The Wallet

I drove back to Trelawnyd and had to meet other trustees of the Community Association for a meeting.

I was late getting home.

Tonight I was due to drive back over to the hospice for a curry night out with staff but the prospect of the hour and a half round trip was something I didn't quite need.

I need to stay in the village today

So I’m going to see Blazin’ Fiddles at the Hall 

Ian from down the lane said he’d Knock  on the window for me if I managed to get a ticket, and I did, so he will. Several other people I know will be there from the village and from choir.

It’s what I need today.

A few beers and some good music 

I had a lie in this morning, ( another thing I needed) and came down stairs to find that Roger had managed to remove my leather wallet from the kitchen table and had done a good job on it

It had been a birthday gift from The Prof from years ago. 

And I was surprised just how upset I was when I found it in tatters

Another reason for a pint with good friends tonight

Campaign Against Living Miserably

 

This Christmas will be the first one ever I will not be sending any Christmas Cards.

The posting cost is far too prohibitive.

After much thought I will make a donation to CALM which is a charity against living miserably 

And this remembered old blog is the reason why( it is often posted this time of year)

Christmas 1985

Christmas week 1985 I was  shadowing a community psychiatric nursing sister with her caseload in a deprived and depressing northern town

Through a succession of faceless maisonettes, we sat on grubby sofas and listened to  sad stories of loneliness, mental illness and substance abuse and I watched as my mentor tried her best to keep heads above water and bums out of the local psychiatric unit.

The last visit of the day was to a woman I shall call Jean.

Jean lived alone in the top flat of a ten story complex. She had suffered from severe mental health problems for forty years and had recently been placed in her flat from long term psychiatric care only a few months before.

I remember her flat very well. There was no carpet in the hall and the living room but there was a tiny tinsel Christmas tree standing on top of a large black and white tv.  A homemade fabric stocking was hung on the fire surround and just two Christmas cards  were perched on the mantle.

( one of those cards having been sent by my colleague) The flat was sparse but incredibly clean and it was evident that Jean had been waiting for our visit all day.

In mismatching cups we were offered coffee with powdered milk and a single mince pie served on a paper plate and I remember sharing a sad glance with the nurse when Jean presented us both with gifts hastily wrapped in cheap Christmas paper. My gift was two placemats with photos of cats on them. The nurse received a small yellow vase, and I remember Jean beaming with delight when we both thanked her effusively for her kindness. 

When we washed up our own cups, the nurse quietly checked the fridge, noting that most of the shelves were empty . There was a calender on the wall with the note " NURSE COMES TODAY" written on that day's date. Nothing else was written on it until the week of new year's eve, where the same sentence was written.

It was the very first time that I had experienced someone who was so totally isolated in a community setting and it shocked and saddened me.

I listened as the nurse talked about medication, and as  I waited patiently when she took Jean into the bedroom to administer a regular injection I noticed a carrier bag which the nurse had tucked away by the side of the arm chair shortly after we arrived. In it was a package of cold meat, and what looked like chocolates and a cake.

Before we left, we let Jean monopolize her only conversation of the week and as she retrieved our coats, I watched and grew a few years older as the nurse silently slipped a five pound note behind one of the cards on the mantle.

To Live ( Spoilers)

 I studied Akira Kurosawa’s film Ikiru at University so I was intrigued to see how the melancholic Katuzo Ishiguro would recreate it in this much lauded remake. Interestingly the film is set in the 1950s as Ikiru was, so from the get go, it had turned the tables on the original which had a great deal to say about the modern Japan.

I had been making notes in my head when I was sat with my laptop in the Storyhouse Cafe, sipping a pretentious orange hot chocolate 

There are perhaps eighty people in the public space here. 

A baby and toddler group has just finished a fairly low key and sweet clap a long to You are my sunshine my only Sunshine as the waitresses weave in and out of the tables mostly filled with people studying or working on line. 

Tom Burke 

Living as it turned out, is a beautifully crafted and elegant piece of filmmaking which perfectly captures the stuffiness of post war Britain. It centres upon Mr Williams, a tight, self contained widower who rules his civil servant office with a quiet , almost silent whisper. Nicknamed Mr Zombie by junior clerk Miss Harris ( the doe eyed Aimee Lou Wood) he has no friends of note and returns home each night to a an ungrateful son and his ambitious and money needy wife.

It is an existence, nothing really more, and when Mr Williams finds out he has months to live, he suddenly embarks on a journey towards acceptance by learning to live again.

Aimee Lou Wood

Bill Nighy, breaks your heart in a simple look . 

His lugubrious face perfectly captures the look of a man who hasn’t lived the life he expected and he’s at his most moving when he’s saying very little at all.

You just feel , his pain, 

Plain and simple.

And it is that which is the power of this film as writer Ishiguro and director Oliver Hermanus lead Mr Williams into connections with a whole group of characters who immediately empathise with him and his situation and whose reactions break your heart all over again .

Tom Burke a drunk writer  ,who takes Mr Williams on an impromptu pub crawl is moved to tears when he witnesses the older man singer a Scottish lullaby from his youth and a beat  policeman ( Thomas Coombes) is affected almost in a spiritual way when he finally witnesses Mr Williams enjoying the fruits of his work labours in the construction of a child’s playground in the slum area of London.

It’s a sad, but gently optimistic film which has a great deal to say , not only about living….but about empathy

I drove  home with radio turned off

And thought about what I’ve just witnessed 

It’s winter tonight and my joints are aching 

I made beef stew and dumplings for supper 

 

I’ve read for most of today 

I’m reading Bethan Robert’s novel MyPoliceman which is a study of an on going triangular relationship between grammar school girl Marion, her policeman husband Tom and gay museum curator Patrick.

It’s a cracking read. 

Do you have whole days, just enjoying the company of a book and its characters ? 

Following a hot shower, I found my grey tracksuit bottoms from the wardrobe and after putting them  on with my second best walking dead T shirts, I curled up on the trendy blue couch wrapped in a throw, and read in the warmth of the winter sun which cut through the rain around midday.

Every hour or so, I’d refresh my tea mug with tea sweetened slightly with algarve nectar and at two I shared my lunch of faggots and mushy peas, bought cheaply from Marks and Spencer early this morning,

with Mary who curled up with me for the duration.

I’m thinking of starting a village book club 

Old Trefor’s niece called around to tell me he’s having some tests in hospital and will be there a few days. I promised to help her clean his house tomorrow. 

I’ve texted a few friends, agreed to buy some tickets for the TCA village casino night next Friday and made a lasagne which is now bubbling gently in the oven. 

But for the most part I’ve read 

And as the fire has been lit early, the cottage is toasty warm, and smelling of garlic and it’s all oh so cozy .

Not Much

 Old Trev , his niece told me is in hospital, she knows not where. 

I hope they found him an appropriate bed, so many of the patients sit in their ambulances outside A&E nowadays, a place , to be honest, I’d prefer his to be rather than on a hospital trolley. 

At least he would be warmer, and supervised by two trained professionals in the ambulance.

She will keep me up to date with any updates.

It’s college day today and I’m off soon. 

We [ the students]have presentations to give tonight.

I’ve practiced it in front of the dogs but only Roger seemed interested.

I may go to the cinema tomorrow to see Living 

I suspect it’s been a bit overblown by the critics but we will see

I met a guy with a hole in his jumper yesterday, there wasn’t the time to have a chat 🙁

And thank you for follower Jane ,    Who kindly left me a small gift. 

After a long and somewhat taxing shift yesterday, it was most welcomed…..

Eyeball

 “ Whats up with your eye?” 

So asked a patient’s relative moments later after I started to talk to him in the ward office

The sclera of my eye had turned an unsightly red giving me the look of a fat friendly zombie, which is not the look you want to have when you are sharing support on a hospice inpatients department.

Roger had given me a right swipe last night 

I irrigated my eye with chlorampenicol eye drops nicked from the work fridge but when I got home my eye felt sticky and painful 

Sailor John was waiting for me when I walked to the cottage.

Old Trev had had a fall in his garage  and had just been carried to bed by a young passerby who had heard his calls after lying there for a few hours.

I was happy to help sort him out , 

His niece will be accompanying him for a check up in hospital in a few hours time.

Ambulance waits in wales are calculated in hours 

It’s a scandal 

Typical of Trev , after we had assessed his pain , and warmed him up with multiple duvets and after I got him to show me he hadn’t broken his hip 

He said in his sing song , welsh accent, his tiny face peeping from under the bed clothes

“John , do you know you’ve done something to your eye?”

Black Eyed Mog

 Got home late tonight after a busy shift 

Wanting to talk catch up with a friend and relax with beer in front of the fire but

Ended up with back ache watching episode three of The English a western with Emily Blunt 

Which featured a very odd female Welsh villain called Black Eyed Mog 

The whole evening feels a bit surreal 

Roger has given me a black eye

Sister Act

 Two long days at work now 

Roger is now sleeping on my bed with the others and did so without any accidents last night.

And non wanted to get up at 6 am this morning.

I will leave you with this bit of silliness from a mother and daughter