I'm meeting blogger Wanda for lunch today
She doesn't comment much now, but stalwarts of Going Gently may recall her often pithy one liners
that were usually full of sass and tartness.
I've made an effort in my appearance today, forgoing my second and first best Walking Dead T shirts for my favourite one depicting a camper van
What do I want to say by wearing it?
Answers on a postcard please.
Not much to report today
Another case as last night's shift fucking up blog entries
I need another job or to be adopted by a gay aging millionaire with a heart condition and no living relatives
The delicate clematis that borders Meg's grave is in bloom and it and the few Hardy tulips that survived the rabbit raids of winter have given the front garden a little lift of colour.
I went to the Community Association's coffee morning yesterday.
If I hadn't gone I wouldn't have spoken to anyone until my Sams shift yesterday afternoon.
Mrs Trellis was upset at her table as her greyhound Blue was at the vets under observation. He had gashed himself on some barbed wire. She's a big believer in homeopathic medication.
But Homeopathic meds don't help rusty wire injuries
I took some old DVDs in to the swaps table and chatted to Ian and Nick from the association.
They are resurrecting the Flower Show this year with my guidance
I went to my favourite cafe for lunch. The cafe is called The Glass Lounge and its single, round faced waitress/barista reminds me of Helen Hunt in As Good As It Gets.
I sit at my usual table ( very much like Mr Udall) and so read because the service is usually very pedestrian to say the least.
Now I like this.
I like the fact the waitress is unhurried. There is absolutely no sense of urgency about her and although everything seems to get done, you can be waiting an age for anything to happen.
Like I said, I enjoy this. I enjoy watching others get impatient
I enjoy their unheeded glances when their flat whites are late
And I like the fact that when she eventually comes to my table she doesn't indulge in small talk
She won't be rushed, and I so like that .
I people watched for the two hours I was there.
A gay couple at the next table hated the service but said nothing. They didn't speak to each other either, preferring to play with their phones.
Beyond them was a lady with a disabled husband, both of them were reading the papers and beyond them a man with a dog. The barista brought over a bowl of water which I thought was nice.
when I had my first meeting with my divorce mediator, it was in this cafe.
The barista brought me over a bottle of water when things looked fraught which was kind.
I wanted to weed the garden this afternoon but I'm on nights again. This in and out isbuggering up my body clock
Hey ho
Hatim was thirteen but was the size of a small ten year old girl.
His wheelchair was a child's size, expensive and lightweight.
Hillsborough Park Sheffield
Springtime many years ago now.
It was one of his first forays out in public
A broad smiling Iraqi boy paralysed by accident by a stray British infantry man's bullet.
Rehabbed in a Northern English City
He wasn't nervous or self conscious
That's what growing up in a Spinal Injury Unit does for you
He was just a little boy taking a Welsh terrier out for a walk.
The terrier was my Finlay and his lead was tied to the wheelchair in a tight knot
It was their second time of meeting
I watched them both from a distance .
Cheerful little boy and bouncy friendly dog,
Daffodils and bright sunlight,
I will rehash my previous slightly ironic condemnation of the sultan of Brunei's decision to push forward the new stoning Law for any man who indulges in gay sex ( and for any straight couple taking part in an adulterous relationship!
Aparantly Brunei is also known as an abode of Peace! In your face Brunei...in your face
The weather has been wet today
I'm on nights.
I watched a couple of films this afternoon.
A so-so Australian zombie movie Plague and a worthy civil rights flick Hidden Figures
I'm listening to David Sedaris
I found his rather moving comments about his husband rather painful to listen to.
There is a rainbow over the village and one base of it is perched over The Still House making it look even cuter than than it usually does
Old Trevor rang, he's been to outpatients today....I can stop giving him his daily injections
I've done them for the past seventy days or so.
He's the only person I have spoken to today
Albert is stiff but fine
It happened in the lane during the dogs final wee walk of the day.
He was struck a glancing blow by a black farm estate pickup as he tried to leap into Animal Helper Pat's back garden after he had followed us up the lane.
Me and the dogs were standing by the Church lytch gate and saw him bounce back onto the road then leap again the four feet into Pat's herbaceous borders.
The man in the van stopped and kindly held the dog leads when I went after him ( It took me four goes to clamber up a PAT's back wall- oh the Shame)
surprisingly I found Albert quite quickly crouching by her greenhouse, his tail whipping from side to side in pure anger. He was less frightened and more angry
Winnie was quite disappointed when the farm Helper handed her back over....he had overalls on !
Apart from a bloodied ear, old Albert looked remarkably ok given the sound of the impact and after a sizeable wrestle in order to check for injuries he finally settled on the couch after eating half the contents of small tin of red salmon
This photo has been taken of him two and a half hours after the event
The weather turned again in the middle of the night and by dawn I could hear hail lashing against the cottage windows.
I had banked up the fire last night but the air felt cold and Mary, who had been shorn of her coat only yesterday, shivered and crept closer in bed, curling up under my chin.
I got up around 8 am
The village was deserted and wet and cold when we faced the day
I did see Polish Monika snug in her fur parka
She is the new caretaker of the village Hall and was going to open up
We chatted for a while...…... she's a sweet girl.
I feel brighter today despite the weather and as we passed Mrs Trellis' neat little bungalow and saw her head bowed over the keys of her piano, I thought it was a day for a mooch around a musky bookshop
Thoughtfully facebook sent me a message and photograph yesterday of a memory dated exactly one year ago.
It was a photo illustrating a meal out with my mother in law ,but the subtext of that seemingly happy night reminded me it was the night I found out that my marriage was probably over.
That was a year ago.
and I have lived with the uncertainty of that news for all that time.
I have come to detest uncertainty.
it's power is insidious
Shifting sands do little for your psychi and your physical health especially when you may not have a home to go to after all of the shenanigans of divorce are thrashed out
Regular readers will recognise that stress has directly fucked up my immune system big style and again this week I find myself cancelling the good stuff because of the bad
Bless him Gorgeous Dave offering a soup run!
Now that would give the neighbours something to gossip about!
I was due to meet up with a friend at a real ale pub in Conwy this afternoon so I have rescheduled that until next week and will book a badminton court with GD then too.
One step in front of another
I've been saving up for a dyson cordless vacuum for a few months now and this morning it arrived which doesn't seem like much to many but to me It was bloody exciting
Fuck life uncertainty I can now HOOVER properly!
I'm still laughing at the Goldie Manure comment on my previous post, but have to spare a moment to remark on the finale of season 9 's The Walking Dead which aired tonight After, the emotional romp of last week's character cull we had a more thoughtful, talky and rather deeper final episode with the survivors facing their first snow bound winter storm.
Suddenly the Walking Dead reminds me of those 1960 wagon train movies like The Way West with Alpha 's Whisperers playing the Indians alongside the snow covered walkers.
Showrunner Angela Kang has produced a visually impressive season 9 with graceful sweeping shots of the action set pieces such as tonight's walker appearance from under the snow drifts as well as giving the whole series a much needed dramatic reboot.
It's been the best season in four years especially when Negan saved Judith ...then I shed a little tear...
Now I have to wait until the Autumn until Season 10
Hey ho
I'm a sad bastard.
A while ago I treated myself to a ticket to see the Irish comic Dara Ò Briain . He is performing at the Storyhouse in Chester tonight .
I told my sister that I was going to see him and the news was met with certain level of mild incredulity
This surprised me as I thought my street cred would have gone up a notch in my sister's eyes given the fact old Dara was a stalwart of Mock The Week and other such comedy shows "I would have thought she wasn't quite your cup of tea" my sister commented as we drove out of Chester and then the penny dropped
"Who do you think I'm going to watch again?" I asked her "Dora Bryan" came the response
Now this mixing up of words and names runs in our family
My grandmother was famous for stating that she was nearly killed by a falling Insanitary bomb during the war ( instead of an Incendiary bomb)
I once worked with a ward sister who told me off for rushing a dressing with the words "Patience is a virgin" Malapropisms anyone?
I knew I wasn't 100% yesterday
Today I suspect I have the start of a chest infection.
A few days ago a poorly patient , having no social skills in politeness, coughed directly into my face with a phlegm filled mouthfull of infection.
In my 37 years as a nurse I've been covered in much worse, believe me,
A couple of weeks ago George started to be incredibly slow out on his walks.
He was still black eyed and vital but everything was done at a more pedestrian pace than usual
I got him checked out then and on last Monday when he got somewhat breathless out on the Dyserth railway walkway.
He has a degree of heart failure
This morning just him and I went to our favourite cafe on Colwyn Bay Promenade.
No Mary playing up, no Winnie bumming toast from the patrons .
Just George and I with plate of toast and a large coffee.
He sat on the chair next to me watching me carefully as I pulled the crust off the thick doorstop slabs
He's always been polite to the point of indifference except when food is concerned where he will let out an occasional sharp whine in hopeful anticipation of a tidbit
Even heart failure can't stop his addiction to food.
I dipped his portions into my coffee to soften it and blew the piece cold before passing it over
A woman at a nearby table laughed and pointed
And we shared a breakfast with our eyes half closed against the morning sun.
I bought a cheap ticket for the theatre tonight but I feel too jaded after nights to go.
I'm not feeling well today.
A few years ago, I fell for a simple glass study of a seagull which I noticed in a small gallery in Broadstairs.
My husband bought it and for months it sat in the window of the kitchen gathering dust and in risk of being smashed by Albert's gammy leg.
When we split I asked to keep it and today I had an idea to keep it safe.
I framed it.
And it looks mighty fine
It now is a constant reminder of the British seaside tradition
Of beach huts and sun loungers.
Steep cobbled streets and Morelli's ice cream
Of fish pie, micro pubs, people watching and of hot sand......overly hot sand beneath my feet.
nothing to do with the post but it made me chuckle
I've been comfort eating for months now
and I've had enough of it.
I'm done with it
Nights don't help as I've gotten into the habit of eating shit because I am weary
Its much easier buying a portion of butter chicken from Sainsburys than cooking for one.
Yadda Yadda Yadda
It's no good belly aching about it all
I'm not stupid.
It's good that I 've had enough of it.
I've had enough of that quick oral fix.
I've had enough of eating in front of the tv
I'm waiting for the workmen from Welsh Water to turn up with my new water meter.
I haven't told Winnie yet, it will be a nice surprise for her.
As I wait I've cut butternut squash up and am roasting them with peppers and onions in order to make a spicy soup.
I've made a raspberry smoothie to drink at my tomorrow morning 4am low sugar moments
and the new rule in the cottage is that all meals will be taken at the kitchen table
Eating better is the last gift I can give myself
I've never really subscribed to the notion of being surrounded by expensive things.
Nice, personal and quirky things …..yes
expensive designer "Keep up with the Jones'" stuff.....never
Bluebell is a low emission economy Vauxhall
My tv is just over a foot in width
and my latest pair of shoes I bought from Marks and Spencers
oh and my most recent underwear purchase ( which should always be designer in nature according to my how to be properly gay manual) was from Aldi
I do like nice things though
Like my latest piece of art!
This colourful study in acrylic and sand cost me £3.50 and that was for the frame which I got from Tesco
The art ...as you may remember....is all of my own!
Over the last year I have scanned the clearance shelves of TK MAXX. where I have bought bits of this colourful collection of wooden resin kitchen ware
not one piece cost more that a pound or two
cheap and pleasing
This German technofix 1950s tin toy is another recent purchase.
Useless, cheap but with a shape that is pleasing to the eye
Very much like my latest couch cushion, bought minutes after George and I went to the vets on Monday from a vintage shop in Denbigh. it cost me £6
Nice things have a power to brighten up the sadder moments
a quick fix certainly
but so much more therapeutic than cheque book busting shopping sprees for designer clothing jewellery, and cars or betting shop or bingo site visits.
Today I thought I'd share you my experiences at Choir in a bit more detail
More flesh on the bones, so to speak.
I'll try and paint a picture.
Last night, choir started in its usual slightly haphazard way.
Some people drinking tea in the corner of Gwaenysgor's small village Hall ( a building which used to be a one room village school) offset the twenty five or so other choir members who started to find their places in a large circle of padded chairs. The sopranos ( the most confident and most senior members of the Choir) sit in their seats of power at twelve o'clock. The altos ( the largest number ) sit at 3 o'clock and the tenors ( all ladies) sit at 6 o'clock .
Me and the 7 other basses sit at 9 o'clock.
The warm up is always a bit of a bunfight as the choir numbers range on good days to 40 or so
Jamie, our choirmaster , with his RAF 1940s moustache and 28 inch waist is a powerhouse from the get go, so after a few stretches, Hollywood-esque acting squeeze your nose and sing MEEEEEEE at the top of your voice and a bend over to touch your toes ( I don't do that one in case I fart) he throws himself around the centre of the circle whipping us all up into a bit of a middle aged frenzy before the first number.
Last night we sang a four piece African song.
Now, Jamie sings the verse he wants to each of the groups in turn and we all copy him like puppies.
As he sings he indicates the note he wants with a flattened hand, a movement complicated by his legs and bottom which dance around and kick and jump in time to the music.
it's the oddest thing to witness if you are not used to it for he looks like a moustached Woody from Toy Story (albeit a Woody with a nice designer cardigan and trendy brogues)
Within 10 minutes were were singing something new, catchy and rather good.
No one noticed that one of the sopranos was standing in the corner by herself dancing wildly to the African beat. Or if they did, they never said anything.
I always sit next to Peter who is a retired gentleman farmer. Peter is my new best friend because I bought him a trendy water bottle at Christmas as he kept knocking his water glass over during the more energetic numbers.
Peter has thick white hair, has a voice like John Gielgud and looks like he wears tweed 24/7.
Like I said its all rather relaxed with Jamie only shushhhing up the chattering Sopranos occasionally as he patiently tried to get us basses to hit the right note during a particularly hard version of Blur's Tender
We couldn't quite nail Blur last night which was a shame but just before we finished for the night we sang Tsmindao Ghmerto and for a minute into the Georgian hymn that certain magic happened ( as it so often does) and our voices started to blend quite wonderfully helped of course by the acoustics of the village hall roof, a talented yet frenetic conductor and a wish to get it right
tsmindo ghmerto
we hope to join this gathering of community choirs in the Autumn
The feral bantam cockerels have survived the winter.
Every night they sleep in a yew tree in the Churchyard
and every daytime they beg and mooch around three gardens, tapping on windows for a handout or a treat and only giving a view of their handsomeness in return.
Its quite easy to tame an animal
You need to be calm, consistent, keep your eye gaze to yourself and always offer food when the animals are hungry
Follow those rules and the cock is in your hand so to speak
Three days after I left out the remnants of Albert's dinner, the boys were tap-tap-tapping on the kitchen window reminding me they were waiting for breakfast and only this morning they sat patiently on the kitchen wall seconds before a regular dog walker ambling by reached into his pocket to leave a small pile of breadcrumbs almost at their feet.
In a strangely moving finale a mixed bag of characters from Kingdom, Alexandria and Hilltop met with a grisly end at the hands of Alpha and the Whisperers thus setting the scene for a zombie apocalypse war and season 10 of course.
I was sorry to see Tara ( Alana Masterson ) go as she has given the franchise a certain humour but a culling allows space for the newer characters to shine and for the drama move forward and the message of All for one and one for all ( as the characters fought bravely for each other until the end)has been given a certain resonance given the terrorist threats we have all witnessed in recent times.
Please no comments telling me I'm a lovely man This is an observation not a request for praise
The buzzer went off around 4 am
It was room 12
I suspect the lady who slept in room 12 wanted to get up as she thought it was morning
I was wrong.
The lady wanted to go home and was incredibly fuddled
I sat on the side of her bed and fielded questions the best I could No it was only 4 am in the morning No she couldn't go home to her daughter right then She had poor poorly at home for a while so needed to be here yes her daughter visited very regularly My name was John and I was one of the nurses Yes I knew that her daughter lived in the same village No it was 4 am and it was not possible that she could go home
In nursing , reality orientation is centred around the reinforcement of time, place and person
but like any concept it only works well in the classroom and not in a side room of a nursing home where the ceiling light casts hash shadows on the wood chip.
The patient was becoming more and more distressed, not with the reality of her situation but with her own inability to understand what was going on.
She screwed up her fists like a child.
I thought of what next to do divert, divert, divert
I gave her a drink. I straightened her duvet and I told her a story.
I told her about how I needed to take George to the vets later that morning and how he shakes so as he is sat in the waiting room.
I told her about how he came to the cottage in the back of the old white polo
Covered in vomit after his first long car ride.
I told her how he used to wait all day for the moment just he and he alone would be allowed to bed upstairs on his own
and I told her about how for nearly thirteen years he had never caused one minute of fuss or demanded one minute of attention
At first, during the monologue, when I left a gap or a space in the narrative she butted in with an I want to go home
but as I droned on, she quietened down somewhat
I told her about how George totters along the railway walkway at such a pedestrian pace its maddening and I told her the story how he and William fought for the first and very last time as teenage dogs and how I had to separate them by hitting them with the contents of the washing up bowl and a bin bag full of sooty scrapings from the hearth and by the time I had finished she was quiet but still awake.
I tucked in her duvet and told her it was time to rest
diversion or boredom?
She closed her eyes
You use any tool that comes to hand
