Crowded Bluebell

Bluebell is crowded
Winnie, William and George are all on the back seat licking their chops
Mary on the passenger seat still in her cone of shame.
Someone is smelly farting...I suspect it's George as he stole Albert's dinner last night.
We are at Colwyn Bay beach and it's late morning.
They all have shared a pack of wafer thin ham
I haven't had breakfast yet.
We are all going to the open air cafe in a minute where I'm going to have a bacon butty
Fuck fuck...FUCK fat club.
We've come out  as my husband is collecting his remaining belongings from the cottage this morning and I couldn't face being there.
He's been working away in Canada so I boxed everything up for him
Years of married life.
....a hard...hard.....hard job to do.
This morning I filled a carrier bag with food, fresh bread and milk and left it out with the other boxes
I thought it the right thing to do....still the carer!
I've had no sleep yet....I was working last night and I'm working tonight
I'm tired......
That's probably the reason I've just had a good long cry

Non Friday

Miserable day here....a day to pull  up the drawbridge

Davis

Gale Sondergaard

Thanksgiving

Last week I had to get the heating engineer out to fix a leak behind the back boiler on the wood burner . It wasn't a big job which thankfully was covered by warranty, and the visit was only of note because the workman found one of my " family " photos hilariously funny
The photo, I had placed on the mantle was this one
" That's the oddest thing I have ever seen!" He said with a laugh

For recent visitors to Going Gently that may not know, the photo was of Boris and me.
Now Boris was a Norfolk Bronze turkey, who came to me as a tiny poult,  a present from a grateful ITU patient.
From a solemn, black eyed baby, Boris grew into a massive solemn turkey stag who spent most of his day gliding after me with a benign affection bordering on obsession.
Good natured turkey stags make delightfully loyal pets and for many years Boris became a sort of minor celebrity in the village who always seemed to sail gracefully into view when people stopped at the field gate to watch the animals.
Boris often brought a Sense of the surreal to any funeral in the new graveyard as when he spied mourners in their dark coats his testosterone levels would soar and he would gallop heavily towards the cemetery fence gobbling madly at the interlopers, many of whom would burst into inappropriate smiles at the whole situation.
It got so bad that I would have to lock him away every time when the funeral bell rang.

On this thanksgiving day I remember an old friend

Fur Lined

I had arranged an evening date with a friend tonight but they mugged me off at the last minute
So, I've climbed into my long johns and have toasted thick white bread on the wood burner with my antique toasting fork.
Last night I walked the dogs in my long johns and my new ( libs!) fur lived crocs!
I couldn't be arsed if anyone saw me ( which they did) as from a distance I would have looked as though I was wearing skinny leggings !
Ok but ones with a fly?

What's your slobbing outfit?

Ise Oluwa

I often write about those beautiful little moments in life that catch you unawares.

I guess it's the drama queen in me 

My recent encounter with a kindness inside St. Asaph Cathedral was one I shall remember for quite some time but tonight's experience will rank a close second in that memory bank of moving moments.

In choir tonight we learned the Nigerian song Ise Oluwa -sing for water

And after a bit of a struggle we nailed it!!!!

Before we finished practice Jamie our eleven year old choir master asked us to sing it again, but this time very Gently and as we did he disappeared and turned off the lights of the little Welsh village hall.

In almost absolute darkness over fifty people sang without the chains of sight and competition and self consciousness and the noise we produced was simply magical.

And the silence after we had finished proved that we all had been moved in the same lovely way

This choir has nourished me 

Culture

The atrium at the Storyhouse with a stuffed peacock sitting on the Art Deco features

I'm sat in the Storyhouse in Chester with my laptop and flat white. On my fashionably raised metal table are a collection of bright young things all tapping away on their computers . An old man with a Corfu hat is reading the papers opposite to me . He has already complained that the scrabble players in the corner are too loud. I shut him up by offering him my complementary shortbread biscuits .

I'm in Chester because I've just enrolled in a nursing agency. I'm not sure how useful it will be as the agency is rather pushy, and I am not a lady to be pushed into work I don't want, but we will see.....I left the clerk somewhat exasperated by my lack of commitment and in my best Walking Dead T shirt I've come to the Storyhouse to see what's going on. In half an hour I've booked myself into a talk with the tv presenter, historian and writer Dan Snow. Haven't a clue what he's on about but what the hell.
I may learn something

The talk is only an hour, and I've got my choir CD to practice to on the way home. I have to nail the bass bit of old Lang Syne without crying. The choir sings it so beautifully.

Season 9 Episode 7

I always think that it's kind of weird that no one wears rainbow colours ?

No Star Trek red shirts

 The Walking Dead  is a whole new adventure with new characters who show their own individual back stories in the narrative ( Magna's eclectic group working so well in just two episodes) but the cement of the franchise has to be the original characters who, over eight years we have gotten to know so well.
Tonight's episode " Stradivarius" had a delightfully moving and playful scene where Carol ( Melissa McBride) finally cut Daryl's ( Norman Reddus') grotty hair . Their friendship has lasted the entirety of the show and what is unsaid in the scene is far more moving than any verbal exchange could be.
It shrieks history and trust and love which was sweet.

The tension in the show  is building nicely for the reveal of the Whisperers ...my only gripe is that Jesus and Aaron are not an item ! ..........or are they?

Carol and Daryl and the haircut! 

The mid season Finale next Monday then nothing until the new year
Bloody hell

Night animals:---- the dogs and Albert on the couch ( Winnie is underneath the throng)

Bits

I went to the dentist this morning and witnessed a receptionist being somewhat curt to an elderly customer in front of me who had arrived on the wrong day.
" Who pissed on your chips ?"  I asked her as she looked from him to me and there was a brief uncomfortable standoff silence
" I'm not here to be abused" the receptionist then said defensively
" I bet you say that a lot " I told her,
But the irony of my was lost on her somewhat....hey ho....
Still got it!

I got this message today from Jason the affable despot
"Just wondering how things are going with you ? Haven’t seen you around for a chat ( I’m in hibernation until April ) ...."
I messaged him back and we've arranged to see a comedy show in Chester next week....I was chuffed he broke his own hibernation rule to come and play

I hope Trendy Carol's finger has improved .
She stopped the other morning for me to review a kitchen chopping board injury over the kitchen wall.
She was wearing a rather nice  jacket and matching shoes I seem to remember .

It was the vicar's last service in the village church yesterday and I am sorry to say that I fell asleep in the armchair after nights so didn't attend Church at 11 am I'm glad I left him a card on the vestry desk last week. We spoke outside the Church the other day.
He wished me well and he told me he was sorry about the Prof and I wished him well too...he's moving to Rhos on Sea which is as genteel as Miss Jean Brody's knickers and a place not too far for Gaynor the mad organist, to visit.
I wonder if the stand in vicar will have a carol service on Christmas Eve this year.....it wouldn't be Christmas if Mrs Davis wasn't called to " Bring On The Baby Jesus!" as the nativity scene was completed.

Villagers Mrs Trellis and The Cameron's , my family and Nu in London have all asked me to spend a Christmas with them this week and I told them all a big thank you but no
I've not thought about the C word much ......which is a bit hard as Sandra C has put up a twenty foot banner which SCREAMS FUCKING CHRISTMAS IS COMMING!!!!!!!

" Frisky Wales"

Years ago I had a Hiv Test. I had never put myself in a position of risk at any part of my single life but a partner that I had split up with had told me he had slept with other men and so, after a discussion with my GP I took the test. The clinic in Sheffield was alien but professional enough and although I was dreadfully nervous that something could have been amiss I was sort of unsurprised that I was clear of any STI .

Today things have moved on to a new level. According to the official public Health Wales website " Frisky Wales"  people can protect themselves from HIV by taking a medication called
PreP. The offical site states

PRep is for people without HIV who are at very high risk of getting it from their behaviour or their potentual exposureto HIV infection , so if you are HIV negative and dont always use condoms then PreP could help refuce your risk getting HIV" 

What PreP doesnt do is to protect people from the plethora of other sexually transmitted diseases that are around and that is a worry. Could PreP give some a feeling of invincibility ?

I guess it could be argued either way. Each to their own I suppose
Im just glad I'm not part of that world. I had just one experience of being tested and feeling vunerable and I dont want to go there again.
For some its a part of life.

14.21

Night shift plays havoc with my naturally good looks

Coincidence

Twelve years ago, almost to the day, I was busy painting and decorating the living room of the cottage
The previous owner preferred a somewhat minimalist palate, and so we were faced with a nasty laminate floor, Plain painted walls and a lonely log burner in an unadorned inglenook fireplace.
The place looked tired and soulless.
I found a carpenter of some note and had bespoke cabinets with glass doors designed and built either side of the chimney breast. These I painted a gentle green. A  old fashioned bannister rail was put in and I found an old kitchen door from a reclaimers yard in Penmaenmawr and hung it in the empty doorway to the kitchen. A new mantleshelf, I found in a local junk shop and an old neighbour wallpapered the walls with vintage Laura Ashley wallpaper.
I turned the look of the room from hard to a Miss Marple soft .
One morning, when I was painting the kitchen door a matching green, I heard Finlay ( our first Welsh Terrier) barking, I popped my head around the door and saw two old ladies peeping through the living room window.
They both jumped noticeably when I waved at them and did that surprised, hand wringing thing old ladies so often do when they are caught out at something.
The ladies were Olwenna Hughes and Gwyneth Jones, ladies well into their eighties.
I went to the door and introduced myself and asked them both to come in, I asked them to tell me a bit more about the cottage as I was sure their interest to see what I had done to the place stemmed from knowing about everything that went on the village.
Olwenna had been a small girl when she last entered the cottage. The cottage was owned by one of the few English families in Trelawnyd , and they ran a small coal merchants from the field opposite.Olwenna came regularly to learn piano from the daughter .
" What was the place like when you came , Can you remember it ?" I asked her and she remained quiet for a moment turning around the room stiffly with big swollen legs.
She pointed to our bookcase under the stairs and told me that that's where a small upright piano was situated " The rest of the room looks almost the same!" She mused " I remember the green cupboards well.... and the ticking clock and lots of little jugs up on the beams !" 
Olwenna craned her head upwards and pointed to a collection of my gaudy Welsh jugs just recently bought and placed, and smiled
By luck and design I had put back all of the original features of the room to its 1940 style...How weird was that?

Lifestyle Blog

I'm needing to replace several items from the cottage and have to do it on a minuscule budget.
The kitchen needs a chair and I've been looking for one from eBay and Facebook for a while.
I found this one in nearby Holywell and it's hardly seen an arse . It only cost me 40£
I was cock a hoop.....even though I couldn't get it in Bluebell!
The woman selling it was clearing some stuff before a permanent move to Spain, so after She gave me tea and biscuits I'd also bought a hardly used microwave oven and a bread bin with a cartoon of a flamingo on it
Hey ho

Yoof

Going Gently is seriously going off the boil ( some would say it never reached 100 degrees anyhow) all I seem to do recently is to kvetch about being suddenly single at the ripe old age of 56 or describe another vets trip with another sick animal.
I'm boring the tits off myself so bugger alone knows how you lot, dear readers are feeling.
So what little gem is the old fart going to share with us today? I hear you ask?
More whinging ? Another sorry tale of poor Mary's ear? ( btw we've been back to the vets this morning for more antibiotics and painkillers) more self indulgent emotional romps about feelings?
No dearhearts, I shall tell you a quick story about a young man in his early twenties from a rough part of town.
Last night I started to mentor a new Samaritan trainee who I will call Danny
Danny was keen and respectful and made his own notes as he listened to the callers' interactions with me. At one moment after we had discussed a particularly difficult call, we had a break and discussed when he would be free to complete his next shift.
Danny told me he had to juggle a few commitments but could do the shift I suggested. He explained that he held down two jobs as well as coping with a new baby at home but felt is important to continue his training.
With all of the bad press of just how young people of today behave here was a lad barely out of his teens who is going out of his way to do something worthwhile
As he explained
"You've just got to give something back in life"

Gypsophila and Mary's painkiller syringe

Coaching

I know it smacks of nepotism but my fav neice ( in law ) is now a lifestyle coach and is, in my biased view , doing very well at it.
She has a blog here....if any of you fancy a look ( click below)
Link to Rebecca's Coaching Blog
Website
http://beccaforshaw.com/ 

Soul Wind

Our choir has a Christmas Concert to prepare for, and so our twelve year old choir master has given us all a CD each of our individual pieces so we can rehearse at home.
I haven't got a CD player at home so I have to practice in the car.

Got some strange looks in Tesco's car park today but I've practiced at the beach, on the hillside and outside fat club
The bass parts are not very sexy as you can hear...
Mary has been a bit depressed in her collar so I've taken it off just for the day.

hoodie

I bought a fur lined fleece hoodie from Lidl yesterday
It's my favourite green and only cost £6.99
And I'm wearing it in bed right now
Albert is sat in the hood bit
And won't budge.....
why do cats like small spaces?
I want him to move cos I want to pull the hood over my head
I Took William to the vets again to review his ear polyp....he now  has a degree of heart failure
I had a serious talk to the vet about options given William's age
" You've been unlucky with your pets recently" the Spanish vet lisped
Never a truer word eh?
I bought him a hamburger all of his own on the way home
He bloody loved it

Bed early tonight.....I'm not very well....
I forgot to blog earlier and have just remembered
Hey ho

A New Walking Dead

New arrivals

Judith

The Walking Dead has moved on 6 years.
Subsequently everything and everyone has changed and suddenly we have a whole new show
A new group with its own backstory arrives, Judith Grimes has a friend in Neegan, Long haired super mom Carol is a complete bad ass when she needs to be and we even have a baby Rick in the making just before the undead start talking!
The show has a new spring in it's step and it's great

Shame

My mother before the twins were born ( with my brother Andrew)

I've never really nursed anyone who might of known my parents before.
The woman I was giving insulin to the other day certainly remembered my father and my uncle, even though she mixed their names up. She recalled memories of my father's electrical shop in Prestatyn and even mentioned my fraternal grandmother so it was with some surprise when I spoke of my mother my patient said with all of the innocence of pre senile dementia " She was a bit of a secret drinker!" 
Even at the age of 56, I blushed crimson with shame.
I had never , ever heard anyone outside of my family that  acknowledged that my mother was an alcoholic before and a long forgotten embarrassment roared forward like a rogue wave on a beach as I was suddenly twelve years old and standing in front of my mother who was " asleep" on the couch.
Only the children of an alcoholic will understand the mixed emotions of shame, guilt, embarrassment and concern which have been piled upon young shoulders.
All emotions that could not be verbalised in a1970s household which never spoke about anything important
Last year when I went to help Chris choose some new glasses, we chatted to the optician who as it turned out knew my father very well. I asked if he remembered my mother and Chris chipped in with a joke along the lines of  "most of the Off licences in our home town did".
It was a silly joke not meant to insult or hurt, and came on the back of a history of me always making light of something so very dark, but the comment, said in front of a stranger stung me to the point of angry tears and I had to leave the conversation tight lipped and furious.

I don't know just what is worse for a child to cope with. The uncertainty and emotional rollercoaster of having an alcoholic parent or the secrecy and shame which is often handed out silently to everyone involved.

I put away the needle from the insulin pen and rearranged my patient's clothing
" She was an unhappy lady for a long time " I answered and the patient nodded
" All very sad!" She replied absently

Storyhouse

At two thirty Winnie, Mary and I went to the rememberence service at the village war memorial. We were slightly late to stood quietly to one side as the vicar gave the service bilingually . 

There was the usual faces there, with representatives from the Community council as well as the likes of Mrs Trellis , Pat the animal helper, Woolly knickers and Alun who had spearheaded the rejuvenation of the memorial cross .and as usual it was all rather moving.

We got home at three and I had just enough time to wash my face before driving over to Chester for a bit of culture

There is something so well thought out about Chester's Storyhouse .Built in and around the old Art Deco cinema which stands alongside the town hall , the complex is part Community centre, part library, restaurant, bar, cinema and theatre and so much more All flowing gracefully into one mash that works so well

I love the place.

At 6pm on a Sunday night the place was buzzing, with the restaurant and cafe library filled with students at their laptops, and punters like me with their coffees and wine. Several tables were filled with geeks playing board games and the cinema, theatres and meeting rooms all seemed to be full..

Patrick Gale was quite a charming and entertaining man. Of course he was there to plug his latest novel, but he was wry and funny and rather sweet. He is the kind of guy you'd love to be invited to dinner by. 

I was surprised that there seemed to be so few gay men in the audience given his general subject matter.

There were perhaps 120 in the audience and as we left the auditorium I got a chance to thank him for his talk..." Have you read the book?" He asked me as I filed past and I had to say honestly " I've not read any of your books yet"

He laughed at that and sang out "How refreshing" 

Which I thought was nice

Moon River

Last night on Strictly

I deleted the previous post, I was getting mawkish. Moon River remains and will always remain the most perfect of film songs.
It's a miserable looking day and me and the troops have gone back to bed for an hour.
Think I shall go to the Storyhouse  in Chester today to hear a talk by the writer Patrick Gale who wrote Man in an orange Shirt
and I shall sit in a trendy cafe with a flat white.