Fantasy

 I have a whole selection of day dream fantasies, doesn’t everyone?

Places you go and visit when you’re warm in bed and your conscious minds flits like pond skaters do on the surface of the village pond.

My favourite recently is that I’m on a night train to somewhere. The sleeper is decked out ala North by Northwest or if not that American then say the train in From Russia With Love. 

Faded but smart

If you get the gist.

Of course I won’t be sharing ( that idea repulses me) but the thought of getting lulled to sleep by the noise of the train, intrigues me.

The man with a hole in his jumper doesn’t figure on any train, but the idea of meeting remains cinematic and dramatic in nature. It’s a scene from a gentle comedy film, wholly British with mr Jumper being scruffy but sweet and our meeting romantic and chaste

I have the money no object fantasy but it’s transported to a tv makeover where the cottage is a tardis with every to do task completed to the highest level of style and competence. 

The programme ends with me being presented with a baby bulldog from grateful friends in the village.

lol

Mememememe!, 

Sometimes I’m walking in New York like an aged Sarah Jessica Parker, off to meet friends for lunch at some bistro or other. And fantasies like these are fleeting and are almost like snapshots rather like little movies. 

I’m on stage singing ……singing like Ruby Rossi from Coda or Hyde from belting out This is the Moment ( you would never know I was gay would you?)

Sometimes I day dream of loved ones gone too

Bittersweet day dreams, like I said , that flit in and out of consciousness like pond skaters on the village pond

Better

 I’m feeling a bit better, even before I am to start on insulin,

I’m pleased by this.

I suspect my diabetic diet , is responsible for this as the peaks and troughs of my blood sugar have been ironed out a little.

And I have been strict .

Yesterday I spent the whole day cleaning out the kitchen cupboards without an afternoon nap .

Last night I read most of a book without falling asleep

Warmed by the fire , I was still awake at nine , as the twins swaggered down the stairs to take their place near the hearth .

Only then did I go to bed.

Today I’ve made bacon soup ( from the diabetic menu) and had a hot shower with Roger ( which he loves)

I listened to The Archers Omnibus on IPlayer, spoke to a friend and listened to music as the Welsh sat on my chest and the twins hovered nearby.

I listened with interest to the eloquent speech from Justin Trudeau waging economic war on Trump

Animal Helper Pat stopped for a chat and moments later Mrs Trellis dropped off dog treats wrapped in serviettes 

Sundays are a little long as they always say to me couple time 

Hey ho

My Untidy Desk

 

Flight Risk

 

I know I bang on about how good art house cinema is, but I do enjoy being entertained, no matter what the subject matter is and how it is presented. 

50 years ago I fell in love with disaster movies after watching Airport 75

You may remember the cross eyed Karen Black as Nancy the hapless stewardess manfully trying to pilot the stricken 747 over the mountains whilst the passengers ( including two nuns and a girl needing a kidney) screamed their heads off. 

Half a century later Mel Gibson has US Marshall Madlyn ( Michelle Dockery, Lady Mary from Downton) caught up in the same predicament, but this time she’s responsible for the safety of her prisoner Winston ( a wisecracking nerdy Topher Grace) an informant who is turning states evidence against a money launderer. Their small plane pilot (Mark Wahlberg) who has been chartered to fly them out of the Alaskan Wilderness turns out to be a psychopath hitman ( like you do) so the stage is set for a tense, exciting, old fashioned drama with the three leads bouncing well off each other, as Wahlberg becomes more unhinged and Dockery develops into a worthy adversary.  

Flight Risk is rubbish, but remains great entertainment and is all rather fun.

Animals In Hospital

 

Mary with Hattie, she adores women and their softness 

When I was a student nurse working in the community I once sat on a patient’s chihuahua, which was asleep on her couch. Its owner put in a written complaint about my behaviour. ( or more importantly my behind) 

In another home I once spied a mummified cat , curled up near a long used coal fire and could only go go eyed my colleague as she tried to persuade that patient to enter psychiatric hospital 

At another house, in the Sheffield districts I couldn’t help verify a patient’s death as I heard a family pet  ( a nasal pug with a habit of hiding under her mistresses’ bed ) heavy breathing 🐕

I once saw a farm dog lie still and whimpering next to the paralysed body of her shephard owner and I pretended not to notice an elderly dying patient’s Yorkshire terrier as it was “ smuggled” into intensive Care by a tearful grandaughter, under her anorak.

I’ve seen my own dear Meg , a feisty and somewhat bad tempered Welsh terrier , sit still and respectful at a moribund patient’s bedside. Something Mary copied a few years later. 

And Finlay , my first Welsh terrier once gently removed a spinal injury patient tracheostomy inner tube and held it in his mouth like a Frenchman smoking a cigarette as the staff looked on open mouthed .

I was present when a florid schizophrenic patient strangled the ward budgie 

And I’ve watched tearfully as a psych patient on his deathbed called to his dead wife only to be told he was in fact asking to see his long deceased old horse. 

Animals in hospital ….and outside hospital they love who they love 

Eponine

 In the late 1980s I was lucky enough to see the original cast of Les Miserables at The Barbican Frances Ruffelle won my heart as the urchin Eponine and stole the show over Patti LuPone who played Fantine and so forty years later,I was surprised to see a “new” Eponine that blew me away.

Nathania Ong plays the role  a visceral, raw and painful way

She lives Eponine

And she breaks your heart

Porth Eirias

 I need a boost today so lunch with a friend at Bryn Williams is a tonic. I took the welsh down the Promenade first in a first responce to anti diabetic expercise, then spoke to Nu in the car before sitting down at a nicely laid table  overlooking the sea.

The food was so so but Bryn Williams has lovely views and good coffee

We went to an art instillation at Porth Eirias, portaits of local.people from Colwyn Bay. It was simple, moving and very  effective

Then it was another walk for the Welsh , followed by supervision in Prestatyn .

It was almost dark when we got home, 

Hey ho

Memory lane January 2012

An old post revisited after 14 years

 “ I had a coffee then went out to deliver some duck eggs which I had promised to drop off and I was glad that I did for as I turned into Bron Haul I caught a glimpse of Mrs Spriggs.

Now Mrs Spriggs (not her real name) is one of those very VERY old ladies that always sound as though she is crying when she talks.She has that slightly odd, wavering voice that carries literally for miles. and when I sometimes try to pass her when she is waiting for the morning bus into town, the dogs will often stop then sit and stare at her when she cries her very odd cries of welcome.
Today, Mrs Spriggs was perched on top of a brand new shiny invalid scooter, complete with impressive wicker basket on the front. She was driving it at full tilt along the centre of the road,and even at a distance of say 50 yards, I could tell that her knuckles were white as the proverbial sheet.
Islwyn Thomas, himself in his late eighties, stood nearby and he gave me a small wave and a smile...
"watch this" , he  quipped "this should be fun!"
Mrs Spriggs passed us, letting out a long moaning scream as she did so
I noticed that the scream had a definite Doppler effect to it
"I'm scccccaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrred!!!!!!!!!!!" she cried " this is all new to me!"
she turned the scooter around and in way of explanation as she made a second run she cried out again
"The scooter is on loan..I'm trying it out!!!.....but I can't get the hang of the kerbs!"
She mounted the pavement briefly near Stan and Kit's neat little bungalow and let out a long "oooooooooooohhhhhhh!" as she did so.
And as I stopped to watch... realising instantly that this was the stuff of all passable blogs!
Mrs Spriggs glided past yet again emitting another little scream like girls do on rollercoasters

As she "hand braked it by the junction of High Street, She informed Islwyn and myself rather breathlessly that the buggy needed to be returned by Friday so she had to practise when the weather was dry.
"How do I look on it?" she wailed as she made her third and final run

"precarious !" I said under my breath”