Morale and A Memory

Morale at work is low, it always is when a much loved workmate dies unexpectedly and staff gather together to morn, to talk, remember and gain comfort. I’ve not been back to work since Ann’s death but I’ve been in touch with others I work with and now am able to go to her funeral as others that didn’t know her well are kindly now covering my shift.. As a Manager I have dealt with similar scenarios and you just have to have broad shoulders and an open office door. 

The following blog of a decade ago, was flagged up by a follower this morning. He emailed me with a kind, thoughtful observation which I shall take on board and I will share the blog with you today.

On reflection I’m rather proud of it, and I’ve enjoyed the memory

“I have often heard that cats are attracted to people that either don't like them or are frightened of them. Such is the fickle and rather demanding nature of felines.

Dogs on the other hand seldom approach someone who does not want to be approached. They, like insecure children, need and love adulation and will often grab it whenever it is offered.
They are wrong footed when they feel rejected, like toddlers can be.

Every night The Prof is approached by Winnie after he has sat down heavily into his armchair.
She doesn't bounce like the terriers, nor does she jump up to rest huge paws on a knee, she just sits and looks, waiting for that big kiss on a face the size of a large dinner plate.
To be fair to the Prof, he never wanted or indeed even likes bulldogs. Winnie's arrival was a kind of fait accompli which drove him almost to distraction, so he kind of tolerates the big old girl, without offering the sloppy affection I give her, every single day.
But every day. Winnie wanders up to the Prof as he taps away at emails that need reading, and rather seriously she will lower herself down like a fat woman negotiating a deck chair, her eyes never leaving his face. There she will wait,sometimes for an age, for him to look over his spectacles to acknowledge her.

I watch this scenario every single night.

The acknowledgement always comes eventually.
It's never, however, a kiss on a big sloppy face. Nor is it an overwhelming coo-cooing an old lady gives to her pekingese but eventually the Prof will look slowly down from his work and without a smile he will pat the big girl firmly on the head .
Winnie will always battle for more. She will wave a fat paw at the Prof in a futile attempt for him to pat longer and hard as it may seem on the surface, I realised that all this is a kind of game the two of them play.
She is more than happy with that one pat!


It's a dance between bulldog and stoney faced academic.”

A Beer With Eleanor

 I love meeting Chic Eleanor in the pub at early doors. The place is usually filled with blue collar chaps relaxing after work, so the sight of an attractive woman calling  out “ Oh Darling lovely to see you!” Seems to turn everyone’s heads with a slight envy.

We drank Cruzcampo beer and put the world to rights and I was home in time to watch Interior Design Masters which is camp as Christmas. 

It was lovely to see her 

Today I’m painting, and I’m late starting. With no bulldog to wake me up, I sleep as long as the Welsh do and they love their lie ins . 

The place looks like the wreck of the Hesperus 

Running Dogs

 Skills assessment today.

An important day, because if we fail this we’re off the course.

Our counselling scenario is videoed and assessed by our tutor and a second marker. If we pass then I have to reassess and critique the video in its entirety. 

I think it went ok, but you can never be sure, and the criteria for passing is justifiably stringent.

I was very aware that at one point my post covid  cough got the better of me and I barked out one so forcefully that I farted in unison.

Does one acknowledge ones own farts in a counselling situation ? 

I’m my case I did not ! Hey ho

So back to painting, the kitchen . 

My latest piece of art is Eniko Eged ‘ Running Dogs which is away getting framed 

It’s lovely

Burleigh

 

Washing crockery is mindful, especially when it’s hand painted Burleigh Ware where you can see beautiful plants and flowers, designed with a stroke of a brush. My favourite pieces were gifts from my sisters and they are rare finds indeed, being potties designed to be sat on. 

The cheeseboard in the front was designed and made by my sister Janet and that is my favourite piece of pottery in the kitchen.

There is something very pleasing when these pieces sing in the sunlight.

My cottage kitchen is quirky for It has three windows. Two look back into the back garden and a small one faces the lane. Most people that walk the lane are locals so they respect  my privacy more than  intermittent walkers who I often catch peeking through the window with idle curiosity. 

Before cleaning the paintwork I opened up the widow wide, letting the noises of the Churchyard spill into the cottage. From the open window I can see the 13th Century Prayer Cross as well as my laburnum sapling which remains robust and healthy and optimistic .

Bats In A Dark Lane.

 When you are part of a group where one of the members is suddenly poorly WhatsApp can be a godsend. Like bats in a dark lane, messages flit through the night, keeping you updated and worried. And early this morning I found out that a dear colleague and friend Ann from the hospice had died after a short illness. 

We started together a few years ago under similar life challenges of a sudden marital separation and a needy to earn some money. And from day one she proved herself to be a hardworking support worker who would always go that extra mile for her patients and for you, the trained nurse she was allocated to.

I shall miss her as will so many others I know. 

It’s a sad end, to a sad week, so I’m grateful for my friend Colin who messaged me with the offer of lunch out today. We are meeting at the Glasfryn in Mold ,which is a hearty gastropub perched above my beloved Theatr Clwyd and I intend to eat something with mash and gravy .

This morning I removed nails from the art wall and filled in the holes then sanded and washed the walls in readiness for paining tomorrow.

I’ve also carefully washed by Burleigh Ware crockery which sits on the top of the kitchen cabinets and put them carefully away 

I will leave you with the talented Mr Wu, whose house and garden renovation is almost at an end 

Pick Your Battles

 “Can’t you see I’m disabled ?”

The shouted comment was like waving a red flag to a bull, 

I have spent most of my adult life working with “disabled” people

and I absolutely hate when disabled people use their disability as an answer to everything

“There’s nothing wrong with your eyes” I countered, a reply that sent the man puce

Perhaps you need some context here

The car park at Prestatyn beach. I am parked in a regular parking spot near the promenade with the doors open, waiting for a dithering Mary to jump into Bluebell 

Roger was staring out to sea looking somewhat gormless

The man in the large disabled cart was making a slow wide turn over several empty spaces in order to return to his wife, daughter and their Labrador. He had been barking brusque orders at his family for ten minutes or so, which had irritated me, as I had followed him up the Prom back to the car park. 

He came so close to Roger, that the poor sod jumped and whimpered ( he is a wuss) but my paternal juices started flowing hence the sharp( but not unfair) 

“ Watch where you’re going!” 

The rest you already know, except for the hysterical turn the man then took.

With his voice going up at least two octaves he instructed his wife to take Bluebell’s registration number

“ Get it on your phone Jean !” He yelled making another pass

I felt that I had turned over my wagon and the Indians were circling 

But by the look of things Jean  didn’t look too bothered.

He kept shouting about discrimination, 

I told him for the last time to watch where he was going, which I didn’t need to

And so it continued

Now the man had brand new trainers on so cheap Shoes would have been inappropriate comment so would have been my usual and usually effective Jog On put down , so I resorted to 

“ knock Yourself Out” before getting Roger in.

He was still swearing and circling when I drove off , so didn’t notice when the world weary Jean mouthed the word “ Sorry” as I passed her.

Ps 

The village Male voiced choir is in Swansea today , singing centre stage before the six nations Rugby match between Wales and Italy. 

A Whale In The Sink

 Today, all I’ve done is wash and clean 

Every painting and bit of artwork has been carefully cleansed of soot and detritus and stored away.

And every piece has been looked at again, as if it was new. 

I have a feeling I will pare down the wall and perhaps add open shelves to it 

I’ve not decided as yet.

I’ve only seen Mr Poznan today. He popped in a load of old Readers Digests for me, you know the little ones that are a great loo time read

“ You have a whale in the sink” he observed before leaving

All women do the same

 I love good theatre but I’m not a huge Opera Buff.

I have my favourites for sure but at 61 Mozart’s Cosi Fan Tutte ( translated as All Women Do The Same)seems to have slipped me by, so as it was my friend Ruth’s birthday, I thought , I would take her. ( she inherited a love for the medium from a mum steeped in London Culture who ended her days in Llanfairfechan.)

We saw a quality production for sure, but it’s themes of grooming, entrapment, fickle female sexual behaviour and infidelity seemed rather unhealthy which had Ruth observing if this wasn’t Mozart no one would be here!!!

The singing quality was amazing, truly sublime at times, as you would expect of The Welsh National Opera but I have to be honest I’d had enough after two hours of three of sexual subterfuge. 

Before the Opera we went for a lovely supper at Dylan’s where I had something called Mochyn Budr which means Dirty Pig in Welsh . It was fantastic 

I got home late and happy at having the first really nice time in two weeks  and the reality  hit me as sharply as slap in the face would have done. The Welsh , raised their heads sleepily from the reading chair in the kitchen and smiled a hello , but there was not the hysterical, tail wagging welcome from Dorothy as I’ve been used to for over the past five years. 

I sat at the kitchen table and for the first time since she was diagnosed by the kind Spanish vet , I had a good loud cry.

Only then did the Welsh get up and put concerned paws on my knees, their noses cold sniffing my face.