When Spring IS Mrs Doubtfire!
Yesterday I parked at the beach with a coffee and just closed my eyes to the sun
Gawd I felt so much better.
For the first time since Lockdown, I reckon that this winter has been the worst in my history
It’s been dreadfully depressing
Physically depressing .
It’s almost caught me out
But hasn’t !
Yesterday’s sun was my MRS DOUBTFIRE moment
The snowdrops by the garden arch
The daffodil buds by the garden gate
Tracy Manchester’s kind text about the Memorial Hall windows
Help is on the way dears!
Spring is on the way
Funeral Etiquette
Even working Friday night, it seemed a long weekend, all told.
I don’t do well without at least some company over a 48 hours, even if it’s a phone call or a brief chat,
C’est la vie !
It’s Trefor’s funeral on Wednesday and I’ve nothing to wear
The etiquette for funerals generally is pretty fluid nowadays but even I recognise the fact that I cannot go to the Welsh funeral in a custard yellow sou’westers jacket even if it’s Northface made
I’ve been needing a proper, coat for years.
So this morning I bought one from Marks And Spencer
What an indulgence !
It’s lovely.
Grey, wool and simple .
I tried it on with my own green cashmere scarf ( which Chic Eleanor even noticed) and looked very New York. Even with my crocs on.
The camp, tubby salesman rather enjoyed it when I said I felt very New York and joined in telling me if I had a floppy hat on I’d look very Helen Bonham Carter! ( he was referring to my crocs)
Cheeky cunt!
Don’t worry your sweet little heads about my crocs dear readers, they will not be worn on Wednesday.
On a roll I also treated myself to some budding daffodils and a new fruit bowl from Habitat in Sainsbury’s which was reduced in their sale to 5£
I bought a MacDonalds coffee and sat at the beach with my face to the sun.
It was glorious and felt like such an indulgence.
It’s half term this week, but I need to catch up with my Uni homework so have booked a room in the library for all day tomorrow
Hey ho
Bloody Roger
It’s been a bit of a bust of a day.
I had nothing planned, and there were no good films I hadn’t seen yet at the cinema, so after a walk and breakfast, and a perfunctory chat about dog dirt along Bryon Street with Mrs Trellis, I lay back down on the bed to read.
I woke around 2 and could smell burning.
I suspected that village Elder Islwyn was up to tricks, but the smell wasn’t damp woodsmoke but smouldering banana and orange.
Roger!
After mopping the kitchen floor I had left Roger’s crate against the washing machine .
In his gleeful few hours of being unsupervised he had climbed onto the crate, then onto the kitchen worktops where he ate three eggs from the fishy designed bowl, several reachable sugar lumps from a container which I thought would have had a lid a Dim Welsh terrier could not have opened.
More importantly he had turned on the halogen oven hob with his warm paw. Luckily it was a back burner, the one I seldom use, but a much loved fruit bowl lay to one side and in his adventures Roger had slid it back over the hob.
I was lucky the cottage didn’t go up in flames
Now before the collective gnashing of teeth starts
We’ve all had one of these moments of luck in our lives.
More graphically I remember silently drowning in a swimming pool in Lloret Del Mar when I was ten, before some nameless man reached down to laugh me out.
No man , no Going Gently, no little life lived
It’s a real It’s a wonderful life kind of moment if you let your head run away with things.
A Letter In The Post
There is always something to be grateful for.
Last night as I was driving to work, I listened to an old friend’s personal podcast
A verbal letter to me from sunny Australia
A personal hello, to me in the Bluebell confessional
In the dark and rain
A friendly voice in a dismal winter.
I have known Nia since her childhood.
When we were both gauche, and products of our own little town.
We haven’t grown apart in forty years for our affection for each other remains.
We just don’t talk regularly.
So now Nia will send me a podcast message.
A chatty Kathy round Robin to match what she catches up on Going Gently.
Her family news in Australia, her thoughts and feelings and worries and triumphs
Wrapped up in a verbal letter,
Like the ones we used to send
A million years ago.
Gemini
I’m late with my nephew’s London visit gift. I’m pushing him to try for a revival of A Chorus Line at Saddler’s Wells, but we shall see. I also want to go to Buckingham Palace which opens July to September. That’s one for my sister Janet too, a birthday gift to both of us.
Some guys from work have invited me to see Cosi Fan Tutte by The Welsh National Opera in March
I’m going
Do you believe in star signs ?
I never did.
But I do now as I enter my dotage.
I’m a typical Gemini
I am Quick witted, and I miss nothing.
That’s a curse too sometimes
For I can tell you word for word of a conversation made and long forgotten by many, especially if I was hurt by it.
My grandmother used to read tea leaves but I knew she could read people
Some people can
Most cannot.
I am drawn by confidence, and warmth and brightness.
And manliness but not testosterone
We are back to the hole in the jumper thing.
It’s the middle of the night and I’m having a stream of thoughts as I sit and read and type.
It’s quiet tonight and we are babysitting rather that treating and medicating and comforting .
Everyone is having normal sleep.
And that’s how it should be
Sleep ..yes and I’m Including one of the magnificent Orme Billy goats here, who has sheltered from the blustery night, by sitting under the canopy of our reception .
Bits
Weaver, get your carers to bring you in a McDonald’s kitikat McFlurry, when they get a chance, bloody lovely.
I had one tonight on the way to work with a coffee and sat on the dark Promenade in Colwyn Bay listening to the sea as I ate it.
I’m on two nights and we’ve had no snow, even though it had been forecast. The hospice was grateful as covering me would have been difficult if I’d been snowed in. The parents of the local school children were pissed off as the school alongside 77 other ones in Flintshire had been closed as a precaution.
I’ve received four phone messages, one phone call, one audio message and a valentine’s card today.
The audio message was feedback for my skills practice from my tutor which was nice as it was positive. My first few have been a work in progress, shaving away all the bad habits I’ve employed over the years.
I can be “ too challenging” at times…..something which is common in Gemini men.
I’m working on it.
The Valentine card was from a blog reader and it was kind.
One message was from a beautiful Greek girl who used to work in the hospice. She now lives in Manchester and is as beautiful on the inside as she is on the outside. She misses me. I used to make her laugh. I miss her too.
Funny I watched the Guns Of Navarone this afternoon.
Didn’t Irene Papas have big eyebrows?
Just a thought
Manon
Kenneth McMillian’s tale of unpleasant people acting unpleasantly in 18th Century Paris comes into its own when the poet Des Grieux ( Reece Clarke ) dances with the dying love of his life Manon (Natalia Osipova) in the New Orlean Swamps.
I was wrung out by the end of it all. But I must say one other small scene made me more emotional , and that was when the Corps de Ballet , their hair shorn, their dresses in rags entered as one as they played the prisoners sent to New Orleans by ship. When they danced, with arms around each other, I felt overwhelmingly sad and incredibly moved.
A powerful and amazing bit of theatre by The Royal Opera House
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