication if required.
Before the operation began the copper in charge was discussing  dos and don't in the back of the ambulance. He gave out jobs in his broad Yorkshire accent, after which I somewhat nervously asked him what he wanted me to do.
" sit in the ambulance and look pretty" he said