Ink

Long before the Japanese inspired art sleeve tattoos were made popular by big biceped police officers , home made tattoos were the prerogative of tough little sailors, regular old lags and of riff raff
There is nothing more creepy than a bad tattoo.
Years ago I once had to bath a psychiatric patient who suffered from a general paralysis of the insane ( for those that don't know GPI is a particularly nasty dementia caused by untreated  syphilis )
He was a former sailor who was covered in home made tattoos, most of which where depictions of the sexual abuse and degradation of women.
I hated washing him. I hated the feeling of his skin. I hated reading the "I fucked Delores" statement on his skinny breastbone and I hated looking at images of big breasted women tinged blue/ white by hypoxia and paper thin old skin.
I wore gloves when I bathed him , not because I was worried about the syphilis.
I felt dirty touching him because of the tattoos.
On his forearm was a line of small daggers. These I was told was a visual representation of the number of men he had stabbed during a lifetime of crime.
There was, however one small tattoo that reminded me that this little terrier of a bad guy was in some way human
Over his knuckles was dotted the inked message
I 🖤 My mum

Scruff

I'm on a run of nights
So no news....just work
When I'm in bed Mary stands guard over the cottage
Button brown eyes watching our small world

Goats

I was in Llandudno yesterday and heard that the famous Kashmir Goats had come down from the storm lashed  Great Orme to cause havoc in the town. I only got a glimpse of one big guy trotting across the A546

A Woman's Place

Rachel Philip's in her blog written yesterday talked about being brought up in a household dominated by men https://racheldubois.blogspot.com/
She noted that it was expected that she worked just as hard as her brothers. Brothers that were taught to sew and mend though perhaps not to cook.
I suspect her mother worked just as hard as all of the men and cooked
Women are very good at doing the quiet martyr thing.

Like many gay men do, I grew up in a household dominated by women,
Early on I learnt that women were housewives who fiercely guarded and equally despised their roles within the home.
The home was my mother's life. there was no thought of a career, an education and even hobbies outside of it, and I quickly became aware of the principle of the hard done by martyr. A middle aged Cinderella with too many chores to complete
It was my maternal grandmother who injected fun into her housewife role.
Her zest for the simple caring role gave me a love of baking and simple cooking and storytelling.

In 1982 I met Harriet Knowles at a mental health day centre. I had just left work in the National Westminster Bank and had been accepted as a volunteer at the centre during a long hot summer. In the autumn I was due to start my nurse training at the West Cheshire Hospital.
Harriet was a retired social worker, University lecturer and a local counsellor  back then and came into the centre a couple of times a week to teach the clients "home skills"
well spoken and incredibly well educated she often would cut baking classes short in order to run a poetry writing exercise or a discussion on things in the news. I remember one afternoon she even organised a cream tea complete with scones and bone china with mental health patients who had never even seen a doily after which she told stories of her time at Oxford University during the 1930s and her wild holidays in Nazi Germany with many bright young things

Harriet told a story of how she would cook dinner for her academic husband and three children after a day social working whilst reading poetry  from a book propped up on the window ledge.
"Life was a juggling act! SOOOO I juggled EVERYTHING!!! she told us with gusto
"Do everything...try everything!" was her mantra
and alongside a motely group of long term mental health patients I learned for the very first time that a woman's place wasn't always located in the home

Like Maureen O'Hara

Yesterday's frivolous blog entry generated a somewhat unexpected response
Some 18 readers have admitted in kissed a policeman (or/woman)
How wonderful.
In my long distant experience, the policeman more or less pushed me up against the wall and kissed me......I didn't do much of the snogging back, and it was all a bit John Wayne and Maureen O'Hara as I remember.
He was all big and butch and had a beard of a lumberjack
and I was flung around like a red headed Colleen
This strange moment happened at the fire exit of the mother and baby unit I worked on in a York psychiatric hospital.
The policeman was bumming a cup of tea from the night staff whilst on his rounds around the grounds.
And I can't really remember how the kiss came about. But I know I must have been flirting
Like a clumsy adolescent Labrador .
And I suspect he wanted to teach me a lesson

Durme:- who has kissed a policeman?

We sang this lullaby tonight again at choir
I've only just realised that I'm 56 and have never sung a lullaby to a child
I've never paddled a canoe either
Never shagged a stranger,
And have never worn a three piece suit

However I have once kissed a policeman when he was on duty
but that's another story

A Quiet Place

I picked up the oil painting yesterday....the one that I had treated myself to after a trip to the theatre.
It's title is A Quiet Place  and I'm pleased with it .
It's replaced a painting I loved dearly. One of a Bluebell wood and although the colours in my new painting are more muted and almost ethereal, I think I've chosen a lovely substitute.

Storm Gareth is sweeping in. I'm still on holiday
And I am a loss of what to do today.

On Deaf Ears

Connie and Daryl 

The reboot of The Walking Dead continues with many of the older characters taking a back seat to the  newer characters. It's an interesting situation which seems, in part, to be working.
Connie ( talented deaf actress Lauren Ridlof ) has teamed up with the monosyllabic  Daryl to fight the Whisperers and both are just as  stubborn and arsey as each other which alludes to a possible  romance in the future and new evil bad guy Beta ( Ryan Hurst) who looks like a Klingon from Star Trek makes Negan look like a bloody pussy cat.......we all know....that Negan is going to make good....the old couple from Hilltop are going to be Whisperer bait alongside Rosita, Eugene  and maybe Nabilla from Kingdom and the doe eyed Lydia is going to take over from Maggie
The series is moving away from the original disaster movie narrative I loved so much in season 1,2 and 3 and now has become a true American Western reboot....

Cassidy McClincy as Lydia 

The evil Beta