News

I let Mr Hughes into the church last night in order to photograph a memorial for the fallen from this parish from The Great War. He has just realised that several names have been left off the main memorial Cross by the village Hall.
He has made it his mission to ensure they are added the short list of the dead.
Afterwards I attended a meeting of the new Community Association .I like the new members, they are vital and friendly and alive.
They also have their meeting in the pub over a pint, which is a nose flick to the stuffiness of most official meetings .
I told them about the running of the flowershow , and was pleased that they may resurrect it at some stage albeit in a different form.
On the way home I stopped outside the Hall to listen to the Male Voice choir at their rehearsal
It was quite beautiful

Smoke And Mirrors

Nursing helped me to read people.
Especially those in stress, illness and crisis.
My speciality has always been rehabilitation, where encouragement, occasional bullying and humour was the order of the day.
Yesterday a friend from the village asked my advice.
Her elderly mother had been poorly and after treatment had retired to her bed.
As we all know Bedrest in the elderly can be a one way ticket and so I offered to give her a pep talk.

I used the old  " smoke and mirror" approach
I took along my old sphygmomanometer and after a bit of banter I checked her pulse and blood pressure and asked questions about tablets and pain. I was courteous but relaxed and we laughed with my face level  with hers before I finally suggested that she needed to sit out of bed at least every morning and every afternoon .

She agreed without hesitation .
It must have been just a tad galling for the patient's daughter who had spent hours cajoling her mother into activity to finally see her move her arse off the bed but the outcome was worth it, with everyone happy.

I was reminded of a teenage paraplegic patient from long ago who refused to get into his wheelchair for the very first time. His named nurse, who was a blowsy, big busted and big hearted girl called Ruth had  approached the situation appropriately for a while. She had sat the patient up in bed over a few days, explained the procedure of getting up, listened to the patient's fears and supported his anxiety and had used a former patient who was already up his his wheelchair as a peer support but the boy was steadfast in his refusal to get up.
Ruth decided to use a more unorthodox method of rehab.
She pushed her cleavage to its max and vamped things up with wry smile.
A bit of harmless flirting, did the trick as the proximity of a straining bust, the threat of a less than motherly hug had the boy calling out to me  with a resigned and playful "okok get me up get me up...get me out of here"! 

Like I said. Smoke and mirrors....smoke and mirrors.....
And a small bunch of flowers from the daughter , delivered last night, proved that smoke and mirrors do work when things need to get done.

Don't You Love Banksy?

The Secret Garden

I thought I had killed it.
The Montana clematis that I planted eleven years ago was pruned hard in the autumn, and up to only a week or so ago, I was convinced that this year it would not have crowned the homemade iron gate my brother in law forged for us when the garden was made.
I need not have worried for in a space of what seems like days, it has burst into life on the gate arch and has transformed the garden back into the secret bolt hole I always wanted it to be.
True, visitors now have to bend double to get through the gate, but I've always kind of liked that.
It makes the garden feel, well......cosy.
I'm writing this in the garden with George.
The other dogs and Albert are all in bed as it is still early.
George is waiting for the crusts and eggy bits left over from breakfast and he has just started to drool
This is his very individual daily treat .
I'm rather introspective today.
But That's not for here.

Cloud Watching

I  burnt my face yesterday.
Cloud watching in buttercup filled field overlooking the sea at Beaumaris .
I haven't cloud watched for an absolute  age.

Books

‘THE PAST IS A FOREIGN COUNTRY: THEY DO THINGS DIFFERENTLY there.’ 

I've never read L P Hartley's novel The Go Between but I am aware of the first line.

The line came into my head this morning over coffee

I've just started The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society. £3.99 from Tesco

How cheap are books?

The skies are blue today, 

A walk is the order of the day
Eurovision later, I've suggested beer and voting

What are you reading this Saturday btw ?

Lunch

My friend Greta took me to lunch yesterday .
My mother was her grandmother's best friend.....
We worked together on intensive care
She is Winnie's foster mum
We went to one of the best little cafes in the area the wonderful old crown at the castle

It does not look much the food is divine
This is what the cafe looks out on

Rooster Cogburn

Yesterday's post has reminded me to post an old post of one of my favourite old field friends, a magnificent blind rooster called Cogburn.
He came to me through a friend who learned that another friend had found a mistreated Rooster who had been blinded by a group of nasty kids who were caught stone throwing at a riding stables
The Rooster came to me thin and depressed and for two years I helped him to blossom in his own run with a couple of silly toy hens for company
This is an six year old post that illustrates his simple life

" Sometimes it's important to take time over something. Some tasks need care and patience. Some things should not be rushed. 

Every morning, I let the blind cockerel, Cogburn out of the controlled environment of his run, for some exercise. I can only do this when the other cockerels and the geese are safely out of the way, for as big as he is, he remains the most vulnerable animal on the field.

I have a 101 things to do most mornings. Today was no different. I needed to fill the water butts on the field border, the eggs in the incubator in the kitchen needed candling, potatoes needed to be planted in bosoms, which is now full of weeds after the overnight rain and I needed to start the strimming of the mountains of nettles which are now screening the pig pen, but something in Cogburn's behaviour made me pause for a moment in order to watch him.
In the breeze and the early morning sunshine, Cogburn seemed to blossom. He moved his big feet on the grass, like a city dweller does when on the beach for the first time , and he turned his head to face the warmth of the sun, blinking his unseeing eyes slowly and carefully in obvious enjoyment.

It may sound odd to say it, but it was incredibly moving to see the big fella so alive and so vital.
Despite the list of jobs, irritatingly fixed inside my head.
I sat down beside the blind old cockerel to let him enjoy the morning sun without being rushed....it lightened my heart "

Ps Rooster Cogburn stayed 2 years on the field. He was labour intensive , but was a delightful character and he died in his sleep whilst resting in his saferun ... with his face in the sun