Fud

I'm making a friend supper this evening.
They are in need of a bit of TLC and a bit of pampering.
Salmon and prawns with a light sauce, home made mini roast potatoes and mixed veg
Tiny sticky toffee pud and a low fat ice cream
And flowers...a small bunch of flowers.
There has to be flowers
I've only just realised that I haven't made anyone supper for maybe six months....
That's a long time for a nurturer/feeder to go without pushing food in a gob.

I miss feeding someone every day.....there is something fundamental in watching someone enjoy their food; almost a primeval pleasure in fact.
An empty plate , the feeling that you have gifted someone not only an enjoyed meal but some time and effort on your part, is a powerful vindication to a caregiver, and it is one I have inherited from my grandmother who showed her affection and love through the gift of good plain cooking.
Set against an upbringing of austerity, rationing, the war and finally the limits of a state pension, meals were planned, often frugal but oh so enjoyed, even to the last crumb
" I enjoyed that" she would often say after what I thought as a mediocre meal of left over ham. Potatoes and gravy and I always knew that she meant it. She was thankful for her food and that pleasure was passed to me , that little boy sat at the Formica topped dinner table tucked away in the tiny annex to her bungalow hall .

Preparing and eating a meal is a privilege for all
We have sometimes forgotten this fact me thinks.....

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Later more postcards! The postman is late today

A Dog Called Beau

I caught this video on Lisa's blog tonight and it just about finished me off

Only Jimmy Stuart could have written it, for only he could have read it.

The First Entries

The first postcard entries

Postcard Challenge

Xxxx

Right here are the rules for the Postcard Challenge

( see previous post for further details)
Please remember itsvall a bit of fun

*

All postcards must be posted with an appropriate stamp and not hand delivered

*

They can be bought, or homemade but must be in standard postcard size

*

They must have the name of the sender clearly marked

*

They must arrive at my cottage no later than the 16th Feb

*

If you want a postcard reply from me your full postal address must be included

*

The judge's decision ( i.e. Mine) is final

*

Each category will be awarded an " appropriate" prize

*

You can enter more than one class

Now

The categories of post cards that can be entered are

Best animal based postcard

Best gay postcard

Best country of origin postcard

Best retro postcard

Best dirty postcard

Best original postcard 

Best arty postcard

Funniest postcard

Most beautiful postcard

Best Scotch Egg Postcard

Best hand crafted card

Best card not in any category 

A Thing Of The Past

A real pleasure....postcards on the mantle

I need to think "happy thoughts" today.
Yesterday I had a particularly unpleasant encounter at work which I know am more of a match for sorting and today I am going to a funeral . Two things that sadden but don't overwhelm even though I am still full of cold and had to miss choir last night after I had literally lost my voice on Saturday .

Today 's post is a lament for a changing fashion.
It's also a competition
It's all about the pleasure of receiving a post card.

We don't really send postcards anymore, certainly we don't from our holiday destinations, With the Internet , Instergram, blogging, postcards are now sent virtually with Facebook now able to proclaim instantly " look at us! Look at where we are!"
These "postcards" are seen but are seldom remembered.

And so today I'm setting you all a challenge
Send me a postcard from your small part of the world through the post.
No virtual cards will be accepted, all entries have to be posted with a stamp from your local post box!
All entries will be posted here and the most striking card will be given a traditionally Welsh prize.

A bit of frivolity is needed today. It's a grey, overcast depressing day here.

My address

John Gray
Bwthyn y Llan,
Cwm Road,
TRELAWNYD,
Flintshire
North Wales
LL 18 6EF

Post

Over the years I have received a myriad of gifts and sweet gestures from blog readers.

Thankfully,  non of the posted items have been in the Tom Jones' lady knickers genre of personal token but over twelve years I have gratefully received a whole shopful of hand crafted items, dog treats, scotch eggs and the like as well as suitcase sized collections of cards and letters.

Years ago, the oddest gift which was delievered to the cottage was two bags of layers pellets and a couple of bales of hay! whilst only last year a couple who mysteriously referred of themselves as Adam the bear and Lulu, sent me a Barbara Stanwick DVD, a miniature bottle of bourbon and a massive bar of chocolate " for my Gay Bridget Jones moments" as it was described on the package! 

Recently two anonymous dearhearts send me some cash through the post. Surprise gifts that humbled me greatly.

Recently the postman woke me up in order to deliver a blown paper package of about a foot long.

" Another Strange one" the postie commented in his usual unsmiling way before handing it over. 

The package was from the Irish Rebublic and the address on it simply said

John Gray,

Trelawnyd.

Wales.

The gift had no accompanying card, senders address or note with it.

When I opened it, this is what I found

The. Virgin Mary

Therapy

Yesterday afternoon there was a faint tap,tap,tap on the kitchen window.  Taps on the kitchen window that faces the lane are always from Trelawnyd-ites  Locals are always told they can get my attention that way.
It was a chap from Well Street and he was with his large and floppy footed setter dog.  I had suggested that they call around several months ago but I think he was embarrassed to do so... I was glad that had eventually turned up. Better late than  never. The setter is a nervous type and so, it must be said is the owner especially when other dogs are involved and so a vicious circle of anxiety and reciprocal agression had been set up when they walked around the village and met up with one of the 100 or so dogs that live here.
 I offered the dubious owner a bit of common sense dog therapy and yesterday he decided to give the winnie-therapy ago. The plan was simple He held his dog close when I brought Winnie out on her lead and I told him to loosen the tension of his lead and follow us. Winnie would take the lead and he would follow and down the lane and into the old churchyard we went.  At first  the settler held his head high and gazed nervously at Winnie waiting for a moment to lunge but Winnie  gave him a brief stare which said " oh do fuck off" and turned her back on him . She cant be doing with nervous dogs..... their skittishness is lost on her sanguine nature
 The setter's  nervous agression just had nowhere to go.  And so we walked, walked indian file around and around the Church with the setter following Winnie by a few inches much to the wide eyed astonishment of his owner.  After ten minutes the anxious setter looked as bored as Winnie with the whole situation whilst more importantly the owner had shed much of his own anxiety .
 It was as simple as that!!!!!
After we walked I told the owner that we should stop by the lytch gate and chat about bollocks in order tomakie the dogs wait until we were ready to go home.  I dont think he quite got it but the dogs understood for both yawned and stood bored as the Alpha males talked above them.
 Its not rocket science  Youve just got to think on a dog's  level   
     

Best Laid Plans

Eight people so far have shown an interest in the allotment.

I think that is a good start.

Weekends are traditionally a time to clear the weeds away.

Weekends have become something of a sad time, which is a habit I now need to change. I have always been used to my own company during the week, even when I was " married" such is the life of someone who has a partner who often worked elsewhere. But I always had the weekends in part or in entirety with someone else " there" 

Now the weekend can stretch and bore and remind a person that they are alone with only a nursing shift to bookend the days alone.

Mrs Trellis sort of told me off today when I alluded to it. 

She has been living alone for well over a decade, a fact she reminded me of kindly

She was as polite and as twittery as usual but the message in her conversation was clear

" Stop feeling sorry for yourself , you're not the only one" 

I've got a few things planned next week. Choir, work, a funeral, lunch out with a friend, Sams and next Sunday a trip to the cinema with the georgous Dave, I just need to add in a few more things in I guess.

"The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry........"
let's hope not

Resurrections

I've got laryngitis..not that it matters as it is so windy. You can't make out what I'm saying

So forgive the sound quality .....I've got an idea for the field this year.....this is a translation

I'm planning to open up the attotments again but instead of keeping the plots all for myself I aim to open them up to the village so anyone can have their own plot on loan .
No sub letting that's not allowed, but I think a few more fellow veg growers and the subsequent camaraderie will be a good step forward

Ps. D Hovestad.........thank you xxx

More virus

My solicitor is a sweet warm Welsh Woman .
She was wearing elasticated pants today and I wasn't sure if she was pregnant or just post Christmas
I'm full of a cold virus yet again and feel like shit, I'm on three nights this week.
Before I saw her I'd just bought some lem sip, vitamin c and a jigsaw from Aldi
How rock n roll
The last time I saw her, I followed our meeting with a contemplative and rather tearful  sit in the Cathedral in St Asaph
And today, she told me just how worried she was for me then
" You look like a different person today " she said kindly
I feel like shite , so I must have really have looked like shit back then.
I took winnie with me as the practice secretary has a bulldog.
During my meeting I left them both together sharing a packet of hoopla hoops as several selfies were being taken.
Bet I was still charged a hundred quid for the meeting!
Hey ho

Samaritans...Can I help You?

I answered the door to a small, rather unkempt lady who was leaning heavily on a stick
She looked remarkably like Jimmy Krankie and smelled very heavily of alcohol.
" Are You ok?" I asked her in my best samaritan voice
" I don't need to talk, I just need a piss " the woman coughed " I'm bursting" 
She obviously knew that we had a disabled toilet on the ground floor.
Beaten before I had even started I showed her to the loo which was only steps from the front door.
After a minute there came the unmistakable sound of buttocks slapping floor tiles followed by a big " OOOOFFFFFF ....FUCKING HELL......"
" Are you alright?! " I called out
" I've missed the toilet !!!" Came the plaintive cry
" Can I come in?" I asked, hoping to hell that I didn't have to
" I can't bloody well get up" was the muffled response.
I ventured inside
The inebriated lady had indeed missed the toilet but she and her insides had certainly not missed the floor so it was with a heavy heart and on tip toe that I managed to get her back on the loo in one piece    Whilst unravelling the loo roll like a demon in order to mop up the " leakage"
" I'm really pissed" the woman explained in lieu of an apology
I muttered "No shit Sherlock!" Helping her with her knickers !

Moments later she was on her way home, a lot damper but certainly lighter than when she arrived.
We are a public service

Bangers

Sometimes words are not enough

Choir

Back to choir tonight and it was joyous!
I was sooo glad to be back
We sang a version of the South African Nkosi Sikelel' lAfrica followed by the Welsh lullaby Cysgu di fly mhlentys tiws (Sleep my little Children) both of which are new to us
Choirmaster Jamie ( still sporting his 1940 RAF moustache) informed us that he wants us to sing in a massive community choir get together on the South Bank in London in the Autumn
How wonderful
I'm game .....

Julian And Sandy

The bantam cockerels who upped sticks from the Ukrainian Village last year are still doing well thanks to the collective support of the neighbours.
They sleep atop one of the yew trees in the Churchyard and walk over the Cottage in the morning to spend the day bumming scraps from Sailor John and Mandy and Trendy Carol further down the lane.
Occasionally they will sit on my bathroom window ledges if I leave the window wide open after one of those ( I'd give it a few minutes if I were you ) moments, much to the hysteria of Mary who still finds any hen fair game in the chase you /kill you stakes.
Another neighbour refers to the cockerels as Julian and Sandy then got all of a dither when he thought he was not being politically correct in front of me
I love when people get in a dither 

An Elderly Shop

Today It was my turn to do some shopping and complete the prescription run for an elderly neighbour  who isn't too well.
I found the shopping list nostalgicly bittersweet in nature
Tinned stew, custard tarts, fruit cocktail.
The foodstuffs my mother used to like when I shopped with her on her weekly sojourn from her nursing home.
This was seventeen years or so ago now but I remember very well, loading up Chris's fiat in Sheffield    with a " loaned" oxygen cylinder from work and then driving the hundred miles to wales in order to take my mother out for a few hours.
Now when I say "taking out" I actually mean driving with her to Sainsbury's car park in order for her to Chain smoke cigarettes whilst connected to piped oxygen ( I know !!!I know!!!) 
As she puffed away I was sent into the store with a list.
After nearly two decades I can share that list without pausing

2 packets of lambert & Butler cigarettes,
Two strawberry tarts ( with cream),
2 miniature Gordon's gin,
A Daily Mail ( newspaper)
Wet wipes,
A Vicks nasal decongestant,
A box of tissues,
Bags of assorted sweets ( to be used as bribes so that the nursing home staff would take her for a cigarette )
Disposable lighter

After I'd shopped, and before we left for a " drive" one of the gins and one of the tarts had already disappeared as had at least three more fags and with the passenger window fully open regardless of weather we'd have a tootle around before she got bored and demanded to go back to the home.
This was the weekly routine until the day she died.
No serious conversations, no angst ,
No On Golden Pond moments,

Just a supermarket car park " gin and fag" picnic
And a hatchback that smelled of smoke on the long trip home



Ps before you think I was lovely read the 5th comment below xx

Gorgeous Dave

Gorgeous Dave earned his nickname on the very first shift he did as a Samaritan .

It was Sams stalwart Norma who coined the phrase, for after he walked past her booth and flashed a pearly white smile at her she looked at me with a look of astonishment and mouthed the words " Fuck he's gorgeous !" So dithered by his sudden appearance ( presumably one that was accompanied by a fanfare of celestial trumpets) she promptly knocked her crutches from the back of her chair but never let her caller know that she had just been wrong footed by a surge of oestrogen .....

Now that's a professional Samaritan for you!

Last night I went for a drink with Gorgeous Dave. We had become friendly during his brief time with us and both of us thought it time we reconnected . Gorgeous Dave had recently split up from a long term girlfriend.....and you know my history only too well, so meeting up over a pint to lick wounds seemed only sensible , especially given the fact we were both used dealing with sad stories! 

Now GD is dealing with being a singleton in a slightly different way to me . Where as I have spent too long a time crying at TV re runs of Pet Rescue in my track suit bottoms ( the ones with a hole in the crutch) whilst eating anything savoury from out of the fridge GD had made the most of his looks and has started to think about dating again. 

Gorgeous people can do that. mouldy old pongos like me cannot.....it's the way of the world 

I explained to GD  that 56 in gay years means that you are more past your gay sell by date than if you were a  three month old prawn sandwich left in your glove box.

He was lucky, he was straight, looked almost 30 and had teeth like Donny Osmond , he'd be snapped up as quickly as a Black Friday 62 inch tv.

We laughed about it but playing the daddy role I did suggest that he spends some time on his own.

It's easy to hide your hurt behind dating......especially if you look like a Welsh Dev Patel. 

When you look like a gone to seed Russel Crowe in hole filled sweatpants its easier to have the time to reflect that dating is not quite the answer to grief

Ps

This was intended to be a frivilious post and not one fishing for complements.....

The photo is not of the real Dave but is a pretty close version

I will leave you with the views i can see now....winnie bumming chips at the beach cafe

My Favourite

 I adore Olivia Coleman .
Just listening to her giving an interview fills me with pleasure, as her self effacing and always breathless humour is exactly what I find attractive in another human being.
I've treated myself to a midday showing of The Favourite today
So later, I shall share the review
I suspect Mz Coleman will receive a few plaudits .

The Favourite has a " look" all of it's own.
Set against the fashions of an early 18th Century Royal court, director Yorgos Lanthimos has created a sumptuous, predominantly black and white hued version of the power struggles of three very different women.
Lady Marlborough ( Rachel Weisz ) the straight talking power behind the frail and sickly Queen Anne ( Olivia Coleman) is effectively running the Royal Court and indeed the country.
When her cousin Abigail ( Emma Stone) a lady fallen on difficult times arrives asking for a job the dynamic between Queen and her confidant and lover is challenged which leads to a whole series of manipulations and intrigues behind the Royal Closed doors.

Hard stare Stone

This is a powerful and clever film which balances the characters of all three protagonists equally.
Each woman is shown in balance.. sometimes we see each acting as a monster, sometimes with more  sympathy and not one quite outshines the other in the intensity of their performances.
Weisz and Stone dance around each other with wonderfully wicked turns and Coleman truly shines as the complex and childish Monarch...especially in one pivotal scene where we are only privy to a facial close up, which literally breaks your heart, as she shares the heartbreak of a Queen ravaged by bereavement and bad health.

Weisz in full swish

Common Sense

Winter 1985 York

Psychotherapy and counselling only works if the recipient has insight into their condition or problem

So many " professionals" allow their time to be an emotional romp rather than an effort to explore the roots of the problem  and yesterday I was reminded of a moment when I witnessed a real eureka moment during a therapeutical interaction.

The moment was a pivotal one.

The patient had slashed at her arms and neck with broken crockery after a particularly difficult weekend leave at home and was being seen by the psychologist moments after allowing me to dress her wounds. She was crying and forlorn, but managed to share that her husband had emotionally battered her during a family celebration designed to celebrate her inpatient improvement and removal from a mental health section.

Much of her therapy was concerned with abuse this patient had received at the hands of a critical and emotionally weak, jealous father. 

Confused and distraught the patient kept referring to her husband's behaviour  by repeating the words " Why.... why why?  " as she ripped at her bandages and as I stood to intervene the psychologist, a thin , vital little Yorkshireman waved me away with a grim smile

He knelt at the patient's feet, took her hands and caught her gaze

"His teeth fit your wounds" he said slowly " His teeth fit your wounds!" 

" Do you understand?"  and eventually through her tears the patient nodded

The link between her choice of husband with the behaviour of the  ghost of her father clarified by a simple phrase.

Eureka 

Chatty

Congratulations to teenage boffin Cameron who had just passed his driving test.

I need to book him to cottage sit when I go up to Sheffield next month, I hope he can make it as Mrs Trellis is my next bet and the dogs will run circles around her. 

She's no disciplinarian
Sheffield will be a hug to my heart.....for as well as the hospital reunion Im arranging to meet old friends Mike, Bev, Jane, John, Kath and Vince.....2018 I let things lapse with them

Trendy Carol, ( nice hair new jacket) dropped me a late Christmas gift of miniature gins yesterday. Her Terrier was on the same medication as William so it was a thank you for me passing it all over to her. 

"Gorgeous Dave "from Samaritans has just called wanting a catch up and I've arranged to meet up with him on Saturday for a drink which will be nice...I told him I needed to pull myself out of my Yuletide funk and he agreed......I m going to see if village elder Islwyn could give me a lift so I can have a small Sherry! I'm sure he will....

It's my turn to book some theatre for the affable despot, Jason and I to go to and choir starts next week which will be fun....our choirmaster wants to take us all to a big joint sing in London this year! 

How fantastic is that?
My friend Greta has promised me a night out of gossip too...after my night shift ...she's on!
Grabs bra straps and pulls!

It's cold tonight and I'm off to bed soon in some thermal socks my sister gave me for Christmas.....bloody lovely they are too
Winnie has watched Rick Stein prepare several meals in India tonight, then sat through a re run of Bake off and is now enjoying a documentary on the Mississippi ...I may leave the tv on for her overnight
Hey ho

Creating A Monster

With George now assuming top dog status by spending every sleeping moment in the much sought after blue arm chair, Winnie has been now been relegated to the small edwardian arm chair in the corner of the living room.  Already fed up with this " demotion" she now has made it her misson to sneak onto the couch with me and Mary where she has suddenly found herself mesmerised with the devil himself....the television  For hours in an evening ( and like most if the UK population) she will now watch any old shite thats going but seems to  prefer action tv and movies to anything more cerebral or thoughtful  The other evening she seems to be particularly engrossed in Disneys Jungle Book but did sit through the Victoria Cohen Mitchel Quiz Show Only Connect without blinking.