Anthropoid and Bulldog knickers

With the Prof away I took myself away to Theatre Clwyd for a " senior citizen" showing of the wartime movie Anthropoid this afternoon.
Things didn't get off to a grand start as the woman in the box office only charged me senior rates rather than regular ( do I look 60?)
Then around an hour into the movie, I had the mother of all coughing fits and had to leave the cinema amid a chorus of tutting from the greyhairs.
I didn't mind too much as the film was rather too dull, to return, so I went to have a look at the gallery instead.

Returning home, it was clear by the state of the floor that Winnie is now back in season. She is presently wearing a pair of the Prof's underpants with the gusset reinforced with toilet paper

See comments about just why she has not been spayed 

Christmas Adverts!

I am thinking of going to my solicitor 

The new Waitrose Christmas tv advert is a direct rip off from this blog entry

http://disasterfilm.blogspot.co.uk/2016/10/a-robin-in-cake-tin.html

But I kinda like this version of the John Lewis bouncy boxer Christmas ad

Clever

For Janice

Janice has just emailed me from Somewhere in Berkshire
Apparantly she enjoyed my recent baby photo and asked in a rather " strange" way to see another photo of me " from my salad days!"
So Janice.....enjoy

ILL

It's a lazy blog today.
I've got some sort of bug which hit home in the middle of the night and I feel like shit.
I'm sure it will pass by tomorrow but today, I feel as though I've been hit by a bus.
I'm coughing so hard that I'm farting like a machine gun!
When I am ill, I look like this......

But feel like this...

I vont to be left alone

How do you cope with illness?
What sort of patient are you?

The Walking Dead Episode 4

This is a slow burn of an episode.
With Negan ( Jeffrey Dean Morgan) wisecracking his way into Alexandria ( his jokes and easy manner already getting on everyone's tits including the audience's) we see "team Rick"reacting to the threat in a somewhat interesting and varied way.
As Carl, Michonne and Rosita bubble away with quiet fury. Father Gabriel cleverly covers Maggie's tracks by showing  Negan a fake grave  ( Negan has already proved himself a talented psychoanalyst by understanding the danger of women scorned)
Rick ( threatened by Daryl and Oliva's deaths) gives away all of Alexandria's weapons and faces the backlash for it even though it is obvious it will buy him and the others some time ....time for perhaps Kingdom and Hilltop to join forces.
I could do without Judith's step dad Andrew Lincoln's goggle eyed overacting but as a stand alone episode this one was an interesting study in psychological warfare, especially as it's the Walking Dead's women who are now stepping up to the plate.

When The Chips Are Down

Over the weekend I watched a normal family unit cope with a devastating series of events. Whilst some members "crumbled" under the weight of the situation, others remained stoic, each person dealing with the news in their own way.
You see this a lot on ICU

I have learnt that you can never ever second guess just how people will react in these situations, because often enough, non have ever been through something similar before.

The other morning I received an email from the wife of an old patient of mine.
I had been instrumental in helping the woman becoming  pregnant, ( something I am sure that you would never have believed ) but you have to remember that the patient involved had a severe traumatic paralysis and that I was the nurse working with the couple  in the fertility clinic at that time.
The patient, who I will call James, was only in his twenties at the time. He had dived into the sea on his first holiday in Spain and had struck his head on the sand at a shallow spot.
This had resulted in a fracture of his fifth vertebrae,and an immediate and devastating paralysis  from his chest down.
He never recovered.
I remembered James well. I remember him being nursed flat for twelve weeks with his neck in traction. I remembered his wife, a pragmatic Nolfolk countrywoman who could only visit on weekends and I remember him never complaining about his lot, even when faced with the overwhelming sadness of loosing every physical thing you ever held dear.
James just dealt with the brickbats.
His mantra was "let's get on with it!" 

The generic email from James' wife remained typically simple.

It said " we are sorry to report that following a short illness James died peacefully at home surrounded by his friends and family and  with his loyal dog Judy at his side.
He was a much loved son, brother, cousin, uncle, husband and father and was an inspiration to everyone who met him" 

I last saw James at that fertility clinic appointment twenty years ago. He remained resolutely upbeat about his life with disability, that is  until I was involved with the intimate and very private moment that fertility patients have to endure, only then did he break down and cried silent tears in the worried hope that all would be well.
I remember wiping away those tears for him, for he was not even able to do that for himself, and he cried long and hard for much of the consultation as the fooodgates opened after years and years of coping without complaint.

James' son was born healthy and happy the following spring. I believe he is now a student at The  University of Suffolk.

Good Fortune

I got home this morning exhausted and rather run down after a busy night at work only to be faced with a somewhat fraught Prof and a pile washing.
Some animal, yet unnamed had run amok on our new bed spread so I was banished to the spare bed room in order to catch with some sleep, which proved to a rather futile job as the washing machine lies directly beneath the bedroom in the west wing!
I got up, stupidly insulted the Prof's rather tasteless parsnip soup, then, while he was sulking, took the dogs out for a walk, dragging my feet as I did so.
On a more positive note, as we crossed a deserted village green,
Winnie stopped to sniff at something lying in the grass!

A lone 20£ !
The Prof told me I should donate the money to a charity of his choice
" fuck off ," I told him
" I'm spending it on beer and Crisps!" 

Robert Vaughn

Vaughn 2nd from left in 12 Angry Men

I'm in the bath.
I've left The Prof in bed, he's muttering about the new Vice President elect, who is a known homophobe..I've had enough of bad feeling and elections and feel a tiny bit more optamistic after watching a dignified and entertaining Henry Kissinger being interviewed last night about the Trump debacle
His " this too will pass" view poured some oil on some waters for me.

Two years ago I took my best friend Nu to see Twelve Angry Men . It had a short but successful stink in the West End, and featured that old suave sixties star Robert Vaughn in the fairly small role of Juror 9 ( The old man ) Vaughan was obviously enjoying himself and ar the curtain call, I noticed with some amusement just how he larked around with the younger and more serious actors. He was 81 then,
Hollywood didn't really know what to do with Vaughn which was a shame, but he was a successful actor for over 50 years appearing in The Magnificent Seven , The Towering Inferno, Bullet and of course The Man From Uncle as well as literally hundreds of tv shows.

He had a twinkle in his eye, which was very evident to me in Angry Men .
It's sad that he has gone.

A Blogging Phenomenon

Much has been written about how  anonymity breeds trolling behaviour on the Internet. Like road rage which flourishes inside the confines of certain people's personal car spaces, bloggers who take shelter behind pseudonyms and fictional characters may often challenge, and bitch and argue and debate with their fellows where, if they met them socially, they would keep their mouths politely and very firmly shut.
It's an interesting phenomenon to be sure.
I've noticed certain bloggers seem to delight in sucking the life blood from any blog entry by consistently arguing the opposite point of view. You can almost set your watch by them .
Is it a case of familiarity breeding contempt ? Genuine irritation? or a sense of entitlement
I am not quite sure
Perhaps someone out there can enlighten me.
Part of the problem , I think, comes from the written word itself.  Like texts and particularly emails , it is easy to misconstrue the meanings and emotions behind a comment, especially one tapped out quickly three thousand miles away.
The answer, like most answers lie within a mash up of all of the points above.

I'll leave you with a morning photo of me and Mary..........

Auntie Glad Catch Up

Another miserable and depressing day of rain started with a mega downpour at 7 am. I was already soaked after walking the dogs, so I guess it didn't really matter me getting drenched again when some frantic honking from the geese got me racing over to the field with a torch.
It wasn't a fox that was bothering them but a collie dog, which I caught peeping through the goose house window. He ran off towards the livery stables after I yelled a sharp "getaway ! " 
The rest of the morning was filled with shopping, buying some adhesive to stick down the loose bath surround, meeting a sad work colleague for coffee and calling in to the feed wholesalers to buy layers pellets.
On the way home I called into see Auntie Glad.
One of the care home staff told me that she was " quite confused today " but I found her as sprightly and bright as ever even though she later insisted that her husband Bob Railway was still alive and in the next room .
Gladys told me that she had been booked to make her famous scones that afternoon, then waved her arms angrily at some of the other resident ladies who were sat, sleeping off their lunches in the day room. " They are a miserable lot, always complaining about the food!" She snapped " They make my blood boil "
The one thing Gladys hates above anything is ingratitude .

She took me to her neat little room, where I read out the Parish Magazine to her and she recounted recent visits from Christine (Chapel House), the vicar and from various members of the male voice choir before letting the conversation fade to old times and vague but happy days from years ago.

As she walked me back to the day room a cheerful young woman in an apron called her over to a table on which was sat a massive mixing bowl full of flour and sultanas " I told you I'm making scones this afternoon " Gladys chirped brightly " we shall be having them for tea!"

Take Me Home

It's Just before bedtime and as I've been listening to YouTube videos 

George tottered over and climbed into my lap, 

And rested his old face next to mine, 

His behaviour kind of went with this song 

A panacea to all the hate and disappointment of the day

Iago was right

It's a miserable morning on either side of the Atlantic today.
I won't bother discussing the new leader of the free world
The whole thing beggars belief.
But , hey...I don't live in America....

Today's Going Gently is about jealousy.
Jealousy in a relationship.

Occasionally I meet a friend in the village for lunch.
She makes homemade bread, or soup, or cake and I bring an hour of silliness  .
It's a good deal all round.
I have noticed, however, that every time we are sat at the kitchen table, the phone will go and her husband will there catching up with a snippet of news or a job that needs sorting.
Recently I casually asked if he was bothered that I occasionally popped in for a chat and my friend replied " oh no, he always rings me during the day"
Something in what she said and how she said it triggered a tiny alarm bell in my mind.
" Is he jealous? " I asked her
The grenade had its effect and the words tumbled out
Apparently her husband had always been jealous. He often sulked for days if my friend went out on an evening with friends, so much so that she no longer leaves the home without her husband on her arm. Male colleagues were often viewed with suspicion and bad mouthed constantly and often when my friend  was out working she felt obliged to call her husband to " check in" so to speak.
This all had been going on for many years.

I leaned my elbows on the kitchen table and uncharacteristically for me , I said very little  as my friend's conversation ran down like a clock. I think this was the first time she had shared this information .

" I know....you make the life you live " she said finally
And I nodded taking a final sip of my coffee

Changing The Subject

Changing the subject

The Prof has always wanted me to be able to dance with him

I have two left feet

I wish I hadn't 

I am very aware he used to be a professional dancer in his youth

But I am sure that One day we will dance together like Fred & Ginger

Just the once

Bad Mothers

I only posted this photo as it pleases me

There are rules in society ......one of which is that you don't swear at parent in front of their child.
I broke that rule today
I was driving in Prestatyn and was turning into Princess Avenue from Ffordisa at around 1pm when a small child on a very small bike shot across the road in front of me. He appeared out of the school gates of ysgol y Llys and a woman on a mobile phone was following him and as I stopped suddenly she ran forward grabbed him and waved a hand at me in a kind of acknowledgement.
I wound down the window and yelled angrily  " I could have killed that child !.. What were you doing? "
The woman glared at me, shook her head and told me to " fuck right off!" before starting after her son. She never once put down her phone!
My blood pressure went well over 200 mm of mercury in 1 second flat
And what did I do, whilst stopped in the junction of a busy Welsh Street?.......I'll tell you, I did what I normally do in such circumstances
I resorted to abuse.

" YOU'RE A BAD MOTHER WITH FUCKING CHEAP SHOES"  I yelled after her with some gusto

Monday Night

Autumn is here.

The fire is lit,

Mary is licking the insides of Winnie's ears and has been for an age

I'm Waiting for The Walking Dead

Mrs Trellis bought me a homemade scotch egg this afternoon,

Just the one wrapped in foil

I'm sorry to say it was bloody awful 

No one tell her.

The Queen Mary's Hooter

The Prof is away most of the week again and I am presently clearing out the crap from the kitchen cupboards. It's a day to be alone.
Yesterday I made a massive pan of pea and ham soup.
Both the Prof and I are paying for this today!
We had three bowls each for supper
I ventured outside this morning to round up the bantams who had spent most of the morning in the front garden in a successful effort to keep out of the way of the feral cat stalking them in the Ukrainian village. I left George to chase away the cat when I shooed the birds back. Every time I bent over I let out a pea smelling fart which could of put the Queen Mary's hooter to shame.
" it's cold today!" I called over to neighbour Mike who was trimming his shrubbery
" aye.." He said with a deadpan face " and a bit windy too!"

News

Mary watching the Prof eating fruit cake

The Church Bell which heralds Sunday service woke me up approaching eleven.
The dogs and Albert were all waiting patiently on the bed for me to get up.
I swear I'm going to climb up on the Church roof one day and stuff an old pillow around the clacker

I have not seen Gaynor the mad organist for a while, I thought this as we passed the lytchgate where I could hear a dozen reedy voices singing the hymn. I think I shall buy one of those snakes made from coiled springs( the ones that you can cram into a small box to scare kids with) and when I am next cleaning the church I shall put in under the organ key cover.
I shall look on eBay presently.
 Click on Snake-Trick-Joke-Gag-Ebay

Mr Jones is home after his stroke and waved from his window when I passed, and I had a bit of a turn when a smart man who looked remarkably like an undertaker passed me in the street and walked through old Islwyn Thomas' front door which was open.
Apparently he was one of the congregation from the Welsh chapel service and not an undertaker!
Islwyn remains very much alive.

The Memorial Hall's new caretaker is Sandra S, who, I heard,  is getting on great guns with the village Christmas Fayre to raise funds for it's redecoration.

Gay Gordon is spending most of his day asleep, Stan told me as he was cutting back his berburis, it's something to do with his diabetes!

Mary is excited, and has been most of the week. She has not seen autumn leaves before, and chases them at every given moment. I'll have to watch her with traffic on the main road .

Chinese takeaway for lunch!

4.04am

i'm posting this in lieu of something more substantial
Am on break at work
Hey ho

15 Minute Post

Just enough to drink a lovely cup of coffee and type today's blog!

At 10 am I am taking Mrs Jones shopping. I was passing her house on Wednesday and with a worried face she called me in. Her husband had fallen in the kitchen. 

" I was going to phone you " she said but luckily for him she had rang for an ambulance and it was already on the way, so I tied the dogs to her fence and went in to help. 

FAST is the acronym to use with a suspected stroke (facial drooping, arm weakness, speech difficulties and time) and I suspected a small stroke after her husband stated he had slurred his words a minute or so earlier....luckily the paramedics arrived minutes later and seemed cheerful enough as they negotiated Winnie on the garden path.

She was blowing kisses at both as they squeezed past with their backpacks

Today, I promised to take her shopping as she didn't want to be gone from the village for the length of time the two buses take to go to town and back. 

Having no transport is a shitter when you are old and poorly.

I'll leave you a photograph my twin sister has been banding around on social media......it took me a while to realise that it wasn't her! 

See I havent changed much

I still remain very round and very pink to this day! 

Acts Of Violence

Mary A3:01 am

"I was a third year teacher when one of the student's parent came into the classroom high on drugs. Without saying a thing he shot me once in the chest. I remember ordering the children to run out of the room. Next thing my grandmother and my grandfather who I never got to meet, were telling me that I have to go back. There were things I needed to do. I remember not wanting to go back but I'm glad I did. I married and raised two children."

This comment from yesterday's blog literally took my breath away.
It described an act of violence in such a conversational way that it almost hurt reading it.
It shows a huge capacity in coping.
Thankfully acts of true violence are rare.

Apart from having to deal with paranoid and combative patients on intensive care, I have never really been party to a violent situation. When patient's kick off, my psychiatric training will often kick in, so remembering the mantra " keep close and keep in control" I have often used my fuller figure to my advantage to quash  any violent situations with a hefty fat arse! well until the time the doctor with the sedation can swing in to the rescue.

One study in the US found that up to 22% of nurses showed symptoms of PTSD
I thought this statistic as interesting as it worrying. So I won't apologise for another of Going Gently's straw polls! 
Has anyone out there suffered from PTSD ?
Or did the violence managed to pass you by?