I’m on night shift so am just going back to bed
Hopefully it will be clearer later
Takeaway and lunch
My friend Colin came over from Liverpool last night and we drank wine, ate a Chinese takeaway and gossiped. He’s a true cat person so Bun and Weaver made a bee line for him.
I was jealous
This afternoon I went to the Mostyn Gallery to see the works by Greek painter Apostolos Georgiou
# nice weekend
A Little Story About Grief
Nearly fifteen years ago now, I had a conversation with Auntie Gladys.
I remember it as if it was yesterday .
We were sat at her kitchen table with tea and scones. The scones she had just baked on the off chance of someone calling. The tea was served in a mug.
All men drank tea from mugs according to Auntie Glad
Only women drank tea from cups with saucers.
Her kitchen was immaculate and testament to her cataracts , as she always over cleaned everywhere just in case, and her eyes were always a watery blue, like topaz seen through gauze, as she regarded you carefully and always with much affection.
We talked about a mutual acquaintance from Bron Haul who had recently died and the conversation veared to the personal and the painful; memories of her daughter, Edwina who had been killed in a car accident aged 16.
“ I went to bed” Gladys said simply “ I went to bed and didn’t care for anything or anybody’”
She paused and put a warm, dry hand on mine
“ It was a dreadful time” she said her sing song Welsh accent hiding the emotion “I’d given up”
“ But then came the Doctor, who marched up those very stairs” she pointed to the hallway where her Regency Staircase stood, one which was once part of a private boys school.
“ He said Gladys my girl, enough is enough. You need to get out of bed ! I have got you a job cleaning in a solicitors in Holywell ! You start on Monday”
Gladys clapped her hands and laughed at the memory
“In those days you did what the Doctor told you to do, as they had the learning and we didn’t
I got up, washed my face and went to work, and it was the saving of me . The Lord sent me the doctor that day and do you know what John
I’ve always been busy since”
We drank more tea and gossiped more about village news and I realised that what was a charming little story, a snippet of whimsy, was in fact a story that hid a great deal of pain.
Gladys, buttered more scones and poured more tea and wrapped the scones in brown paper for me to take home.
I was happy, sat at that table
I was a child again, listening to my Grandmother’s voice.
Safe and comfortable in a warm kitchen that smelled of baking.
Beautiful
I wasn’t going to post today
I have nothing much to say.
By breakfast time I’d already worked eight hours, driven home and shopped.
By 2pm I was awoken by sunshine streaming in from the Western sky
It felt warm on my face
whereas the cottage air felt just above zero
Mary lay on the bed with me. Her head facing the sun
She was obviously enjoying the moment and looked as though she was smiling gently to herself.
I watched her for an age
My New Year’s resolution ?
To note something of beauty every day,
No matter how small
Sat With My Tree
I couldn’t sleep after 2pm so got up, Marshalled the sleepy Welsh and braved the showers in order to get some air.
We walked into the graveyard and sat on the bench sheltered by the vestry.
There we watched my laburnum.
I said we, when I mean I.
The Welsh just watched the trees in general, they way they whipped in the roar of the wind.
I watched my tree.
It looked bare but robust,
Much bigger than when I planted it with Islwyn back in 2021
This piece of music was playing on my phone a piece by James Newton Howard
Sweet
Happy New Year I thought hopefully
Then we returned to the cottage and to bed
2025
I’m working tonight and that’s fine. My colleagues are a bright young staff nurse and a support worker with a big heart.
I have no trouble working New Year’s Eve.
At the back end of 1989 one of my best friends died, his name was Ian Parry and he was a freelance news photographer. He died returning home from Romania
Ian was a high flyer and carried the hopes and dreams of his Welsh friends to London and beyond. At 24 he bought a flat, had a glamorous girlfriend and showed more chutzpah than Babs Streisand in Yentl, so when he died , we were left floating and lost and without a touchstone that linked us to success and positivism. New Year’s Eve lost its sparkle then, a sparkle that has never returned in thirty years or so since.
It’s stormy here today and the roar of the wind is loud through the Churchyard and around the corner of the cottage and its chimney.
I’m going to make avocado on sour bread with poached eggs which will be my meal of the day.
I’ve made a chicken salad for supper.
So my friends we are almost in 2025
2024 saw Dorothy, that little dynamo of a bulldog leave my side after five years of loving me with passion. Her drama and loyalty filled a chunk of my divorce grief as I kind of knew it would and her death left another bulldog sized hole in my heart.
I still miss her dreadfully .
But Bun & Weaver have arrived with a bang, two naughty school girls throwing an old bachelor’s home into disarray.
I’m an old dog, having to learn new tricks.
The wind seems stronger now.
I’m listening to the second of Dr Gwen Ashead’s Reith Lectures which centres around evil.
It’s an interesting BBC listen.
What do I want from 2025?
To be healthy,
To be happier,
A Bit Of Reflection
If things progress I shall be a qualified counsellor in June. I know I’m more suited to transactional analysis area of counselling, which means more study and training, and with my blood sugars more stable I will have the energy to push myself further in what will be my 63 rd year.
I’m slowing down too, which means more stillness and mindfullness .
Life isn’t better just because you employ the smokescreen of bustle
Life also isn’t a film script. There are no saviours, save for ourselves
You’re on yer own kid
Now who said that?
,
Sometimes
Sometimes you miss things
Sometimes real life gets you tired and stressed and blind to things important
Busy day today
Lots of nursing support given,
Lots of nursing management stuff
Some days go like that
Some are overwhelming
So you get home late
When It’s dark and lonely
Kittens are fed, dogs are walked, fire is lit
Tv on, tv dinner in microwave, kittens are bullies
Nine pm
It feels late……
Roger, sat at my feet. Quiet and pointed, brown eyes searching mine
I know he needed, and wanted a hug and I suddenly scooped him up with big arms and teary eyes
His head under my chin, his eyes closed in doggy happiness
If he was wearing a jumper , there would be holes in it
We sat together, me rocking him like a baby, for an age
His paws wrapped around my hands
And time stopped
everything is alright
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