Reflection

My patient died at home
Peacefully with her pack of dogs and her daughter by her side
The way she had wanted to.
The Hospice at home team made it happen through talented design and planning
And initiatives such as the Cariad training scheme where lay carers are taught to administer medication subcutaneously and appropriately helped enormously
It was a multi disciplinary approach and as the newbie
I was very humbled to be present.
And when the daughter asked me what to do in those very last moments
I said quietly
" Just talk to her, and say what you want to" 
And as she did so with buckets of love , I stepped back quietly into the corner of the room 

Turning Into My Father

Elizabeth Taylor hated anonymous trolls too

 I am not a vain man
But I have noticed that I'm much greyer than I once realised
This has happened overnight ( or so I thought )
Less salt and pepper around my hamster ears
More Helen Mirren or Judi Dench
I'm nearing 60 in a couple of years
And I'm shocked to see that I've turned into my father..he was 7 years older when he died !!
Photograph taken during The Relair Shop tonight...which is a right sob fest

Winnie's bolster cushion 

After work tomorrow
I am meeting up with Gorgeous Dave . 
A pint and a chat , in my first pub visit  and meet with him since March 

Marks And Spencer Flowers

Yesterday it was Chic Eleanor's birthday.

I took some Marks and Spencer flowers up to the big house but it looked deserted and so I messaged her and as I suspected she answered  as she sipped coffee overlooking Lake Como alongside her sister, presumably both of them in matching pashminas 

I photographed her flowers and sent her the photo

" Exquisite Darling John " she texted back

Even Chic Eleanor's texts are delightfully upbeat.

We arranged to meet for gin and tonics in a week's time

I braved TK Maxx and bought a bolster cushion, a pizza wheel and a trendy t shirt. 

Winnie kicked the cushion around the living room and seemed quietly delighted that it rolled well

She played with it for at least half an hour.

No other news today

Normality

Yesterday I met a friend and

Had sit down coffee at the Jaunty Goat
Watched a matinee cinema performance
And went OUT for a meal afterwards!!!

Simple pleasures but oh so welcomed after so long a hiatus
I felt almost normal!
Ok there are differences
The covid contact slips, the masks, the camp barista with a face visor wider than his hips
but , for an absolute age I felt that I had experienced a proper afternoon and evening out.

The movie was somewhat of a let down for me. Love Sarah is kind of advertised as one of those London based comic dramas the likes of Richard Curtis would adore.
Big characters, implausible plots, angst, romance and tearful asides all set against a beautifully shot London with its mews, and bespoke shops and floppy hair.
Here we have talented baker Sarah, killed on the eve she is about to open her first niche bakery. The accident leaves the three women in her life rudderless. Best friend Isabella (Shelly Conn) has sunk her savings into the venture and is now at risk of ruin. Her estranged Mother Mimi ( Celia Imrie) a retired trapeze artist! is racked with guilt for not supporting the initiative initially and her dancer daughter Clarissa ( Shannon Tarbot) finds herself alone and homeless and grieving
Can you see what is about to happen?
Of course the three women reluctantly join forces in order to open the bakery and with the help of a token sexy chef with a past ( Rupert Perry-Jones ) and an odd inventor ( Bill Paterson) they do
Cue heartwarming story and Notting Hill cuteness.

For me it just didn't work , which is a shame.
The characters are so under written that the actors , although an impressive bunch indeed, can't flesh out the bones of the story and all come across as rather lacklustre and bland

If you can't believe in the characters, you don't enjoy the story
Which was a shame

Where The Mountains Sing Through The Screams Of Seagulls

I'm not a man who enjoys poetry
But at times, the beauty of a phrase whether spoken or written can grab me around the neck and almost throttle me with its beauty or power.

A verse in that fake Eurovision ballad Husavik - My home town captured my imagination just the other day

" Where the mountains sing through the screams of seagulls "

Isn't that a fantastic description of an Iceland we all have in our imaginations?

When I was a child I loved a tiny poem Little Fish by D H Lawrence for exactly the same

           " The tiny fish enjoy themselves
              In the sea
              Quick little splinters of life,
              their little lives are fun to them
              in the sea"

" Quick little Splinters of  life"
A beautiful description again, economical and bang on the money

I borrowed a book from the hospice last week and found myself reading it last night.
It was a collection of " Best Loved Poems" illustrated by Isabelle Brent
I was unexpectedly melancholic, a moment's revisiting of old wounds and the feelings around them, and the book provided me with the escape that I needed

This poem by Emily Dickinson lingers in the mind

      " A word is dead
                     When it is said,
              Some say.
         I say it just
         Begins to live
              That day"
              

Jealous Legs

Albert playing dead in the lane

There's always drama

" I love it when you hang your washing, the lane is always filled with the scent of washing powder"

Pippa from the Rectory called this over the sound of the music in my earphones as she passed Bluebell where I was cleaning bulldog snot from the steering wheel
I had hung a newly washed bedspread on the field gate half an hour earlier
The wind from the west fill fluttering laundry with the vague scent of greenery tinged with the sea

It's been an odd day.
I met a friend for breakfast ( great tasting Americanos and thick white toast !! Served at the seaside cafe on Colwyn Bay promenade.
He is just about to end a long term marriage and needed to verbalise what he felt.
It was easy for him to talk as I fed the girls crumbs and kept my gaze from his
" It's not the breaking up that she will ultimately remember but the kindness or not of how you do it"
This was my only advice
He needed to talk and hear his own words
I just needed to listen.

The meeting unsettled me a little not because of the subject matter but because of the jealously experienced by my friends' husband . He couldn't be told of our meeting
I've had this before from some of my straight female friends whose male partners find my presence difficult.
I don't get it...myself
dog jealousy  I get
Jealousy by straight men over a gay friend
Naaw

Oh and there's more sad news

The last lady of classic Hollywood died today

Olivia deHavilland 

I have a signed polorid snapshot somewhere

She sent it me in 1978 after I had seen her in Airport 77 and I wrote to her in Paris  

Mary and Albert

Waiting for me to come home
Look for the glowing eyes

Husavik

I love it when truth becomes stranger than fiction
The Netflix movie Eurovision Song Contest - The Story of Fire Saga seems to be a heavy handed comic farce centred around Iceland's bid to win the camp as Christmas competition
The final song Fire Saga ( the band) performs is a sacarrinesque ballad Husavik ( my home town ) 
And suddenly it's captured the public attention and has become a real hit !
Go figure