I met my friend Nigel in Chester today
We walked and talked and walked and ate Mr Whippy ice cream and drank coffee by the river.
On the way home I bought a large selection of picnic food and some beers in readiness for a beach picnic I have organised for the hospice staff tomorrow, luckily the Welsh government, unlike the English has not changed their guidelines that 30 people can meet outdoors So tomorrow we hope to have games of rounders, beers and sandy sandwiches and there is an unwritten rule there will be no talk of the dying, of Covid of PPE and the like
There was a bag of tomatoes left on the garden wall from someone unknown when I got home and a round robin letter stuck in the letterbox from the Vicar warning that the church may well be closed soon due to lack of funds. Chic Eleanor left a message about meeting up with friends for dinner next weekend
I am making sour dough bread tonight
Diana Rigg was a class act
You can tell this from the above scene from Game Of Thrones where she underplays her role magnificently but still spits out the insults with such quiet venom
I saw her just once on stage , and that was in Sheffield in 2004 in a production of a Suddenly Last Summer “Each day we would carve each day like a piece of sculpture “
I was chatting to a friend today about serendipity
We shared serendipitous tales and the conversation became quite serious as we both agreed that we thought some forces were responsible but how and to what extent we both were at a loss with to explain
I told him the tale about Indumathi It seemed fitting Now many many years ago Indumathi was a patient of mine.
She was a big boned, loud voiced, Asian woman in her sixties who ran her large family from her side room on my ward with all of the energy of a small nuclear power plant.
She had a specially designed extra large wheelchair which she hated, a massive selection of beautiful loose fitting pantaloon trousers and tops and could throw a cup or plate with deadly accuracy when she was in a foul mood , a fact that may be surprising as Indumathi was totally blind.
Now Indumathi was what we in the nursing trade would now refer to as a challenging patient . She was opinionated, perceived as rude and was non compliant with any of her care.
She was also a big complainer and was “buzzer happy”, -traits that are irritating to Nurses, but she was brash and humorous and always laughed loudly at her own bad jokes.
And I always had a begrudging soft spot for the old girl.
One such joke surfaced when she reminded me One morning that she was a Hindu as I helped hoist her into her wheelchair “ Indu the Hindu “ I said merrily and half under my breath and she heard me “Indu the Hindu! “ she repeated laughing loudly and clapping her big hands together “ Indeed I am Indu the Hindu !” And it became a sort of catch phrase for her when she was in one of her better moods on the ward.
Moving Indumathi became a bit of a health and safety nightmare at times as when she was rolling in bed she would grab the nearest nurse with often surprising strength and tenacity and at one of those times and with a loud shriek she grabbed my uniform with one ham hand and placed the other around my face
“ Boy” she said in that almost gentle moment where her hand rested on my cheek
“ You are your grandmother’s son”
It was a strange phrase to utter, especially given the circumstances we were in
But I was suddenly silenced and incredibly moved by her words
It was as if she had looked right inside of me and had seen that secret fact that I had loved my grandmother so much more than I had my own mother when I was but a child.
“ What?” Was the only thing I could say rather helplessly
and Indumathi slapped my bottom playfully as she laughed her loud laugh and the moment was gone....
But in that instant, I felt she had seen something of my psychi, my soul,my past when she touched me
And had shared that with me
Wrapped in bubble wrap and posted from the UK, a small package was left by the postman in Mary’s anti bite box by the front door.
The package was addressed to John Gray, the cottage by the church ...Trelawnyd Wales. The small note inside, carefully written in ink pen said it was from Harry aged 521/2which was Sweetly funny
“ For Your Art Wall”
Inside was a small porcelain hanging with a wonderfully embossed hare design on the front
This Past week, in between sofa sagas, friend catch ups and space from work I’ve had time to think and to ponder.
Now it’s time to return to work with all of its disciplines and routines and all of the ponderings have to be put back into action.
Words are nothing
Actions are everything
The easy objectives have now been achieved .
My nest is feathered the way I would like ; I have survived full time employment for exactly a year now And mentally I’m on an even keel with friends and pastimes filling the void that was husband.
And so I can now concentrate on my weight and my health.
It’s time.
I’m a comfort eater and drinker
Behaviours learned from some family that never had anything and from others who couldn’t cope with anything.
Feeding others also gives me pleasure
and when you are feeding others invariably you are feeding yourself.
It’s also easy to let things go when your tired and 58 and you don’t like yourself very much.
Divorces don’t do a lot for your self esteem
Especially a divorce you didn’t want.
But people do pull themselves up by those proverbial bra straps and when you are smiling again, there’s time enough and space enough to get yourself physically well again
And so it’s back to work. With healthy lunches and supper already prepared at home.
There’s no gin and tonic when the ritual of blog replying commences
And there’s an effort to reverse that patten of late night film watching where books are now being read much more than re runs of zombie box sets are being watched.
It’s time
Does that make sense?
So I will blog today about Paloma Faith’s “ Better Than This”
And more importantly about Master KG’s “ Jeruselema ”
Which is a bloody joyous song
And is one I will be dancing to in the Cubana Bar in Sheffield , some day soon
The remit of the living room make over was simple
I wanted it to be cheerful, eclectic, less vintage and more me
I think I have ticked the brief even though the new carpet will have to wait
Just after I took these photos I let the dogs back in.
Dorothy remained stubbornly in the kitchen. Mary went up to her window seat in my bedroom and Winifred marched into the living room to give the new sofa a good once over.
Moments later I followed her to see if she had started to kick the new cushions around the room, but instead she just sat upright and beamed me a large very wide grin
Just beyond her, and situated right in the centre of my new Ikea rug
Mrs Trellis was right
The bindweed white trumpet flowers have covered the hedgerows West of the village in their thousands giving the impression that there is a wedding afoot!
It’s all green and white! Quite stunning
It’s been warm and sunny and I’ve only just noticed the floral display at dusk when I popped to the shop for some cooked chicken
My new sofa arrives tomorrow so I have been busy today putting together a new industrial strength carpet cleaner and then knackered myself out sucking out over fifty containers of rancid brown liquid from the carpet which now resembles its original beige colour
Dorothy has gone into a mental decline because Affable Despot Jason came round earlier to help me remove the existing sofa.
She doesn’t do change and is presently lying miserably under the kitchen table in a frightened sulk.
The empty gap where her old sofa stood has unnerved her and she refuses to enter the living room.
Winnie just snorted at the removal and kicked a couple of scatter cushions around the kitchen in devilment
Mary went out with Hattie and her mum. Velvet Voiced Linda texted late asking for the street wardens to check in
21 texts thundered in over the next hour
