Going Gently

Memories

Sometimes ( and certainly not often) Facebook delivers an interestingly little game to be played

This one came to me from a colleague from ITU which I answered

Somewhat intrigued and full of Its all about ME!!!

I posted the same question

And the answers, well really surprised me!

Peoples' memory of friendships suddenly seem so wonderfully fickle and odd.

Something that you had forgotten ( I didn't remember putting my mother's false teeth in Roland Robert's tea cup) was something they first recall about you when asked

How weird and how wonderful.

I have no recollection of the budgie incident, nor the cream cracker eating contest or the eating of fat rascals in the snow...and so the messages received have a certain poignancy to them

I was once washing a lady's face who was dying.

This was when I was a student nurse working at the Royal Hallamshire Hospital in Sheffield

Her large extended family had left her exhausted but happy and I was preparing her for the next wave of visitors to arrive

Out of nowhere I asked how she would like to be remembered

And she smiled

" fondly" she whispered " fondly"

I Can only apologise for the under[pant thing

I have to say that my poor shoes were the subject of much ridicule on ITU

well the lesbian with the screwdriver conjures up some thoughts

I may have to explain Dale Card's message

as he was a patient on spinal injuries and I helped him (chemically)

The Estate Agent photographer turned up at 4pm
It will be the only sunny day this week he explained, sunshine necessary to show off the cottage views and garden to their best advantage
I had spent the previous 6 hours gardening!
When he was doing his thing inside the cottage, Me and Mary waited on the garden wall.
After ten minutes he sounded somewhat exasperated as he poked his head through the bathroom window
" Can you remove this bulldog!?" he called. "She's photo bombing every one of my photos!!!"

Make Over

Today will be a lifestyle kind of blog.
No politics, no fighting, no Trump, no Brexit
Yesterday I prepared the cottage interior for its photoshoot
No diva could have received a better makeover
I cleaned for 7 hours solid
I started by cutting the roses from the garden
I shall miss my roses when I go
I planted the above pink ice cream old English rose in 2006 and its never let me down

The living room now smells of lemon and not of bulldog farts ( I know you can't smell a photo but it makes for an ambiance !!)

I finished cleaning after dusk...the carpets shampooed...the soot stains wiped from the woodwork

Even my bedroom had the floorboards waxed and the best linen washed

Albert oversaw the sparebedroom

The kitchen sparkling

Exactly One Year Ago:- a blog entry

All the neighbour's lights have come on .

Walked bulldog in bare feet for last walk of the night. Stepped on frog

Frog screamed

I screamed even louder

Bulldog then swallowed frog

I then screamed again

Off to lie down in a darkened room

Le temps des cathédrales

A pilgrim stopped at the cottage this morning. He was walking the North Wales Pilgrim's way
http://www.pilgrims-way-north-wales.org/index.html and was chatting to Winnie who had been resting heavily by the front gate, with her head on the iron struts.
He was an old man with a Father Christmas beard and a floppy hat who laughed a tinkling laugh when George woofed at him from his hiding place amongst the Welsh poppies.
I went out and we talked a while . He wanted to know the cottage's history and complemented me on the state of the garden then asked why there was a bunch of flowers on the kitchen wall.
I told him I had no idea and popped back to see a bunch of stocks balanced there
" It's a late Birthday gift" I informed the pilgrim
" Oh that's good ," he mused "I thought for a minute someone had had an accident here"

Yesterday, when I was out, the kitchen wall took on another flavour
A cake box with a homemade Bakewell tart inside, was sat next to scotch egg wrapped in foil .
Nearby a neatly wrapped book and a slice of coffee cake sat next to a set of scented candles
I had thirty cards to open too.
It's a thing I do
Counting Birthday cards.
Thank you to everyone who wished me well yesterday. I may not have been the life and soul of any party but I was grateful for the best wishes

I offered the pilgrim a cup of tea which he chose to drink over the garden wall.
He refused a slice of cake.
And I guess he sensed that I wanted to get on as the cottage needs spring cleaning in order to be officially photographed next week, and so he collected his sticks and said goodbye
" God be with you!" He trilled and he tapped Winnie on the nose through the bars of the gate
"And to you sweetie"
She blew a kiss at him as he left

It was only then when I realised what music I had been playing on Spotify as I tidied up
les Temps des Cathedrales blasted out from the open cottage windows
The Age Of The Cathedrals from Notre-Dame De Paris

20 Quid Well Spent

My eyes are a bit tired this morning I am off to bed very soon , but thank you all for your birthday greetings, phone messages, cards ,gifts and T shirts! they are all much appreciated

As I was leaving work this morning a booming Hungarian voice sang out
Tank You Tank You Mr Gray, your sausage bloody lovely!"
It was Rita, one of the care workers, and she was slapping her big hands in excitement
My sausage had obviously made her day,
Just as I hoped it would
I must admit now that My sausage was in fact not MY sausage at all, but a mere imposter brought in to save my bacon and to bring a smile on the face of a homesick Hungarian who just loves pig meat
Its not a complicated story.

Now Rita misses her small village in the Hungarian countryside. she misses her family, her family farm and her rural home cured bacon, and so when one day she learned that I used to keep pigs she homed in like an Exocet missile
"You ave pigs?" she asked me excitedly one evening before going off duty "YOU kill your pigs?"
I told her that I used to keep pigs and I had them slaughtered for meat
"I love pig meat! Rita shared, her lips all of a quiver " At home I eat pig meat everyday EV-ER-LY DAY!"
"That's nice!"I replied feeling a bit queasy
But Rita wouldn't let it alone and the sudden prospect of getting her hands on a homemade sausage filled her with excitement that I found rather moving
"I NOW buy from you pig meat!" she announced with that Eastern European directness and because she looked so excited I just didn't have the heart to say that we had eaten all of my pigs' meat years ago now
I promised to bring her some sausage in as a gift
Rita clapped her hands like a big toddler
Yesterday I did just that.....ok I pretended that it was my home grown sausage where it was a local bespoke butcher's finest organic Welsh brand, and OK it cost me 20 quid on the nose
but the look on Rita's face when she said "Sausage Bloody lovely!" WAS WORTH IT!