But Is It Art?

 IKEA is shite for its art 

So I’ve spent a while getting ideas for decorating my office on line 

These are my three finalists around which the office will be based on 

I’m wavering between the bottom two

IKEA

I’m in IKEA 

Not a good idea as it’s nose to nipple in here

I’ve driven a friend to a funeral outside Warrington and will pick them up after the “ do” after the service.

Now I’m eating Schnitzel 

IKEA does nice Schnitzel and coffee.

I’ve bought German sausages for the dogs , several house plants and a chair .

Not much else to report until I’m home

Tits in Your Milk

 

I have a new great nephew. He’s called Rew, after his grandfather, my late brother Andrew. 

 I thought today, that he wouldn’t see the phenomenon that was blue tits drinking the cream out of your milk bottle. 

Such activities are no more in our civilized society 

But how amazing was it that a bird that weighed no more than a piece of paper would learn to survive by drinking cows milk…go figure.

Things are always changing.

And like the milk bottle blue tits, there are things that have have gone from our world.

Overhead projectors, classified ads in the newspapers, dvds in supermarkets.

A road atlas in the car, working phone boxes and waiting a few days in order to collect 24 holiday snaps. oh and the lead pipe from cludo!

Nurses wearing paper hats, Pekinese dogs, sideburns, I could go on.

these things like the ghosts of life before us are only mildly interesting to a modern eye in passing.

I can live without the atlas, the phone boxes and the sideburns

but the blue tits and their extraordinary learning skills remains somewhat of a special loss

dont you think?

 

The Significance of touch

 Once, many moons ago now, I embarked on a short weekend retreat course in the Lake District.

I remember little about the event save for a few vague memories of group exercises which had more significance then than they could possibly have now, but most had to do with trust issues, self awareness, sharing , personal development and motivation. 

One I do remember though and that was an exercise that I think was called Walking The Hedge.

The “ hedge” as it turned out was made up of two lines of the group, an eclectic bunch of individuals made up of psychiatrists, psychotherapists, Occupational therapists, nurses and social workers.

The two lines faced each other and one by one volunteers from the group would be blindfolded and walked slowly down the line. The hedge would gently touch the volunteer ( I’m sure we were told to do so appropriately but with sensitivity) and at any one time the volunteer could be overwhelmed by hands which were described by the French leader as a “ Shower Of Cuddles” “ showerrr of cudd…elles”

I remember feeling dreadfully sceptical and somewhat threatened by the exercise but I participated reminding myself to place my had in non sexually ambiguous places.

It was a strange, incredibly powerful exercise for some

I remember one serious young medic who always seemed isolated from the group suddenly react to the touch “wave” with intense emotion and the more moved he became the more the hands of the hedge seemed to encircle and support him as the French leader slowed the pace of his walk.

It was incredibly moving to watch.

This happened several times with different group members.  

And not surprisingly I was not of them, as I had opted out of the Hedge Walk.

Which perhaps says a great deal about me at the time.

On a different level, I remember getting a gift from a patient from intensive care , who I looked after the day we woke her up from an induced coma. I washed her after she was extubated  and she confided in me later that it was the first time anyone had physically touched her for 17 years. 

The gift, surprisingly was two baby turkeys.

I touch people everyday at work. Even with covid at its highest I would hold hands and mop brows, and put my arm around a relative whose knees had started to buckle in grief.

Now that I’m older, I’ve become a serious hugger

I hugged Gorgeous Dave only yesterday when I bid him goodbye 

I think men are much better huggers than they ever used to be.

I wondered about the Hedge Walk and thought, today how wonderful it would be to walk the walk “ again”

Dust on the Candlesticks

 

I prepared cold Turkey slices and fried eggs for breakfast.

A treat as I listened to Kirsty Young on Desert Island Discs , which, not surprisingly proved to be another treat.

I could listen to her all day long.  

I paused her interview to catch up with friends Ruth in Findhorn and Ben in Seoul on zoom and finished it after I came home later, after having a walk with Roger and Gorgeous Dave.

It’s just past 1pm , and already I feel as I’ve done a lot .

I sit at the kitchen table, my back to the window sipping coffee.

All I can hear is the wind, which has picked up from the East.

And notice that the candlesticks need dusting

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Christmas Morning

 I woke around 4 am.

Somewhat breathless .

I have a post covid cough which sometimes feels worse in the middle of the night.

I couldn’t sleep, so I’ve pottered around a quiet cottage. 

I showered and tidied up. 

I walked sleepy Welsh terriers and drank a smooth cup of coffee at the kitchen table

I cleaned the carpet where Albert christened with pee, a foot from his litter box

And I tried to read my book club book

My cough settled down and I moved to the living room where I sat sipping the cold coffee with the lounge window open. 

Listening to the rain.

Dorothy walked heavily from upstairs and stopped halfway to peep through the bannisters at me I told her I was coming back to bed soon and she returned to my bedroom with a snort.

Apart from when I’ve been working I’ve never been up at this time on Christmas Day since I was 10 

Happy Christmas

And from Mary, Dorothy , Randy Roger and Albert

 

Xmas Eve

 For the first year ever, I’ve not strung Christmas Cards around the front room. Due to the postal strikes and the cost of stamps I have received noticeably fewer cards than usual .Trendy Carol ( presently sporting a nice anorak with fur trim) noticed and has already commented that she had noticed their absence .

“I always liked seeing them “ she said 

No chance of getting any cards now , the strike is on again….no message from the postie on Facebook this week….hummmm

Yesterday I popped my gifts around for the neighbours . Some ham and satsumas for Animal Helper Pat.

A bottle of Châteauneuf du Pape for Sailor John and Mandy and a food hamper for Trendy Carol and her hubby. Mrs Trellis was out when I called around with her gift. I’ll pop it in later today, 

Apart from stopping off at Tesco on the way home after nights I have little planned for today.

I’ve got a zoom meeting with friends Ruth in Scotland and Ben in Korea and a few drinks earmarked with villager Della at 2 pm. I’m not a lover a drinking in the day.

It makes me sleep.

Then it’s light the fire, walk the dogs until they flag ( or at least loose some labido ) and mooch in front of Christmas tv with a gin and tonic and my phone and lots of texting

Pretty Bog Standard really.. I guess.

I will leave you with Omaha Cat Lady being……well kind

It’s very Christmas