Going Gently

Garden

Between May and June, the garden fills with gentle colour. The aquilegia, because of their tiny flowers , almost hint at the pinks, and purples and indeed blacks rather block fill the greens of the roses, ferns and Ivy.

The ceanothus blue shines from the back of the garden and the sculptural alliums have popped up overnight, a couple of weeks earlier than usual.

The garden truly looks cottage like, which is satisfying

I’m soon off to see Meirion Jones , the final judge in this years flower Show to see if he’s free in August. The cookery and vegetable judges I've already booked and I’m awaiting confirmation from my choir after asking Jamie ( sans his 1940s RAF Moustache) if they would sing in the afternoon.

Fingers crossed

Tonight Helen Papworth from the village is giving a talk on Henry Morton Stanley , in Llanasa village hall, which I’m off to. Mrs Trellis left a snickers bar on the kitchen wall yesterday, it was wrapped in a paper napkin with ducks on it.

Let the Sunshine, Aquarius - Hair

The lisping Spanish Choir !

2 weeks and I see them in the flesh

International Nurses Day

To celebrate International Nurses day my hospice ward is holding a nurse baking competition tomorrow. Not to be outdone the night staff brought in our entires and decorated them before day staff arrived.

My chocolate Swiss roll was classically understated given the somewhat amateur competition

Without access to ovens and with little time, we just wanted to join in, as one of the sisters had gone beyond things and had fashioned a lovely cake and prizes for the day. Her hard work in providing a little light in what has been a difficult time moved our little team on nights, seeing that most of the nurses hadn’t gotten round to joining in , hence the amateur cake decorating and high spirits.

Storm

Roger woke me up around 4.30pm, he pawed at the duvet. The skies were black and the mood of the weather had suddenly changed. We went downstairs and I cooked a jacket potato with beans and we sat in the kitchen , ( me in my underpants) as the storm rolled in from the South.

It was, what I describe, as one of those Hollywood storms , full of constant rolls of thunder and occasional lightening. Roger sat behind the kitchen door, with his head peeping around the opening, and allowed himself a tiny bark at each clash of thunder.

The storm was a good one with the thunder rolling against the basin of hills that surround Trelawnyd.

It was loud and dramatic, as storms should be , and I moved my chair into the doorway to watch.

The electricity went off, then flickered back on, then off again.

Mary quietly walked up and sat on my knee, and I remembered a recent meeting with the grieving son of a patient who just needed some physical contact in his pain.

He allowed himself a handshake which I prolonged a couple of seconds longer than normal

The storm was over by five fifteen with Roger bravely walking the flooded patio on tip toe afterwards.

Mary remained knee sitting as after a break, the rain started to fall again.

Northern Lights

I’m on night shifts over the weekend. But it’s glorious today, so I've made brunch to sit outside in the sun.

A salmon, mango,motzerella, avocado and basil baguette with coffee from my Italian Mocca.

Bloody lovely.

I had forgotten the northern lights last night but was reminded by a friend who texted me a “ go outside now” message and I laid down in the front garden with the Welsh to watch the light show .

More pink than I expected

I had a dream that my grandmother arrived at the cottage.I spied her through the window and she was standing beneath the honeysuckle in a cream coat with cream buttons and a cream hat, but for some reason I didn’t let her in. She fished inside her handbag then left

Most Haunted

My friend Ruth needed some frivolity so I bought us some tickets to a stage show of the tv “ reality” show Most Haunted .

It was dreadful and we walked out at half time. The show is a sort-of-serious ghost hunt with a cheerful and not untalented ex Blue Peter presenter Yvette Fielding at the helm, unfortunately, Fielding’s husband and co presenter took the whole evening down a few notches to the level of a group of workmen swearing in the corner of Wetherspoons and although I like a good swear with the best of them, it was all too basic and cheap theatre for my liking .