Caught short

 I took the Welsh out for a wee and stopped to talk to Trendy Carol ( blonde streaks and new Ponytail v nice) she told me that villager Glenys had passed away. She had been ill for some time and leaves a gentle sad husband who I often talked to over the kitchen wall.

I dropped a sympathy card off at his house and as I drove off Bluebell’s gear stick came off in my hand ! 

Luckily I was pointing for home downhill, so I coasted back to the Church and waited  for the RAC to help, which they did wonderfully. The technician loved my Garfield T shirt which made me preen like a schoolboy. After he had gone I was caught short and had to hide behind the lytch Gate in order to have a desperate and crafty pee.

For gods sake I’m 62

My sister called around to give me an unwanted Victorian armchair which has replaced the cheerful yellow chair in the living room. 

I’m not sure if I’m well enough for University tomorrow , but this week I have a nursing study day, my counselling day and then two long days at hospice over the weekend.

I’m of to bed early tonight. 

Hey ho

 

Being LEFT WELL ALONE

 My bladder played up in the night. 

The pain isn’t bad , it’s just cramping so I drank lots of water took an extra antibiotic and paracetamol at around five am then walked the dogs and went to bed.  I woke again around 9am then again at lunchtime when I realised that I’d left the kitchen door open and both the twins and the Welsh were sharing my bed albeit in different corners. 

I felt too rough to separate them and when the spitting started I just thought may the best cat win.

This is only my second UTI In a year so I’m doing very well. And this infection is a result of my pharmacy not sending me enough tablets  on my last prescription, something which is happening more frequently in North Wales I noticed . 

I’ve lit the fire, fed the animals and have retuned to bed with a hot water bottle.

I am beyond caring when I hear Roger trying to sit in the cat litter tray in a Valiant attempt to use it as the twins do.

Sat

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Bombing

Today is just a chatty post

I returned to work last night and the change in routine antibioticsfloored me.

I slept a couple of hours today then took the Welsh to the vets.

Mary has an ear infection again. 

I left Roger making lurve with the receptionists whilst Mary put up with an examination and a first dose of steroid and antibiotics which she had via the meat and cheese of a pre bought McDonald’s cheeseburger.

Genius 

I sat down with a cuppa and the twins and the purring sounded so loud from their plot on the sofa top, it sounded as if wartimebombers were going over.

My sister Janet had to have her dog Ossie put down today so I've called down with a takeaway for her and her hubby as well as gin and whisky. My elder sister Ann was already there with beautiful roses from her garden. I wasn’t surprised

Bun and her fish cushion

Newsflash

 The twins have both crossed the bannister borders and are now occupying enemy territory 

Mary leans to say hello to Bun

Why

 I never have a problem with crying, or so I thought.

A film such as Touch had me dirty crying in my cinema seat only a day or so ago and I cry and talk about crying enough but only yesterday I realised it is a solitary thing which is never shared with anyone but Nu and Mike, and even then rarely.

My own therapy is the putting to bed of my grief of my separation and my therapist has been as ruthless as I wanted and needed her to keep to my brief.

I was exhausted yesterday, totally exhausted.

We talked about invasive and repetitive thoughts .

And she asked me about being busy, but this next observation floored me when she said quietly

“How can you move on with a head too full of whys?”

I looked at her and she mimed an action which beautifully summed her her comment

she put a hand out on each side of her head and whirled them around, 

And I cried for the first time of being understood and validated .

I will leave you with the lisping choir and one piece I remember from the zarzuela concert 

No news

 Summer is back, albeit for a few days, and the garden is bright and the sky an azure blue. 

Malinka Le Vay walked past the cottage,with her dogs, and looked as warm as the sky.

The horses in the livery stables bow their heads together in the glow of  midday and the bullocks on the field at the end of the lane sit and chew in the grass with their doe eyes closed.

Apart from the traffic on the main road, the village looks quiet, delicious smells come from The Crown’s kitchen when I drive up to get my McDonalds coffee 

I drove to the Storyhouse and read some notes from college. Ten minutes turned into two hours 

Now I’m home , walking the dogs and cleaning up kitten detritus 

I’ve bought a new kitchen clock. It should be delivered today

Lee Millar

It’s been a nice weekend of film watching ….from the cheese filled The Wedding Planner, to the worthy The Critic and the toweringly good Touch , I’ve seen some quality films, and so it’s lovely to end the weekend on another high with Lee 

The story of Lee Millar’s War Time photography career makes for an interesting watch. Slightly too old for the role ( my sister pointed that out) ,Kate Winslet still shines as the damaged former model who spent a frivolous early adult life in the South of France with her beautiful French artist friends, totally unaware of the horrors to come. With the support Vogue editor Audrey Withers ( the striking Andrea Riseborough in academy award mode ) Lee chronicles the liberation of Paris and the fall of Germany including the liberation of the death camps But does so at a heavy cost, of lifelong untreated PTSD , treated only by herself through alcohol and tablets. 

There are some beautifully observed scenes, especially when Lee meets up with her French model friends in Paris after the liberation.  . The crushed Solange ( Marion Cottilard) and artist Nusch (Noemi Merlant) are comforted by Lee and you can almost feel the real warmth of Kate Winslett gushing forth on screen. It’s an amazingly moving moment.

The audience should ignore some clumsy writing though ( the fact that Lee was sexually abused as a child  is thrown in a rather arbitrary and heavy handed way) as the visuals are strong enough to carry the film on their own.

I will leave you with the first official photo of Roger and Weaver, taken yesterday morning in the living room. Bun remains shy and careful