The Art Of Not Noticing

Sometimes it a bonus being totally unaware of what is going on around you.
Some people just seem to have this skill.
Nothing seems to affects them !
I ENVY THOSE PEOPLE
I am reminded of an elderly enrolled nurse, I once worked with in psychiatry called Donald O'Hara
( enrolled nurses were affectionately known as greenies btw as they often wore green uniforms ) anyhow.... he was Irish, a bit dim, but rather sweet and  had the unerring talent not to be involved or notice any conflict or violent incident when it occurred on the ward, a ward which catered for 30 odd long term mentally ill men.
One lunchtime, I was supervising " dinners" with two other student nurses when one particularly florid schizophrenic patient kicked off  with a fellow patient. Within seconds the two patients had hit each other with full plates of cottage pie and as we students jumped in to separate the men another patient waded into the scuffle by throwing a full jug of juice into the array.
The fight progressed to the heated dinner trolley, where a metal container of baked beans was launched into the mix and as I ( bravely) hung onto the instigator ( who was then screaming that he was original King of Spain) I was spun  into a bamboo planter full of spider plants and knocked the entire collection onto the floor.
To add to the confusion a particularly degraded patient who had the unfortunate nickname of " The animal" crawled into the mess happily eating all of the trampled pastry and mashed potato which had been flung onto the floor.
Of course we students didn't have the gravitas to stop the whole melee, but stop it did when the charge nurse thundered down from his office and bellowed a sharp and aggressive shout of
" DESIST THIS FOOLERY THIS  INSTANT  !"  from the dining room doorway
He looked at us student nurses and baked bean covered patients with a sneering disgust and walked back to his office shaking his head.
Only then did Donald appear. He had been reading the Racing Post in one of the buxton chairs adjacent to the dining room and as he tucked it into his uniform pocket he gave me,  the other food stained student nurses,  and the cowed patients a brief sympathetic  look.

" what's for pudding?" He asked without cracking a smile.

Suck my feet

Every Sunday or at least once a week Velvet Voiced Linda sends out a generic text to all of the village street wardens via our Warden App.
In drips and drabs come the 👍🏼😘 , and "all well down Cwm Road" messages until all chicks have chirped a reply to mother hen over in Well Street.
The safety net seems to be working well and there is much talk about a party in the memorial hall once things are over.
But it's not over
And our lives have shrunk so much that tiny snippets of contact or news has become significant and interesting.
Village Elder Islwyn is mowing the new graveyard and it looks as neat as a pin. Sue has removed one of my field  ponies leaving the remaining youngsters whinning into the wind and I moved back into the kitchen when Polish Monika's post toddler daughter dangled herself over the garden wall to try to kiss the bulldogs' heads
What day is it?
I have had to think
I ran out of milk yesterday but watched my films instead of going out.

Wonder

Ship of fools

I watched the Julia Roberts weep fest that was Wonder - the story of a disfigured boy's acceptance into a main stream school after The Guerney Literary and potatoe Peel  pie Society and dove tailed that by the late night classic Ship Of Fools 
A silly late night given my overwhelming tiredness yesterday.

This afternoon, I have fallen asleep on the couch listening to Islwyn's lawn mower
Dorothy has licked my feet spotless and has also gently nibbled my red bunion until I couldn't take it anymore .
Having your bunion nibbled by a bulldog with a tongue the size of a giraffe's is a rare treat!

I talked to my friend Nu yesterday , who reported life on one of London's busiest ITU's has quietened somewhat
And I have read more and slept more than I ever thought possible.
Is it really Monday today?

Making lists..Christmas is officially over

Chris usually photographs his Christmas gifts (it has become a bit of a tradition) I usually make a mental list of what I received! (quelle surprise!!!!!!!!!!!!) thought I would list my gifts!, not only because I am anal to the point of obsession!, but because this year I have been particularly lucky and have received some lovely things.

From Chris (George,a mobile phone,a pair of winceyette pyjamas!!!,a lovely ink pen, woolly hat (my favourite see pic), calendar,theatre tickets,and clinique "Happy" aftershave. Janet and Ned , an Edwardian glass, a book on allotments, an art deco silver spoon, a theatre voucher AND a lovely gaudy welsh jug. Ann & Tim, a mushroom growing kit (!), vitamin E cream from Body Shop,wild flower seeds a dog duvet, garden secateurs, & fingerless gloves for work on my field and a lovely 1930 style pie dish. Nephew Chris, a dog bowl. Andrew & Jayne, a cookery book. Nigel, a home designed calendar with lovely photographs and a bee keeping book. Mike & Bev, allotment and gardening books! Sorrel, a years' subscription to Empire Magazine for 2008. Nu & Jim, a years' subscription to Empire! for 2007. Katherine (a voucher to repair ancient tapestry for the National Trust). plus many bottles of wine,genden vouchers, a bottle of gin, tons of chocs!!!

There I feel better .....list have been made!......I know Christmas isn't all about gifts! just wanted to thanks everyone for their thoughfull and welcomed pressies....

22.41pm

Its twenty to eleven and I have just taken my quiche and apple pie out of the oven in readiness for the show. It has been a busy day
The kitchen resembles Kew Gardens as a dozen entries from people unable to set up their own exhibits cover every surface 
Apologies for not  catching up with blogs (a wonderful relaxing Friday night habit)... I need a gin and tonic

Village News- A Round Robin

Grey and Cold....Trelawnyd Hibernates

There is just one thing that prevents the  spreading of news in a small Welsh village and that is wet, cold weather. Next door neighbour Mandy described Trelawnyd as being in hibernation this morning, and she was right, for on the surface there was not a soul to be seen in the dank streets and slick lanes as I took the dogs on a walk around the Churchyard in a futile adventure to find the secret nesting place of two of my best laying hens

Before Christmas I bumped into old Islwyn Thomas who told me that Gay Gordon had been taken poorly right in the middle of a " Turkey and tinsel " weekend up in a Morecambe sea front guest house. I wanted to see how he was doing so I went to see Gay Gordon's lady friend , Mary to catch up with any news.
Now Mary is a cheerful old soul who looks like a massive scatter cushion with a quarter of the stuffing removed and the last time I visited her bungalow, the dogs and I got stranded in her exterior garden elevator for a very stressful twenty minutes ( I won't go into details here) so carefully I side stepped the elevator and knocked on her door.
There was no answer so I trolled the street to see if I could glimpse a flick of net curtains anywhere.
There wasn't any sign of life until I got to Llys Mostyn where the man who lived in the corner house was venturing out with his miserable little Shih Tzu.
He told me that Gay Gordon was still in hospital but was improving  which was good news.

Auntie Glad suddenly appeared on High Street when we turned the corner and she told me that she had been visiting an elderly neighbour ( who interestingly was 20 years younger than she) then asked me all about my trip to Kent on Boxing Day
She wanted to know every detail......... everything we did.... and I had to smile as
She listened to everything I said with sparkling eyes
Gladys has the knack of taking pleasure out of every bit of news....a fact most of us overlook as the
boring shit of life .......Taking pleasure out of a a five minute conversation is a wonderfully altruistic skill

I am off to London tomorrow for the day, so I then went round to ask if John F would lock up the geese for me in return for half a dozen eggs , he agreed cheerfully as did animal helper Pat , who agreed a barter swap of 6 eggs for some baking margarine when I popped in on the way home
This afternoon I will be making a chicken a mushroom pie for Chris' tea tomorrow and I couldn't be bothered braving the miserable weather to walk up to the garage shop......

Hey ho...it's all go

Early Doors

Thats the Prof's ' happy face'

Here, in Britain, there is a pub phenomenon which is known as " Early Doors".
Early Doors refers to a time when people pop in to the pub, namely in the afternoon to very early evening to sink a pint or two and chat.
It is sometimes a favourite time for the elderly to middle aged drinkers who don't like the " crowds"  of an evening bartime, the after work brigade, the newspaper readers and of course the hopeless. alcoholic.
The Prof is still on holiday today so I took him to The Albion in Conwy for an afternoon drink. I was driving so had a few large coffees, he had a few of the guest ales and a pork pie.
Mary had a bag of crisps!
The mid afternoon clientele was a quiet bunch. Mainly old men with sticks perked up by a middle aged drunk woman who slurred her words from the get-go. I reminded the Prof not to catch her eye. There is nothing worse than a latched on drunk when you are sober.
I don't do early doors, anymore.
One of the last times, I did,  was over  a decade ago when I got so pissed in All Bar One with my fey sidekick John 'Bel-Ami', I eventually fell down two flights of basement steps into a firedoor, broke my spectacles and gave myself a black eye.....and never felt a thing!

Hey ho.

Yawn

I once fell asleep on a bus in Sheffield with after a nursing shift, a mini pork pie in my mouth

I was so tired this morning, I suspect I would have dozed off with a whole melon in my gob

Working Night shifts in lovely weather is a twatt

The Baking Cupboard

 On Saturday it will be the six year anniversary of the day I got married 

Of all the dates I need to forget , this one is the one I always seem to remember.

The morning of March 6th 2015 was very much like the one we experienced today. It was springlike and warm and sunny. 

Like this morning I was alone in the cottage, drinking coffee at the kitchen table.

Unlike this morning, I had been up and down like a fiddler’s elbow receiving cards and gifts from villagers and friends.

I remember the table being filled with bottles of champagne and boxes with bows and flowers in vases.

Around 11am I spied Auntie Gladys walking carefully down the lane. 

She wore a red woollen coat and looked frail at 95

I met her at the garden wall and she held my hand in greeting

“ I have a wedding gift for you both” she said handing me a hand written card 

I started my usual  you shouldn’t have  type reply which she waved away with a hand

“ Buy yourself something you need but would never usually buy yourself “ she said her watery blue eyes twinkling and I was suddenly moved that this old stalwart of the Church and of traditional values had just embraced her first gay marriage 

“ Thank you for being so kind , Your support means a great deal” I told her and she laughed her usual laugh and pushed her hands into her coat pockets to find a hankie 

“ It’s the law ! “ she said simply and I watched her walk back up the lane, her head to one side as though she was thinking hard.

I felt moved and humbled , as though my grandmother had just visited.

Auntie Glad’s card was traditional  and addressed to us both. Inside was several crisp ten pound notes which I rolled up and placed in the tea caddy on the mantle. 

I forgot the money until weeks later, when it was almost summer.

Back then I was planning for my beloved new kitchen and so fantasised about things I wanted to make it the best of all I had owned. Having my own baking cupboard was on my to do list.

And so, with the help of Auntie Glad’s money, I prepared for one.

I bought loaf tins and flan dishes and an old fashioned black bird with its mouth open to sit inside a steaming pie so that the pastry would not get soggy. 

I bought cake tins and a flour shaker and storage tins full of grease roof paper, food colouring and vintage Christmas cake decorations alongside vintage wooden spoons and a mixing bowl with blue embossed sides like the one my mother used to have.

Any I hid all of the bits and bobs away until the IKEA workmen had put in the kitchen, only bringing them out from their hiding place to fill my baking cupboard . The one nearest to the lane window , where the light is best to roll pastry and to kneed dough.

Today after night shift I was in my baking cupboard yet again, retrieving the ingredients to make sourdough bread  and as I kneeded the dough I remembered the day Auntie Gladys brought me a wedding present .......and continued to be a bit of a hero .

The baking Cupboard Today

Help Trundles in

The weather has closed in this afternoon, so my last minute strimming and weeding has been put on hold until tomorrow.
I have started to bake cakes and an apple pie for Sunday, and have been (nicely) interrupted by a steady stream of donations for the day!
Auntie Gladys must have been up at dawn baking as 60 neatly bagged scones were ready for collection at 10am, and this afternoon Pat braved the torrential rain to deliver two Bara Brith loaves.
Now for those that don't know, Bara Brith is a traditional Welsh fruit loaf where the fruit is usually soaked in cold tea. The Welsh name means literally "speckled Bread" and the loaf is served sliced with lashings of butter! It's delicious
Pippa galloped past with the dog last night stating she will bring her cakes on the day as will Heulwen and Pat's daughter Joanne, who has made a carrot cake. More sponges are winging their way from Sylvia from the Flower Show and old Mrs Jones ( the old farmer's wife I caught hanging on the back of a tractor a way back)
Chris, (the guy that owns Theresa the turkey on loan) is dropping off some old farming implements to display and another allotment holder Graham has just rung and agreed to set up a stall of his home grown produce for sale on the day!
Things are starting to come together

A View From My Armchair

Now blogging never fails to surprise me.

I can write something that I think is worthy and interesting and get 5 brief replies in way of comment and then in  pure throwaway fashion, I can "pen" some bland rant about the weather and get 50 comments in way of a detailed debate.

It's the fickle finger of blogging me thinks.

Today my arse is inexplicably glued to my lovely comfy armchair in the corner of the living room, so I cannot really see that anything I have to say will be of any interest to anyone....but we will wait and see!.

Ok I have fed the animals, walked the dogs and had a couple of hours sleep but I intend that today's world will be concentrated upon a corner of the living room where the view of our grandfather clock, over filled bookcase and my handpicked kitchen door with too large a gap at it's base will be all that I have to worry about

Chris has squirrelled his way in his office with some academic work and the dogs have collapsed at my feet after a walk in the COLD and AWFUL START of AUTUMN we experienced last night...so I am left with the gentle tones of classic fm, which are wafting in from the kitchen radio for company.

I need to get up really.

I have a shepherds pie to make,

I have some new warrens to water in their pen

and it's time to rattle my feed bowl at Sylvia and Irene, as part of my concerted effort to win the buggers over

But do you know what?

I think I will sit here just a tad longer

and I will gaze uselessly at my green kitchen door which has too wide a gap at the bottom!
hey ho

A Mince Pie In The Vestry

The Church's East Window , illuminated by a cold winter sky

I'm working later this evening , so am off for a siesta in a moment.
It's midday, which is, I know, an odd time for a  sleep, but I will need to be up around dusk which is around 4 pm to lock the animals away.
Chris has taken himself off to Manchester Christmas shopping with an old friend, leaving me to sort out the slow cooker and mulled wine for the Church carol service tonight.
In between hailstone showers I took the stuff over to the vestry. After turning on the central heating, I was just leaving when I literally bumped into a couple of amblers in their sixties who were standing rather uncertainly on the Church path.
" Is the Church open? " the man asked hopefully
" I'm only putting on the central heating" I told them in way of explaination
" oh what a shame, The Churches in Gwaenysgor and Llanasa have been open when we have visited" the wife said.
Of course , I let them in to look around the little church,and switched on the lights to cheer the place up somewhat. As they pottered around I made sure that the slow cooker was polished and clean and as I waited I dusted the back bookcase, and vestry cupboards even though they didn't need dusting .
After around five minutes or so , I took a look back in the Church. The wife was standing quietly by the font at the back of the Church as her husband sat stock still in the very front pew with his head bowed.
" Everything ok?" I whispered, in way of galvanising them to think about leaving
and the  wife turned to me and said with rather a sad half smile " No not really"

It wasn't for me to say anything else.....I just nodded and went to sit in the vestry to eat one of Chris' bought Marks and Spencer mince pies next to the vacume cleaner.

The couple left shortly after, leaving a kind of melancholy feeling about the place.

Men Friends

Yesterday my friend Colin collected me from the cottage and we went to lunch 

We had a lovely long chat over celeriac soup which was drizzled over goats cheese and walnuts and put the world to rights over steak pie and poached haddock and poached egg

Now in my late fifties I’ve cultivated more male friends than I ever used to possess.

And more male  gay friends which may be a surprising fact for some. 

For years my only gay friend was Nigel, who is still my go to when I want an objective, occasionally waspish and totally honest opinion about something. 

Now I am single, I have a few more.

Chaps that understand more of the nuances of the gay world later in life.

My straight male friends have increased in number too, a fact I love too. 

Over the past decade sexuality seems to mean less in male friendships than it ever used to be

I applaud  that fact so very much.

I’m planning a visit to Sheffield soon and one completely necessary friend catch up will be with Mike, a friend of thirty three years.

Now Mike is a true Yorkshireman 

He’s a Straighter than straight, blokey, butch, football fan Yorkshireman .

and sounds like an extra from the film Kes

And in the 1990s I came out to him while we were drinking pints at the Dog And Partridge on Trippit Lane . 

When I nervously told him I was gay , he took a measured sip of his bitter

smiled lugubriously and said carefully

“Does this mean that I have to go to gay bars occasionally ?” 

“Only occasionally “ I told him 

He nodded and replied quietly  “ I can do that” 

Notes On An Ordinary Day

Snowdrops in the graveyard this morning

Sometimes you just get in the mood for something basic!
A piece of chocolate, a gin and tonic,.....sex!
Whatever the object of desire is.....it's always good to scratch an itch so to speak.
Today I got the urge to cook and bake.
After bog standard jobs first thing, I walked  up to the shop to buy some butter, bumping into villagers Wendy, Daphne and Frank, Rowenna with the crooked wave, the wisecracking Barbara Parry and animal helper Pat as I did so. Most commented on the  fact that I didn't have the dogs with me. Catching me without the dogs is as unsettling to some as me finding Jimmy Savile sat at the kitchen table in one of his silver track suits.
I bought the butter and as I delivered extra eggs to Purgatory on my way home, I spied Mrs Trellis walking her dog way up the lane. Satan was dragging her so fast up the hill that her bobble hat was bouncing back and forth so much, that she resembled an energetic pixie.
I thought to myself that I should try the homoeopathic medication she had given him the other week, when he had collapsed so dramatically.....
It seems to have worked wonders.
Anyhow the rest of the morning I have been baking

I baked chicken pies, a fruit pie, made custard and  spicy squash & Carrot soup from scratch and would have baked some bread if I hadn't dropped the yeast behind the cooker.
The weak winter sun has brought out several sets of walkers, all of whom have stopped by the garden wall to buy eggs. Unfortunately Pippa from the rectory bought them all up a little earlier.
She had her Zsa Zsa Gabor fur hat on I noticed and looked very swish!
This afternoon I polished the silver with tomoto ketchup
It's a trick my grandmother taught me and is useful if you run out of silver cleaner.......Mrs Evans called around for eggs and asked if I had been pickling onions

I've just boxed up the soup for freezing......and as I did so caught Albert with his whole face in the custard. I'll pick the bits of cat spit out, Chris will never notice......hey ho.....

What you wish for......

I am writing this as I am waiting for pasta to cook for tea. The kitchen feels like the wreck of the Hesperus, with four sets of dog paw prints across the lino, a newly thrown pile of cat sick on the table and the faint whiff of canine farts (they all have just had some extra strong worming tablets this morning), billowing around the room. I have always had a bit of a fantasy about my kitchen. Avidly reading Period Homes and Country Living, I dream of having a free standing bespoke kitchen, with country fabrics,aga, 1930's kitchenalia collections and the obligatory loaf of bread and vase of flowers on the kitchen table.Oh yes add to this a vintage fridge and enamel saucepan collection-just to set the whole thing off

Our present kitchen does have a flavour of this fantasy, but just a hint ! I would have to admit that no way would any self respecting editor of Country Living, photograph a Trelawnyd "rural" kitchen and place it on page 2. The dog baskets are grubby, and even though I clean the floor twice a day, it remains an odd grey colour for most of the time. Trays of chitting potatoes lie around next to the incubator which is filled with duck and TWO goose eggs and piled next to that is all my seed packages, heaped high in an old pie dish.. Dust from the coal fire covers most of the untidy crockery and tins of cat food sit next to daffs in cheap vases on the window ledges. Not a show kitchen that is for sure, but a working one. The fantasy is a nice thought but I guess at least the existing kitchen works for 2 blokes, 4 dogs and a senile old cat

Campaign Against Living Miserably

 

This Christmas will be the first one ever I will not be sending any Christmas Cards.

The posting cost is far too prohibitive.

After much thought I will make a donation to CALM which is a charity against living miserably 

And this remembered old blog is the reason why( it is often posted this time of year)

Christmas 1985

Christmas week 1985 I was  shadowing a community psychiatric nursing sister with her caseload in a deprived and depressing northern town

Through a succession of faceless maisonettes, we sat on grubby sofas and listened to  sad stories of loneliness, mental illness and substance abuse and I watched as my mentor tried her best to keep heads above water and bums out of the local psychiatric unit.

The last visit of the day was to a woman I shall call Jean.

Jean lived alone in the top flat of a ten story complex. She had suffered from severe mental health problems for forty years and had recently been placed in her flat from long term psychiatric care only a few months before.

I remember her flat very well. There was no carpet in the hall and the living room but there was a tiny tinsel Christmas tree standing on top of a large black and white tv.  A homemade fabric stocking was hung on the fire surround and just two Christmas cards  were perched on the mantle.

( one of those cards having been sent by my colleague) The flat was sparse but incredibly clean and it was evident that Jean had been waiting for our visit all day.

In mismatching cups we were offered coffee with powdered milk and a single mince pie served on a paper plate and I remember sharing a sad glance with the nurse when Jean presented us both with gifts hastily wrapped in cheap Christmas paper. My gift was two placemats with photos of cats on them. The nurse received a small yellow vase, and I remember Jean beaming with delight when we both thanked her effusively for her kindness. 

When we washed up our own cups, the nurse quietly checked the fridge, noting that most of the shelves were empty . There was a calender on the wall with the note " NURSE COMES TODAY" written on that day's date. Nothing else was written on it until the week of new year's eve, where the same sentence was written.

It was the very first time that I had experienced someone who was so totally isolated in a community setting and it shocked and saddened me.

I listened as the nurse talked about medication, and as  I waited patiently when she took Jean into the bedroom to administer a regular injection I noticed a carrier bag which the nurse had tucked away by the side of the arm chair shortly after we arrived. In it was a package of cold meat, and what looked like chocolates and a cake.

Before we left, we let Jean monopolize her only conversation of the week and as she retrieved our coats, I watched and grew a few years older as the nurse silently slipped a five pound note behind one of the cards on the mantle.

Black Friday

There is only one thing against living in a 18 th Century cottage and that in Winter, even in full daylight , the place can suddenly look gloomy and very dark.. This is what the living room looks like at 10 am
It's so miserable that all four dogs with Albert in tow, have taken themselves off to bed.
Chris is still working in London this morning and will be taking his mother to the Ritz for tea. The two of us went a few years back and all I remember was that The scones balanced upon their silver cake stand were ten times smaller than Auntie Glad's and that everything was brightly lit, shiney and " bling"

Looking back on things the experience of tea at the Ritz  was a little over facing but quite magical in as much just occasionally it's nice to do something out of your comfort zone.

Having said that, don't go to the Ritz tearoom hungry.....you'll bloody well leave hungry.

This morning, in the gloom of Black Friday, I had a large cheerful  slice of fruit pie for breakfast

Christine from Chapel Street called yesterday, she had made me one as a treat and with a strong cup of coffee from my thick american coffee mug, it was as good, if not better than anything I had eaten in the Ritz Palm court.

Ding Dong

Gaynor , the mad organist

Around 50 of the village die hards braved the weather to come to the Church carol concert 

The service was taken by members of the congregation

which I thought was a nice touch.

(For your information the vicar is still recuperating from having a new set of plastic hips) 

Animal helper Pat, old Trevor, Mrs Trellis, old Flower Show jam winner Barbara Parry, Trendy Carol,

Daphne and Frank, only Aunie Glad was absent, she's on holiday in Llandudno.

A mince pie and a polystyrene cup of mulled wine was very welcome afterwards

Trick Or Treat

If I wasn't so tired I'd laugh
Yesterday's post sort of proved a point
I just haven't got the energy to answer each comment on Going Gently..
If there is a question or a comment that needs or deserves an answer, I will endeavour to answer it.
If I banter with friends so be it
All I can really promise is that each comment will be read and thought about
If that upsets anyone so be it too.....
You can't keep everyone happy.
Everyone's a critic 

I worked last night and will be working Friday and Saturday nights too. So after a few hours in bed, and a dog walk it's almost dark again and the day seems lost.
I've made  Shepherds' pie, stocked up on sweets just in case the Randa girls call around and will settle down with a catch up edition of Bake Off.
I know who won because one of my patient's referred to that "irritating, funny little man winning the baking" before she went to bed.

Funny Old Day

 

I had planned to meet my friend Colin for lunch in Chester today but I felt all out of sorts as soon as I got back from morning walks. 

He’s an understanding soul with as much gay drama in him as an empty theatre, so we rescheduled and after avocados on bagels and ordering Nu some flowers as she has finally moved into her new house , uncharacteristically I went back to bed.

Perhaps it was the fact that I needed that duvet cocoon 

Or simply more sleep. 

I woke at three after dreaming vivid dreams and it was raining and Misty and cold.

The dogs had been patient so I took them to the beach, where the cold rain stung our eyes and woke me up sufficiently enough for me to feel hungry

I bought a large fish pie on the way home, the sort that taste better than they look.

It’s in the oven now.

It’s been a funny old day

Rainy Day

 Dreadful weather today. Torrential rain 

Three dogs on the couch day 

Watched Amélie, Airport 77 and ate fish pie