Nook & Cranny

Not everyone has a needlepoint which captures a year in their life. 

I have! 

Thirty three years ago I was a Charge nurse on a spinal Injury Unit, who lived in a tiny, house in Walkley Sheffield with ginger cats, a miniature garden, a spit and sawdust pub around the corner called The Sportsman and a collection of antiques started with a black 1940s Bakelite phone from a local junk shop

It’s charming and it’s been hanging on my landing for an absolute age now and now needs a move to a new corner which will allow it to be viewed all over again 

 

Meet 2

 The meeting today was quieter thanks to the cheese and a handful of Sausage. 

No barking, no silliness , just some careful good looks and sniffing . 

After half an hour Mary settled and minutes later Roger finally sat down, but the kittens remained in the carrier. 

Day 2 ( tick)

I met up with village Elder Ian and we revamped the flower show posters which will be placed at either ends of the village 

I mopped the bedroom floor, made avocado salad and opened every window except those in the kitten’s bedroom 

A quiet Sunday all told

Mexican Standoff

A minute later the dogs walked in on their leads and the kittens flew into their carrier, wide eyed and spitting . It was a long hour, with the kittens in defence and Roger in benign greeting. 

Every hiss had him bouncing back behind me, a worried look upon his face. 

Mary watched carefully , stepping forward, then back then forward again until she grew bored and at the 50 minute mark she sat down to sleep. 

Roger wined and barked some, then repeated his hopeful greeting before jumping back yet again. 

Both dogs turned their attention to me when I retrieved a small lump of cheese from my pocket, from which I gave each a morsel 

I will repeat the process tomorrow until boredom and cheese dominates 

I went to see Alien Romulus tonight

It was shite

Bit of the lisping choir to compensate 

Asleep on the table

 Another study day today, this time in Bangor along the coast. The drive in good weather is glorious and the defib part of our training was interesting so the day felt worthwhile. Our trainer was a woman from furtherest West wales who couldn’t have been more Welsh if you had dipped her in larverbread, she talked about drones being employed to fly defibrillators to wherever they were needed

https://ambulance.nhs.wales/news/nhs/2024/skys-the-limit-for-drone-delivered-defibrillators/

A fascinating concept which seems closer than our class thought to reality.

How things can change for the better.

I fell asleep at the kitchen table when I got home, dreaming of drones, and dragons and the sunny North Wales Expressway

The Welsh watching over me as I snored on my forearms 

Thursday Night

 The Welsh come out with me on Thursdays. They sleep in the car  when I see clients and we have a walk inbetween. 

On the way home they are treated to a single cheeseburger each, which they both eat with closed happy eyes. 

Weaver emailed me. She’s poorly but very pragmatic and has the most informed family doctor who has prempted all the advice I have started to give during our correspondence which is reassuring to say the least. 

In hospice terms our dear Weaver is on the landing and she’s she knows that. 

The landing is the place at the top of the stairs , the plateau before a decent.

It’s a time of lethargy and of naps 

And it’s a time of getting thoughts in order. 

She is not eating 

But she sends her love.

Please don’t thank me for sharing The Weaver Update I’m very privileged to be able to do so. 

I’ve done little this evening, but watched  Dial M For Murder and presently Suspicion ( is it me or is Cary Grant camp as Christmas in it?)

Roger is clingy tonight and is asleep in the crook of my arm

The kittens are tamer tonight in their room upstairs 

I we have had rain and the nasty humidity of the last few days has gone

The cottage smells of clean cat litter. 

.

 

Môme Piaf

I’m sure the neighbours are thinking that I’m have a moment 

After a long study day me and Welsh are relaxing to Madam Piaf 

An LP treat to myself this week.

Tragic French songs fill Cwm Road and beyond 

une autre absinthe mon bon serveur

 

Buxton

 I’m off to Buxton today, 

The Derbyshire Spa town, is very roughly half way between Wales and Sheffield.

I’m meeting my “spinal” injury mates

Sarah and Nigel, two people who have part of my life for 34 years.

These two have followed me, supported me, liked and loved me for a generation and it was time we met up again to touch base, revisit each other and share ourselves as we used to when Sarah was a matron and Nigel and I were Charge Nurse managers.

I love these guys, I love them so much 

They walked beside me for years in Sheffield 

Walked beside me, tutored me and guided me 

That’s so important  

So we are catching up over coffee and lunch and chatter .

In Buxton

Where was the Bloody flip flop?

Apart from the overlong Golden Voyager bit which should in essence be performed in the opening ceremony, the closing of the Paris Olympics was dreadful. A couple of lacklustre bands, an orchestra who played down La Marseillaise and some suitably pouting French teen failing to lip synch in a posh Parisian garden.

Tom Cruise picked up the flag for Los Angeles and the dye was set for a repeat of the terrible 1984 games where money was no object and whole thing was overblown and souless. 

Paris did something different which almost worked . Greece and the UK captured their own countries perfectly and the Sydney games underlined fun ( how could it not with Kylie on a twenty foot flip flop) 

 6/10 and no cigar for Paris