Gravy Hands

Mortified. 
I fainted as I was eating my lunch at work today.
I’ve never fainted in my life.
Woke up with strong arms around me and faces next to mine with no idea of what happened.
My hands were covered in gravy.
I’ve come home for a sleep
Mortified.

My friend Ben described the experience thus on social media
“  John told us that vimto was an acronym of vomit then he fainted, then he put his hands in his dinner. I gave him a cuddle and he came around.” 

Lasagne Therapy

 


I’ve been a bit “ out of sorts “ this past week. I know I have and I’m sick of being up and down like the proverbial whores’ knickers ......
I fell asleep in my office covered in dogs and cat yesterday afternoon only to wake in the dark of the evening, disorientated and heady...
I even missed the Big Gay Quiz which usually bucks me up with an overdose of camp one liners.
Subsequently I didn’t sleep and spent too long and too much energy on a french zombie movie called 
The Night Eats The World.



The film had its “ hero” locked inside his Parisian apartment for much of the plot where he slowly went a bit unhinged as the zombie hoards surrounded him.....a untimely metaphor for lockdown I guess.

The constant bickering in the household has had its effect too as had my subsequent move to a new role in the community at work. A move which will mean less unsocial hour pay.......pay that I need but the new role ( overseeing hospice care given at home ) is a challenge that will be good for me .

So bra straps hiked to their shortest twang, it’s onwards and upwards today.
The cottage window ps are wide open even though it’s only 6 degrees outside and I am cooking like a demon.
I made cauliflower soup this morning and will pop it to Ralph’s wife when it has cooled, and am in the middle of constructing a massive lasagne  from scratch which my bubble friend Ruth and I will demolish a bit later.
It’s as low fat as you can make a giant lasagne and I am serving it with a Spanish salad and a crisp white Campo Viejo the wine the Santa Maria always served in Sitges.
We will watch that drag queen film later which is the best recipe for a light mood since I last dreamt than Russell Crowe was my boyfriend at my sisters wedding! ...now that WAS A CRACKING DREAM!!



The giant final lasagne




Eva Cassidy - Over The Rainbow


The best ......
We all need to subscribe ....that one day skies are and will be ............blue .....
Almost there....

The Boys Are Back In Town

 The Llandudno goats have come back into town......
It’s the bachelor groups that have left the Orme






The females with their kids are safely hidden away on the peninsular 
The hospice is taking advantage of their births


Fields Of Gold


This morning I took Mary and Trendy Carol’s dog, Bengi to the groomers. Both are well trained in car travel and sit  on the back seat like statues. 
It was a pleasure to be out without the usual bouncing hysterics from Dorothy 

I wouldn’t be without her, but looking after a dog with their own unique issues can be a challenge at times.
The above video is an example of Dorothy’s odd, and needy behaviour when out walking in a group. She is totally ignoring the other dog that was playfully sitting on the sidelines as well as Chic Eleanor who was watching with some interest nearby.
Her focus lies totally with me and totally me, which can be exhausting at times, for both of us, but I can see areas where her confidence is improving which is encouraging.

I dropped a neat bunch of smart tulips off at Gentleman Ralph’s farm with a card. 
There is a strange paralysis people experience when visiting the very newly bereaved and even with my experiences within the hospice , I am not immune to the do I knock? Do I just leave the flowers on the doorstep dilemma? 
I left them on the doorstep   
The farmhouse was quiet.

I dropped Benji off, picked up a doe-eyed Dorothy and came home and prepared lentil and Chorizo soup in the slow cooker. Then the dogs, Albert and I made ourselves comfortable in my office in the East wing which I already made comfortable and warm.
I have some writing and some film scene watching to do for my film studies course 
But all I have completed so far it this blog, listened to Eva Cassidy , drank coffee from my striped bucket cup and watched the world go by , in the lane , a lane that snakes up to the church in a lazy s




Ralph, The Gentleman Farmer

This evening the Trelawnyd warden’s group let the village know that Gentleman Farmer Ralph had died tragically this morning. 
I had only seen him a day or so ago.
I had been walking the dogs around 6am before work. 
He was driving to the garage to collect his paper.
He stopped briefly to ask how I was and we laughed that despite wearing figure hugging PPE at work I was still the size of a house. 
He told me to start keeping animals on the field again in way of extra exercise.

The quietly spoken Ralph and his wife Lywenna are much loved and respected in Trelawnyd...this blog entry from 2019 perhaps underlines his kindness 

Gentleman farmer Ralph

Most of my regular readers will know that I live on a small lane.
The lane snakes out of the village to the south West and turns at a house and then two farms before moving away across the Valley floor.
In the second farm lives Gentleman Farmer Ralph and his gracefully polite wife Mrs L, and this morning they both stopped to pass over a Christmas Card and a couple of gifts.
I love the pragmatism of the farmer's gifts
Handed over the kitchen wall as so many gifts have been  over the years,
Was a very large lamb chop
A Christmas Card
And a high viz jacket !

Since I started work at the hospice I take Mary for a walk around 6 am in the morning and at that time Ralph drives to the village shop for his paper!
" You never wear something light in the lane" he quipped " I am worried that one day I'm going to run over you!" 


I will pop some flowers up to Lywenna tomorrow  and some homemade soup on Saturday. 

Twist In My Sobriety


Last night I watched Kramer vs Kramer after realising that I’ve never seen it.
It was one of those films you think you have seen then ten minutes into it, you realise that it was just a thought.
I enjoyed it so much.
Streep was amazing.
This morning I’ve been walking with Chic Eleanor and now I’m cooking Spiced Turkey and Bean Soup for supper. 
I’ve no news except that another Art Deco inspired print arrived today. I will hang it in my study a bit later. It arrived alongside Michelle Obama’s Becoming and a dvd of To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything Julie Newmar which my bubble friend Ruth and I will watch on Saturday.
Tonight it is My Hitchcock lecture

I’ve lit the fire
And the cottage is filled with the vague scent of woodsmoke and soup
And the music from the album Ancient Heart by Tinika Tikaram 





The Baking Cupboard



 On Saturday it will be the six year anniversary of the day I got married 
Of all the dates I need to forget , this one is the one I always seem to remember.
The morning of March 6th 2015 was very much like the one we experienced today. It was springlike and warm and sunny. 
Like this morning I was alone in the cottage, drinking coffee at the kitchen table.
Unlike this morning, I had been up and down like a fiddler’s elbow receiving cards and gifts from villagers and friends.
I remember the table being filled with bottles of champagne and boxes with bows and flowers in vases.
Around 11am I spied Auntie Gladys walking carefully down the lane. 
She wore a red woollen coat and looked frail at 95
I met her at the garden wall and she held my hand in greeting
I have a wedding gift for you both” she said handing me a hand written card 
I started my usual  you shouldn’t have  type reply which she waved away with a hand
“ Buy yourself something you need but would never usually buy yourself “ she said her watery blue eyes twinkling and I was suddenly moved that this old stalwart of the Church and of traditional values had just embraced her first gay marriage 
“ Thank you for being so kind , Your support means a great deal” I told her and she laughed her usual laugh and pushed her hands into her coat pockets to find a hankie 
“ It’s the law ! “ she said simply and I watched her walk back up the lane, her head to one side as though she was thinking hard.
I felt moved and humbled , as though my grandmother had just visited.

Auntie Glad’s card was traditional  and addressed to us both. Inside was several crisp ten pound notes which I rolled up and placed in the tea caddy on the mantle. 
I forgot the money until weeks later, when it was almost summer.

Back then I was planning for my beloved new kitchen and so fantasised about things I wanted to make it the best of all I had owned. Having my own baking cupboard was on my to do list.
And so, with the help of Auntie Glad’s money, I prepared for one.
I bought loaf tins and flan dishes and an old fashioned black bird with its mouth open to sit inside a steaming pie so that the pastry would not get soggy. 
I bought cake tins and a flour shaker and storage tins full of grease roof paper, food colouring and vintage Christmas cake decorations alongside vintage wooden spoons and a mixing bowl with blue embossed sides like the one my mother used to have.
Any I hid all of the bits and bobs away until the IKEA workmen had put in the kitchen, only bringing them out from their hiding place to fill my baking cupboard . The one nearest to the lane window , where the light is best to roll pastry and to kneed dough.
Today after night shift I was in my baking cupboard yet again, retrieving the ingredients to make sourdough bread  and as I kneeded the dough I remembered the day Auntie Gladys brought me a wedding present .......and continued to be a bit of a hero .


The baking Cupboard Today