Underpants : a metaphor for 2023

2023 has passed rather quietly 

In the list of special or even notable years , it has pretty much limped by, largely unnoticed by most of us.

Unseen, rather like the pair of underpants that straddle one of the beams above the kitchen patio

The ones with the holes I flung out of the bathroom window in the autumn.

Damp and somewhat unnoticed

The underpants and the year.

Now don’t get me wrong , there have been the highlights

The Sagrade Familia, the only building to have ever made me cry in public.

The Grande Canal in Venice,the biggest film set in the world.

Don Quixote at the Royal Opera House 

Falling in love with Sheffield all over again with “ Standing at the Sky’s Edge” 

The joyful ABBA Voyage, Les Misterables, Miss Saigon and La Traviata 

The reopening of the National Portrait Gallery,

Pedro Peascal, The Last of Us 

The proud return of the Trelawnyd Flower Show

Perhaps there was more to 2023 that met the eye!

The Stirling work by the TCA in saving the village hall for another couple of years, 

Auntie Glad’s death

Albert’s too

And being the oldest on my University course which now dominates every Tuesday with its hard work and challenging ways.

And here is 2024, just ahead

And I won’t lie, it daunts me a little.

I will still book things ahead of time

Things to look forward to…it’s my way

Indeed in two weeks it’s Backstairs Billy at The Duke Of York’s with Nu

What fun! 

But the loneliness remains a little hard to take especially on winter days like these

Where the wind gives you a shiver only a hug can remove 

Affable Despot Jason , has just knocked on the lane window

It’s almost dark , but you can still see his wide grin in the gloom

He invited me up to the Hall Party later tonight

Happy New Year xx

 

Lyndy

I didn't know her very well.

Hardly at all in fact.

I knew her name and that she was a tenor in our choir

and I knew she laughed long and often at things I too found funny.

I didn't know anything else about her

was she married? did she have children? I wasn't sure

she had a dog called Charlie that much I did know.

a hairy long legged thing that moved slowly

and in lockdown I saw only her on camera during our zoom sings.

Her living room looked cosy

but I knew nothing of her job, her friends and her life.

Choir is like that

you turn up and generally you JUST sing.

Lyndy died a few days ago "after a short illness"

Her son posted the news on her facebook page.

and I will miss her, even though I did not know her.

During Lockdown when Charlie lugubriously appeared on screen. 

I would call out like some demonic Victoria Wood fan "I can see your Charlie "

and she would crack a crooked smile of recognition at the double entendre 

a silly joke at a very bad time

and I will always be grateful for her ability to play along with it

Shiny Things

 

I’m on night shift tonight, so on a whim, I indulged myself in one of those jobs, that’s not very important but which takes up a bit of spare time. I searched the cottage for Christmas Tree decorations.

Since my husband left, I have never bought a Christmas Tree. 

Some of me felt as though it was an indulgence, 

Most of me didn’t want to revisit a happy time

But I remember when I was packing all of his possessions, ready for collection,

I took care to place in sturdy box, his collection of tree decorations, we had bought from places such as Sydney, London and from the Queen of Christmas decoration sellers , New York City.

I never thought I’d have another collection, which have gathered a little dust over the past five years, but I have.

Gifts from bloggers, friends, but mostly from my sister, who has carefully added a bauble here and a fluffy dog there to the name tag of a parcel.

Thirty Eight all told. Some hidden inside tea caddies, put away in obscure corners of the little writing desk in the lounge and in drawers, in boxes throughout the cottage.

Forgotten about until now.

So the useless job of the day was to dust them off and place them all together, like the sweet ending of Pixar’s Toy Story where Andy’s toys are all reunited.

Next year, I have decided, I will have a tree

One Life

I went to see the story of the “ British Schindler” this morning. 

It’s a story many British people know from the 1980s That’s Life programme, where unknown to Nicolas Winton , the grown up children he helped to save from the war ravaged Czech lands during the war, surrounded him as he sat in the audience, and with quiet nobility made themselves known to him by standing quietly. 

It was a moment , in a usually tacky tv programme that lingers long in the minds by whoever saw it, for it was strong, moving and immensely  dignified .

In the end of One Life , this scene is reenacted as the story is told of Winton and his wartime efforts to secure the release of over 660 Jewish children by beavering behind the lines in London, securing visas, sorting out foster parents and raising money alongside his forthright, powerhouse mother Babette ) Helen Bonhem Carter in fine form) 

We see the idealistic and self effacing Winton ( Johnny Flynn) grappling with the numbers of children he had to leave behind and despite  the wise pragmatism shown by his mother, this anxiety and grief never left the older Winton (downplayed nicely by Anthony Hopkins) and only in his 80s , after meeting the first of “ his children” on That’s Life does the old man let his guard down and in one tear jerking scene sobs uncontrollably for the children he couldn’t save.

It’s a gentle film and highlights beautifully the work ordinary heroes did during wartime.

The real Winton on That’s Life

Following the film, I went to the new Asian supermarket in Chester Market to buy pancakes for Chrispy duck, gochujang paste and ramen noodles as well as some tikka pies from the deli next door

Hey ho

Bored

 All or nothing. 

I’m a bit bored today 

Typical. 

I took the dogs to the beach and uncharacteristically Dorothy waded up to her nipples in the surf before running for home with her eyes like saucers 

I bought halloumi fries from Aldi for tea with homemade curried soup

They always remind me of the Balcony Bar ar the Sydney Opera House

It’s wet and there’s nothing on in the cinema that I want to see

I’ve only spoken to a nice looking man on the beach who asked me how Dorothy’s puppies were getting on.

Kindness

 

It’s been a restful day

I feel whole again after hospice shifts which have proven challenging in ways you never expect .

Because of my experience and gender, I often work with the more challenging patients at work, yet I have the same mental mechanisms and reserves  as everyone else, so downtime today has been therapeutic and necessary 

My sister plated a lovely dinner for me today followed by a fuck off sherry trifle to die for. 

Kay, from work, got her chef husband to plate me up a wonderful dinner too as did a friend from the village who left me a selection of Tupperwared goodies worthy of a Queen’s Ransom, left on the ubiquitous kitchen wall. 

I’m watching the Kylie concert from The Albert Hall which is nose to nipple with gay men and I will be going to bed soon ….

The dogs are crammed in close 

But I concede that the cottage needs a cat again ….

A friend’s Queen mother has given birth late in the season and will be looking for homes in the new year

Boxing

 I was too tired to go to my sister’s house last night, and mooched on the couch.

Dorothy was indignant at Mary’s entrance and sniffed around her with the expression 

“ Where the fuck have YOU been!!!” 

We shared a bowl of pigs in blankets and watched old reruns of The Great British Bake off when Mary Berry had longer hair and Hollywood looked like a car salesman .

Today! After a glorious lie in, I drove down to my sister’s but missed my nephew and family by minutes. I bought them theatre tickets to a Liverpool theatrical comedy “all the family would enjoy” ( which means I’d hate it) 

My sisters did me proud with some lovely gifts , which I opened when I got home. ( a treat as I get bizarrely embarrassed when opening gifts in public) 

The gifts included vouchers for the Storyhouse and a dvd of Giselle which tickled me pink!!!

Lovely 

So I’m back home and it’s Boxing Day 

And I’m fine xxxx

Mary

 

16.40 Christmas Day 

Nothing sweeter than watching Mary happily tottering along the corridors of the hospice from my vantage point of the central office,

Exploring open doors, following a support worker, quietly saying hello to a patient

Running back to the office with a mini sausage roll in her mouth

She’s a sweet natured old gal who suddenly seemed to have the energy of the time she was a puppy 

Thank you for your Christmas Wishes