Of Canada...........thank you................
Who would you like to thank today?
And why?
Who would you like to thank today?
And why?
Traditions
Those that " know" me on Going Gently will understand that I do like to maintain my traditions .
After all it one one of the best songs from Fiddler on the Roof!!!
Fresh Flowers in the cottage at all times
Proper trifle with cream and custard at Christmas
Pancakes on pancake day,
Sending Christmas decorations through the post.😢
Gawd we even flew a Union Jack from the windows on the Queen's Jubilee
Halloween is a fairly new tradition for me but for the past decade I have always carved a pumpkin which would sit happily on the kitchen wall of the lane.
I've been busy today, what with more vet visits, and night shift tonight, but I've bought my pumpkin and will carve it tomorrow as I'm watching The Walking Dead on catch up
You've just gotta keep the traditions going
Don't ya!
Charlie Cairoli
My new job is a short term solution to a few problems
It stops me from thinking too much.
It eases me back into the saddle of work ( without the considerable pressures of an Intensive Care Unit)
And hopefully fairly soon it will allow me to pay for the rapidly arriving vets bills post ear infection, skin irritations, minor strokes and tumours!
Like I said, I'm not intending to stay very long,a better paid job is more the ticket..but who knows what is going to happen in the next few months.
I worked a twelve hour shift over Friday night and was in charge of 19 elderly residents. Now one lady I have gotten to know , knew my mother and father many moons ago now. She is an old colonial sort who spent an idyllic childhood in India. Polite , positive, and a tiny bit gung ho, she is physically frail now , but retains a sort of robust lets-make-the-most of things attitude which is so common of her class and position.
I liked her immediately.
I'll call her Miriam
Now I respect the Care home as it is not one that insists that residents are woken up at some ungodly hour in the morning. Before we go off shift , it is only expected that perhaps a handful of early risers are helped to shower, so inbetween blood sugar checks and medications, I get to do some hands on care.
Now women's make up is an anathema to me. Me looking into a make up bag is like a man off the street twiddling the knobs of an itu ventilator , I haven't got a scooby do. And so when Miriam asked me to outline her eyebrows for her with what suspiciously looked like a child's crayon I balked slightly
" The carers usually help with with my eyebrows" Miriam instructed me " I do the rest"
I had parked Miriam's wheelchair in front of her vanity mirror with a huge selection of potions and brushes and powders in front of her and really needed to get on, so I took the pencil and asked what to do
" just outline my eyebrows" she instructed and taking a deep breath I did just that.
Moments later were were surveying my work in the mirror and thank goodness both of us burst out laughing like a pair of naughty schoolgirls
" I look like Charlie Cairoli " Miriam quipped
And agast I could see the resemblance
You have to be of a certain age to remember Charlie Cairoli
It stops me from thinking too much.
It eases me back into the saddle of work ( without the considerable pressures of an Intensive Care Unit)
And hopefully fairly soon it will allow me to pay for the rapidly arriving vets bills post ear infection, skin irritations, minor strokes and tumours!
Like I said, I'm not intending to stay very long,a better paid job is more the ticket..but who knows what is going to happen in the next few months.
I worked a twelve hour shift over Friday night and was in charge of 19 elderly residents. Now one lady I have gotten to know , knew my mother and father many moons ago now. She is an old colonial sort who spent an idyllic childhood in India. Polite , positive, and a tiny bit gung ho, she is physically frail now , but retains a sort of robust lets-make-the-most of things attitude which is so common of her class and position.
I liked her immediately.
I'll call her Miriam
Now I respect the Care home as it is not one that insists that residents are woken up at some ungodly hour in the morning. Before we go off shift , it is only expected that perhaps a handful of early risers are helped to shower, so inbetween blood sugar checks and medications, I get to do some hands on care.
Now women's make up is an anathema to me. Me looking into a make up bag is like a man off the street twiddling the knobs of an itu ventilator , I haven't got a scooby do. And so when Miriam asked me to outline her eyebrows for her with what suspiciously looked like a child's crayon I balked slightly
" The carers usually help with with my eyebrows" Miriam instructed me " I do the rest"
I had parked Miriam's wheelchair in front of her vanity mirror with a huge selection of potions and brushes and powders in front of her and really needed to get on, so I took the pencil and asked what to do
" just outline my eyebrows" she instructed and taking a deep breath I did just that.
Moments later were were surveying my work in the mirror and thank goodness both of us burst out laughing like a pair of naughty schoolgirls
" I look like Charlie Cairoli " Miriam quipped
And agast I could see the resemblance
You have to be of a certain age to remember Charlie Cairoli
Birthday Gifts
My latest hen
Given the circumstances here I just filed them rather than put them on show, so I was rather pleasantly surprised to find 50£ in cash, a book token and a set of garden vouchers tucked inside the largest of the cards, ( presumably for safely)
Bluebell and I went shopping in a sunny, sunny Llandudno this afternoon.
Instead of doing the sensible thing and saving the money towards William's vets bill, I suddenly became a frivolous bitch and bought a limited edition print of a chicken from The Mostyn Gallery, the new Sally Field autobiography and a special offer box set of Bette Davis DVDs.
How gay was that basket?
The salesperson who sold me the print was a camp little chap in spray on jeans
" Do you like Chickens?" he lisped ironically as he bubble wrapped the picture
( for those that don't know " chicken" is gay slang for a very young gay man)
" Only the feathered ones!" I said , playing along with the game
"Too right!" he cooed " they're more trouble than they're worth!"
Afterwards I went to Osborne House and had coffee and a sandwich sitting in the window of the lounge.
It's the first time I've returned there since we split up
It was the venue of our wedding
The sun shone and I read the first chapter of my book
First Man
Thursday evening I felt the need to get out of the house and so took myself off to the cinema.
" First Man" is the much lauded first-man-on-the-moon drama about the build up to Neil Armstrong's famous journey which took place half a century ago now.
As you might expect, it's a well crafted and meticulously detailed recreation of that brown and beige time in World history but it has a twist, for the film speaks more about the buttoned up, tight arse nature of male grief and coping than it does just about a spectacular space story .
Director Damien Chazelle portrayal of Armstrong is an unflinching glimpse of a rather difficult man. Plagued by the death of his young daughter , Armstrong ( as played by Ryan Gosling) shuts himself away emotionally from the grief, never talking about his loss even to his emotionally more robust wife Janet ( Claire Foy) and it is this distance and apparent emotional coldness that is compounded in the final third of the the movie when two astronaut colleagues ( Jason Clarke and Patric Fugit) are killed in two separate accidents
Armstrong is undeniably a character of great force and resolve but his behaviour as seen through the more touchy feeling audience of 2018 could be seen as rather maddening. So much so it's with a huge gasp of relief to all when Janet finally snaps at her husband's inability to face the reality of their situation and his own feelings and forces him to prepare his children for his potential death in the race to be first on the moon.
The acting is top notch, the production values are amazing and the set pieces in space are all suitably tense.
But I guess, for me, I wasn't quite that compelled by Armstrong as a character .
Apparently strong silent types get on my tits!
And The Winner is!!!!.....Brunhild....and William
Ok We're down but not out.....
I've chosen the name for the new car, I picked it as I sat in the vet's waiting room this morning
The entries made me laugh, more so than the new German vet did a few minutes later
Such is the rollercoaster that is my life at the moment.
The winner can be seen at the bottom of this post....please send me your address to jgsheffield@hotmail.com....you have won yourself a Welsh love spoon!
Anyhow the new German vet couldn't have been more stereotypically " German" if she tried
Brusque, no nonsense , loud, and looking remarkable like Rachel Roberts' lesbianish lady's maid from Murder On The Orient Express she checked the inside of William's bloody ear with efficient speaed remarking loudly and without pulling any punches " Ah a tumour!"
I wasn't quite prepared for that...I'd only noticed his sore ear seven hours earlier after getting home late after a Sams shift
She was in the middle of talking about " being too old for anaesthetic " when I stopped her.
I returned to my senior nurse days and took control of the gallop before it joined the stampede.
" let's treat the infection and the irritation first, then we can look at cause and the next step" I told her
firmly. She tried to pour oil on the water by cracking bad jokes.
I smiled thinly and politely.
I agreed to return to the surgery on Monday after she gave William an antibiotic and a steroid injection.
William accepted everything with his usual good humour, even though he now looks rather tired.
We passed the MacDonalds at Caerwys on the way home and as I did With Winnie, earlier in the week, I stopped and bought us breakfast. Coffee and a egg muffin for me, a warm sausage muffin for William and we stopped in a layby in the sun and ate in silence.
It's warm and bright this morning and the Blue of the new Vauxhall looked mighty fine in the sun
Her new name is a no brainer
Thanks to Amy (at love made my home)
The car is going to be called Bluebell.
Bev Kilner
Bev At my wedding
I spoke to Mike, who is one of my best male mates last night...he lives in Sheffield
I bloody well forgot his wife's birthday from a couple of days ago ....she is another best mate....a friend since 1989
I hate that..for I seldom forget a birthday.....ever
But I have forgotten it ....and it's bugged me big style.....I've let a lot of things slide recently.
Bev and Mike came to my wedding and I loved them so much for doing so as they represented my old Yorkshire life , they were ( and are) the back bone of my friendship group for a decade and a half
I aim to visit them before Christmas.....it's about time
Bev , I'm sorry I haven't caught up with you
Ps the result of " Name the car" will be tomorrow xx
Name The Car
Back to Going Gently of old....today is a bit of a quiz with an actual prize!!
What shall I call the new car?
I think it deserves a name, I really do as Vauxhall Agiva doesn't quite fit the bill.
I picked it up today and we all piled in for a vet checkup.
Winnie has some minor neurological deficits but the joy of a car ride perked her up quicksticks.
So name that car !
The sillier and funnier the better
Theatre Trip
My sister and I went to the theatre tonight to see a reboot of the 1985 Charlotte Keatley play My Mother Said I Never Should
It's a story of the life, milestones and regrets of four generations of women from North Western England and isn't a bag of laughs which is strange given the area in which it is set
It was, however a nice treat and one I shall reciprocate with a night out at Chester's Storyhouse Theatre soon.
My sister is good company at the theatre , she's good at the pithy one liner in reviews
When I got home , I did that nurse Glasgow Coma scale neurocheck on Winnie as she waved her fat paw very slowly in the air at me from her resting place on the couch.
She passed.15/15
Change Only What You Can Change
Sharing a car with a soon to be ex husband is difficult,
Like many things that have happened to me recently I feel that I am in a position devoid of any control, in the country, without access to a car, you are effective marooned at times, and reliant on the kindness of friends and family....so it's a big official thank you to my sisters, sister in law, neighbours and Jason the affable Despot
Recently it's felt a little like life is happening to me rather than with me.
It's always the case that you can see solutions in other people's problems and life issues whilst being totally incapable to sorting your own out, and so when reflecting and exploring a life change with a caller at Samaritans the other day I experienced a bit of an arhhh Ha ! moment .
Change only what you can change I suggested
It's not fucking rocket science is it?
I bought a car of my own yesterday.
It's not flash, it's not sexy.....but it is clean and economical and it's bleeding mine
It has five doors and a roomy back seat just built for dogs and tomorrow Winnie will travel in it for the first time , a trip a for a check up at the vets, a check up which will hopefully concur that she is indeed recovering from her " do" of the other night.
She's brighter again this morning and to prove the point has just sucked all of meat off an Aldi lamb shank.
She's the only dog in existence who could probably be resuscitated after a full cardiac arrest by wafting a garlic sausage under her nose.
My old girl is back!
Like many things that have happened to me recently I feel that I am in a position devoid of any control, in the country, without access to a car, you are effective marooned at times, and reliant on the kindness of friends and family....so it's a big official thank you to my sisters, sister in law, neighbours and Jason the affable Despot
Recently it's felt a little like life is happening to me rather than with me.
It's always the case that you can see solutions in other people's problems and life issues whilst being totally incapable to sorting your own out, and so when reflecting and exploring a life change with a caller at Samaritans the other day I experienced a bit of an arhhh Ha ! moment .
Change only what you can change I suggested
It's not fucking rocket science is it?
I bought a car of my own yesterday.
It's not flash, it's not sexy.....but it is clean and economical and it's bleeding mine
It has five doors and a roomy back seat just built for dogs and tomorrow Winnie will travel in it for the first time , a trip a for a check up at the vets, a check up which will hopefully concur that she is indeed recovering from her " do" of the other night.
She's brighter again this morning and to prove the point has just sucked all of meat off an Aldi lamb shank.
She's the only dog in existence who could probably be resuscitated after a full cardiac arrest by wafting a garlic sausage under her nose.
My old girl is back!
British Bulldogs are built of strong stuff
Update
The View of the village this morning
I look like the wreck of the Hesperus in comparison.
Two fat lumps on a small sofa eh?
Thirty six hours after her stroke , Winnie seems to be improving slowly.
Her recuperation seems to be mirroring her recovery from pyrometra last year.
You may remember that the vet warned me that she would probably die on the operating table then...and 24 hours post op she was standing behind the vet's reception desk bumming crisps from the secretaries.
If dogs were human, they would save the NHS millions.
I'm tired today and I'm working a twelve hour shift tonight, so I'm off to bed shortly. This morning Mary and I walked up the Gop, which blew the cobwebs away, then we returned the carpet cleaner and paid the fuel bill. On the way home I bought Winnie a MacDonalds cheeseburger which she has just enjoyed whole
Hey ho
Prognosis
The vet agreed with me.
Winnie probably experienced some sort of stroke during the night.
The bewildered and stressed look thankfully left her around 8am, the time she eventually woke up but the head tilt and unsteady gait remained with her as she pissed like a horse on the living room carpet.
Scans and steroids were discussed briefly but as she was able to drink from the bowl I offerered her, I decided to take the old girl home to deteriorate or recover as the will of the stroke dictates.
Her eyes were focused and as the vet took a blood test she tried to offer her face up for a kiss ( Winnie and not the professional) and when we got home she took herself off rather unsteadily for a piss on the lane verge .
She smiled a lopsided smile when I praised her, and I could have cried at her valiant good nature
This year has been too much a rollercoaster ride
Tonight she's had cocktail sausages for tea and slept on the couch when I shampooed the carpets.
As long as she doesn't extend last night's infarct, she has a fair chance, but she's old and fat and heroics will do her no favours
I'm writing this listening to The Archers .
As Lillian discussed Auntie Chris' fall with a pious Jennifer, Winnie belched loudly from her place on the couch and filled the living room with the faint whiff of sausage
03.17 am
Winnie woke me up just after 2 am with a constant series of sharp little barks
I found her disorientated and distressed in a corner of the living room with the other dogs and Albert milling around in stressful circles around her
I think she's had a small stroke in her sleep
I calmed them all down, checked her neurology and cleaned up a large pee stain
And a few minutes later she shook her massive head as if waking from a long sleep and climbed onto the couch with an over serious Mary in tow and fell into a long calm sleep
It's 3 .22 am now and I'm just about to go to bed.
She's home and she's now comfortable so I'll leave her until dawn
She's an old gal, so lets be serious here
Then we will see what we will see.
These dogs ..they.break my heart
Lord Of The Flies
Lola Adaja as Ralph and Gina Fillingham as Piggy
We studied Lord of The Flies in school when I was around fourteen, and I remember then Miss Betts posing the question -would the outcome of the novel be any different if the stranded school children had been girls and not boys?
I can't remember the answer we gave but I suspect that kids from a 1977 CSE English lit class would have unanimously plumped for an answer of yes. Girls are much more civilised than boys.
Or they were then in a semi rural Welsh secondary school.
It is interesting therefore, in this age where the differences between the sexes seem so blurred that Emma Jordan's production has an all female cast where the " girls" very believably turn out just as savage and as feral as the little boys.
Maybe it's a sign of the times?
Flies is not an easy watch; there is much shouting and " silly" behaviour where Golding perfectly captures the arbitrary and irritating part of childhood communication and imagination but the tension builds nicely to a fast paced second half where the shit literally hits the fan and the girls descend into out right War.
In this production the Piggy character who could be so irksome in the book is changed from a geek to a stroppy Yorkshire teen and Gina Fillingham brings a much welcomed warmth and humour to the role. A performance equalled by the other lead members of the cast.
soggy bottoms
Wet and dark and miserable.
18 th century cottages don't do well in such weather as their thick walls and small windows heighten the gloom, and so to keep your head above water, every lamp has to be switched on in every corner.
I've just been sitting at the kitchen table, deciding on what to do today.
I'm rapidly beginning to hate Saturdays .
For me, they are becoming somewhat lonely days.
Mind you a quick glance at the calendar hanging up by the door has perked the old tits up so to speak.
For on it, scribbled under today's date is the words Theatre lunch!
I'd forgotten but a couple of Samaritan chums and I had planned lunch out followed by an afternoon performance of the acclaimed Theatre Clwyd production of Lord Of The Flies.
What larks pip!
Ok , an all female version of flies won't be a bag of laughs but it will be stimulating and a respite from the miserable weather
I was just digging out my best Walking Dead T shirt to iron when my sister in law messaged me about an impromptu family meal planned for tonight. The meal is a belated celebration of my sister and brother in law's 50 th wedding anniversary
Gifts and cards for a 50 th wedding anniversary can look so old fashioned and frumpy and so not in keeping with my sister's personality so I've now decided on buying them bunches of sunflowers in celebration.
You can't get any more golden then a sunflower.
Hey ho
Cassiopea
I'm going out with Mary in the torrential rain and
I'm going to listen to this music from Really Slow Motion
Tankard
I've always liked cleaning silver
There is something intensely satisfying in the transformation from tarnished to gleaming that pleases me greatly.
Last night I switched off the television and cleaned the silver whilst listening to music.
This little silver plated tankard was given to me in 1989..
It's sat on a shelf in every home Ive had since then
It was gift from the partner of a patient I nursed.
And it was a thank you for a kindness perceived
But it wasn't a kindness.
I'd been party of doing the right thing.
I don't remember the patient's name but I do remember that he had suffered a catastrophic series of strokes at the relatively young age of 60. He had been placed in a side Ward on the busy medical ward I was allocated to and he was dying.
The man's sisters and their husbands were in attendance and it was a night shift, as I recall.
The dying man was gay, a fact that had come to light only to nursing staff during his admission when a closeted older partner had visited unbeknownst to any of the family members.
The nursing staff had managed to negotiate a tricky job of supporting both parties admirably but In the last new hours of the patient's life, his biological family, took over the vigil at the bedside with the " friend" having to take an aseptic role of visiting old friend.
Louise, the senior staff nurse in charge and I hatched a plan that night when the tearful partner turned up at the back corridor of the Ward after being informed his lover was now " being made comfortable" The plan was simple enough. I pretended to find that the patient's catheter was blocked on my rounds and asked the family to leave the room so that I could change it. The proceedure, I told them, would take a little while. Louise marshalled the family and showed them to a " family" room away on another Ward which had suddenly been found free by the conspiratorial senior nurse officer on duty. They were then provided with tea and sandwiches
As the family were escorted out by one of the auxiliary nurses, I ushered the partner into the side room via the nurses office.
All this perhaps sounds a bit larky, but the reality and pain of the situation became only too real to Louise and I when the visitor started to cry as he lay down next to his partner of God- so-many years. It was the first time I had seen a man kiss another man properly and with feeling on the lips, and the fact that both men were " elderly" seem to make the whole moment that much more poignant
The two men were together for over an hour, saying their goodbyes.
I left the Ward soon after and was tracked down by Louise when I was in nursing class a week or so after that. The nursing school was on the top floor of the Sheffield hospital only a floor away from the
Ward I worked on, and Louise was in full uniform when we caught up. She gave me the tankard which had been wrapped carefully in black tissue paper and ribbon and she was tearful.
It was a thank you gift from the partner of the patient who had died later that night . Louise and the conspiring auxiliary nurse had been given similar personal gifts for their roles in the deceit , gifts which she had accepted against hospital policy.
But gifts that were so gratefully given.
There is something intensely satisfying in the transformation from tarnished to gleaming that pleases me greatly.
Last night I switched off the television and cleaned the silver whilst listening to music.
This little silver plated tankard was given to me in 1989..
It's sat on a shelf in every home Ive had since then
It was gift from the partner of a patient I nursed.
And it was a thank you for a kindness perceived
But it wasn't a kindness.
I'd been party of doing the right thing.
I don't remember the patient's name but I do remember that he had suffered a catastrophic series of strokes at the relatively young age of 60. He had been placed in a side Ward on the busy medical ward I was allocated to and he was dying.
The man's sisters and their husbands were in attendance and it was a night shift, as I recall.
The dying man was gay, a fact that had come to light only to nursing staff during his admission when a closeted older partner had visited unbeknownst to any of the family members.
The nursing staff had managed to negotiate a tricky job of supporting both parties admirably but In the last new hours of the patient's life, his biological family, took over the vigil at the bedside with the " friend" having to take an aseptic role of visiting old friend.
Louise, the senior staff nurse in charge and I hatched a plan that night when the tearful partner turned up at the back corridor of the Ward after being informed his lover was now " being made comfortable" The plan was simple enough. I pretended to find that the patient's catheter was blocked on my rounds and asked the family to leave the room so that I could change it. The proceedure, I told them, would take a little while. Louise marshalled the family and showed them to a " family" room away on another Ward which had suddenly been found free by the conspiratorial senior nurse officer on duty. They were then provided with tea and sandwiches
As the family were escorted out by one of the auxiliary nurses, I ushered the partner into the side room via the nurses office.
All this perhaps sounds a bit larky, but the reality and pain of the situation became only too real to Louise and I when the visitor started to cry as he lay down next to his partner of God- so-many years. It was the first time I had seen a man kiss another man properly and with feeling on the lips, and the fact that both men were " elderly" seem to make the whole moment that much more poignant
The two men were together for over an hour, saying their goodbyes.
I left the Ward soon after and was tracked down by Louise when I was in nursing class a week or so after that. The nursing school was on the top floor of the Sheffield hospital only a floor away from the
Ward I worked on, and Louise was in full uniform when we caught up. She gave me the tankard which had been wrapped carefully in black tissue paper and ribbon and she was tearful.
It was a thank you gift from the partner of the patient who had died later that night . Louise and the conspiring auxiliary nurse had been given similar personal gifts for their roles in the deceit , gifts which she had accepted against hospital policy.
But gifts that were so gratefully given.
See-Saw
Extremes of behaviour, and extremes of emotion.
Both are exhausting.
Early morning was a time for ugliness, bitterness and nasty talk from both sides.
But that was salved by the kindness of a villager who knocked on the door delivering jam and an invitation to come to his for Christmas
Bloody Lazy Immigrants
For those that voted for Brexit because of the fear generated over immigration
PLEASE READ THIS
Read it and think.....
On Monday morning I met a young Hungarian woman who, I thought needed to be heard.
We talked for only a few minutes but in that time I got a flavour of her life.
A life she chose to act out in a semi rural Welsh town.
The woman got up on workdays at 4.30 am. She prepared lunches for two children and a working husband, sorted out the home and was dropped off on a bus route by her husband at 6 am. He then went to work after dropping off a third child to the childminder.
She then waited over one hour at a cold bus stop for another bus to come in order to get to work.
She arrived at the nursing home just before 8am.
She then worked a twelve hour shift providing holistic care for 19 elderly Brits, and did so with a smile on her face and just one hour's break
She did this three or four times a week.
It was her last shift doing the work she loved as she was just too tired and run down to continue with the slog
She'd found a job in a local discount shop fifteen minutes from home, she'd never consider benefits...she'd worked all her life
Bloody lazy immigrants eh?
PLEASE READ THIS
Read it and think.....
On Monday morning I met a young Hungarian woman who, I thought needed to be heard.
We talked for only a few minutes but in that time I got a flavour of her life.
A life she chose to act out in a semi rural Welsh town.
The woman got up on workdays at 4.30 am. She prepared lunches for two children and a working husband, sorted out the home and was dropped off on a bus route by her husband at 6 am. He then went to work after dropping off a third child to the childminder.
She then waited over one hour at a cold bus stop for another bus to come in order to get to work.
She arrived at the nursing home just before 8am.
She then worked a twelve hour shift providing holistic care for 19 elderly Brits, and did so with a smile on her face and just one hour's break
She did this three or four times a week.
It was her last shift doing the work she loved as she was just too tired and run down to continue with the slog
She'd found a job in a local discount shop fifteen minutes from home, she'd never consider benefits...she'd worked all her life
Bloody lazy immigrants eh?
Coal Bunker Blues
Mary spent Sunday night frightened and alone in the coal bunker
She had been obsessed with my log store all day and had watched it constantly through the cat flap ( probably looking for a mouse which had scuttled away to safety from Albert clutches ) and so some time during the night she had managed to squeeze herself though, finding herself trapped outside in the cold and in the coal
She went hysterical when she saw me at 9 am yesterday, the only way dogs can do when they reunite with their Alpha owners and she hasn't left my side since .
(The vigil includes two sit down toilet stops and a bath)
I snapped these photos just now as I complete paperwork at the kitchen table.
She's not even an arm's length away and fell asleep sat up after watching me so carefully.
Going
Going
Gone
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