Calon Lân

 It’s old Trefor’s funeral next Wednesday . With the church now shut he’s had to wait for a slot in nearby Prestatyn, where his sister’s lived. I wonder if Calon Lán will be sung at his funeral? The hymn is often the first choice at funerals is as it means a “Pure Heart” in Welsh.

The above version has been set to different music, but remains powerful in its own right, a credit to the two young Welsh women singing it.

Thank You

Mary

Thank you Will who called today to check on a missing roof slate when he didn’t have to and to promising to sort it by the end of the week.

Thank you to Donna from Uni who checked up on me when the tutor told the class I was off sick.

Thank you to Trendy Carol’s Hubby, who looked after the dogs when he didn’t have to today.

Thank you to sister Janet who asked me to see Manon at the cinema tomorrow 

Thank you to Trendy Carol who kept Mary a few hours longer as she was asleep , like only older dogs sleep when they find a comfy corner.

Thank you for your blog comments and

Thank you whoever invented macaroni cheese 

Bloody lovely for a late tea after sleeping all day 

Both Sides Now

 Joni at the Grammys, was a lesson in respect and class. I watched it last night in tears and again this morning. 

I’m not 100% today, overnight my bladder has decided to play up and has put paid to college today. I’ve pushed the fluids, taken extra antibiotics and will return to bed. Trendy Carol’s hubby had already arranged to pick the dogs up and they lined up neatly ready to greet him as I was on the loo.

Last week I received a two page letter from the health board apologising that I was one of the thousands still awaiting review. 

We are All Just Walking Each Other Home

Emma Freud Pick of the week Radio 4

“ My final pick I the final moment of the award winning prison drama “This Thing of Darkness”
It’s a programe about the psychological impact that the act of murder has on teenagers who committed murder.
These are the closing thoughts from the psychologist running their prison therapy group
It’s the heinous act of murder taken not as good versus evil but viewed without judgement by an expert on the darkest workings of the human mind.

“I had a wise forensic colleague who had a particular interest in the way violent offenders changed their language of agency over time. As if they were filling in the missing colours of their personal narrative. He talked about a long staircase of acceptance; they climbed with small incremental steps, beginning with the first step of, “It wasn’t me”. And ending in a final step of taking responsibility by saying “I killed”.
Antony had got stuck on the first step.
Not helped by his mother, who so desperately wanted and needed to believe in him. I have seen many mothers like her, clinging fast to righteousness no matter what their children had done.
I do like the image of the staircase, but often what Ive seen, coming out of denial is so hard and so bad, it’s more like walking on the road to Calvary , a kind of excruciating stumble towards responsibility and redemption .
Not everyone gets there.
Therapists neither like me, judge nor fix those who travel this difficult path. Nor do we try to make them behave better
We just walk with them,
Whilst they do the work of accepting who they are.
We are their companions to the way, keeping them company on the journey.
I thinks that is the most we can ask of any of our fellows in times of suffering, to be with us.
I think of the great spiritual teacher Ram Dass saying

We are all just walking each other home

Ghosts

 I fell asleep on the couch yesterday afternoon and woke in darkness. The tv had turned itself off ( it does this as it’s on some sort of timer I haven’t been able to figure out as yet) but the fire was still burning , just that much to give the room some warmth and some light. 

The dogs were asleep.

Dorothy next and on me, the other two in the cracks.

I wasn’t sure when it was, and lay there blinking. 

I could hear the wind, and the tick of the kitchen clock

Then Albert walked passed the couch. 

I heard him rub the couch as cats do with their sides when they are not in a hurry.

A muted rub and a vibration through the cushion 

Then nothing more

I blinked once again and didn’t move then closed my eyes again for a few moments 

before realising it was around 6 pm and time to get up for work

Frankie Goes To Hollywood - The Power Of Love

The tongue in cheek video, somehow spoils the song, which was the backdrop to my psychiatric nurse days back in 1984. It was ironic , for despite being madly in unrequited love with my best friend two years before this date, I was not going to properly fall in love with someone for another decade or so. 

That decade taught me to make and nurture and love my friends

Most of whom I still retain to this day.

At the end of Les Mistersbles , Jean Valjean and Fantine sing “ and remember the truth that was once was spoken….to love another person is to see the face of God” 

That’s where the Frankie Goes to Hollywood video hails from, me now thinks.

I’ve been in love with three men in my life, only one of whom properly loved me back.

I’ve loved many more men and women, as friends and more, and I’m lucky those that love me back do so in a way that I can acknowledge and get comfort from.

My dogs love me too but in a different way as I love them 

They are animals where

Love is more a bond.

“ Dreams are like Angels,

They keep bad at bay, bad at bay, 

Love is the light,

Scaring darkness away”

All Of Us Strangers

Intriguing and emotional films, should in my mind, be seen with someone else in tow. 

Post Mortem’s need to be sat through. Points of view need discussion and raw nerves need to be soothed

As All of Us Strangers finished Chic Eleanor wiped her cheeks and tearfully lisped “Darling that was beautiful “ 

And she is right, it is….it’s a lovely film.

It’s a four handed drama that centres around a forty something gay scriptwriter (Andrew Scott)  , his tentative romance with a lonely brittle neighbour ( Paul Mescal) and his unexpected reunion with the  “ghosts” of his dead parents, ( Claire Foy and Jamie Bell) who died together in a car accident in the 1980s 

I will not explain it any more than that, as this hypnotic, beautifully shot and incredibly acted study of grief, childhood damage, and redemption through love can be viewed in a score of different ways. 

Suffice to say , that Scott’s painful memories of being a gay child in the 1980s are beautifully and from my perspective painfully portrayed as his loving but slightly clueless parents grapple with the “ reality” of how their 1980s parenting helped and didn’t help him through

It’s an intensely personal and heart wrenching study by director Andrew Haigh. Andrew Scott is magnificent in the lead role, he wears  a sad smile which could literally  break your heart, as he plays opposite his “ parents “ and one scene in particular when his dad realises that he has let his son down is a wonderfully powerful piece of cinema , made so much better by Jamie Bell’s subtle depiction of a kind man just out of his depth. 

Is it a ghost story? Or a love story ? Or a metaphor for therapy and forgiveness ? 

It doesn’t matter

As All of us Strangers is all of these things and more.

It’s a great piece of cinema.

Roseanne: DAD'S DEAD!

Nurses are taught to say “ Died” not gone, or passed or anything else

I loved this bit of tv gold

Lovely quiet day today. I met my sister Ann, her husband and my late brother’s wife for lunch at the Dinorban Arms https://www.brunningandprice.co.uk/dinorbenarms/homepage/

I scrubbed up and enjoyed lovely food but average service 

Tomorrow, Chic Eleanor and I are off to see All of Us Strangers