Mary

This morning I sat in the kitchen reading chair to read.
After a while I felt as though I was being watched
And I lifted my head from the book
It was Mary watching me 
And she was still and mindful 
Her gentle brown eyes never leaving my face 
She does this often
And I feel loved




 There is sorrow enough in the natural way

From men and women to fill our day;
And when we are certain of sorrow in store,
Why do we always arrange for more?
Brothers and Sisters, I bid you beware
Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.

Buy a pup and your money will buy
Love unflinching that cannot lie—
Perfect passion and worship fed
By a kick in the ribs or a pat on the head.
Nevertheless it is hardly fair
To risk your heart for a dog to tear.

When the fourteen years which Nature permits
Are closing in asthma, or tumour, or fits,
And the vet’s unspoken prescription runs
To lethal chambers or loaded guns,
Then you will find—it’s your own affair—
But… you’ve given your heart to a dog to tear.

When the body that lived at your single will,
With its whimper of welcome, is stilled (how still!).
When the spirit that answered your every mood
Is gone—wherever it goes—for good,
You will discover how much you care,
And will give your heart to a dog to tear.

We’ve sorrow enough in the natural way,
When it comes to burying Christian clay.
Our loves are not given, but only lent,
At compound interest of cent per cent.
Though it is not always the case, I believe,
That the longer we’ve kept ’em, the more do we grieve:
For, when debts are payable, right or wrong,
A short-time loan is as bad as a long—
So why in—Heaven (before we are there)
Should we give our hearts to a dog to tear?

What’s going on


 Any tech bods out there…..consistently from early June the traffic logging in to Going Gently everyday has increased from 200,000 hits a month to over 500,000 ( 6-7 thousand a day to over 18)

There must be a practical and computer based reason for this hike. 

The last increase was a 100,000 hike when my husband and I split in July 2018

A Curate’s Egg




 I went to see the early showing of Indiana Jones and The Dial Of Destiny today
It was good, in parts. 
It started off in the usual cracking pace with a digitally enhanced Ford looking every bit his 40 year old self fighting the dreaded Nazis on a wartime train. This time Spielberg is not directing, but with James Mangold at the helm he might as well done so for we had nods to every Indy Adventure filmed since the 1970s.
I liked that his female sidekick was Phoebe Waller-Bridge.wisecracking and wide eyed , her action shots looked a bit odd due to the fact she is so tall and slightly ungainly but she almost stole the show from the 80 year old Ford who wasn’t fazed by being filmed in his underpants.
As usual the set pieces, a chase in a ticker tape parade, a horse chase in the subway and a tuktuk battle in the narrow Tangiers streets could have been stolen from a dozen action movies since Raiders of the Lost Ark , and they and the truly ludicrous ending didn’t really surprise anyone.
Goodbye Indy , it was nice knowing you.



Out Of The Blue

 

Yesterday I received an email from a chap who has followed Trelawnyd online for a while
It was a very chatty letter which told me that his grandfather had in his possession schematic drawings of the original Memorial Hall and these he had recently collected from his brother in France.
He had framed these rare documents and contacted me to see if we would like them 
How wonderful I thought.
A fantastic coup 
He asked if he and his family could drive up from Bournemouth to personally drop the drawings off to us and I suggested he came on the flower show Saturday where we would reserve him a table and cream tea in appreciation and where the whole committee could thank him
I’m awaiting his reply.
How wonderful a gift 
How lovely




It’s Finally Reopened



 This summer and autumn, and with rail strikes permitting , I’ve got four trips to London planned .
I’m taking Nu to see La Traviata at the Royal Opera House for her birthday. Having an indulgent Royal Ballet and Les Miserables  time with my sister and will be taking my Nephew Leo to see his favourite Back to the Future Musical .
All have been bought and paid for by overtime shifts, which pleases me
Thanks to the RNT I have to stay an extra night in London with Nu so we’ve booked another play in the west end and gleefully today I’ve booked tickets to the newly reopened National Portrait Gallery, which is one of my most favourite places in London.
I’ve missed it so, for there is nothing better than going there on a rainy London afternoon and having a long mooch

Arse Into Gear

I’m on catch up.
Animal Helper Pat left a not on the garden wall last night for a Flower Show programme for her and friend Anthea ( who has the second best garden in the village). I delivered them before taking the dogs out then grabbed a few hours sleep before Ewan phoned me to remind me to pick him up for his hospital appointment. This afternoon I’ve got the rest of the programmes to deliver to targeted villagers, The Randas, The Joyful Cameron’s , Boffin Cameron, Hattie, Heulwen and a few others.
Mrs Trellis picked hers up early
“ I’m not up to the boiled fruit cake” she warned “ my wrist is a bit limp”
I didn’t ask why.

The posters need hanging on the noticeboards and the planters need a water.
I’m still tired so am drinking hot strong coffee from the Mokka at the kitchen table
Auntie Glad’s daughter emailed me suggesting a cup in her mums memory in the Show ( I need to sort that out)
We have five weeks to go.

It’s sunny and the humid air has been flushed away by the thankful breeze.
And I need to get my arse into gear

Two hours later and a bit of progress has been made. Lovely to see the adorable Ma Cameron who was genuinely  excited at the prospect of the show’s return, and many of the old committee from the now retired Prestatyn Flower Show all are on board for exhibiting. 
I’ve seen the Flower Judge and Veg Judge and confirmed they will be attending, 
Affable Despot Jason was out and about , he feigned exasperation 
I expect you want me to crest more novelty vegetable animals again ? He asked
“ The ruder the better” I said 
“ Leave it to me” he replied.

The Side Ward

I thought I was done with anecdotes from my nursing days, but this story sort of dredged itself out of my memory after watching a tv drama about the Withdrawal of treatment from a child patient on intensive care

Over Twenty years ago I was a ward manager.
The ward was a twenty bedded spinal injury ward with over fifty staff to look after 
We incorporated acute spinal injury care, four patients on long term ventilation, and had two high priority beds for sick spinal injury patients.
In short we were busy.

What we seldom had was emergency admissions, for most of the patients had to be assessed carefully in their admitting hospitals before transfer over to us. Sheffield was a regional speciality and took patients from as far as Lincoln, Cambridgeshire, Derby, Suffolk and Norfolk.

I remember one elderly lady being admitted over a bank holiday from Sheffield itself and it stuck in my mind as a student nurse was central to her story.
The patient was elderly. A much loved matriarch of a big Yorkshire family. She had fallen down some steps and had sustained damage to her cervical vertebrae. 
It was a catastrophic injury, with no chance of survival as the resulting paralysis was encroaching on her ability to breathe and long term ventilation was not viable given the lady’s age and premorbidities . 
Usually such patient’s are cared for on intensive care or a suitable ward where they would be made comfortable and where the family could be supported. 

Because we were a spinal Injury ward we were happy to take her. 

The student nurse, who was called Michael, was a third year student with little general experience , but he was keen and wanted to “ take” the patient with support from me, so we worked together as she arrived.
From the get go I could tell he was nervous, especially as the patient arrived with all of the bells and whistles of an acute patient. She was flat on her back, on a scoop stretcher, with neck brace, monitor leads, flashing beeps and high flow oxygen everywhere.

I told the student our job was to “calm things down”, and before the family arrived that’s exactly what we did. We placed the old lady onto a hospital bed, ensured she was pain free and with instructions from the consultant who had interviewed the family at length, to let nature take its course.

Michael went white when he heard the instructions. He had never seen a withdrawl of treatment before, so I remember taking him to one side in the anti room to the side ward to prepare him.
I explained that the patient and her family were aware of what was going to happen. She had already been given an infusion from a syringe driver which was reducing her pain and anxiety and I had already checked with her entire family would be up with as soon as we he’s settled her. 

She was conscious but very weak, and time was of the essence .

Michael said he was ready, and together we removed the patient’s hard plastic neck brace and we washed her face and combed her hair and sat her up a little until she could see around her. 
At every little job the patient gave a tiny mouthed thank you and I could see Michael was near tears at every turn.
I gave him a few more gentle instructions and after a short conversation preparing them , I let the lady’s husband  and sons and daughters into the room.
They moved slowly around the bed, like sleepwalkers and I asked Michael to pass me the noisy oxygen mask from her face so she could see her family and they could see her. The noisy oxygen suddenly hushed the room, which immediately became less clinical and more personal .

“ My Old Girl” the husband said gently and he kissed his wife after asking permission from us two.
we slowly  stepped back into a corner.
and let the family surround her.
And Michael cried quietly to himself, as he watched 

Our Job is to make this as easy as we can” I told him. 
It won’t be long. 
And it wasn’t .
Almost two hours later she had peacefully passed away. Free of the bells and whistles of intensive care.
I taught Michael the tricks of giving the family little jobs to do when they watched and waited, to brush her hair, to wet her lips to talk to her when they thought she wasn’t hearing them,  jobs that gave them a little purpose in a nightmare moment and made sure he took in trays of tea with a teapot full, so someone in the room would have a job to do the pouring.

I taught him to assess the patient condition only if she needed medication to ensure her comfort and after it had all concluded , he accompanied the family to the car park in a final show of respect and solidarity.

We laid the patient out together too. And I asked him how he was feeling when the room was empty and almost ready for the next patient .

He looked tired and much older than his twenty five years

I’m not sure I want to be a nurse today” he said 
But he came to the Dog And Partridge on a triplet Lane with the ward staff for a drink when we had finished 
And where we all got a little drunk.


Indiana Jones and the Family From Wales

 

Harrison Ford is 80
Fuck me, when did that happen?
I notice he’s leading the charge in another Indiana Jones movie
This time with the glorious Phoebe Waller Bridge in tow
I’ve asked Gorgeous Dave if he wants to go and see it next week
It’s a big boys film  for sure.
In 1984 my entire family dressed up in evening gowns and dinner jackets to go and see the “Premier” 
Of Indiana Jones and The Temple Of Doom
It was showing in the local Scala Cinema and we booked tickets in the balcony section much to the confusion of the ladies that ran the cinema on that night.
We even got in the local paper 

Me and friend Nia

A few months later and buoyed up with our silliness we all dressed up as cowboys and Indians and went to watch a local version of Oklahoma to support my uncle and aunt who were in the chorus