Swear Away



Blogger is playing up
I have no idea why, but I suspect it's the new upgraded version
Just for now I've put comment verification on in an effort to stop the spam commentators who have swarmed to fill the comment boxes
I've literally had 1000s

Can followers comment with a one or two word hello to see if things are working
The words can be your favourite swear word 

Old Videos

Village Elder was 70 yesterday
Belated happy birthday to him

See also a couple of old videos
The first is winnie in fitter vdays stealing goose eggs
The second is a lovely video of 97 year old Auntie Glad
Opening the flower Show. Few years back
Enjoy x




Hygge Mugs and New Arty Stuff


Last night I met Gorgeous Dave and we chatted and drank beer at his allotment
It was a nice meet
Today is my one day off before another three long days at work and I was suppose to drive into work for a study session this afternoon.
I didn't go
Instead I answered a request by a local art gallery to pick up the stuff I had bought as lockdown befell us all too many months ago.
The screen prints of sea birds are by Liz Tool, The Spanish tile Print by R Moxon
The mugs are called Hygge mugs ......
The jug is just sweet and will be used as a flower vase.

It's hot.
I'm just pottering
Today

Apologies to Dr Barnsley today, I didn't see him walking down the lane as I was flinging stale cat food over the lane and into the Churchyard for the rooks to eat


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"