“ Audrey “

 Years ago I had a conversation with a visitor to the graveyard. I had an enamel bowl filled with dirty duck eggs, she had been putting flowers on a grave. 

I remember it, only because it was the first time I’d ever seen her remotely chatty.

Usually Audrey was a shy old lady who would nod nervously when approached . She was single and lived in her parents bungalow along London road, 

I remember her once making me a custard tart for my allotment open days tea tent and how difficult she found it to knock on my door to deliver it .

Years ago now she left the village to live in a nursing home and only yesterday I heard she had died, with her cremation taking place today. 

I remembered my conversation with her at the Churchyard fence and how happy she seemed to be when talking about joining her parents in the family grave when her time came.

Her voice was full of affection for parents long gone 

Her face animated and her voice suddenly strong .

Like I said, 

I had never seen her so chatty.

Yesterday, I was told that she had recently died. The news spreading on the back of Trefor’s death and that of Hubert Evans who used to be the village baker. 

The news of Audrey’s cremation was one of the by the way news 

But it stung

As I remembered her wish to be buried with her parents 

Apparently Audrey had run out of money and the council had to fund her funeral 

And cremations are always cheaper

How sad

But on a brighter note , here are two videos that made my day so much better

The lisping Madrid National Choir ( I wish I was a part of so many lovely looking old bears ) and the delightfully “in the moment” Gwendoline Christie at the Maisonette Margiela fashion show

Enjoy both

News Osmosis

 

One of my strengths is being able to deal with families that are going through trauma, loss and stress.

It would be a poor showing, that after 41 years of nursing , that I didn’t know what my strengths and weaknesses were.

I had a hard night at work last night.one with much emotion and I knew that only for the fact I fell asleep, and deeply asleep on the couch when I returned home. Luckily I had set my phone alarm for eleven , for that was the time I’d promised to take a neighbour to the dentist , but I was so deeply asleep, it took me an age to even react to the alarm tinkle let alone get my arse off the couch.

Sleep, and heavy REM asleep , it has been shown , is the major panacea to stress and trauma, and for me, it’s something I can access pretty effectively, if I have to.

At 1 pm there was a call over the kitchen wall. It was old Trefor’s niece. 

Trefor had died yesterday after being taken ill suddenly.

Moments later Animal Helper Pat, called over the wall with the same news.

Osmosis of information in a small village.

Effective and insidious.

Pat had more news too with two more deaths of Trelawnyd residents to report.

Both I knew but not as well as Trefor.

It feels a grey day

There is no food in the house, so I’m off out to shop

I’m making beef stew for supper, 

With dumplings, I need dumplings today

This photo of the village was taken around 1925

Trefor is the baby being carried behind the bus 

Kittens and Group Therapy

 

Albert was a hard act to follow

A bruiser of some note, he struck fear into the backbone of every vet nurse within a ten mile radius of Trelawnyd .

He hated medical intervention with the single minded passion of a serial killer. 

Today , after college , I filled some paperwork at the local animal rescue centre.

I’m looking for a cat, well versed with canine company.

They know I’m fickle but I’m sticking to my guns 

I met two this afternoon , One an older Tom with certain health problems which I discounted and a middle aged Queen called Dolly who looked as though she could hold her own alongside a grizzly bear in a bar fight.

Neither felt right, and I have to remember that when I met Albert everything just felt right when I saw him.

I will take my time here

I won’t rush things .

Visiting the animal centre on the way home from college did me some good.

Psychology-wise the day had been challenging as our group started group therapy in our counselling course.  

I had a headache when I left university, my fellow counsellors all feeling the same 

The Holdovers

 

Dave and I went to Hamayuu for supper. The old waitress was wearing a lovely, subtle kimono. 

The food was excellent .

We went to the Picturehouse afterwards to see The Holdovers a charming, gentle comedy set in an American Boarding School at Christmas  1970, where we meet three people marooned by circumstance .

Loner, unpopular Classic master Mr Hunham ( Paul Giamatti ) has to take charge of Angus ( Dominic sessa) a troubled but bright teen dumped by his mother and new husband) and both are looked after by the school cook Miss Lamb (Da’vine Joy Randolph) who has just lost her only son in the Vietnam war                            

The story of three misfits coming together over Christmas is a story rife for sentimentality, but in the hands of director Alexander Payne , we have a nuanced, gentle and Wholly believable story of the coming together of three rather lost souls. 

It’s a beautiful film, brilliantly acted by the three leads , but especially by Giamatti who is a real class act)

Loved it. 

Head?

 What’s in your head at this very moment? 

I feel I need to kick myself up the arse

With a few things 

I don’t like myself today 

Nothing too drastic

The emotion is more vague, like a minor headache you can’t shift

Or that shadowy feeling of guilt after drinking and saying too much at a party.

I’m meeting Gorgeous Dave for dinner then The Holdovers at the Picturehouse

I’m a Gemini and need stimulation 

So It will do me good

Where’s your head at this moment?

Storm ISHA

It’s a rough night.

Almost by osmosis the dogs have wrapped themselves around me on the couch

Protection more important than fireside warmth.

We’ve been for a walk and I could tell they were thrown by the ferocity of the wind, and stood blinking hard against the gusts and rain.

We all hurried back for home as branches from the last ash trees cracked into the graveyard 

It’s dry January but I poured myself a port

Watching Over

Anxiety is always compounded by the dark

Nightime feeds it, as effectively as multiple spoonfuls of sweetened porridge.

Old nurses have certain ploys before they resort to opening the medicine cabinet 

A face and hands wash with hot soapy water and straightening of the bedsheets , will get rid of the restlessness in the muscles that get tossing and turning so exhausting before five am.

A milky drink, even if you can’t stand the skin on the cocoa, will remind you of childhood when the cool hand on a forehead and a stern yet loving voice of your mother , told you in no uncertain terms that it was time to SLEEP! 

More often than not , it’s the sense of having someone else around that calms the night terrors

A half opened eye glimpsing a pottering uniform, the sound of a trolly being pushed with the accompanying clink of crockery.

Does the mobile phone help? 

Sure does….but only when texts are answered and emojis sent

Tiktok diverts but it’s not real company.

The company that reminds you that there is someone watching over you

Best Of Both Worlds

I’m tired

There is a stiff wind blowing from the South West

And the cottage feels under siege, with the gusts roaring through the graveyard trees.

It doesn’t seem like 24 hours ago, I was power walking through Bloomsbury, with the obligatory Americano in hand , looking every bit of the London commuter scurrying to work. 

I’ve fitted in a 12 hour night shift too.

Nu now lives in Surrey

I have little notion where that is, suffice to say it’s only an half hour from Paddington, she’s having a birthday party there in May so I’ve booked the time off last night. 

I’ve just fallen asleep on the couch

Woken by Dorothy who knows it’s time for bed