This Is Me ! - The Winner!

The winner of the " this is me" competition is this photo.
I won't give the name of the entrant , suffice to say that I loved their honesty at sharing this as a description of self...warts and all.

A Nice Pair Of Hairy Calves

I didn't have a headache this morning, though my eyeballs felt unusually tender!
I had forgotten I had booked lunch with a friend for next Sunday and not this, so at a loose end, I took myself to a local art gallery for a mooch and for some lunch.

The exhibits were interesting.
But not quite as impressive as the gallery attendants hairy calves which caught my attention much more than the pink animal sideboard!
They were lovely and just as impressive as his trendy twirled moustache!

To cool off I took myself to the cafe and was given a very large gold number three to let the server know what table to bring my sandwich.
" Thats a bit camp!" I told the staff
" You should see our number 7 ...it's fabulous !" the server replied.

I sat and ate my sandwich as the gallery attendant with the lovely calves sat down nearby to eat his lunch. With such a lovely view all too much I went to look at some more of the art and with my left over birthday money bought myself   a flying bird sculptured from a broad palate knife!

Flying bird by Rachel Sumner

Albert and my Art Wall at home

Rachel And The Stranger

Just after 8pm there was a knock on the door.

It was the Hungarian support worker who I had given a gift of sausage to a while back

Her husband sat in the car and he waved

She gave me some homemade cake called something like "sootmeny Rigo " and a small bottle with its own stopper

" Palinka" she explained...." Hungarian fruit brandy! Tank you"  

She shook my hand 

I drank a couple of large slugs of it and it warmed my face nicely

I am sat watching the old 1948 film RacheL and the Stranger! And I've drunk some more now I'm  Feeling rather pissed ( in uk pissed means tipsy and not angry)

Old

I didn't get so much of a Good Luck from lead nurse of duty yesterday
Instead she left me a scribbled note

" FYI could you complete your careplans they are overdue"

I wrote on the corner her note

" FYA careplans already completed" xxxxx

We got up three of my favourite patients before heading for home and I told the, truthfully that I would miss them. Cynthia and Betty ,The two ladies cried a bit as I kissed them goodbye and as I shook Glyn hand firmly he thanked me for my time, in that way men do when they don't want to be emotional
I might not have got on with the lead nurse , but the standard of care was good.
So I wasn't leaving them without an advocate, or in a bad environment .
Older people are so vulnerable.
Im not going to get old
I decided that a long time ago

 

Purple Spray, purple spray

" We have a little drama here everyday.....but we forget about them the next day!" 
So said my friend Eirlys , after I have driven up to her farm in order to loan some lurid purple antiseptic spray
I haven't seen her and her husband for months, but we pick up where we last took off without effort or problem
Good people, I am surrounded by them.

I saw old Stan the other day too, it's been an age since we caught up and he told me of the sad news that his son had died.
" Kit had not cried yet" he shared as Kit, his wife sat quietly nearby in the car
And I said what I could, conscious that I have not really been around for the past year.
Kit made me the famous slippers of sex! 
The handknitted pumps Winnie used to masturbate on so regularly
Thank goodness for the hysterectomy I thought as I drove home

Winnie has been scratching her ear overnight. The inside of it now looks clean as Mary has had her tongue down it for most of the last 24 hours , but bulldog paws are the size of a bears' and so the old girl has two large red sores now on the side of her head.
She sat quietly as I bathed the wounds and then sat still when I sprayed them with the antiseptic.
I had a day old schnitzel in the fridge , which I gave her as a reward and which she ate almost whole

Last shift tonight!
And so I am off to bed again after this first aid episode
There will be purple stains all over the house now

Hey ho

MBFW

One of the saddest scenes in a movie

A Tiny Way To Go

No one is ever really fully cooked.
We are, all of us , a job in progress, so to speak.
In just one year, I have

• Dealt with the break up of my marriage
• Nearly lost my home
• Mourned a life, a family and a role
• Bought a car and became more financially self sufficient 
• Lost two dogs
• Battled some difficult self esteem issues 
• And obtained two jobs!

I feel so much better than I did but I am oh so looking forward to the discipline of my new job and role as living in the limbo land of part time work in a place I absolutely hate and the uncertainty of what mediation would bring has taken its toll.

I have just two night shifts to go before I leave the nursing home.

Now don't get me wrong, the care of the patients is second to none, but certain relationships between the senior staff are toxic, and toxic atmospheres drag people down no matter how buoyant you are.so in just two weeks time I shall be forging new work relationships with like minded people at the hospice

I've always been good at that.

When I am presented with a contract, I can then be able to take over the finance of my home, and  

Then that final " grounding" will be in place.

I can then get some rhythm back into my life, 

rhythm and discipline 

The final two things in my In need and to do list.

Discipline is now vital. I have let too many things slide as I have dealt with the list above.

I eat badly, I sleep in and stay up too late, I have let the field and the garden and responsibilities in Samaritans slide somewhat. Now it's time to reclaim these last  few facets of me and before you say something supportive 

I not beating myself up for letting some things slide,...Christ! 

Several times in the last year I very nearly went under

It's just time to bring some more order into my life which has been somewhat chaotic since Easter 2018

I finish work at 8 am Saturday morning.

From then on, the finishing line is in sight.

It's In A Look

Facebook has an endearing little habit of sending you photos on anniversary days and this one came out of the blue this morning...
Three years ago Auntie Gladys made a rousing speech and opened the village Flower Show for the first time even though she had helped run it for over 40 years
It would be her last year in Trelawnyd. And she was 97
I love this photo.
If you love and respect someone it shows on your face

A Fart In Choir

My choir before Heulwen and I joined

RAF Jamie is back row far right

Our choir master Jamie ( sans his 1940 RAF moustache) was back in harness tonight after his two week tour with The Spooky Men's Chorus. 
It was a bit like the first day back at school with certain members of the choir chattering and overly restless but he soon got us back into shape as we have a mini concert booked at a local golf club for next week! ( next week Melyd Golf Club, next year the Albert Hall! )
One of my fellow basses ( I shall refer to him as Howard) has a tendency for inane comments and a habit for not listening and although he has the best voice in the men's section, he really gets on my tits, a fact that has not gone unnoticed by Hattie and Heulwen , who are buddy tenors and who always stand just to my right.
My eye rolling at his high jinxs makes them giggle as does the fact I can't clap and sing at the same time.
In our warm up exercises tonight, Jamie got us to sigh loudly and touch our toes at full stretch
I let out a pinched alto sounding fart as I bent over, but luckily this was only heard by gentleman farmer Peter, who has good breeding so kept his mouth shut!

Nice to be back singing

I See You

Terry, my Flower Show nemeses popped up in the lane this morning.
The usual gauntlet has just been thrown down
It's quiche Lorraine handbags at Dawn.
I think we are going head to head in the boiled fruitcake, biscuit and boiled egg categories too!

With non of the responsibilities of help running the show Terry said sagely
" We can just enjoy the competition this year!" 
" Bring it on bad boy!" I told him

The Funeral

Today's funeral was always about my late father-in-law
It was about him and his family and I thought I was grown up enough to deal with it.
I was almost right.
I got to the crematorium early and found a good spot in the grounds in order to watch the mourners arrive. I planned to walk in at the last moment to sit at the back which I did.
The woman next to me gave my small rucksack a double take but otherwise paid me no heed and I was right by the door so I could leave quickstix when all the others moved on to the reception room.
Everything as plan.
Everything aseptic and ok.
I had been to scores of funerals. I was an old hand.

Then my sister in law turned around.
She caught my eye and smiled kindly and I immediately started to cry.
The gesture caught me totally by surprise.

Then I saw everything else.
All at once and from the benefit of the cheap seats.
Chris with his arm around Richard's friend's shoulders.
My brother in law upset.
My mother in law supported next to a new strong shouldered friend of Chris', him in a role I would have taken.
My nephew looking all a bit gauche.
It had been well over 18 months since I had seen them all together

I wasn't expecting to feel what I felt.
It wasn't a day about me, was it?
But of course, in my world, it's All about me.

The humanist reader had pitched her words just right.
And I am still glad I had gone to show my respects,
But my head was spinning as she read a moving poem written by Chris' brother
I left as plan. Walking swiftly across the grass as the congregation filled forward to meet the family.

I was almost in Margate town by the time they had moved on.
I felt so angry at myself, because I hadn't  moved on as much as I thought I had.
I was angry as I thought I could be all grown up and not feel like an arsehole.

I busied myself with a few texts and too much thinking on the high speed train back to London,and arrived in Euston hot, sweaty, overwrought and emotionally and physically tired.
A mix up with the off peak tickets and a sharpe tongued rail guard was all too much and at gate 16 I promptly burst into tears
Infront of strangers....
I have never done that before....and I hated myself even more for it.

Chris is not my husband anymore and his family are not my family
And that was the final slap in the mouth I wasn't expecting to feel.
They hadn't slapped me, of course, I had slapped myself

Duh? So stupid

Turner Contemporary

My server in the Turner Cafe was a black girl with a winning smile and hair wrapped in a multicoloured scarf.
She delivered a cracking stew of a breakfast full of slivers of bacon, chorizo, mushrooms and new potatoes topped with a runny egg and asked if I was on holiday or business in Margate
I told her I was going to a funeral and she patted my shoulder.
It's rare for strangers to touch strangers,I thought, but I didn't mind.
In fact I ordered more toast and another flat white.

The Turner is quiet,with just me , three hipsters and some staff in the cafe. Ive only noticed a couple of modern parents with massive baby strollers walk through the main doors so I will have most of the exhibits to myself.

The Turner sky outside is grey and unfortunately dominated by an equally dull and untidy block of flats.
But it's warm.

Brief Diversion

I got off the train before Margate and slightly at a loss, found myself in Broadstairs.
I wasn't there long.
I walked to the cliff top and realised quite suddenly that I didn't really need to be around old memories and a past life
So I said a goodbye, and went on to Margate.
The man at the hotel reception booked a taxi for me to get to the crematorium on time and told me that the Turner Centre opened at 10 am .
He was kind but looked harassed,
Someone had stolen his hanging baskets

Margate

I'm on the way to Margate
The somewhat faded old broad, that she is.
I kind of know how she feels.
A bit rough and ready around the edges
Glory days behind her
But an interesting future ahead, given the changes in her role.

Attempts at dragging herself into the 21th Century have succeeded in part
And now she boasts more culture, more bespoke parts of her personality.
And of course an impressive frontage which used to be termed handsome ...

I rather like Margate

The Biggest Lesbian in Wales

Mary and I having lunch out

Not my footage, but a first drone flight filmed by Andrew Davis, which was launched from the top of Gop Hill, which over looks the village on its North Side.
It shows the panoramic views around Trelawnyd on a day which is much like today.

Now it is said that Offa's Dyke runs through the most Eastern part of the village before commencing it's drop to the coastal plain at Prestatyn.
For those that don't know Offa's Dyke is not a local celebrity lesbian but it is a huge linear earthwork built in the years following 757 AD. The earthwork is approximately 177 miles long and roughly follows the border between England and Wales
It is named after King Offa who was the Anglo Saxon Kind of Mercia.
My School was originally called Clawdd Offa which is aWelsh translation

Lots to do today as the garden needs a blitz
Off to have breakfast at the coffee morning, now. I need to hand in my entry form for the flower Show

Rock'n Roll

 It's been a hot day here again and Mrs Trellis dropped off some flowers early, a congratulatory bunch for staying in the village. I washed bedding and throws and blankets and cushion covers and hung them on the field gate and fencing to dry and with a new bunch of flowers in the house, I opened all of the windows and cleaned the place from top to bottom
Even the heavy bedthrow that is almost too bulky to carry when damp was dry in half an hour, so all of the dog bedding got a wash, before I went for a haircut and a brief shop to buy a black funeral jumper from Marks.

Mandy from next door strapped for a chat across the garden wall and we watched the butterflies on the buddliea for a while. I counted 62 on just the giant bush that overlooks the back door
We all shared the remains of a chicken for tea, and even Albert got his share and the frozen peas were wrapped in a tea towel again and placed under Winnie as she tried to cool down on the patio concrete.

Tonight I'm reading Women Beyond The Wire by Lavinia Warner,
The windows are all still wide open as the cottage tries manfully to cool down and it's nearly nine pm
I can hear music floating over the Churchyard from the old Rectory

For Rachel....see

A Fanny Stain On The Duvet ( and other stories)

It's my father's birthday today
He died exactly thirty years ago.
We had, what I can call, a pretty typical 1970s relationship.
As in he left me to get on with things with the absolute minimum of interference, affection and interest.
This distance was reconciled in part during a brief visit to Sheffield in the late 1980s
He came to fix a door in my new house,
Chugged a couple of beers and showed a softer side to the one I had mistrusted and been irritated by for so many years.

Why are so many men crap at self expression and self realisation ?

Even in today's " in touch with yourself" age, where men and encouraged to be more reflective and honest, so many remain cocooned in their mental men caves, safe from the pain of free emotion but so often crippled by the ghosts and insercurities we all have by being human.

I recalled a moment the other night when I sat with my father-in-law on the back step, drinking beer into the wee small hours. The moment reminded me of that time with my own father years before, when the timing and the alcholol levels were pitched just right for honesty and revelation to rear their heads and I asked the right questions and pressed the right buttons for the real man to emerge, just for a while.

That was all a bit serious so I will leave you with this blog entry of a few years ago now,
It is probably the story I best remember my father for, and it still makes me smile


" Monday was the day to do the washing and eat a meal of leftovers.
It was the day to start afresh
Dad went back to work, mum did the washing, the kitchen was scrubbed and the kids went back to school.
So was the order of a 1960s childhood.
Today some of that remains, albeit in my imagination.

Anyhow
Chris " facetimed" me when I was in the bathroom this morning
He was busy marking a PhD study
I was scrubbing the wee stains from around the toilet bowl

" are you having a bath?" He asked ( probably thinking that I was luxuriating in a mass of foam bubbles before skipping off to a coffee morning at the vicarage )
I told him what I was up to and he reminded me of another job I had yet to tackle
" There's a fanny stain on the duvet!" he noted dryly
( not a phrase I would ever consider hearing in a predominantly gay household but hey...)
" it's on my list" I told him whilst thinking that the phrase " fanny stain on the duvet" would never have been a comment that would have ever left my father's mouth.
Apart from the occasional " ruddy and bloody" I don't think I ever heard my father swear
Anyhow.....

I remember when I was around eleven , my father was involved in a bit of a punch up in his shop.
He owned a television sales and repair Business and was in the middle serving two separate customers when one, a young man, got frustrated with the wait and called my father " A TWAT!"

My father who was probably in his late fifties then, didn't hesitate and smartly punched the customer in the mouth and the first we children got to hear of the affair was when the police popped up to the house to have a ' quiet word ".

Now the humour in this situation centred around my mother's lack of understanding of the word " twat" rather than any resolution of the punch up itself, for after the police had " discussed the matter" with my dad who incidentally was the chair of the borough council at the time, my mother embarked into wild fact finding mission to find out just what TWAT meant.

The policemen obviously wouldn't explain, nor would my red faced father......and even after a few phone calls to my brother in law, all my mother was informed that the word " twat meant a " woman's vagina"

I remember stuffing my hands into my mouth to stop myself from screaming in laughter, after my mother hurried around the house like a stereotypical Jewish mother shrieking

"Ron RON! .... you hit someone in the mouth for calling you a WOMAN's VAGINA?!!!!!!!!"

" why why would you do that?"

They were simpler days ........"

A Midsummer Night's Dream

The finale was somewhat unexpected but proved to be rather lively
I enjoyed the bawdy youthful exuberance of the Off The Ground Theatre Company in Prestatyn tonight
Shakespeare,in my mind is at its best when comic and light

I can't be arsed with the heavy stuff
Happy Yorkshire Day btw xx

The Games We Play

Every few months I send my nephew a DVD through the post.
I pretend the DVD is an unwanted gift from a friend who gets them for nothing.

My nephew is a robust fifteen year old who often sees the world in a concrete way and I don't want to be seen to be buying his affection or attention, especially as he lives so far away.
Hence the minor  subterfuge.

By " passing on" a film, we open up a perfunctory chat on what's app about film review, films loved, films hated and films to come.

It's a mutual beneficial communication

Today I sent him Stan & Ollie, which is perhaps an odd choice for a teenager to choose, but reviewing some of  stand up slap stick moments online, it's easy to realise their appeal by an all age audience.
I am sure he will enjoy it.

I've slept too long into the afternoon after night shifts, so have dragged myself into a sunny day after opening my back door to a cloud full of butterflies that suddenly seem to love the flowering buddliea I planted by the kitchen wall.

My troll, ( the particularly vitriolic one of two days ago) will be apoplectic today when I tell them I am off out with my family tonight and am having supper and then seeing an out door theatrical performance of A Midsommers Night Dream 
How lucky am I!

Hey ho

This is me

Well thank you for your best wishes yesterday ( with the exception of one arse-wipe of a troll)
The last mediation went ok, even though I still feel I had more to say...
Just the funeral of my dad in law to go to on Monday and that will be the end of an era.
I will not have further contact with my husband.
It's an odd thing to write.

The village is layered in mist and rain today, and it feels like damp March rather than Sweltering July.
I've walked Mary ( Winnie prefers a quick wazz behind Bluebell first thing)  and both dogs and Albert have been fed.
Trendy Carol hurried past , her head down against the wet. I think she had her leather effect anorak on!
I'm going to bed as I'm on a run of nights with only four more to go.
The support workers and a couple of the more lucid patients will miss me
And I will miss them

Afew " This is me" entries today
Send remaining ones in to jgsheffield@hotmail.com

I'm tired