Tv
I have only a few favourite tv programmes
Reruns of the zombie apocalypse The Walking Dead. ( of course)
The boffin quiz Only Connect
The silly and playful Taskmaster
And now on Monday nights reruns of CALL MY BLUFF, plucked from around 1974
Bluff was glorious. Not much playing around , but with enough humour to tickle, we had Frank Muir and Patrick Campbell playing a parlour game about the correct definition of words.Muir was a famous comedy writer and Campbell a journalist and The 3rd Baron Genavy and both played the programme for gentle laughs. I loved it when I watched with my mother when I was 10 and I love it now over 50 years later. Tonight we had the sailor Robin Knox Johnson taking part, a real hottie
Mortimer and Lighthouse go fishing is another sweet watch
This is another simple premise where the two old friends ( and stand up comics) chat over time spent fishing in a river . It’s a lovely piece of tv where real affection between two funny men surface constantly
Oh and Gogglebox
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.
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
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