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To change your mortgage you have to have an interview online now. I had a lovely chap called Nick today who talked me through the whole process. Because I can only get Wify in the front room I was joined on the couch by the dogs and one cat which amused Nick “ I’m selling to the muppets” he quipped not quite understanding he was including me in that comment.

My new mortgage is set and I can soak up the monthly increase …just.

it’s another job done 

I used to take these big decisions in my stride 

Now I worry

Another symptom of getting older .

After nearly two hours on line, I sit in the living room

The cottage faces south and the front windows let the sun shine through on a sunny day  like a baby Sagrada Familia. 

I feel as though I’m transported into the 1940s

The animals start to flop into the squares of sunlight on the carpet to sleep 

The windows need washing but I’m enjoying being present in the moment 

The kitchen clock ticks

And the breeze makes the Honeysuckle tap the window as if a friend wants my attention 

The cottage and my animals remains safe in my hands at the moment 

Chicken Feet

 Yesterday was a tough day. 

I had two high maintenance  patients. One who needed to be stabilised with medication before a peaceful death and another with a complicated spinal Injury which is my bread and butter. 

I got home exhausted and spent, a few minutes before 9 pm , so I gave the dogs a snack and sat down in my coat to watch Call My Bluff.

Minutes later either Bun or Weaver galloped through the lounge with a chicken foot in her mouth.

She did a circuit of the living room before legging it up the stairs closely followed by Roger then Mary ( Roger growling like a proper dog) and finally with the second twin in close pursuit. 

It was all rather dramatic .

Like a Tom & Jerry cartoon from the 40’s.

The chase carried on, above and below my double bed for a while, with accompanying barking and spitting, but I sat in my coat letting the shit fall as it would.

A while later Roger trotted through the living room rather victoriously with said chicken foot in his mouth

And the pecking order at Bwthyn y Llan was restored.

I kept my coat on and watched the hilarious Alma’s Not Normal as Roger paraded around the cottage with his head held high, chicken leg in mouth.

This week seems full

This afternoon I have my own counselling then

Mortgage appointment, clinical supervision tomorrow with Giselle in the evening. Counselling clients on Thursday followed by a much long overdue visit to the cinema . Friday it’s Rowenna’s funeral followed with a catch up with my family at The Crown and Saturday it’s  The Planet at The Philharmonic.

My mortgage worries me , but I can’t change the world……..

Marisha Wallace - Tomorrow

The storm, knocked of the Satelite tv

Just as The Thomas Crown Affair was ending

I’m working a long day tomorrow 

And I don’t want to 

Master Of The House

I fell asleep last night and missed the Male Voice Choir Concert at the hall, which annoyed me. I left the tv off, missing this rather affecting dance from the blind comic Chris McCusland too! 

One of the highlights of the Trelawnyd concert seems to be Owain William’s comic turn from Les Miserables ( see link)  https://fb.watch/vkJmMweXRB/ ( Owain Is the youngest member of the choir)

The concert raised a cracking amount for the hall…..some1700 £) well done all. 

I was pigsick to miss it.

Storm Ashley is on its way and although we are in bright sunshine , the wind has picked up drastically. 

Bun and Weaver are sat next to the Queen’s cut out in their bedroom watching the trees whip their tops and I’m planning a quick visit to the shop to get cat litter 

Pizza and soup for supper and an early night is planned 

Twin Update

 My nights have been steady and psychologically testing and so this post will be somewhat light and frivolous in nature.

An update on the twins 

 Bun remains the more outgoing girl.

Her interactions with the Welsh are now playful but distant. They remind me of primary school girls in their short shirts and oversized wellington boots galloping through the mud holes of the playground with a silly dim boy in tow. The boy being Roger. 

Mary is almost at the touching stage, she lies pretending to rest in front of the fire knowing all too well that Bun is only a foot it so away, waiting to be approached.

That approach won’t be long now. Roger too is at touching distance but his gauche clumsiness only affords him a short hiss and a swing of the paw. 

Both twins now sleep on my bed, Weaver towards my feet and Bun often perched on my shoulder or hip. Both like petting and both have eyes for the wet and windy world beyond the front door 

Reflections

 I’ve gotten out of the habit of looking at myself in the mirror.

Has anyone else got out of this daily routine? 

Perhaps I don’t want to see my grey beard, and my shiny grey hair my dad possessed before he died . 

Perhaps I don’t want to see how tired I look after a day shift.

Perhaps I don’t like looking at myself at all.

I went to Supervision today , it’s been a miserably wet , grey day, and supervision gave me something to think of at the beach in Bluebell

So I’ve come home and had the longest of hot showers,  a kick ass shave and lots of face moisturiser , and made ramen noodles with prawns for supper which I ate in front of the fire , watched by four pairs of eyes 

For Sale

 Old Trefor’s house is on the market and already I’ve seen three 4x4 couples giving it the once over.

He was always careful with his money so the asking price would have made him wet himself.

https://www.rightmove.co.uk/properties/153666356#/?channel=RES_BUY

You can see my cottage from his back bedroom ( below) , and in his later poorly years , he would sometime signal me with a flash of the lights that all was well. 

Trefor was always kind to me and always accepting that I was gay, something that may have been a challenge to someone in a tiny village and was 80 years of age. 

I remember introducing The Prof into the conversation as my partner one afternoon as I helped him collect apples from his small orchard and for Trefor  saying rather nonchalantly that he already knew and that  Auntie Gladys had  told him in passing at Friendship Group ! 

Nana Mouskouri - Alleluia Sweet Maria and a Pure Heart.

I ended up watching a tribute to Nana Mouskouri last night on BBC4 which I surprisingly enjoyed. She had a pure voice, which I liked.

Now I have a colleague at work called Sioned . She is a sprightly, gloriously single Welshwoman who wears her nationality on her sleeve like a banner. For the five years I have now been at the hospice , she has been endeavouring in teaching me Welsh.

Suffice to say I’m better than I was at the start. 

Sioned has a pure heart , she is a good nurse, an excellent one in fact and she is retiring very soon, much to everyone’s surprise. 

I shall miss her

So I bought her this at the Apple Festival. A little Welsh woman singing the hymn Calon Lân.

There is a story about the gift.

Perhaps three years ago, near Christmas and after supper, the hospice was darkened and quiet.

From a patient’s room Came the voice of a nurse called Nia, and she was singing Calon Lân very gently. For a moment we listened then Sioned who was stood by the office door gently joined in.

And all of the nurses and support workers stopped what they were doing to listen 

It was a strange , moving, rather theatrical moment that I will never forget

Calon Lân literally means A Pure Heart in Welsh