Bright, Bright, Sunshiny day

 

This morning I completed my second speed awareness course. As bad luck would have it I was sat next to a garrulous and rather irritating woman from Llandudno who never stopped spouting rubbish rather than being parked next to a brooding good looking Welsh farmer called Iwan who sat to her left.

“Chalk it up to experience”  he told me in his sing song welsh accent and I nodded gamely, in that way you do when trying to ingratiate yourself. 

The irritating woman monopolised his attention

The Cow ! 

Yesterday, I started my counselling diploma . 

It felt an important day, and was one that gave me a great deal of food for thought.

From yesterday, I now feel as though I have a life plan.

I sort of know where I am going.

Four years ago ( was it four?) I was financially in dire straits. I was retired, facing the prospect of losing my home, was carless, emotionally fucked and didn’t have a plan of what I was doing and where I was going.

Yesterday I saw the forward path for real, and it felt real and right and exciting.

Completing my counselling course will take me to the age of 63. 

If ( sorry when) I qualify I will be then able to take my own clients whether that be in a palliative care setting or privately, and that transition will allow me to retire properly from nursing after forty one years in the profession. 

The counselling course will push me and I need that. It will push me emotionally, professionally and most importantly academically and sitting in the classroom yesterday, looking over Google classroom and feeling slightly overfaced by technology felt all rather exciting.

I have budgeted for the costs and have set aside monies to see me through the training, and my part time status at work will allow me some balance and downtime.

I have a plan 

And it feels the right Plan 

Touch wood.

I’ve just taken the dogs to the beach. When I am driving now, Roger has got into William’s old habit of sniffing and licking my hair as we go. 

It’s a lovely feeling , all told and I am so grateful he has settled in to the cottage dynamic .

So home is sorted, work is going well and the future has a plan .

What was it the Jimmy Cliff song went ?

I can see clearly now ,the rain has gone ……….

Flip Flops

 “ oh Darling John , you are in flip flops!” 

Chic Eleanor was disappointed as she’d planned our early morning walk to be across the fields by the side of the Gop.

I had remembered by posh Northface jacket but had let the side down with my flip flops 

“ Only you” Eleanor tutted 

We walked across the wet fields anyway and typically I fell out of the said flip flops so many times my feet were stained with sheep poo by the time we got back

I didn’t mind too much.

It was refreshing enough

Moving

 This video from tiktok is extremely powerful 

Members of the Scottish public paying their respects to the Queen’s coffin, and bowing their heads without instruction as they pass 

Damp

 

I’ve got some jobs done today. 

This week I have no shifts as I’ve taken some holiday that I was owed….and I want to get those jobs done.

Living in an old building there is always things to do. 

I bought paint for the back of the cottage which is rendered white and I’m planning to paint the upstairs hall into the east wing the same gentle yellow of the living room.

This is a pragmatic decision as I’ve got far too much yellow paint left over from the living room.

Having said this, it’s humid and damp today so it’s not a day for painting.

I replaced the absent kitchen door knob ( it’s been missing over a decade) , and went out blackberry picking to get the air and to feel the fine rain on my face, but there were few fruits to be seen down the lane than I expected, but there are more sloes to be had on the field borders

It was nice to be soaked though, and my feet in my flip flops squeaked happily as I clip clopped home. 

I booked Roger’s first haircut, paid bills and made bean soup, spiced with garlic and chilli. 

And watched the Queen’s Coffin being taken up the Royal Mile in Edinburgh. 

I see the line heckler that shouted that Andrew was a nonce was dragged backwards out of shot like an extra in one of the Alien films. 

Sunday Night

 The fire is lit and the dogs are all resting, Mary with her rubber Chicken by her side. 

I’ve repainted the fireplace wall today , in the same gentle yellow I did two summers ago , and gone have the soot marks which have so irritated me this year.

I have watched the journey of the Queen’s  coffin and loved the fact that a score of  Aberdeenshire farmers saluted the convoy with their tractors as did the horses and riders from a local livery 

It’s cold and wet outside and no bats flew in the lane at our evening walk

How To Be Amazingly Happy

 My friend Dave ( aka Gorgeous Dave) is a typical straight man when it comes to problems. He is not very good at reaching out for a sympathetic ear, preferring to deal with things internally and on his own.

I met up with him last night and he shared a problem

I was glad to be able to listen and wish he had contacted me earlier.

Interestingly we were off to see a one woman review entitled How To Be Amazingly Happy by Victoria Firth which was showing at the Storyhouse 

It was a lumpy show, amusing and insightful at times and a little pretentious in others but Firth was engaging enough with her northern physical humour very much on show and she had a great deal to say about the pressures , we all feel in today’s society, to be happy and contented all of the time.

Firth’s perspective came from the fact she was a lesbian who was childless but I could relate to the way she tried out different “ lifestyles” in order to boost her mood.  Her vignettes on running, not jogging, joining a tap,dance class and baking cakes for the family were amusing enough, but when she started her childless routine things did get a bit bleak and we were glad to make a run for the bar.

We didn’t stay for the Q & A.

On the way home, I decided a bit of fun was the order of the day and we were both cackling like schoolboys before we got onto the A55 for home. My mother blessed me with the ability to tell a good story and I was happy to be able to have Dave’s cheeks aching before he dropped me off in the village

Food For Thought

 Thursday also turned out to be an interesting day. 

The consultant affiliated to our hospice organised a seminar workshop for the staff to explore and discuss the law relating to assisted suicide within the health care setting and had organised for an Australian medic who was a specialist in Voluntary Assisted Dying to lecture us on the subject via zoom

For those that don’t know 

Voluntary assisted dying (VAD) refers to the assistance provided to a person by a health practitioner to end their life. It includes:

• 'self-administration', where the person takes the VAD medication themselves (this is sometimes called physician-assisted suicide or dying), and
• 'practitioner administration', where the person is given the medication by a doctor (or in some Australian States, a nurse practitioner or registered nurse) (this is sometimes called voluntary euthanasia).

‘Voluntary’ indicates that the practice is a voluntary choice of the person, and that they are competent (have capacity) to decide to access VAD.

As you can see the law in Australia seems a million miles away from ours in the Uk, however the criteria for VAD is precise and can only be used with a diagnosis of conditions that are life limiting of only a few months . Conditions such as MND, disabilities or mental health do not fit the criteria. 

It was a fascinating workshop and I felt that the  Australian consultant was rather intrigued that he had been approached by a tiny Welsh Hospice to discuss his role  rather than  by a UK palliative care centre based in say London. 

All of our hospice doctors, a good cross section of the nurses and support workers and a smattering of managers and Board Members turned up and on reflection I still am not sure how I feel about the whole subject. 

Of course the positives seem humane and client focused but when I asked the Australia doctor what situations had “ gone wrong” for want of a better phrase he discussed two cases that were sobering. 

One situation had a patient who had vomited after she had taken the medication and so didn’t die as was expected, while another had another patient taking his medication which was brought into him by a relative whilst he was an inpatient of a general hospital being looked after by nurses who had no clue he was about to take his own life. 

The ethical implications from both situations hung heavy in the air.

Anyhow it’s Saturday today.

It’s early and we have all been out for a walk. Roger is almost fully housetrained now. He walks well on the lead and sits politely in the car, unlike Dorothy who is now always crated in Bluebell and who remains vociferously loud during any journey.

He’s eating better and is less frightened of anything he doesn’t know.

But he is a chewer.

I think we will all go to the beach this afternoon.

I’m meeting up with Gorgeous Dave later and we are going to The Storyhouse to see a one woman show with the title How to be Amazingly Happy

'We will meet again'

These two things have been revolving in my head rent free today.

Today one of my patients talked at length about how much the Queen’s We Will Meet Again had affected her a couple of years ago now and we unpicked just how powerful her speech was when I served her a large port before lunch..it was a conversation that I should have had one too ..lol

Radio 2 caught me unawares too when I drove to work as Zoe Ball played somber music with hushed tones. 

When she played this next song by Beth Neilsen Chapman, it caught me totally unawares as I drove past Colwyn Bay and I had to stop briefly on the Prom to have a bit of a cry