Friday

 It’s Friday already. 

And what fun, I’m not working the weekend because I’ve taken annual leave this week and last. 

This means instead of four full days taken with college, counselling, and work, I’ve only had to deal with my counselling day which is going ok at the moment. 

I enter the day leisurely and think of what I’m going to do only after preparing breakfast which gives the day its pace. Luckily the Welsh are even more laid back and refuse to even get up for a wee early.

It’s like living with teenagers.

I’ve made avocado toast and strong coffee and read the blogs and the tiktoks. I’m down to a dozen all told, and prefer the newsy chatty  over the ones who badmouth others whilst showing off their mental dexterity.

The internet is a sad Aladdin’s cave for the angry and the mentally ill I’m afraid.

I’m off to the cinema to see a western but I forgot it’s the Duke Of Westminster’s wedding today and Chester will be gridlocked

Anyhow I cancelled my ticket and went to the cineworld in Broughton to see The Dead Don’t Hurt.

A glum western with a French/Canadian heroine in the shape of the talented Vicky Krieps 

I loved the way as a dirt poor she always looked dressed by a Paris fashion house

Pondwork

 

The village pond is looking lush and very clean, but weeds needed clearing and marshalled by village leader Helen some dozen or so volunteers lent a hand at six pm to do the work

Great to catch up with everyone 

Home

 I took the Welsh out for a walk around 9 pm 

It was dusk and the bats started to race their way in zigzags down the lane 

I was reminded of nights past when I had lots of animals to care for 

And I mourned those days just a little tonight 

This blog entry was written 14 years ago

“

........It is 8.30 and the evening remains warm, dry and quiet. I am sat under the elm which borders the Churchyard and from this advantage point I can see every corner of the field. No sightings of Mr Fox as yet!

George is sat quietly in Maddie's old spot at my feet and the Welsh terriers are tied up next to the water butts and look asleep in the evening sun. Everything seems calm and serene.

The pace of the animals is slowing down in preparation for the night. The four female turkeys have separated from their daytime meet up and in two groups of two are ambling slowly towards their respective stags. Jane and Lizzy (the slate and Bourbon girls) make their way down towards Bingley in the far pig house and Gloria and an almost bald Theresa wait patiently just a few feet away. They know I will be shortly moving them into their shelter with Boris, who is still huffing and puffing away in the back ground.

The indian runners stand uncertainly just beyond the turkeys. They are eyeing me nervously and are also waiting for me to direct them into their duckhouse. I am late tonight and they know it............. and I am just that little bit amused that it seems to bother them.

The hens are all gliding their way to their own hen houses in groups of two and three. The buffs swinging their fat bottoms as they walk heavily home. The only birds that don't move home wards are the six ghost hens in the furthest coop. They remain still and silent in a sad looking flat group in the warmth of the sun, yet the very fact they have all taken the chance to leave the safety of the hen house proves to me that at least the natural light and heat they now feel is in fact healing.

The two new foals in the field beyond the stream are galloping around is silly circles together and I can see Albert sitting on top of the Church wall watching them with some interest before he jumps down into the grass and rubs his head against those of William and Meg waking both dogs up.

The guinea fowl totter past and leap the 6 feet to enter the old Graveyard. They chatter noisily when they spy Albert, then move on to sit under their roosting tree, muttering to themselves like grumpy old people 

I take a long measured breath in, as one of the roosters crow

And think to myself 

I am home

Wednesday

It’s Wednesday and I’m having a day at home, some of me wants to go out on another little adventure but needs must, and the cottage looks a wreck.

Yesterday I had Pad Thai noodles and went to see a documentary on the National Museum , but although  it was worthy and at times interesting , the seating at the Storyhouse is so comforting and warm, I spent 60% of the film asleep and grunting and snoring .

I have leaflets to deliver for the TCA, and a flower show meeting to organise too, not that too much has to be organised for the show now, since all the judges are in place and the Choir ( my choir) has agreed to sing. 

It’s the 10th anniversary of the Gwaenysgor Community Choir next week and I’ve been invited to a drinks and nibble do to celebrate which is nice .

Friday I’m going to IKEA with a friend and tomorrow after I see my client , I’m having coffee with a fellow trainee counsellor from my course for chats and debrief

It seemed sensible just to stay home today and potter and clean and make lists.

My own counselling carries on a pace.

I’m sort of in tune with my therapist now and she can challenge me with a look rather than a statement.

This video sums up a little what I’ve explored over the last 8 weeks, a good lesson to learn

 Apologies, it’s not an exciting , interesting post today, I don’t feel particularly exciting or interesting

I could sleep all day

The Queen Anne

 

On spec, my brother in law Tim , sister Ann and I drove to Liverpool, to wave the newest Cunard liner well on her first voyage. Tied up at the Princess Dock , the ship looked huge and beautiful and I was suddenly  hurled back to my childhood where Shelley Winters got stuck in an ornamental Christmas Tree and Stella Stevens just wore panties “ what else do I need?”

Thousands of people turned up to watch the Queen leave port, and we all waved our phone lights as the tugs pulled her out into the pool and the fireworks magically lit up the sky. 

Jota.La Dolores.Orq Metropolitana.Danza: Sara MartínTenor:Miguel Borrall...

Videos are surfacing of the concert I went to a week ago in Madrid, I will post them as and when they

arrive, this was the final piece of the show( before the 5 encore pieces that is ) 

Agrado's Monologue (All about my mother - Almodóvar)

I loved yesterday. The weather was glorious as my friend Ruth and I drove to the PictureHouse to see All About My Mother

The famous 1999 movie by Pedro Almodòvar was on a rerun , presumably to celebrate Pride Month and I hadn’t visited it since the early 2000s when I think I had it on dvd. 

This film, because of its bold signature use of red , should be seen of the big screen. 

It’s a sumptuous looking drama set between Madrid and Barcelona and is a study of motherhood in all of its facets and complications. 

For those that don’t know, I will try to give you a flavour of the piece.

Manuela ( Cecilia Roth) is the loving single mother of 18 year old Esteban, a budding writer and theatre obsessive.On a trip to see aging actress Huma Rojo ( Marissa Paredes) in A StreetCar named Desire , Esteban  is tragically killed, after which Manuela goes of the search for Esteban’s father, who is a trans woman, called Lola, living the low life in Barcelona. 

On her travels, Manuela joins forces with a nun ( Penelope Cruz) made pregnant and HIV+ by Lola, a feisty trans sex worker Agrado ( Antonia San Juan) and Huma who is still appearing in Streetcar’s tour around the country. And the film explores how the quartet  ( and others) deal with issues such as motherhood, acceptance, and forgiveness  we see the lives of the women the piece with Hollywood  references not only to Streetcar but to All About Eve.

It’s showy, funny, loud and at times incredibly moving with great performances all round especially by Sam Juan , whose foul mouthed turn as the whore  who literally doesn’t give a fuck in incredibly brave and touching all at the same time.

This is a women’s film obscured by gay and trans issues, a tribute to Douglas Sirk from the 1950s and it’s glorious in every way.

As we came back out into sun shire we watched people dancing salsa outside the Chester Market which was an absolute joy

Then went for a lovely relaxed but ordered lunch at Hamayuu 

Remembering The Importance Of Gardens

Back to almost normality today. My friend Ruth will be arriving soon and we are off to the cinema, it’s a sunny day and I’m writing this in the garden 

My garden has had praise recently from many of the locals, positives I passed onto Janet when I saw her last night at my birthday meal. 

It’s a sanctuary of peace, not too neat and tidy but ordered in its own way. 

The honeysuckle obscuring the front door, is 

Flowering as the little hazel and oak saplings thrive in their pots ready to

be planted around the village 

Gardens are a haven, and I’m lucky to have one that works for me, and I’m reminded of just how important your own little piece of garden can be to a person

The memory

 Patients with facial tumours can be a challenge to look after . Not only can tumours bleed and bleed badly, but they can cruelly infiltrate soft tissue, and bone snd cartilage  obscuring airways and the ability to see, speak and communicate .

They also mask personality, create shame and allow fear to grow and patients can find themselves hiding away in side rooms and at home, out of sight and out of mind. 

The student I was working with asked for some “advice” with one such patient  and after a moments reflection I told her that we had two vital weapons in our arsenal.

The first was the fact that the patient had the most beautiful blue eyes, 

“Focus on those lovely eyes” I told her, in any procedure , in every wobbly moment , 

Focus on those eyes”

And the second I showed her and the patient together.

It was a gloriously sunny day and I turned off the door alarm in the patient’s bedroom and opened his patio door wide into a private garden filled with agapanthus, roses, rosemary and honeysuckle

“ I can go outside whenever I want “ the patient said quietly, hands stretched into flower beds, their voice suddenly rather emotional and I replied “ of course you can” as the student nurse gave a watery smile as she grew a few years older.