Sing For Water

It’s been a particularly hard shift at work.

I didn’t get back home until well after nine pm.

And so, after feeding and walking the dogs, I lit the fire 

Threw off my crocs and drank a huge Bombay Sapphire and tonic ( with cucumber slice!!!!) before sitting down to a plethora of messages asking where I was!!

Tonight is the TCA matriarch Lorraine’s Christmas Party in the big house on the other side of the village

I’m too knackered to go out and now it’s far too late to do so

Buts it’s lovely to be remembered and to be worried about 

“ You give us a safe space to feel what we feel,

Allowing us to mourn, but mainly, to heal.”

 

This line from Hattie’s poem has a resonance with me as this following post from the winter 2018 outlines

It was the most lonely and saddest part of my entire life

Ise Oluwa

I often write about those beautiful little moments in life that catch you unawares.

I guess it's the drama queen in me 

My recent encounter with a kindness inside St. Asaph Cathedral was one I shall remember for quite some time but tonight's experience will rank a close second in that memory bank of moving moments.

In choir tonight we learned the Nigerian song Ise Oluwa -sing for water

And after a bit of a struggle we nailed it!!!!

Before we finished practice Jamie our eleven year old choir master asked us to sing it again, but this time very Gently and as we did he disappeared and turned off the lights of the little Welsh village hall.

In almost absolute darkness over fifty people sang without the chains of sight and competition and self consciousness and the noise we produced was simply magical.

And the silence after we had finished proved that we all had been moved in the same lovely way, almost everyone was crying

This choir has nourished me 

And has healed me 

 

Rain check

 

Chic Eleanor , stood me up yesterday 

Well technically she did send me an apology by text but as I’d left my phone in Bluebell and forgot where I’d put it, things got all a bit complicated.

Suffice to say I had a KFC supper in a car park , lol

I had wondered if she’d bail, as when I went out with my family on Tuesday night she was there with the girls, and by the look of said girls who had all flopped in front of the restaurant open fire  , lots and lots  of Christmas Prosecco had been quaffed 

“ Darling John”  Eleanor called out flapping her pashmina over her shoulder and she hurried over to give me a big beautifully coiffured hug, much to the surprise of my family who had never seen me , deep in the clutches of such a stylish matron before.

Her resulting hangover had lasted over 24 hours

So I stayed in and cried at The Repair Shop and felt sorry for myself 

Off to work today, bucket of coffee and barabrith at the kitchen table 

This poem was written by Hattie 

It is about choirmaster Jamie ( and his 1940 RAF moustache) 

It describes so well why I love choir and I’m so looking forward in returning in the new year

Jamie

Dashing moustache, a rainbow flash,

Flamingo stance - what a catch!

Spiralling here and there, flailing his arms,

Always a grin - it's part of his charms

He somehow herds us, there's never any fuss,

only grace and fun and the occasional SHUSHH!

Māori, Welsh, Ukrainian, Russian,

What's coming next? Oh yes - a concussion!

On rare occasions he grants our wish,

What a treat! we say, to sing in English

He works us so hard: Stand up! Sit down!   

It's just like a workout! (it makes the men frown)

What fun we have all because of you,

Your dance moves and songs have us boogying too.

Altos, tenors, basses and sops,

We all think you're splendid, Yep, you're the tops!

A nod to absent friends in a moment of clarity,

They will always be part of our choir family.

You give us a safe space to feel what we feel,

Allowing us to mourn, but mainly, to heal.

We take within us this place you have built,

It’s a home you've created, One that will never wilt.

So here's to you our one and only chappy,

JAMIE, simply put - You make us HAPPY!

Hattie, with love, 2023©

 

Barabrith

I love the sound of the wind in the trees and the patter of rain on the windows. Distant growling thunder is another favourite and is now the one I fall asleep to most nights thanks to Hey Google.

It’s funny what habits you get into when left to your own devices.

Animal Helper Pat, called around yesterday with her traditional gifts of bara brith wrapped in silver paper with a tiny red bow in the centre and a large sprig of holly wrapped in a matching red ribbon. 

So today I will pop my gift in and deliver a dozen or so cards to other villagers not yet handed over

It’s blustery today but mild

Family

 

Long day today. College all day then got home , just in time to walk the dogs then out again for dinner with family.

Chic Eleanor’s wren

Treats

 

I thought I’d share Kelda’s latest village based video

It shows Trelawnyd in its full winter’s if brief best.

Last night I met up with Gorgeous Dave and we went for a meal at the Erskine hotel in Conway. (another treat). We sat and talked for two and a half hours and had some lovely food. 

After Uni today, I’m meeting my family for dinner at the Dinorban Arms which is treat two this week.

Tomorrow is treat three with an early doors meet with Chic Eleanor. 

I’ve  bought her a metal wren for Christmas .

Scruffy

 

I’ve had a beard since I was 24.

It’s a full beard at the moment 

Usually it’s trimmed and a goatee 

I quite like the Father Christmas look but I know it’s unkempt and lazy

I will trim it today and have washed my Christmas jumper too.

I’m going out for dinner with Gorgeous Dave so I will have to shape up 

He’s so ably turned out.

I wonder where this comes from, my two sisters are always impeccably turned out and my brother was no slouch in the dapper stakes either. my parents although old in their outlook always dressed well even in 1970 and my husband was neat, tidy and groomed within an inch of his life.

Is it habit I’m like this? 

Do I really don’t care? 

Have I let myself go? 

I’m off for a long hot shower and my beard trimmer is all charged up ready

Sunday Lunch

My bladder is playing up. 

It will do and has done if I forget to hydrate.

I’ve not slept well but I will be fine tomorrow.

Im embracing home today.

So I’m cooking.

A proper roast dinner. 

A British roast dinner is like Jewish penicillin Chicken soup

It does you good.

Of course I will make too much , so I will plate up another portion for Eirlys and will pop it, some mince pies and card a bit later.

Leftovers for tomorrow and Tuesday, fried and mixed together

Bloody lovely

I’ve got a few bits for the village telephone foodbank too, but by the look of things it looks like Sainsbury’s shelves already which is a lovely thing to see.

The real spirit of Christmas in one large red box

To Jim Davies, the following are two Winnie stories, just for you

https://disasterfilm.blogspot.com/2020/12/winnie-remembered.html

https://disasterfilm.blogspot.com/2021/01/rubber-chicken-immortalised.html

I never make a roast dinner for myself, a rare treat…

A Christmas Rubber Chicken, A Scarf and Cards To Die For

 The hunky Postman never got the change to “James Herriot” my cat flap today , as Roger caught sight of him early doors and marshalled the troops to meet him at the garden gate with big smiles and busy tail wags.

I opened the parcels and cards at the kitchen table and was amazed 

A beautiful scarf, simply wrapped ( I love it) 

And a Christmas decoration in the shape of Winnie’s much loved rubber chicken from Mistress Maddie.

Wearing the scarf, I cried real tears at the chicken and it’s significance 

I miss my old Queen Sálote of Tonga so

My favourite photo of Winnie

Getting pissed off with me Christmas Day 2018

When we were at the cold beach and she wanted to go home