Respect

 It was Rowena’s funeral today

And a day of respect it was , to be sure.

Her nephew, Village Elder Islwyn and his brother had dug her grave themselves which I thought was intensely moving and another mark of respect as Rowena’s father was the village gravedigger at one time, Islwyn isn’t a young man, and I’m sure the hard work has taken its toll. 

Kudos to the both of them

The service was held in Llanasa, who has a pretty Norman Church, and the church was full as Rowena’s family is large and spans every part of Trelawnyd and its environs .

Auntie Glad always warned me to be early for popular character’s funerals , so I was and still was beaten to the back pew by the ladies from the friendship group, Animal Helper Pat, Christine from Church, Pippa and Tom, the velvet voiced Linda, sailor John and Mandy and Mrs Trellis.

Trendy Vicar Gregor ( with his flowing cape and neat beard )  did his best with the Welsh parts of the service which was lovely and by the time the funeral cars returned to Trelawnyd I had collected the Welsh and was standing with Pat Mr Poznan and others a respectful distance away.

We watched as the family followed the coffin into the graveyard, and in the grey skys over Trelawnyd groups of seagulls took off in the breeze in the fields next to the riding stables , looping west towards the valley and the sea

Giselle

 

My sister and I went to Liverpool last night to see a revival of Mary Skeaping’s 1971 version of Giselle 

It was magical

The willi ghosts, as usual stole the show with their ensemble centre piece of synchronised hopping but this version had the spectres acting as attacking ghouls circling the huntsmen at terrifying speed and menace 

I loved it The National Ballet is on great form 

I think as a piece of pure theatre the entrance of the willi ghosts cannot be beaten 

I cry everytime 

Home

 

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