Traditions

Those that " know" me on Going Gently will understand that I do like to maintain my traditions .
After all it one one of the best songs from Fiddler on the Roof!!!

Fresh Flowers in the cottage at all times
Proper trifle with cream and custard at Christmas
Pancakes on pancake day,
Sending Christmas decorations through the post.😢
Gawd we even flew a Union Jack from the windows on the Queen's Jubilee
Halloween is a fairly new tradition for me but for the past decade I have always carved a pumpkin which would sit happily on the kitchen wall of the lane.
I've been busy today, what with more vet visits,  and night shift tonight, but I've bought my pumpkin and will carve it tomorrow as I'm watching The Walking Dead  on catch up
You've just gotta keep the traditions going
Don't ya!

Charlie Cairoli

My new job is a short term solution to a few problems
It stops me from thinking too much.
It eases me back into the saddle of work ( without the considerable pressures of an Intensive Care Unit)
And hopefully fairly soon it will allow me to pay for the rapidly arriving  vets bills post ear infection, skin irritations, minor strokes and tumours!
Like I said, I'm not intending to stay very long,a better paid job is more the ticket..but who knows what is going to happen in the next few months.

I worked a twelve hour shift over Friday night and was in charge of 19 elderly residents. Now one lady I have gotten to know , knew my mother and father  many moons ago now. She is an old colonial sort who spent an idyllic childhood in India. Polite , positive, and a tiny bit gung ho, she is physically frail now , but retains a sort of robust lets-make-the-most of things attitude which is so common of her class and position.
I liked her immediately.
I'll call her Miriam
Now I respect the Care home as it is not one that insists that residents are woken up at some ungodly hour in the morning. Before we go off shift , it is only expected that perhaps a handful of early risers are helped to shower, so inbetween blood sugar checks and medications, I get to do some hands on care.
Now women's make up is an anathema to me. Me looking into a make up bag is like a man off the street twiddling the knobs of an itu ventilator , I haven't got a scooby do. And so when Miriam asked me to outline her eyebrows for her with what suspiciously looked like a child's crayon I balked slightly
" The carers usually help with with my eyebrows" Miriam instructed me " I do the rest"
I had parked Miriam's wheelchair in front of her vanity mirror with a huge selection of potions and brushes and powders in front of her and really needed to get on, so I took the pencil and asked what to do
" just outline my eyebrows" she instructed and taking a deep breath I did just that.
Moments later were were surveying my work in the mirror and thank goodness both of us burst out laughing like a pair of naughty schoolgirls
" I look like Charlie Cairoli " Miriam quipped
And agast I could see the resemblance
You have to be of a certain age to remember Charlie Cairoli

Birthday Gifts

My latest hen

On Thursday as I was clearing away some paperwork and old post, I came across the pile of my birthday cards from June.

Given the circumstances here I just filed them rather than put them on show, so I was rather pleasantly surprised to find 50£ in cash, a book token and a set of garden vouchers tucked inside the largest of the cards, ( presumably for safely)

Bluebell and I went shopping in a sunny, sunny Llandudno this afternoon.

Instead of doing the sensible thing and saving the money towards William's vets bill, I suddenly became a frivolous bitch and bought a limited edition print of a chicken from The Mostyn Gallery, the new Sally Field autobiography and a special offer box set of Bette Davis DVDs.

How gay was that basket?

The salesperson who sold me the print was a camp little chap in spray on jeans 

" Do you like Chickens?" he lisped ironically as he bubble wrapped the picture

( for those that don't know " chicken" is gay slang for a very young gay man)

" Only the feathered ones!" I said , playing along with the game

"Too right!" he cooed " they're more trouble than they're worth!" 

Afterwards I went to Osborne House and had coffee and a sandwich sitting in the window of the lounge.

It's the first time I've returned there since we split up

It was the venue of our wedding 

The sun shone and I read the first chapter of my book

First Man

Thursday evening I felt the need to get out of the house and so took myself off to the cinema. 

" First Man" is the much lauded first-man-on-the-moon drama about the build up to Neil Armstrong's famous journey which took place half a century ago now.

As you might expect, it's a well crafted and meticulously detailed recreation of that brown and beige time in World history but it has a twist, for the film speaks more about the buttoned up, tight arse nature of male grief and coping than it does just about a spectacular space story .

Director Damien Chazelle portrayal of Armstrong is an unflinching glimpse of a rather difficult man. Plagued by the death of his young daughter , Armstrong ( as played by Ryan Gosling) shuts himself away emotionally from the grief, never talking about his loss even to his emotionally more robust wife Janet ( Claire Foy) and it is this distance and apparent emotional coldness that is compounded in the final third of the the movie when two astronaut colleagues ( Jason Clarke and Patric Fugit) are killed in two separate accidents   

Armstrong is undeniably a character of great force and resolve but his behaviour as seen through the more touchy feeling audience of 2018 could be seen as rather maddening.  So much so it's with a huge gasp of relief to all when Janet finally snaps at her husband's inability to face the reality of their situation and his own feelings and forces him to prepare his children for his potential death in the race to be first on the moon.

The acting is top notch, the production values are amazing and the set pieces in space are all suitably tense. 

But I guess, for me, I wasn't quite that compelled by Armstrong as a character .

Apparently strong silent types get on my tits!

And The Winner is!!!!.....Brunhild....and William

Ok We're down but not out.....

I've chosen the name for the new car, I picked it as I sat in the vet's waiting room this morning
The entries made me laugh, more so than  the new German vet did a few minutes later
Such is the rollercoaster that is my life at the moment.

The winner can be seen at the bottom of this post....please send me your address to jgsheffield@hotmail.com....you have won yourself a Welsh love spoon!

Anyhow the new German vet couldn't have been more stereotypically " German" if she tried
Brusque, no nonsense , loud, and looking remarkable like Rachel Roberts' lesbianish lady's maid from Murder On The Orient Express she checked the inside of William's  bloody ear with efficient speaed remarking loudly and without pulling any punches  " Ah a tumour!"
I wasn't quite prepared for that...I'd only noticed his sore ear seven hours earlier after getting home late after a Sams shift
She was in the middle of talking about " being too old for anaesthetic " when I stopped her.
I returned to my senior nurse days and took control of the gallop before it joined the stampede.

" let's treat the infection and the irritation first, then we can look at cause and the next step" I told her
firmly. She tried to pour oil on the water by cracking bad jokes.
I smiled thinly and politely.
I agreed to return to the surgery on Monday after she gave William an antibiotic and a steroid injection.
William accepted everything with his usual good humour, even though he now looks rather tired.

We passed the MacDonalds at Caerwys on the way home and as I did With Winnie, earlier in the week, I stopped and bought us breakfast. Coffee and a egg muffin for me, a warm sausage muffin for William and we stopped in a layby in the sun and ate in silence.

It's warm and bright this morning and the Blue of the new Vauxhall looked mighty fine in the sun
Her new name is a no brainer
Thanks to Amy (at love made my home)
The car is going to be called Bluebell.

Bev Kilner

Bev At my wedding

I spoke to Mike, who is one of my best male mates last night...he lives in Sheffield
I bloody well forgot his wife's birthday from a couple of days ago ....she is another best mate....a friend since 1989
I hate that..for I seldom forget a birthday.....ever
But I have forgotten it ....and it's bugged me big style.....I've let a lot of things slide recently.

Bev and Mike came to my wedding and I loved them so much for doing so as they represented my old Yorkshire life , they were ( and are) the back bone of my friendship group for a decade and a half
I aim to visit them before Christmas.....it's about time
Bev , I'm sorry I haven't caught up with you

Ps the result of " Name the car" will be tomorrow xx

Name The Car

Back to Going Gently of old....today is a bit of a quiz with an actual prize!!

What shall I call the new car?

I think it deserves a name, I really do as  Vauxhall Agiva doesn't quite fit the bill.

I picked it up today and we all piled in for a vet checkup. 

Winnie has some minor neurological deficits but the joy of a car ride perked her up quicksticks.

So name that car ! 

The sillier and funnier the better

Theatre Trip

My sister and I went to the theatre tonight to see a reboot of the 1985 Charlotte Keatley play My Mother Said I Never Should 
It's a story of the life, milestones and regrets of four generations of women from North Western England and isn't a bag of laughs which is strange given the area in which it is set
It was, however  a nice treat and one I shall reciprocate with a night out at Chester's Storyhouse Theatre soon.
My sister is good company at the theatre , she's good at the pithy one liner in reviews
When I got home , I did that nurse Glasgow Coma scale  neurocheck on Winnie as she waved her fat paw very slowly in the air at me from her resting place on the couch.
She passed.15/15