Covid: The Rise Of The Karen

 

I had another Covid based run in yesterday morning.

This time with a group of seven female joggers

It was unpleasant and upsetting

And this time I was on the receiving end of their righteous indignation 

I was walking on the track or a former railway line with Mary and Dorothy when I heard them far in the distance . A set of joggers in close formation all shouting and laughing. 

Their ages ranged from 30 s to 60 s

As they neared me I put Dorothy back on the lead and moved to one side to let them pass which they did .

But then they stopped filling the track as they gasped and talked and laughed all within inches of each other . 

I called out a sharp “ Excuse me !” 

and they moved to one side to let me pass but not before one of the women, buoyed up by numbers called out in a stage whisper 

“Some People Are miserable,”

“ I’m not miserable but angry” I told them, whirling around 

“You block the trail, are not social distancing , are spluttering and shouting all over the place and putting yourselves and me at risk of Covid” I said and added

I’ve just finished a twelve hour shift as a nurse with Covid patients so I know what I am talking about!”

(Well it was just one Covid patient but I thought it unwise to be pedantic)

The women threw back several comments but I only heard one naming one of their party a “ worker in healthcare”

“ Well she should know better” I told them suddenly realising I was on a hiding to nowhere

I started to move on

As I did so one of the women shouted “ We look after ourselves , we arnt obese Like you! ,”

I stopped  and turned around

Shocked and upset at the personalisation and stupidity of the insult 

For once I was lost for words and stood there open mouthed

“Really ? ......

Really ?” I asked shaking my head 

Then I walked on 

But the insult stung as it was meant to

and it was made worse because these women were middle class types , the ones that did care for their own bodies and ate healthily after a few kilometres run.

And I was a lone, invisible man who had dared to challenge them

Peter! Peter! Peter!

 This amused me , because I can see myself walking around like this tonight, letting off excess energy

My colleagues and I all feel like this tonight, so we treated ourselves to a Chinese takeaway to have on our breaks. 

It’s funny that something so ordinary re lockdown has become a real luxury and something to be enjoyed and savoured post lockdown.

I finish my run of four nights on Sunday morning

The quiet part of the night I have a book to read, a recent gift from Waterstones 

surviving Tenko The True Story Of Margot Turner by Penny Starns.

It’s the story of a nurse Arrested by the dreaded Kempeitai during the fall of Singapore during world war 2      

Good news to end today too, my friend has been found safe....

Tiny Terrors

 Dressing animals in human clothes is not really the done thing, and is nothing I don’t really advocate

But bulldogs seem to understand that there is some levity afoot when their owners mess around at Halloween and seem to take to dress ups with alacrity 

The French bulldog in this short video had me in stitches 

It’s brightened up my second of four night shifts 

The Octopus

 

The octopus arrived in the post.

A lovely gift which doubles as a dog lead holder.

I liked the shape and form so I’ve placed him on the front of the cottage, 

Warming on the stone like some strange autumn insect

“ Oh what’s that?” asked Mrs Trellis as she passed with blue

I was standing back admiring my Crustacean, so she was instantly intrigued

“ It’s an octopus”I told her and she nodded seriously, as if it was perfectly normal to nail an octopus to the side of your cottage.

“ I like your rainbow too “ she commented , pointing to the knitted one up in my bedroom window

“ Is that a thank you to the NHS ?” She asked

“ No it’s a nod to a LGBTQ household” I told her playfully

“ And which letter are you? “ she shot back with a smile

Please Call

 

Someone I’m friendly with has gone missing.

Their family have involved the police and social media is clamouring for news.

Things are worrying

As a Samaritan I have listened to many people who have ‘vanished’ from home for a variety of reasons 

A non judgemental, ear and a voice in the dark is what the volunteers can provide.

If you read this, Samaritans can be reached on freephone  116 123

Bluebell,Ghosts and the Mysterious disappearance of a nurse’s watch

 

I was up early this morning. 

Bluebell has her MOT today

I’ve had her two years now 

And she’s been a good friend to me all told .

Strange as it may seem I used to be a rather bad driver, but now with my lengthy daily commutes I have become a more confident and practiced one.

Another positive to come out of divorce.

I tell you this in way of a bit of local colour, for the main gist of the story centres upon me leaving the house early, early enough to bump into the new village leaders Ian & Helen who live down the lane 

They were out walking their jaunty beagle.

Ian asked me if I had found my nurses Watch which he had in turn found in the lane and had placed it through Bluebell’s open window onto my passenger seat

I told him that I didn’t have such a watch and went off to search for it.

Dorothy had been there first.

The only thing left of the watch was it’s plastic case.

Like Captain Hook’s Crocodile she had swallowed the watch whole!

I’ve left a message to the watch’s owner on the village what’s app group saying that if anyone has lost it to please have a look on my garden lawn Later today

Dorothy is regular as clockwork and may deposit it after lunch!

The affable despot known as Jason has just phoned with a somewhat worrying tale of ghosts and ghouls

Now he is not know for tales of fancy but last night as he was putting out the bins on the side of his house on chapel Street he saw a stranger walking along the road.

The man was elderly and walked with the gait of a very old man. He was short , perhaps five foot five with a shock of bright white hair and although not frightened in any way , Jason stopped to watch the man as he had never seen him before. 

As Jason stopped the man vanished

Now this is spooky 

The area between Jason’s house and the chapel next door ( one of the oldest buildings in the village) seems to be a hotspot for the strange sightings of what is thought to be John Wynne the founder of Trelawnyd and village shepherd Graham as well as Auntie Gladys and several village schoolgirls  have reported strange sightings of a man in a long coat standing near to the village hall which sits on Chapel Street .

See this piece from the Trelawnyd History Blog 

http://trelawnydhistory.blogspot.com/2011/06/ghost-of-john-wynne.html

I’m convinced I’ve seen a ghost  the despot said on the phone to me this morning

And he wasn’t laughing

Soup & Scotch Egg Self Help

10th October Saturday 20.00pm

I’m having a break from blogging for a bit but not from writing everyday.

That I would find an impossibility. I’m on my last night this week ( 48 hours total) after the same amount Of hours last week. Next week it’s the same

I’ve felt somewhat overwhelmed and not in the right frame of mind to publish

Yet I write?

Go figure.

I bought sweets for the day staff and an orchid for my trained colleague before I came to work as she has had a shit time recently.

Much shittier than mine .......

Lisa Tarbuck was laughing on the radio as I drove to work and this piece of nostalgia pleased me when she played it

I’m not sure, if I will post these mini snippets of daily life

But I will continue to write them until I feel ok to blog again.

I feel I have nothing worth reading or to share at the moment

11th October Sunday..2.20 am

He was waiting for his wife to pass away and she was comfortable under sedation. We talked about many things in the side room that night. But I particularly remember talking about Andrew Wyeth my favourite painter in those wee small hours before dawn. 

We shared anacdotes, they were less painful than reality.

He appreciated my love for Christina’s world but didn’t share my affection for it 

But, as it turned out we both loved Wyeth’s portrait of his wife Betsy in his piece Maga’s Daughter

Which remains in a museum in Seattle .

That was many weeks ago now and I’ve just been passed a note from the visitor, who was now a widower

He had found me a print of “Maga’s Daughter” in the US and was sending it me

I forgot my great niece’s birthday which is not like me

I’m not cooking on gas

Maga’s Daughter

Me looking at my much loved Christina’s World in MOMA New York 2014

12th October Monday10.35 am

I slept heavy. I always do after nights. 

Yesterday my family met for soup and Cornish pasties in the garden

It was lovely but I felt lacklustre and boring

We are talking about Christmas ....turkey sandwiches and soup outside

It’s a new Way of looking at things

12th October Monday 6pm

I actually didn’t get up until 1pm.

It’s pouring down and miserable 

I made cannon ball sized low calorie scotch eggs and spicy butternut squash soup

And I watched Sorry Wrong Number on the iPad as I did so

I feel brighter today

Bloody lovely

I feel better today

Rested and more in balance

The scotch eggs did it

Not the eating of said eggs ( I managed one at a push as it needed two hands to lift it) 

But the planning and making of them and some spicy soup.

Me time...gentle space time 

If I feel like this again (and more long stretches of nights amid lockdown are on the horizon)

I won’t feel ‘ obliged’ to blog 

To chatter away in that empty room

,

Suo Gân

Thanks to Cro for this video.

He posted it this morning.

I have shamelessly stolen it this afternoon

Suo Gân is perhaps the most lovely of Welsh lullabies

It’s final verse talks about not being fearful 

Do not fear it’s only a leaf beating at the door

Do not fear it’s only a small wave that murmurs on the seashore

I have my own personal connection with this piece of music as I now always associate it with my hospice Work 

I’ve posted this before but I think it’s worth repeating but last winter as I was writing up notes after a particularly busy shift one of my fellow nurses, a welsh speaker started to sing the lullaby gently to herself as she completed her paperwork . From across the ward another Welsh speaking nurse suddenly joined in and as soprano and Alto they sang Suo Gân together quite beautifully

The lullaby wafting through the quiet rooms and corridors like a warm hand