Throbbing Like A Porn Star's *€+!

I am on a hefty dose of flucloxacillin which has played havoc with my digestion.
Thankfully this morning my septic thumb is responding to the therapy and has ceased to throb with the intensity it did yesterday, even though it does resemble a  large Victoria plum.
I aim to go back to the hospital later for a dressing change, but only after corralling Irene , who will be going to pastures new today if we can catch her.
I've conscripted a somewhat eclectic band of helpers. Village elder Islwyn, chicken keeper Eirlys and sailor John amongst others said they will be available but I am dubious that we will be successful ......
Watch this space.
The cottage is quiet today. William and Mary went to kennels yesterday so only Winnie and George are home and in these warm spring days they only have the energy to snooze and fart.
Albert is out hunting baby rabbits
Tomorrow I fly to The Irish republic to stay with Nuala for a few days. She has a cottage there, out in the sticks and it's her birthday.

It will be good to see her.

Blast From The Past

Watching Tenko on sky! 

I'm a sad fucker

I loved Rose and Blanche best

Septic Thumb

A Conversation at the local minor injuries department 6 pm this evening

Nurse: " Keep the dressing dry and come back on Friday for us to reassess it"
Me: "of course"
Nurse: " Have you got anyone with you today?" 
Me : " Yes Mary is waiting for me in the car"
Nurse: " Can she drive you if you have problem with the gears?" 
Me: " No she's a Welsh terrier!" 
Nurse " Smart Arse!" 

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.