Marks’

 I’m in Mark’s & Spencer’s cafe. 

Grabbing breakfast with the other grey hairs before I go to my last supervision of my student hood . 

I will miss my supervisor, who is insightful, calm, focused and unflowery. 

I can’t bullshit her, or myself when I’m with her.

I feel, when she looks at me, she sees the real me

That was disconcerting to start with

Her professionalism has made me more professional.

After supervision I’m going to finish off my counselling paperwork,( which is considerable) 

Tomorrow I have my final three clients which will put my counselling hours to 103

Friday my portfolio will be submitted

They have no avocado on toast in the cafe

I sigh theatrically

They never do

The cashier looks at me the way that Weaver does,

Through narrow eyes

When I pause , trying to work the carbs out in the other breakfast on offer

I’m not having the attitude this morning

“ I’m a new diabetic , I have to be careful” I told her

She smiled weakly

Which said, I just can’t be arsed

Planting

 

I took a villager for his hospital appointment today, which usually prompts a panic attack. Roger was in the back and clumsily struggled into the front to sit on my passengers knee and not a hit of panic was to be seen all the way there and back. 

“You’re my therapy dog” the villager murmured as he kissed Roger on the head when we returned home.

And Roger smiled his usual smile.

This afternoon, I’ve potted up the plants Janet gave me for my birthday, and even had the energy to clear away a ton of ivy from the French table and chairs. 

The Welsh watched me lazily, and even Bun came out briefly to see the fun. 

As usual Weaver remained aloof , but I saw her once in my office window , sat next to the Queen, watching carefully with narrow eyes.

I like gently sunny teatimes that build gently towards The Archers. 

I played Vide Cor Meum, loud

Lovely

Lovely Theatre Shame About The Musical

 I went to the soft opening of the semi finished Theatre Clwyd tonight and what a beautiful renovation it is and will be. Gone has the glum 1976 claustrophobic feel where white concrete, red bricks, gold and glass has made way to a lofty airy modern space filled with wood, natural colours and soaring windows overlooking Mold town and the surrounding green hills. 

The arthouse cinema will make a return too……..how wonderful 

The musical Tick Tick Boom was a little dated and shouty for me. But it was professionally done acted and sung , and beautifully staged. But I’m a sucker for a good song, and Jonathan Larson’s musical didn’t have many.

Which was unfortunate 

Birthday

 

Lots of lovely birthday messages today, and I’m seeing family tonight which is lovely too,  but I needed to get out of the cottage today to do something. 

Pottering around at home on your birthday is a recipe for self pity no matter the number of texts and messages and lovely gifts that have been sent.

I went to Chester to see the 11.30 showing of The Salt Path

It’s a gentle, emotional film of a much loved real life story and novel 

Ray and Moth Winn ( Gillian Anderson and Jason Issacs) are farmers who have fallen on hard times. Their home is repossessed after a financial deal went wrong leaving the pair effectively homeless, and with only a few pounds to their name , the couple embark on an epic walking Journey from Somerset to Dorset in a bid to distance themselves from the reality of their situation. 

It’s a journey of redemption for the couple, and is a desperate way of coping with homelessness, poverty and the fact that Moth is effectively disabled by the fatal neurological condition of corticobasal degeneration. 

The leads are wonderful and have that economic telepathy only long term couples who still love and respect each other have. Issac is especially good, underplaying Moth’s character with dignity, strength and finally proud emotion. 

It’s an intelligent film which will have you unexpectedly weeping at the most tiny and well observed nuances of acting, and I can tell you that Issacs is a sexy as hell 62 year old.

I went to my old standby Storyhouse for a low carb bacon and egg and sausage harissa brunch with strong coffee and no pudding and I’ve written this review alongside the other students writing their essays and assignments in the library come cafe

Off home to walk the Welsh, then will see the family later tonight.

63,and not out as yet. 

Gifts

 Have I told you it’s my birthday tomorrow?

It’s all me me me , lol

My shift is going ok, and my weak arm is holding up, to be fair the night is quieter than usual but I have taken the “ heavier” patients in order to stretch myself physically

I’ve been thinking what my most favourite birthday gift has been……

Finlay….

Hildegarde

 

The FedEx delivery man liked my dinosaur

“That’s Cool” he observed as he posted the envelope through the open window

I preened

It’s always nice to have one’s dinosaur complimented. 

I thought it was a birthday card.

It wasn’t 

It was a gift of banknotes with a kind message which said “ a graduation gift…”

I was moved into a shocked silence

It was sent from a faceless Hildegarde

A name which conjures up an interesting accent, a round kind face and a mysterious past.

Sometimes it’s hard keeping upbeat

I’ve had to resort to bra strap pulling on many an occasion, 

Fake it to make it, 

When ill health has compounded those loneliness of days or self doubt has questioned the validity of the last piece of academic work I handed in without someone on the other side of the kitchen table to say “That’s not at all bad”

Hildegarde’s gift has come at the most opportune of times. 

I’m working tonight and don’t really want to.

And her gift has boosted me today. 

As had my video presentation on Grief Therapy result, 

which has just undergone its second marker check

Another A 

How wonderful is that? 

I’m  sharing that with you all because I have no one else to share that with.

I’m sharing Hildegarde’s kindness because it was kind and much appreciated 

A birthday gift from Nu arrived today as did a smattering of cards, 

I took the Welsh for a walk and out for breakfast 

They shared a cheesy flatbread and I had my coffee and porridge 

And we ate in Bluebell overlooking the sea

Together

Man Crush

 Did I tell you that I’m 63 on Sunday?

Am I too old to have a man crush?

Well I have

Jason Mantzoukas

Hair like an unmade bed,

Beard like a rabbit nest

I’m smitten

Have him wrapped up and sent round 

Giselle

 

Sometimes we limit ourselves because of effort and boxes which we construct around ourselves. The broken handle on the back door is a case in point, I’ve lived with it for months now, and only recently has it got on my tits enough for me to fix it today.

And that’s satisfying as fuck! 

Today I’ve decided that things need doing.

I read with interest that the National Ballet Company of Japan is guesting at the Royal Opera House in July. It performs Giselle and I’m bloody well going to the Saturday matinee, I suspect it will be a delightful experience so bish, bash, bosh , I’ve got me an ok seat and an early train to London.

I’m on a roll today.