Ta Muchly

Well I've bloody well missed the vet again tonight.
Played badminton with the Prof at teatime for the first time in a decade (and thought I would drop dead there and then on the court) and missed the soddin call! By the time I had rung her back, she'd left the surgery .....tomorrow I shall pin her down for sure!
Having said this, the patient in the kitchen,apart from looking mighty bored with her life, looks more or less like her normal self.
I've cooked her chicken for tea and have told her just how well loved she is! (Not many welsh bulldogs have such a fan club as she I whispered. ) she listened to what I had to say but continued to scoff down her fillets with one eye on the cat flap in case Albert should appear.

I do love the old girl so very much.

In the great scheme of things the fate of a geriatric sex obsessed bulldog shouldn't be high up on the agenda.....but I am touched just how many people have checked up on the old slag!
Thank you.

Best Laid Plans

The vet didn't get back to me.
Apparently there was an emergency and she was called out.
The receptionist fielded my annoyance as deftly as I have done with relatives at work.
Time to take a deep breath .
" I 'll pass your message on" the receptionist told me.
I bit my lip.
I'm juggling things today, Mary is at the groomers, I've just  given a neighbour a lift to the doctor and I have to find blooming daffodils from fucking somewhere as I have promised to plant out some tubs at The Prof's University this afternoon ( its St David's day tomorrow!) .
Meanwhile Winnie remains confined to the kitchen.
Second day of antibiotics
And she's just eaten a chicken dinner.

Pyometra

I've just hand fed her some roast lamb

Winnie has pyometra, which is a serious life threatening uterine infection.
I am presently waiting for the junior vet to call me after she discusses the case with her senior.
I hate waiting for phonecalls!
Winnie has already been pumped full of antibiotics and is presently asleep on a bed in the kitchen.
The condition has made her incontinent. A thing that upsets her so. She is also passing large amounts of pus PV. This is messy but more positive than retention. Retaining pus leads to sepsis
I know that much from ITU

I knew that one day this condition may of reared it's ugly head. Spaying older bulldogs is fraught with it's own difficulties but if we had successfully got Winnie through such surgery earlier, then she would not be in trouble today.
It was a difficult call.

Winnie has a few  premorbidities which the vets have to review. Her age , her size are the most significant as well as her breed's well known problems with airway control during anaesthesia but I was careful to underline just how well she is for her age at the same time as being fully aware of the reality of the situation.

As I paid the bill, Winnie wandered around the waiting room and greeted each dog and owner in turn.
She was slow and careful and the sweet receptionist who admitted her gave me one of those " be brave" looks as she handed me the antibiotics

Who Do You Think You Are?

Winnie isn't well.

Her usual post " in season" accidents looked suspicious on the kitchen floor this morning and after dipsticking a " wee" stain it is clear to me she has some sort of heavy vaginal infection.
The vets are all out on their country calls this morning so I shall take her to the surgery at lunchtime..so watch this space.....I'm a little worried.

Anyhow must fly to catch the bus now in order to collect the car......my sister has just rang...she has the results of our family DNA tests
We are officially 36 % Irish, 20% Scandinavian, 12% British 15% or so West European and 7 % Spanish!
How interesting is that?

Must fly...will update about Winnie a bit later


. 

Pie Drama

The whole village, indeed the whole valley lost it's power last night.
The Prof  wasn't best pleased as I had just put in a mince pie in the oven which he was looking forward to greatly.
He stropped around the cottage like Bette Davis as I dug out candles and a torch so I went to check on Old Trevor, Pat the animal helper and two other elderly neighbours.
I need not have worried, for everyone over fifty lived through the power cuts of The Three Day Week, so all would have had a  candle at the ready when all the lights went out

For those that dont know The Three Day Week was a government initiative to conserve electricity due to the 1973 oil crisis and British Coal Strike.  The general population had to deal with prolonged and regular  power cuts over that winter and even tv stations were forced to end their broadcasting early in an attempt to conserve power! 

I was eleven during the January Winter of 1974 so I vaguely remember those quiet drab evenings sat with a duvet in the living room surrounded by candles. I also sort of remember the pungent smell of the primus stove as my mother made tea and the worry that the tropical fish, their tank all wrapped up in an old sleeping bag would make it through the night.
No one seemed to complain much as I remember, they just got one with it.
Nowadays everyone would be apoplectic with rage and would be flinging themselves around in hysterical abandon searching for someone to rant at.
Then my mother just bought an extra flask and made sure she was up to date with her library books!

It was nice taking the dogs around a deserted and dark village. Almost every house had small pools of candle light illuminating their windows and the place looked as it would have done in the 1930s before mains electricity visited  the population.
As we walked around I spied another torch flicking to and fro and bumped into Cameron the teenage boffin, who was checking if anyone needed assistance. He too was enjoying the drama and the peace  of a dark village.

Ward Nite Out

Late last night I found myself waiting for a lift home from the back entrance of a somewhat " lively" establishment in a nearby town.
I was enjoying standing in the cold with the light rain on my face
The place was filled with rowdy, good-natured drinkers , most of them looking for anything between a snog and a shag. Many of the revellers were robustly drunk.
I was sober having sipped my pint of beer for an hour or so and half finishing a coffee martini cocktail which was a gift from a sweet friend.
I am out of practice with ward night outs!
It's not that I am antisocial, I am not! but I find the banging music, raucous laughter, skirts the size of   face flannels that would barely cover Sharon Stone's muff and the general scrum for the bar all a bit hard work.
It was nice to go to say goodbye to the four junior staff nurses who now have moved on to different work lives.
But I was glad to get home to bed to sleep and snore alongside an already comatose husband and a Welsh terrier who was dreaming Welsh terrier dreams .

Coffin Talk

I missed Gay Gordon's funeral service.
I fell asleep on the couch and woke up in my uniform with a pair of surgical forceps poking into my nether regions.
I was annoyed at missing it, for I suspect it would have been an interesting bun fight.

I have only been to one funeral service that could have been described as entertaining. It was the funeral service of a nursing colleague which had been choreographed by a talented humanist speaker who knew just how to balance pathos with mirth. He had the congregation eating out of his hand.
Most of the other fifty or so services I have attended have promoted feelings which have been a mixture of profound sadness, dissatisfaction and disappointment ( I shall explain this in a bit) and of duty and respect.
A few have been somewhat surprising ( for all of the wrong reasons ) one, I remember was gut wrenching and overwhelmingly emotional and one ice cold memorial featured just two mourners ( including myself) and three crematorium staff.
I have given eulogies at three funerals and was slightly drunk at one other after too many nips from a friend's hip flask. I have been present when in a family funeral car we were sideswiped by a lorry a minute from the church and I have walked into the wrong service at a crematorium in Sheffield  which ran two ceremonies at the same time.
Abide with me has, I think, been the most common of hymns sung.
The funniest piece of music played, I remember hearing was the theme from The Benny Hill Show and at one funeral of a long term psychiatric patient I once nursed, the order of service was almost halted by strangled laughter after another patient kept yelling  IS HE DEAD? continually through the prayer section.
The worst funerals, I always think, are those that fail to capture the essence of the deceased. I often blame sub standard clergy for this one, vicars that fail to do their homework before opening their gobs.
One Priest, who looked as if he was doing the congregation a favour, said of a long standing and successful nurse I once knew that her life " was full and interesting because she enjoyed the archaeological tv show " Time Team" and crossword puzzles!" 
I could have bust him in the mouth for that one.

Doris

Doris has turned out to be a bit of a bitch.
The electricity has been off a couple of times and in the Churchyard one of the trees splint almost in half and has crashed to the ground.
Winnie took one look at the horizontal rain and promptly ran back into the kitchen to have a piss on a rug.
Her expression said it all
" you've got to be fucking kidding" 

Hollow Smile

She smiled with her mouth but not with her eyes.
I've noticed the fact several times now when I've met her.
I think I know why she seems a little sad.
Moving into a small village can be isolating especially when you have a new baby to look after.

I saw her yesterday, when I was fixing the light over the back door. She was pushing the baby down the lane to feed the sheep, mother and child, she reports miss the hens and geese dreadfully.
I asked her if she felt a bit isolated ( isolated felt a better word to use than the more stark lonely) and immediately I know I'd touched a nerve.
She looked as though she could have cried then and there.

It may not be a panacea to all of her ills but I thought that I will ask her to join the Flower Show Committee. We are due a meeting in the spring.

It's 7.15 am and I'm nursing a coffee whilst listening to John Hurt's " Jeffrey Bernard Is Unwell"  monologue on BBC . It's going to be a busy few days, me thinks for not only have I two back to back night shifts to deal with ( a favour for a friend with child care problems ) but I'm taking neighbour Trevor to his outpatients appoinment this morning (a sixty mile round trip) and have to fit in a leaving party for five intensive care staff who have moved onto bigger and better things as well as squeezing in Gay Gordon's funeral which takes place on Friday morning!

And storm Doris  is all set to strike on Thursday morning!



It's all go!

Pastures New

This morning I recieved an email from a smallholder from Gwynedd . He told me that Camilla Parker Bowles and her " sisters" were doing very well indeed.
The email was a welcomed one, but it did twang the heart strings just a little.

Several weeks ago the geese left the Ukrainian village for pastures new.
I didn't blog about this fact , for it was rather a sad time.

It was a hard decision to make, but with the hens' removal to the safety of barn life and under the shadow of avian flu I finally made the decision that the geese had to be found a new home.
And I wanted total control over this change.
This year I retire from work. The Prof's work could and probably will change to pastures new and we also have the opportunity to travel a little more, and so I wanted the girls on a farm with care 24/7.
I " interviewed" several interested parties and eventually chose a small holder from the back-and-beyond in deepest Wales. He is an interesting character as he is good with animals and fairly poor with people.
He was also as poor as a church mouse,as it was evident that his income went on animal care and not designer clothing!
It was this quiet dedication that allowed me to make that final decision.
Now Camilla has the space to fly without risks of crash landing on the nearest bin lorry. The group now have a safe haven with a pond and a new owner who only leaves the farm to to the weeks' shopping.

I still miss the geese but I am so happy they are settled in their new home.
Was it actually seven years ago when they arrived?

The Walking Dead Season 7 Eps10

Relationships don't last too long in The Walking Dead ask Maggie, Sasha and Rosita if you don't believe me! Rick has been with Michonne just one series now and the " boys" Aaron and Eric seem to be hanging on in there but everyone else seems to be suffering from Walking Dead Widow syndrome.
Everyone but Carol and Daryl.
These fractured characters have been friends since the close of season 1, and it was an absolute joy for the series audience to see them reunited in tonight's episode.
Carol and Daryl are the heart of team Rick. They are both victims of  domestic abuse, but have blossomed in this dangerous new world and although still very much  damaged goods, their vulnerabilities have propelled them into two of the most cherished characters in the entire show
Tonight when Daryl, the borderline Aspergers warns off Richard with the words
 " if she ever gets hurt...she dies....she catches a fever....gets taken out by a walker....gets hit by lightening...anything...anything....happens to her...and I'll kill you."
It brought a lump to my throat!
The Walking Dead needs such characters.
Without them, it's just a gore fest.

Looking Like Shite

I do so try to explain to the Prof about the toll shift work takes on a soul
Yesterday was a case in point.
I finished a night shift (7.30 pm to 8.15 am ) then came home..slept from 9 am to midday then was woken up by a bowl of fish pie! ( which was bloody lovely btw) I then took the dogs out then went to Conwy for a drink and a read of the papers in a lovely real ale pub we found recently......the Prof had a few pints of real ale.....I had two strong coffees and Mary had a packet of crisps!  Great to find a dog friendly pub........as we sat in the snug with a group of Liverpudlian hikers , I tried to explain that If I woke the Prof up at 1am and took him out to a night club , he too would feel and look like this....
He just doesnt get it!
Fucking rough! ......roll on retirement

She loves me so

Shit Bags

Tom will like this....
It's about dog shit.

I don't feel neighbourly today. I'm tired.
Sure I was  friendly to Rowenna when she complained that the church bin had not been emptied,,( but she is so sweet that it didnt take much effort) but when a certain hatchet face old prune screamed at me when winnie was mid dump on an expense of badly kept lawn outside her council owned property I was ready for a fight albeit a velvet glove sort of fight.
I was just about to scoop the offending turd up into a bag when the old fart yelled out
" get that dog off that grass!" 
Now..I know it was more out of devilment rather than maliciousness  but I turned to the woman, smiled a sweet smile and said in a polite yet firm tone
"NO!" 
This kind of attitude drives em bananas! 
As I tied up the 2 lb poo and plonked it into my pocket, she started again, though there was noticeably less aggression in her voice
" I'll ring the council!" She called
I smiled again
" You do that!" I trilled sweetly
"I will " she shouted 
" Good" I replied.
Yes it was all rather juvenile but I couldn't help myself.
" and when your at it, get them to cut your grass"
The woman " harrumphed" as we moved on watching me carefully over folded arms.
I could have then kissed George with a big sloppy Scottish terrier kiss,
For as he  jauntily trotted up behind us ( he is off his lead at this particular part of our constitutional) he  stopped briefly at a stone animal which decorated this woman's path and without prompting loudly pissed on it!

Night shift again

Photograhed as she contemplated life this evening

kitchen Sink News

Yesterday I recieved an email from one of the community council members.
He asked me to post it on today's blog in order to raise awareness of the event.
I agreed

Hi John, Great blog entry today - I nearly wept over my laptop. It always breaks me up.

On a different issue, as I know many in the village follow your blog, and only if you feel it appropriate, could you plug the drop ins for discussing community transport .

"Community transport drop in events 22/02/17 - 4.30pm-5.30pmGwaenysgor Village Hall and 24/02/17 - 4.30pm-5.30pmTrelawnyd Memorial Hall"

The Community Council have arranged them with FCC

With the declining public transport in our area we need to do something on a community basis and I was hoping to get as many people there as we can to discuss what we can do.

Thanks John - if you feel it inappropriate then I will not feel offended.

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Bring Him Home

This blog should be viewed after the proceeding one if that makes sense.

Bear with me....if you follow my instructions, it will make sense.

Seventy people more or less filled St Michael's Church for Colin Endres' memorial service. Seventy people is not a bad turn out for someone in their mid eighties I thought.

Every pew was filled.

Sailor John and Mandy, Animal Helper Pat and her daughter Joanne, Farmer Basil, Jenny the former postmistress, old Trevor, Sheep man Graham, the head of the community council, and a score of old faces sat at the back of the Church as the family took the front pews.

Gaynor, the mad organist looked natty in her checked jacket.

The vicar looked traditional in his long frock. 

It was a nice service. 

The funeral usher came from Denbigh and was a practised baritone. He provided a spirited descant to the chorus of Calon Lan.

After  the service, Yola, Colin's wife took her time to process down the aisle and as we sat there, Gaynor switched on a recording of Bring Him Home from Les Miserables.

I suspect that the recording was this  version, and although it is said to be a common song to be played at a funeral, It was the first time I had heard it at such a service. 

As the elderly and strong voices from the village choir filled the church, many in the congregation bowed their heads with the sudden emotion of it all.

Butterscotch Angel Delight

After a somewhat energetic appointment with a dental hygienist , I called into the Mcdonald's drive through for a coffee. It was mid morning.
On impulse, while my coffee cooled I drove up past the Monastery at Pantasaph and pulled up outside Auntie Glad's nursing home.
The new manager met me at the door and shook my hand formally. She wanted to know who I was.
She asked me to wait as she thought Gladys was having a lie in after being somewhat poorly.
I waited in the small dining room, where one deminuative resident eyed me carefully from her wheelchair.
" who are you here to see?" She croaked
" Gladys Jones" I replied
" Her room is next to mine", she told me " She's had a wee infection!"
" oh dear" I said smiling weakly.
The manager appeared and told me that Gladys would recieve me in her room.
I didn't stay too long, for Gladys was slightly vague and tired but she recognized  me and sounded like her old self when I informed her there was a funeral in the village this afternoon.
" Mr Endres' funeral !"
Mr Endres had helped run his wife Yola's family shop for many years
Now the Welsh love a good funeral and Gladys is no different in that respect and immediately she was giving thought to what she would wear for the service, plans I managed to divert with some more chatter about the Flower Show committee and Gay Gordon's recent death.
I even toyed with the idea that I may take her to funeral myself, but thought against it as she was not quite well enough.
Next time, I thought, if permission was granted

As I left , I smiled at the woman in the wheelchair, who was now sat at the lunchtable.
She smiled back showing a wide expanse of gums
" We're having butterscotch angel delight for pudding today" she told me

Favourite Quote

" You have a merry heart!"

" Yea, my lord, I thank it......poor fool
    It keeps on the windy side of care"



What's yours?

A Little Post About Lurve!

Valentines day....PAH!

I popped into Sainsburys yesterday, to get neighbour Trevor a chicken dinner and a paper. You couldn't move for men pawing carefully over buckets of flowers.
It wasn't much of an uplifting spectacle.
I'm not an  overly romantic animal. I find large romantic gestures somewhat cloying!
Does that surprise you?
Answers on a postcard please!

I had only two serious " boyfriends" before the Professor came along. I did however kiss quite a few frogs in the search for Mr Right but that was a long time ago in a country far far away.
There were no Mr Right's before the Professor......Mr Self Obsessed certainly, Mr Straight acting too and surprisingly Mr Getting-married-to-a-woman ....oh and lets not forget Mr Charmless, Mr Bad Breath Mr Strange Sex and Mr Mommy Lover.....like I said ......I kissed a few frogs
Before all that I did date a few women, two of which I am still friends with today.
Dating women may not have been fully satisfying but it was more civilized I always thought

However, despite my lack of a romantic personality, I must say something here
The Prof and I were married two years ago next month and my wedding day was the best day of my life.
It was the best thing I ever did!
Hey ho..there....I have said it!

I'll leave you with this tiny animation I made last Spring....it has nothing to do with Valentine's but it has everything to do with lurve
It shows an old Welsh Terrier chasing bees in our back garden