9/11

I have no words

 

The Other Side Of Murder

I’m not a lover of farce, even dark humoured farce but the production of  The Other Side Of Murder staring the moustached comic Rufus Hound was lightish fayre even for a late summer production in Theatr Clwyd . Nice to see Susie Blake ( in her late 70s) stealing the show with her Madam Arcarti type performance. 

Susie Blake’s most famous creation as the snobby continuity announcer in

Victoria Wood’s As Seen On Tv

With Feathers

 I posted earlier, an old post, then pulled it        

It was lazy blogging. 

I haven’t much to share today.

It’s been my counselling day and I’ve been busy 

Busy concentrating,

Busy thinking,

Busy trying to join the dots 

And busy being kind and present for people who need to be heard.

With my head full, I went to an inaugural book club meeting after work 

And walking into a new environment with new people remains a really difficult event for me

I’m almost paralysed with shyness

My book of choice is Max Porter’s Grief is a thing with feathers and I was given a timed ( yes timed) 5 minutes in the spotlight , to give my thoughts on why it should be the first book of choice to be studied . 

I was a little pleased that out of eight books mine was chosen. 

I looked every part the scholar as I had my jaunty chic Eleanor Counselling Scarf on 

The host ( a well dressed, rather camp, ex English teacher who made his own delicious tapas nibbles for half time, complete with a Penedès Rosé served in delicate antique tulip shaped wine glasses, was a sweet if slightly pedantic organiser, and I felt drawn to the warmth of a thirty something vet who admitted she’d never been to a book club before and hadn’t had a proper day off for a month . 

I also caught her wincing at the taste of the wine and I winked at her in conspiratorial fun 

Theatre tomorrow night, 

On the way home I bought two scotch eggs from the coop 

Breakfast bliss

See I do have things to say when I think about it 

 

Tuesday

Hello, I’ve slept heavy

 I’m back on holiday today which is great timing.

So I’ve got a list as long as your arm of jobs to do, in between a couple of theatre trips, more cinema and lunches out. 

I’m leaving you with this video,

Stick with it

It’s a gem of a watch

 Hey ho

Lyn

 I like working with Lyn

She's a support worker with a big heart and an enquiring mind

Like myself she is in her 60s and single

And like me she's an empath.

A few years ago we shared a moment at work which will bond us forever.

A relative who lived in another country rang to say goodbye to their sibling, who was unconscious.

It was a terribly busy shift but the both of us took some time holding the phone to our patient's ear,

hoping against hope that they could hear the messages and the murmurings of affection and

love only siblings can share.

Lyn and I looked at each other during that long phone call

Both knowing what the other was thinking

It was a privileged moment neither of us would forget.

I was busy with a patient last night

It was a complex problem

And Lyn was there in the background as always

Halfway through the shift she made me a sandwich and a cup of tea and set it down next 

To me as I worked

Its nice to be looked after

Sometimes its lovely

The Reunion

 I took the dogs to the beach early on. I’d run out of metformin so I collected some from a friend soon after, then bought Roger and Mary a cheesy bacon flatbread each. I had a coffee and we listened to The Reunion on Radio four.

The Reunion is a documentary hosted by Kirsty Wark , It has a simple format , the recorded reunion of 8 individuals who at one time had a connection through some important or life changing event.

Today was a reunion of first responders ( and the relatives of civilians) all caught up in 9/11 in New York

And under Wark’s calm guidance , the experiences of that day were told with dignity and clarity. 

It was such an emotional and hypnotic listen that we drove the long way home, in order to give the hour the time it deserved. I cried a few times on the journey home, a testament to the power of the spoken word

The rest of Sunday is a write off. I’m doing an overtime shift later so I will have a siesta

Weaver has the shits so I sent needs worming again which I can only do in skin drop form…another challenge in itself. 👀🐈‍⬛👀💨💩

The nights are drawing in, and Autumn is almost with us ….its heading towards the village apple fest, the warm hub coffee afternoons and the ponies return to the field opposite 

The garden spiders will be migrating through the cracks in the cottage armor and the log burner will be lit every night…….so I will leave you with the glorious Talia Choir and their version of Viva La Vida ( my favourite singer being at 0.24 secs! ) 

Enjoy

2.53am

 I’m sitting with a patient who cannot speak but is awake

Insomnia seems to go hand in hand with palliative care

It’s early morning. 

The tv is too invasive 

So it the radio

So I sit and write quietly with his permission , keeping him company in silence.

We are heading towards the witching hour

3 am, it is thought, to be the time of Jesus’ death.

I only know that because a devout catholic friend, a Filipina nurse, told me on night shift.

Apparently the Chinese think that 3 am is the time we all process our blocked emotions.

I think I believe that could be true.

It is also the time humans flit from our deepest sleep to a lighter one

An Afternoon Client

 

Instead of my client’s face, I was gazing at a very large white Alsatian on the computer monitor.

The dog pricked up his ears when I said hello 

And I head a faraway shriek somewhere else in the house.

The dog jumped down, presumably following the yell

“ leave it alone ! Leave it alone” I heard my client cry

And there was much shuffling and banging followed by a sharp bark.

More banging

“hello HELLO! I shouted this time

“John! John! Give me a minute! “ came the muffled reply

More bangs and more bashing

It all felt somewhat surreal 

I took a sip of coffee

And a minute or so later my client sat down, gasping, her hair in disarray 

“ Ziggy brought in an injured starling” she explained “ and I had to capture it in a spare pair of knickers”

Hey ho