Am Dram

I'm irritating myself
Last night I went with the family to an am dram version of Charles Dickens Ghost Stories which despite a couple of fair actors in it , couldn't have been more dire if it tried.
Usually I would have seen the humour in the bad writing, wooden acting and stinking ramshackle theatre but to be perfectly honest, the whole event just depressed me even though I tried to be amused when a near mute Judge came on during a court scene wearing a Lily Savage wig and Father Christmas coat ......my heart wasn't quite in it from the get go
If it was a professional performance, the quality of the piece would have pleased me- I'm not very tolerant of bad anything at the moment.
I've just been short with the vet's clerk on the phone for not sorting Mary's claim forms out and at the Christmas Market the other day, a well intentioned lady who demanded a hug and my presence at her Christmas Day dining table after she just heard that I am now living alone nearly got a sharp leave me the fuck alone sort of comment.
Of course I smiled and thanked her and moved on.
Smile and glide....smile and glide.

I'm up and down like a pair of whore's knickers.

I've decided to have Christmas on my own this Christmas and I suspect suddenly single people may understand this much more than any concerned observer who just want to support could do.  I have Bluebell so will pop down with gifts for my family in the evening, and Bluebell will allow me to take control of what I do and when I do it.
Christmas morning the dogs and I will go to Colwyn Bay Promenade with coffee and cocktail sausages .
I don't want people to "pop in"
Having people feeling sorry for me is almost a painful thing at the moment and I feel a bit shamed by it all.
I also know that I'm not much company at the moment and I'm irritated at my own petulance

Smile and glide John ...and shut the fuck up

Christmas 96

I wrote this post in my head a few days ago.
Reminded by an old photo of a group of smiling nurses grouped around a man in a wheelchair.

When I was a charge nurse, through necessity and like many singletons ,I often worked the late shift on Christmas Day. There was often an unwritten rule that nurses on that shift came in slightly early in order for the morning staff to get home to their families but the interview room was filled with goodies to eat and visitors catered for the patients for much of the day so the shift was as pleasant as it could be,and on Christmas Day 1996 the five nurses working with me were a grand bunch indeed.

Our patients were the spinally injured who were newly paralysed usually through some trauma and most were nursed on flat bedrest in order for fractures of neck or  back to be strong enough to start to allow the patients to mobilise in wheelchairs.
One young patient had proved to be a nursing challenge for several weeks prior to that Christmas Day.
I shall call him Darren.
Now Darren, a man in his early twenties, was paralysed from the waist down after crashing his stolen car during a long police pursuit. A skinny terrier of a man, Darren lived his short life ducking and diving in the extremes of poverty, institutional care and crime and after his injury had become sullen and combative with the Spinal Injury staff overseeing his care.
We all knew that Christmas that year was bringing Darren to some sort of emotional crisis;  the experienced staff had seen this sort of thing time and time again, and so when visitors arrived from all over North Eastern Britain to support the three other patients in Darren's Ward leaving him feeling angry and resentful and foul mouthed, we were almost prepared for how things unfurled .

Nursing care is intensive on an acute spinal Ward, with each patient being specially turned every two hours by a group of three carers and all it took was a gesture of kindness for the floodgates to be opened on Darren's pain. Pain and grief at being disabled and alone at twenty five years old.
I remember Darren being tight lipped with his arms crossed as he was turned and I remember the nurse nearest to him pausing before we left for the next patient.
The nurse was  Edith Marimbirie and I remember her clearly. A heavy set, gentle faced Senior midwife in her native Zimbabwe Edith had come to our Ward late in her career and like most African nurses I have had the pleasure to work with she carried out her work in a graceful unhurried pace all of its own.
With a motherly hand and a gentle word she gently cupped Darren's teeth clenched cheek for a long moment and that's all it took.
The tears flowed.
Without fanfare another nurse pulled the curtains around the bed and all but Edith left the bed space quietly as Darren sobbed and sobbed and sobbed his pain away, and for the next few hours Edith never left his side.
A mother soothing a child of a man.

I remember that Christmas Day well as we were busy.
But with Edith effectively out of duties the remaining nurses on the Ward never complained that they had more to do, not once and finally, hours later , when Edith joined her colleagues in the interview room with its desks heavy with brought in party food , she was hugged and kissed in thanks for what she had done that afternoon.

Darren turned a rehab corner that Christmas Day. And he went on to be successfully discharged , self caring in his wheelchair.
And Edith used her motherly warmth a score more of times in a way the nursing curriculum never teaches you or even really acknowledges .

Therapy

Therapy
A nearly silent two hours designing and painting three glass Christmas panels for the Christmas Tree
Not my usual pastime but a strangely calming one at The Studio Prestatyn ( link)
Thank you to sister Ann for pushing me into it and thank you to sister Janet for leaving a buddleia and Sweet William plant seeds by my back door this morning.
And thank you to everyone who left their best wishes here. So many comments ...not all can be read on just one page ( there is a link to the next page at the bottom of the comment box)  please rest assured I've read all of them.
2018.....has been a shite year!

Just thought I'd share an old photo which illustrated William's gentle nature

As my old cat Joan was poorly just before she died William lay with her for an age

his paw resting gently on her body

Sweet William

William chasing bees

I got home from work at around 8.30 am and walked the dogs during a torrential rain shower which had lasted several hours .
As I made myself eggs and toast George rested in his usual spot under the table and the terriers curled up together on the sofa to sleep.
Winnie watched me very carefully in the kitchen....waiting for scraps
I fed Albert and cleaned muddy paw prints from the table and the window sill and from the back of my new chair
I then mopped the floor and washed the pots .
I pottered listening to the radio .......some shit about brexit
It was well past 11.30 when I finally decided it was time for bed
I locked the kitchen door and walked into the living room

I could tell by his position and the fact that Mary was sat bolt upright looking worried that
William had died in his sleep.
Like with people, when a dog's soul leaves its body it leaves behind a stillness which screams at you

My sweet, sweet natured old boy.
An animal with the gentlest of souls I ever knew had just faded away without fanfare or attention......and All I could think of was him at eleven years old joyfully chasing bees around the back garden like a loon.....
.....And that's exactly where I have buried him.

Thoughts of a singleton

Being newly single is an odd experience .
It feels very different than when I experienced the single life back in Sheffield
It feels somewhat harsher
Back then being single was an adventure backed up by a myriad of friends and socialising ...I was also in my twenties and thirties back then, so I was one of a few singletons
Now it all feels very different now that I'm in my mid fifties .

Being single in this hetero-normal couple world can be hard..
You can be viewed as a failure, a threat.......a saddo....
I don't really identify with a totally gay world because for two decades it was never important or significant to do so.
Being gay was a single fact, but it was never a label that defined me as a person.

With phone apps and the like it is easy for anyone regardless of sexual preference to hook up with another and do with the precision of a sat nav! So many gay men now have casual encounters whilst married in open or not so open relationships .
Apps make selfishness easy
And monogamy redundant.

I'm no prude. When I was single I kissed many frogs and a few princes but when I met a man I loved
the thought of no strings sex with another just wasn't on my agenda .Perhaps that's just a reflection of my hetero-normal attitude regarding marriage.
Many gay men would disagree with me.
Being gay or  queer means different things to different men

So does being single....

Countdown

The glass decoration course thing was cancelled until Tuesday so I had time to go to the Village Christmas Market 
The place was packed.

Gwawr Jones sold me a bloody lovely roast pork sandwich  ( with stuffing and apple sauce ) 

 Father Christmas ( aka Dave from the community council ) turned up on his motorbike and sidecar

I ended up buying all sorts of things I didn't really want! 
But that's a given at these kind of events
2 expensive homemade Christmas Cards, a handmade wreath and a homemade felt star were carried home as a gaggle of school girls on the hall's stage, did the floss dance behind the main class who were massacring a Mariah Carey Christmas ditty

Busy

I've kept busy all week.
One night working
One night at Samaritans
One night watching a recording of the radio programme I'm sorry I haven't a clue with sister Janet
One night at the cinema
One night at choir
Tomorrow I'm doing a glass ornament making course with my sister Ann
Tonight Jason and I went to a comedy one man show in Chester called Of Christmas Past which was a blast.
Thank goodness for Bluebell 

A Depressed red headed Mermaid with no tits

I'm finding retail therapy incredibly therapeutic at the moment
It's called " nesting"
Tomorrow I've arranged for my 40£ trendy kitchen chair to be delivered and today I bought a rug for the front room ( dead cheap in TK MAX) ...it covers a particularly stubborn vomit stain ( Albert's andnot mine ) and makes the living room look cosy and clean
When I bought the rug I noticed this delightfully flat chested and miserable mermaid Christmas tree decoration hanging near the tills and bought it on impulse .
The teenage till Girl eyed me suspiciously
" She's rather attractive !" I told her playfully
" If you say so!" was the curt reply
I did have my own sheep's wool beanie on so I did look a bit like a pervert , so I forgave her

Before you make a value judgement the mermaid is for one of Jason the affable despot's girls ..I always buy them each a Christmas decoration every year....another of my Yuletide traditions!
I'm catching up with him tonight..we are off to Chester to see a live comedy performance at the Storyhouse ...he's been a good friend recently.
I've just learned that I'm not working on the 18th which is the night of our choir's concert...I'll try to get a few people there to record the event for blog land.....

Ps the Village Christmas Market takes place tomorrow

......always last......always there

Always last, always there 

It seems from the comments on yesterday's blog that George has his own unique fan club.
I concede that his story here is somewhat of a quiet one
For, compared with the other dogs, George is a quiet, plodding best suppporting actor to Winnie's Meryl Streep and Mary's Kiera Knightly.
George is nearly thirteen and whereas William who is just a few months older seems to be fading fast, George plods on with the typical aloof strength so typical of his breed.
Ok, he spends most of his day asleep on his own sheepskin blanket under the kitchen table but when it's dinner time or when I' m marshalling the troops for a trip in Bluebell , he stands aroooooooing his deafening Scottie call like the miniature Tarzan that he is.
Scottish terriers make interesting companions, but I warn you, if you want a cuddle dog that will blindly attach itself to your knee for hours at a go, don't go for one.
They are self contained little buggers
They are also loyal and bright and tenacious and stubborn but they mistrust strangers, and they nip other dogs after barking at them with their sharp loud keep away from me voices .
They are an acquired taste
Yesterday, I watched him totter along behind us on the old railway line walk without a seeming care in the world. There is grey in his beard now and a slowness to his step, but his eyes remain a button bright black and where as William had to be taken back to the car after a twenty minute walk George would  happily carry on his exploring alone and without supervision for most of the morning.

He's a valiant little dog who demands so little from life
And I love him quietly

Fantastic Beasts- The Crimes of Grindlewald

Who's who

A film should always stand on it's own merits.
The narrative should be driven by a plot and performances and the whole thing must work without knowledge obtained outside that two and a half hour window.
The sequel to the entertaining Fantastic Beasts and where to find them tries hard but fails to stand on its own two feet which is a shame.
You just have to have a working knowledge of Rowling's book to understand the intricate plot of Grindlewald,and for me who who hasn't a flipping flying fucking idea what a muggle is or whose brother to who and who is what and why? I got lost several times during the story which is disappointing as it's quite, quite beautiful to look at .
6/10

Lady baring gift

Ho fucking ho

A woman who we bump into regularly presented Winnie with a pair of novelty antlers this morning and made a big deal putting them on her.
Strangely, given her usual centre-of-attention nature Winnie walked off with loud dismissive sniff, leaving the woman somewhat embarrassed.
George acted as second hand Rose and reluctantly sported them for a mile or so, as the woman walked alongside us with her heavily coated greyhound in tow.
He's a polite old soul
It was raining heavily so he looked rather depressed in his headgear by the time we got back to Bluebell.
The cottage smelled of wet dog when we got home , so I've lit the fire early, ran around with the fabreeze and made soup as another Atlantic storm pushed in from the west
Now I'm writing Christmas Cards and packing Christmas decorations to be sent to friends in Derbyshire and Australia. It's a tradition which needs to be completed

Te Aroha

My dyspraxia is fucking up choir practice
Jamie, the 28 inch waisted choirmaster, taught us the Maori song Te Aroha ( the song can be basically translated as LOVE, FAITH,PEACE to all beings) and wanted us to slap our chest and things and move our feet appropriate to the tune...
Could I sing and slap and shuffle like the rest of my fellow choristers ?
Could I bloody coco!
I'm just not programmed to co ordinate mouth, hands and feet.
I can't even rub my stomach and pat myself on the head like any seven year old
It's a disability !
Hattie and Heulwen from the village who had been moved into the opposite  Alto section for the evening- we sing in a circle btw )  literally pissed themselves silly at my every attempt to click my fingers at the given moment

After an hour, an ever so slightly exasperated Jamie told us all not bother with the moves

Not our choir but this is the song

Perhaps blog follower Hāmitānā-Hēni 
Can give me a few pointers

Ps from the recording of I'm sorry I haven't a clue 
What is a Royal based famous film?

CAMILLA's  IN TNE MIST , 

The Walking Dead

I'm not bothered Jesus got killed....he has been rather boring since he arrived which is a fault of the writers rather than the actor !
The Walking Dead comes back in spring 2019 and I'm sad it's gone, season 9 has been a blast......even if Carol looks like Legolas

Kiss

I really wanted to kiss my optician this morning.
It was at that really close moment when he's shining the light in the back of your eye and you can smell his soap or aftershave or toothpaste in that dark little room away from all the frames.
It's an odd feeling, which as am sure is more common than we all dare to admit to.
I wonder if anyone has actually done it....
Have you ever wanted to  kiss your optician ?
Answers on a postcard .....

Off to see the BBC recording of I'm Sorry I haven't A Clue tonight....

2018

A Happy 2018?  me and my neice Rebecca at my sister Ann's Birthday..happy time

We are heading towards the end of the year.
A year of note, as they say.
One of my best friends survived cancer this year and things are on hold
He's been a star
Another friend has also battled a sickness, unseen and unheard.....they have been a star too.
William is Gently deteriorating and I am being nudged by the vet into making the right decision
He's been a star of a dog.
December may be his swan song
This year I have known who my many friends are.
This year some people have disappointed
Yin and yang I guess.....
And as usual the good almost outweigh the bad....
Even if I hate this year with a vengeance at least the choir has salved my soul somewhat as have my family, friends ,animals and my blog friends

I saw Auntie Glad  , it wasn't for long , I had misjudged the  lunch time routine
Her eyes were a milky blue and she didn't know me at first but she did remember the Flower Show when I mentioned it..... mentioned it for a second time
" We worked hard " she said " Mr Roberts and Irene and Mrs Lewis and I  "
All Flower Show people a decade or two before I arrived
I wanted her to remember me and finally after I talked on and on about the cottage and the dogs and allotment and Chris,  she did.....albeit tentatively
" we always put on a good show " she said holding my hand tightly  " didn't we?"
" oh we did " I replied   " oh we so did!"

Coconut

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?