Asparagus and pea

 The bin men have just been.

As usual Roger has been bouncing up and down at the kitchen wall in order to greet them. 

They miss Dorothy and said so, as big gloved hands patted smiling bouncing Terrier on the head.

Mary can’t be bothered.

Last night I went to Chester with a friend and we say Ghost The Musical.

It was dreadful 

We walked out at the half time interval, but laughed a lot.

It was an amateur production, which of course, you make allowances for, but dire is dire is dire and We are too long in the tooth to waste too much time on crap.

The sun was still shining when we talked out so we sat in the still crowded market place and ate cake and people watched. 

It felt as though we were on holiday.

Today, I have nothing planned , no films, no lunches out, no company.

I’m working all day tomorrow, to today will be rest day

However

I am going to make an Asparagus and pea risotto now thickened with lots of Parmesan 

Bloody lovely

Weaver and………

 I wasn’t swayed by the cuteness overload, I’ve never found kittens or puppies totally adorable if the truth be known , but Weaver turned up unexpectedly followed by a sister, on which I found a tiny hernia, only minutes after handing her.

12 week old kittens are vaccinated, chipped and spayed nowadays and after getting assurances the little one had gotten the hernia repair sorted, I have agreed to adopt them both next week. 

Meet Weaver and Lily

String

 

And there it was tucked into the flap of my passport cover.

A small piece of black string perhaps 8 inches long.

I recognised it as soon as I pulled it out .

2019 Sitges 

Snogging a guy called Jon on the beach lounger

That was my one and only proper venture into a recent romance 

Four years ago now.

He was getting over a destructive gaslighting  relationship and was not only brittle and very sad, but had insight and an openness to new beginnings 

He was staying on another two weeks on his own. 

I was flying back the next day

And so pragmatic me saw it as a holiday snog, nothing more, a couple of days after we me

But he was tall and good looking and emotionally intelligent and 

It did me the world of good, even though I thought he was out of my league 

To be fair to him, he never gave that impression.

He tied the black string around my left wrist when we were curled up on the sun lounger

It should be red, he told me, in order to ward off the evil eye

Black isn’t as powerful, but it will do the job well enough.

I’m not a lover of bracelets, I can’t even wear a watch, but I liked it’s simplicity even though as a nurse I couldn’t wear it full time 

And yesterday there it was , curled up in my passport cover. 

Jon lives in Brighton with his new boyfriend now, they met the week after I left.

We all met up in London a few years ago, for a drink between jaunts. 

Jon looked happy, but his boyfriend didn’t trust me as far as he could throw me

And it was what it was

I’ve been wearing the string, as will do so until my next shift

Funny what you remember.

Hot & Sweaty

 I’m hot and sweaty

It’s humid and hotter than I’m used to recently.

Supervision this morning was useful, she’s making me think hard at other levels and I came out with a good headache. 

Walked Welsh on the beach then long chat with Sarah at the animal rescue about Weave. She wants me to review all of the kittens up for adoption, in order to select the best fit.

I didn’t have time today so Friday will have to suffice.

I went to Chester

Had pad Thai noodles at the market

Then treated myself to a one off showing of the 50th anniversary showing of Frances Ford Coppola’s The Conversation at The Storyhouse.

I’ve never seen this neo noir thriller and I enjoyed it even though it was a cold affair all told.

Got home late and talked to Nu in the car on the drive as the Welsh barked a welcome through the broken cat flap I need to repair before Weaver arrives

Old Friends and New

Time to share again, this time it’s the lisping Spanish Choir ( with their junior Choir),The Metropolitan Orchestra and the gentle Unidos Por Un Seuño by Alejandro Vivas.

I love the way the music and voices swell together.

A few days away from writing has been useful and allows for some perspective. 

I’m not hear to be insulted, or taught a lesion, or even to allow a benign old blog to become a school ground for silly bickering or personal attack.

Things will just stop if they’re need to and no messages will shared.

Like I said before, I have plenty else to do

Dear Pat from http://weaverofgrass.blogspot.com/ has said her blog goodbye in her usual diplomatic, and gentle way. She was blogging before me in the early 2000s and is a dear friend, I’ve never met. She has asked me to relay messages to blogland in order to update it on her condition and I am moved to be asked to do so. 

So today I’m back. The Spanish Choir’s piece today was first performed during lockdown and originally saw each performer in their own home, performing to camera . 

Was it 4 years now since we did that? With Mary and Albert in the background watching the proceedings with mild interest and some confusion.

Singing at full pelt, with earphones is a scary scene, even if you can sing well

Yesterday I went to the animal rescue to look at the cats. Only one potential caught my eye, and after some thought I filled in the show an interest on line paperwork last night.  

Most rescue places will physically check your home to see if it’s suitable, so I’m hoping for a phone call or email presently. 

The kitten reminded me of Albert when he arrived at Bwthyn y Llan. He settled in when I had three dogs on the go and the new girl has that same look. 

Scruffy and serious 

And wide eyed

I’ve been mulling over several names already but chose the right one as soon as I saw her.

If she arrives, as planned

She will be called Weaver

Be Kind

 I’ve turned off comments 

Yesterday the blog became ridiculous with immature, angry, and nasty reply’s  filling the comment boxes. These  can’t all be filtered pre post and most ( though not all) come from the same person. 

I’m not upset at the content of these posts ( they are easily enough deleted)  but I am a little tired and concerned  that the troll is escalating her output. 

I just don’t understand how someone can hate another person they have never met. 

And so I am having a break from GoingGently , not for long, as on normal good days the writing of a blog entry is such an enjoyable pastime.

I’ve got plenty to do

DeBrief

Mary, carefully waiting for her sausage to arrive

 If my counselling day is dull and cool, then I am getting into the habit to taking the Welsh with me. They are walked before hand, and patiently sleep in the car for the hour and a half I am away, after which it’s a walk on the beach and a shared sausage sandwich at Parisella’s.

I’ve said it before, but the beach provides a wonderful debrief for me, where the off shore wind, literally sweeps through my head like a new broom.

Mary, sits with me, bolt upright, careful to miss nothing.

Roger is pulling on the lead, trying to beg crumbs from the next table .

He’s succeeding to , 

I let my brain wash away from the sadness, of complicated lives, and of anxious thoughts 

And I watch my aged Welsh Girl patiently waiting for her part of the sandwich

Her old brown eyes, bright in the anticipation . 

And I realise, all over again, that I love her so very much

Over to the magnificent lisping Spanish choir

Have I ever told you that I went to Madrid to hear them live?

It’s them at their best with a love Matters Medley 

A Conversation

 “ I didn’t want to leave my brothers”

1989 Walkley, Sheffield

My father was talking about joining the RAF at the height of the War 

He became a navigator on a Wellington Bomber

I would have picked up on that statement now, and would have explored it.

Then, aged 27, it lurked just there

Hanging between us.

He died three months after visiting, 

Just three months

My father never spoke of his relationship with his father, 

All I knew was that his father was bad tempered, Scottish and old fashioned

When I was nearly sixty, I found out from an aunt that he was physically abused 

Typical of the first born in a family of three boys 

his abuse, protecting his younger brothers.

My father had no voice about all this

He never was shown how,

And I wish I known then, what I know now.

Then I would have told him that despite our own problems in the father/son timeline 

Just for the fact he coped and protected his siblings 

He was my hero