Mary

 

The vet who looks like Antonio Banderas, stood behind the surgery front desk eating a banana 

I watched him take every bite. 

He has a certain Spanish swagger, and I heard his Catalonian lisp as he joked with the nurses about something unimportant . They cackled loudly at his jokes 

I was sad as I realised the fact that he wasn’t going to see Mary.

The Jolly middle aged vet who dressed like a Children’s television presenter had the honours 

She had a trainee vet in tow too. 

Mary was a delight. She stood quiet and still even though I knew the vet hurt her by examining her inflamed ear canal and put up with the obligatory ear wash, anal gland examination and antibiotic syringing without a murmur. 

“ She’s your old girl that’s clear” the vet observed kindly “her gaze never leaves your face” 

The trainee vet cooed over her too and politely Mary licked her nose before retreating back into my arms, ready to go home

“ Oh what a sweetie” the trainee said

It’s these things that you often don’t see yourself that move you when someone else recognises it. 

On our way home, Mary sat upright and eager in the passenger seat watching the road, just as Meg used to do on our journeys 

And I couldn’t of been more proud of her if I tried .

I stopped at KFC and bought her her own couple of pieces of chicken as a treat

Which she chomped on without opening her eyes,

All the way home

Time

 

I’ve just bought several second hand texts books for University on line. it’s another job ticked off today’s list. The list is covered in home made hummus but so far my sheffield T shirt is devoid of dip.

Mary has an ear infection and is going to the vets shortly. 

There is a new darkly brooding Spanish vet there with a lisp and teeth Donny Osmond would be proud of 

I hope he’s on duty today. 

He’s like Antonio Bandaras’ younger brother.

Olla, Olla treble Olla 

I’m hoping to get Roger booked in for a groom too and it’s TCA meeting later.

Something will have to give .

As well as offering condoms, sanitary ware and free breakfasts the University has a comprehensive study skills department where not only are you supported through IT and academia , you are taught how to manage your time better.

Now I always thought I was ok in this department, but yesterday I thought what the hell and booked myself in for a supportive tutorial. I could be better at sorting my time and I need to practice to say no sometimes.

To answer Jean, my time at the hospice is now divided into two twelve hour shifts . The university study day is from 9am to 3 pm with tutorials until 4 pm. I have factored in another 6 hours study at the local campus which is based in  nearby Rhyl once a week. I can work there and pop back to dog walk.

Everything else will be worked around these four days which I hope is doable 

I restart choir from next month too which is therapy 

First Day At University

 

First days are always a bit of a bunfight

Getting lost, feeling like a fat salmon swimming upstream against a shoal of spotty 18 year olds all coughing and spluttering new covid.

Just getting my ID card felt like an episode of the Krypton Factor 

For overseas visitors https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Krypton_Factor

Our new group is larger than I’m used to and polite. Everyone was very earnest, so as usual I turned into class clown to lighten some of the proceedings.

I’m sure our first focus group will pick on that in time.

But when the student support officer offers the group 10 condoms each 

It was worth telling everyone I was flattered.

Single Prejudice

 

Analysis on radio 4 last week explored the knotty subject of singles prejudice.

This was touched on my one of the commentators of yesterday’s somewhat fish and chip drama post when they talked about someone walking into a restaurant alone and asking for a table for just one.

If you are apologising to the resultant owner from the get go, no wonder single tables are hidden away by the gutter or next to the toilets.

How does prejudice rear its ugly head for those alone? 

Rather more than you would expect. 

Tax savings for married couples

Single people spend 92% of their disposable income compared with 83% of Married couples

Single person supplements on holidays and in hotels 

Difficulty getting a rental compared to couples who may have a duel income

Unsaid Expectations for the singletons to cover “ family friendly shifts” at work such as Christmas and school holidays

Leave of absence easier if spouse or children are ill rather than say a close friend that singletons may rely on

Extra work responsibilities often taken by singletons

Cultural marginalisation of single people  proven in most societies 

A social stereotype of not inviting a widow to a dinner party, the spinster and her cats, the bachelor hiding his money.

Do we remember covid ? When the Government public ally acknowledged single people and suggested they form a support bubble with one other? How odd did that feel? 

All Government policy is centred around “Putting Families first”

In the US some recent research acknowledged that single people tended to be more open minded, less conformist, have closer democratic leanings and paid MORE TAX! 

Personally I’ve noticed that being single in a parochial area is more difficult that living in a city, where socialising on your own is much more accepted and seen.

Perhaps next time I’m on the beach eating my chips 

I will do it a little more defiantly 

Solo Supper

 

I’ve always been slightly wary of single men sitting in their cars at the beach car parks.

Shadowy memories of childhood references to perverts and saddos.

Vague thoughts of lonely men, predatory men after girls ( not boys in those days) 

Something not right. 

Tonight, the rain fell lightly around seven and it broke the humidity 

The dogs were all fast asleep , so I sneaked out to break the claustrophobic feel of the day and drove the ten minute drive to the beach .

On a whim I went to Karl’s Chippy and bought a fish and chip supper

I haven’t had one for years , so balancing everything out on passenger seat and dashboard a sat at the beach car park and ate my supper, alone without the usual canine bunfight.

The car park was busy , even at dusk , and there were still a few swimmers in the sea which surprised me , so rather pleased with myself I tucked in a cod the size of flattened slipper.

I only noticed the two women in the car next to me a while later. As I turned I caught them laughing then as soon as they realised that I had seen them , they turned their heads together embarrassed.

They had been laughing at me, 

Presumingly the saddo , eating his tea all alone. 

I recognised their body language , and their pity and awkwardness at being caught.

I knew what they were thinking .

Of course if I had three dogs in the car, they would have saved me from the epithet of sad pervert, saddo

Single fish and chip eater…….

Dog owners, by nature of the beasts are seen as warm soft characters ,especially if chips are being shared out between four mouths.

No an older man in a car alone at the beach means something else to people. And as I wrapped the scraps up for the dogs 

I felt a little tearful and shamed by them.

Notre Dame de Paris Le Temps des Cathédrales

It’s humid today again, and I’m feeling fractious and ready for a fight.

In Sainsbury’s some old scrote nearly bumped Bluebell and I thought myself very well restrained with only one Cock and Twat shouted before I exited the car.

I found a red Chinese  fan left on the kitchen wall when I returned. It had a note with it scribbled on the back of a Tesco till receipt , which read, somewhat obscurely “ Be a fan to yourself” 

Mrs Trellis’ work no doubt.

I put the defunct paddling pool on the village web page free to good home and dismayed to see that one of the village schoolgirls had been stopped by two men in a car on London road last night and almost abducted.

They were thwarted by two off duty policemen in the following car and later were arrested.

Christ Almighty you are not safe anywhere. 

I’ve made noodles and gochujang sauce with a couple of runny eggs on top for brunch

And scrubbed the patio until like Blanche du Bois I needed a shower to “ calm my nerves”

Two 😂emojis on the website about the pool…no takers as yet.

Enola Gay

My colleagues on their leaving do had just arrived in a weatherspoons pub when I got to Chester this afternoon. It was hot with humidity at 85% and with being snobby about Weatherspoons ( yes I admit it, pubs where middle aged women go to with no teeth in are not somewhere I choose to enter) I  decided to to cool off in the shadow of the Cathedral and under the horse chestnut trees that flank it’s russet brown walls.

A busker was playing Enola Gay and I listened to him for an age before meeting up with the other nurses at their next pub for an hour or so before returning home a sweaty mess.

Old Home (Live)

Dillie Keane wrote this music hall-esque song twenty odd years ago when she moved house and 

It’s Victorian sentiment can be viewed as somewhat cloying and sentimental , 

But last night she told the audience that she wanted and needed to relieve it on this their old lady tour. 

Economical with any history , she said simply that she had had to move homes again and her demeanour and that of her fellow singers changed drastically.

They sang this song and you could have heard a pin drop by the end of it 

And when I got home I researched Dillie on wiki.

It transpires that her husband died, not a year ago now and that’s why she had moved from her home