Bra Straps

 It’s 6.40am and I’m writing up my patients’ notes as the wind picks up over West Shore here in Llandudno.

A sizeable group of the  Orme’s goats, presumably  sensing the approaching storm crossed our car park in the wee small hours and entered the gardens of the housing complex opposite 

I watched them on the security cameras as they tiptoed past Bluebell.

Eunice will hit Trelawnyd hard around 11 am, where wind gusts have been forecasted to be 20 mph stronger than they will be just 2 miles north on the coastal plain.

There seems a lot of worry about this storm compared to the ones we’ve had in the past

I may sleep downstairs when I get home 

I hope my Churchyard laburnum survives…and my roof 

Hold on to your bra straps it’s going to be a bumpy day

Eunice

 Eunice is approaching and a calm morning is becoming a blustery afternoon.

My laburnum sapling in the churchyard remains steadfast against the stormy weather but the dead ash trees on the field borders have taken a bashing last night.

Today another weather warning has been made.

The coast road to work will be an interesting drive later.

It’s been a nothing sort of day, I met my sister in law for  lunch and have just planted out some miniature cyclamen on the patio shelving. 

That’s all I’ve done.

I once worked with a mad cap Irish nurse called Eunice 

She once remarked to a patient who had a gunshot wound scar in his chest that she thought he had a extra nipple

Dudley

 Storm Dudley has found shore

Trendy Carol bustled up the lane earlier in a lovely brown woollen coat 

And we waved as the blustery wind shook the both of us like twigs

The dogs and Albert have squeezed onto the trendy blue sofa like sardines 

And I’ve turned off the tv and read Bob Mortimer’s autobiography as the wind screamed around the cottage walls .

I miss my fire and am happy it returns next week 

I met my old friend Cheryl today , a psychotherapist as well as a friend 

She centred me 

…..naturally ….

The roar of the wind is worrying, but it will pass 

Oh God not the Beetroot Falafel

It was well after eleven last night when I realised I had not eaten since  lunchtime , a lunch which had been a very tasty but very small beef stew, served by the very cute chef himself 

I raided the cupboards and found a packet of beetroot and chilli falafel mix which was a mistake and moments after I had mixed the bright purple chickpea glup into balls and had started to deep fry them in a Smokey kitchen.

I can’t remember the last time I threw up in the middle of the night.

It was probably years ago in Sheffield after an overly energetic night out at The Ledmill.

But at 4 am this morning , and with an audience to two dogs watching carefully from the doorway, I hurled my purple guts up while hugging the pan moaning loudly  “ Oh God Why” 

Dorothy especially was fascinated by the contents of my stomach and pushed her head next to mine in order to muse with some interest at the lumps and bumps hurling from my mouth. 

I can still taste beetroot this morning.

I’ve walked the dogs , burped my way through an  “interview” by the Daily Post regarding the Church closure and sorted out my new chimney liner ( at last) 

The work will be done next week…..yayyyy

I’m off shortly to Chester to meet an old friend for an early lunch 

I won’t be eating falafels

Tebe Poem (Dmitry Bortniansky)

We sang this Russian hymn tonight at choir 

A fitting and rather lovely piece which heralded my proper return to choir.

Masks off

A few hugs by friends not seen for ages,

Jamie ( with his 1940s RAF moustache) on great form 

And acoustics to die for

I loved it so very much 

Love With No Place To Go

I met a friend for lunch.

They are grieving and looked hollow, and lost.

I listened and gave the grief feelings validation. 

But it was hard to see the sadness 

Which was physical and present. 

And the Jamie Anderson quote came to mind

“ Grief is a love with no place to go”

Pottery

I met my sisters Ann and Janet tonight and we returned to pottery , for the first time together since lockdown . I completed my cave man spoons then made this landscape piece which will be painted like the welsh hills that surround Trelawnyd. 

It may double as a letter rack ….

I love this photo 

 

A Mouse In The Reading Chair

 It was fortunate that my friend cancelled our walk today due to the crappy weather. 

I’ve spent the day, rearranging furniture 

Gay men love rearranging furniture .

Around 3 am Mary found a mouse in the reading chair.

The resulting hysteria woke the entire household and even Albert scraped off cushions and pushed his head down crevices in order to locate the dumb fuck of a rodent .

The chair had a nest amongst the springs.

It’s now on the patio awaiting the tip.

Hence the need for the rearranging of the furniture 

And with that , a clean, a titivate and a pleasing afternoon.

If any of you love Pedro Almodòvar you will know that he incorporates into his films some lovely interior sets. The apartments and homes of his characters have vibrancy and a particular character of their own and they almost become another cast member with a personality, temperament and identify all of their own. 

I adored the apartment feel of Penelope Cruz’s character in Parallel Mothers 

But now I kind of like the eclectic nature of my cottage interior