Going Gently

Laters

I've written two posts and have deleted both as they were both shite.
I shall write a concrete one later after I watch the return of The Walking Dead.later.
hey ho

This morning I found myself on a long bar table with eight teenage girls.
I was eating scrambled eggs and a mighty fine Cumberland sausage
They were mostly eating carbohydrates
Their track suits bore the logo " Scotland" .
I think they were part of some sports team
The girls were well spoken and mannered.
Two were discussing a latest news story highlighted on one's phone screen, while another was reading from an iPad.
The troupe had been housed in the rooms above ours and we had heard not a peep from them overnight.
Kids seem so cosmopolitan nowadays .
I thought this when another girl of eleven or so called over to the group from the buffet
to ask if a certain Jenny wanted a warmed croissant
" its only supermarket!" She said with an apologetic shrug

Boggled

I've boggled my mind with policy and procedures all day

My hotel bed is as wide as it's long

So how exciting to think that I can do starbursts without kicking a dog or a professor

" I Have No Personality!"

I may not blog tomorrow ( oh be still my beating heart I hear you say)
-You may remember that I am going to a study weekend away for Samaritans ....and so The Prof will have to fend for himself as I live it up in Shrewsbury ( the venue was changed - thank goodness- from the shithole which is Wrexham!)
We've just come back from Sainsbury's
Where I uncharacteristically I lost my cool at the checkout after being kept waiting for an absolute age to be served. The cashier obviously knew the customer and the pair were having a right chin wag about a holiday destination and were not doing any checkout business until I told them that we were patiently waiting and had had enough of their holiday chatter.
The following " discussion" then got all rather ugly when the customer tried to stare me me down and kept repeating over and over again that I was nasty and had no personality !

I was thankful that the Prof hadn't pointed out that she bought a large bottle of wine and a ready meal for one!

A Crabbit Old Woman

I have a friend who is a university lecturer .
Well in actual fact I have two, but that's another story
We talked the other day and she shared with me some of the learning outcomes the student nurses were expected to achieve by the end of her sessions.
Patient dignity was one such outcome.

When I completed my nurse training our tutor covered the subject of patient dignity in one afternoon.
He read out a poem. A poem that was supposedly written by a elderly patient on a ward in Dundee and one that was found by the nursing staff only after the patient had died.
Our tutor was a theatrical type, a delightful, camp old Quaker called Leslie Brint.
He performed the poem with all of the flair of Ian McCellen and there was not a dry eye in the house after he had finished.

"Look Closer Nurse"
What do you see nurse, what do you see
Are you thinking when you're looking at me
A crabbbit old woman, not very wise
Uncertain of habbit, with faraway eyes
Who dribbles her food and makes no reply
When you say in a loud voice, "I do wish you'd try"
Who seems not to notice the things that you do
And forever is losing a stocking or shoe
Who, resisting or not, lets you do as you will
With bathing and feeding, the long day to fill
Is that what you're thinking, is that what you see
Then open your eyes nurse, for you're looking at me

I'll tell you who I am as I sit here so still
As I use at you biddings, as I eat at your will
I am a small child of ten with a father and mother
Brothers and sisters who love one another
A young girl of sixteen, with wings on her feet
Dreaming of soon her lover she'll meet
A bride soon at twenty my heart gives a leap
Remembering the vows that I promised to keep
At twenty five now I have young of my own
A woman of thirty, my young growing fast
Bound to each other with ties that will last
At forty my young sons will now grow and be gone
Af fifty, once more babies play around my knee
Again we know children my loved one and me

Dark days are upon me, my husband is dead
I look to the future, I shudder with dread
For my young are all busy, rearing young of their own
And I think of the years, and the love I have known
I'm now an old woman and nature is cruel
Tis her jest to make old age look like a feel
The body, it crumbles, grace and vigour depart
There isnow a stone where I once had a heart
But inside this old carcass a young girl still dwells
And now and again my battered heart swells
I remember the joys, I remember the pain
And I'm loving and living life all over again
I think of the years all too few - gone, so fast
And accept the stark fact that nothing can last
So, open your eyes nurse, open and see
Not a crabbit old woman, look closer, see ME

Daft Apeth

The hen houses rise in the distance

I made a fish pie before 9 am and was out clearing the Ukrainian village of last year's overgrowth soon after.
It's been back breaking but satisfying work seeing two of the old hen houses being resurrected . the seven more dilapidated houses and the old goose house , I dragged down the field to add to a rapidly growing bonfire.
My back is aching like a good 'un
At lunchtime I indulged myself in a spot of cloud watching with the dogs around me.
The neighbours are used to seeing me supine in the grass but one did refer to me as being a "Daft apeth" A phrase I have not heard since my mother died.
Daft Apeth is an old North England colloquial saying which means "silly sod..or a bit of a fool"
It's an affectionate term and is one that I expect will die out within the next couple of decades or so
whats your dying out phrase?

Hanging On

Trendy Carol makes a mean beef stew.
The cancelled pancake lunch took place at the Nazareth chapel yesterday and Carol was doing the cooking, so I dug out a couple of plastic food containers and went along.
I was the only person in the village that paid for a take away!
Trendy Carol ( in a fresh springtime outfit and matching shoes) ladled out her stew in the foyer of the chapel which had seen better days and behind her came the low murmur of locals and the click of cutlery on plates.
I was glad that a few people had turned up.
The two village chapels and the church are just about hanging on, but their congregations are somewhat sparse and aging now. With the village shop gone, and apart from the village hall " dos" such as the Flower Show and the pub, they remain to be the only venues where people can meet.
Anyhow, as usual, I am digressing.

This morning I received an email from a fellow blogger. They shared a painful memory sparked by a previous post of mine. The email was matter of fact, and in no way sorry for itself. To me it was what blogging is all about. It was about sharing something.
A private sharing from a public discussion .
Another blogger Rachel shares her honest and sometimes raw thoughts on line and I adore her for it. I try to be open with my thoughts but like most men, I pull my punches when it suits.
Honesty in blogging opens you up for support from the likeminded but it also opens you up to trolls and the unstable.
That's the way of the net.

Now I rambling so I am off to mark out my 'Bosoms'
The vegetable plot resurrection starts today.