Going Gently

WTF

When I’m dead and gone, some unfortunate fucker will have to sort through my shit. In my bathroom they will find a few figures of cats. Whimsical childlike cats with Asian features, each with a raised paw and a tinking bell.

And no doubt they will think

What the fuck did he have these for?

They were a gift from my friend Ben

He’s a gentle soul, who started in the hospice the same week as I did.

An academic who worked with my ex husband, Ben bridges the gap between university and clinical practice. He is liked and respected for his considered approach to patient care, and has a sort of universal connection to races and cultures from all over the world. His wife is Korean and his family live in the US, and he bought the cats in Japan at his brother in law’s wedding.

In Japan the cats will bring their owner good fortune and money.

I’m all for that,

And apparently they should sit somewhere high up, where traffic is high

The shelf above the loo seems practical and pragmatic

It’s out of the psychopath Weaver’s evil clutches

And there they will sit, smiling benignly on my big hairy arse every time I sit down to contemplate the world.

Like antique or my cottage, or the paintings on my art wall….. I won’t own these cats, I will just look after them for a while until they find a new home.

And I hope they do indeed bring me and their next owner good luck

Anne Murray - You Needed Me (1978)

It took me an hour and a half to get back to Trelawnyd tonight

Storm Claudia

Even Weaver said hello

It’s nice to be home

A German

I’ve just been on a study day about the treatment of acute trauma

An interesting mix of counselling approaches CBT and EMDR

I soaked up information and approaches like a fat Welsh sponge

It was wonderful

It cost me 250 £

Money well spent

The Liverpool study day mixed its participants into small groups and in my group was a serious German born counsellor who smiled rarely

I found it my mission to make him smile, mainly because I found him terribly attractive

He was butch and masculine and heavily bearded

He was also far to serious .

And in the afternoon he actually laughed at one of my interactions , a time I challenged the tutor with a colourful comment of “ I think that is bollocks”

At a tea time 1 to 1 he told me seriously that he found me “challenging” in the group work

And in a sudden moment of privacy and honesty I told him that was because I found him rather attractive

“I’m in a relationship” he said kindly with a nod

“You bloody would be “ I told him

He touched my arm for seconds longer than he should of and I lapped up the flirt like a spinster out on a church picnic

Oh lord ! I said and meant it

And he laughed loud and long, still holding my arm

And before I walked away at the day’s end he asked me for my phone number

Someone’s Darling

A praying mantis holding up Christmas lights, just part of a collection of Christmas gifts I’m getting ready to post to friends in Australia . It’s a tradition I’ve kept for years now.

Sending odd Christmas decorations in the post….its comforting as it is regular .

I had lunch with Chis Eleanor…soup and a cheese panini and we put the world to rights.

It’s lovely to be called darling, several times…in a conversation .

It’s a treat.

I wish it happened to everyone, every day

To be referred to as someone’s darling,……

We Are All Getting Older

I now have a strange etherial shadow dominating the sight in my right eye.

It’s a misty ghost

An apparition

A sea mist on a Christmas morning

And something the eye consultant warned me of .

When I close my eyes in the sunshine

I can see the shadow of the bleed quite clearly, a dark amoeba against a pink eyelid

My bestie Nu has had some health problems recently and admitted to me that she suddenly felt old

I understood that feeling today , when I left the darkness of my front door with the dogs , totally unsure of where my feet had ended up on a wet path as black as midnight.

Mary has milky eyes and is careful where she steps and I now understand her hesitations as we both let Roger now take the lead.

Something he has never done before.

In the dark my sweet young boy now takes point position

His head held high

And we follow him

Trusting his dim old head and his happy personality .

The Choral

The National Treasure which is Alan Bennett is 91 years old and for me his later works have been somewhat uneven and all rather bleak in their storytelling. Perhaps it’s the near mortality of an old man that leeches into his writings, who knows, but this story of the formation of a Choral piece in the World War One backdrop of a Yorkshire mill town could have been his tour de force piece. The story is, of course more complicated than the rags-to-riches tale of a band of strangers. The teenage men, desperate for love and sex are awaiting conscription, as the older businessmen are dealing with loss of their sons and of fortunes.

The women’s characters are strangely underwritten too, and even more unevenly played as either Madonnas or whores, which gives the whole film a cold and flatly unsentimental edge to it.

I was bored and disappointed by the whole thing .