Choir

Gorwedd Gyda'r Nerth

Tonight was choir night!
And it was bloody great to be back!
Jamie was sporting a new 1940s RAF moustache, Graham in the bass section was chattering far too fucking much and this week we negotiated a rather tricky Welsh hymn Gorwedd Gyda'r Nerth without wetting our knickers too much.
Ah yes, it was bloody lovely to be back !
  

The Handbag

She sat in an upright chair in the bare window bay and looked at the folded hands in her lap.
Her name was Grace, and she never looked through any of the 48 individual panes of glass in the nearest sash window at the fields and faraway housing estate which surrounded the Chester hospital.
She either wore a blue or a green dress with a matching cardigan.
The dresses were cheap and too short for her.
She wore her long grey hair in a bun at the nape of her neck.
The semi circular scar very evident on her forehead
A member of staff told me that she had been kicked by a horse
I believed his cruel words.
The ward manager put me right  after I had walked her silently to her chair one afternoon
"Transorbital labotomy!" 
" Surgery to quieten not to cure" he added.
Grace was not only quiet.
She was serene
But totally empty.
She walked, and slept  and allowed herself to be fed and peed noisily every three hours at toileting time. She sat still when her hair was brushed and merely turned her palms upwards so briefly in her lap as though accepting absolution from a priest  when someone interrupted her vigil in the bay window.
Grace had a handbag which was made of cream leather
I never once saw her open it, but it was always  by her side and she would carry it once it was presented to her, the handle loops in the crook of her left arm like the Queen Mother
One day I looked inside it
A grey handkerchief, a comb, a small purse full of coins and a photograph
The photograph was of two women , taken in the forties
Arms around each others waists on a beach. They were smiling
On it's reverse was the words New Brighton 1942 written in ink pen

I showed the photograph to Grace one day and she just looked at her folded hands with milky eyes
And the day I left the ward, I brought in a blank postcard of a painting of a vase of bright flowers , that sat on my bookcase at home
And for some strange reason I placed it inside her handbag
A handbag that was never ever opened .

Back

Finally Autumn is here

The Walking Dead has returned! 

Zombies don't care if you smell of piss!!!!

Piss Pocket

We all know there is a connection between the mental and the physical
My constant colds and flu over the last 18 months is a testament to the stressors caused by separation and divorce.
Last night I came down with a particularly nasty urine infection
I know what caused it.......self inflicted dehydration during two long shifts at work coupled with stress caused by the final legal push to keep my own name on the cottage deeds.
The legal process has been laborious and the stress of waiting for things to happen has made me ill yet again.
I don't need the bother of sickness, frequency and discomfort
Last night I was on the loo every two hours
Today I have taken antibiotics and have flushed through the bugs with gallons of water
And I have taken the obligatory container of piss to the labstix tested at the surgery .

I'd lost my pee container overnight and so had to piss into a hastily cleaned out vitamin  C container before going to see the practice nurse .
I was early for my appointment and so I popped the container into my coat pocket and went to the supermarket for some provisions and as I stood in the queue waiting to be served a bloke behind me tapped me on the shoulder and told me I was leaking!
My container of pee had come undone in my best coat pocket and piss was merrily splashing into the floor from the lowest corner.
I left my foodstuffs on the counter with a few embarrassed huffs and hurried out , leaving a tail of piss behind me
I smelled like an old bag lady by the time I got to the doctors.

And the Winners.......

And the winners are

• Fonda Cox ( Michael)
• Fanny Zitchin ( mave)
• Tuna Melt ( Diana)
• Plenty OToole ( Mistress Maddie)
• Clorix Bleachman  ( Janice)
• Angie O' Gram ( YP)
• Nina Niceknockers (Cherie)
• Dusty Crack ( Debi)
• Belle End ( Cherie)
• Tess Tickle ( Kirk)

Send your addresses to jgsheffield@hotmail.com and on my day off I will send your lanyards! 

Drag Queen Name

I bought a rainbow lanyard to hold my ID card and syringe driver key the other day and didn't realise that I had infact bought twelve of the buggers!
So if you would like to win one of my surplus
All you have to do is to is to send in your best DRAG NAME !!!
The ruder the better!
The best ten will get a lanyard!

Kitty Litter is

One of my favourite drag Queen names

Beat that bitches! 

Work Review

I'm working 5 shifts out of the next seven days and am just about overdue for my first performance review.

I haven't had one as yet, which means , I suspect, that am doing ok.

Hospice work isn't depressing. It's hard sometimes and there is plenty to learn, but my colleagues all have been funny, welcoming and friendly characters and humour has featured highly in relationships and in clinical practice.

I love working within a talented team again.

It's stimulating and my brain, which slew to a brain dead fart stop in the nursing home , has just started to work again. 

I've just finished a twelve hour shift and tomorrow Ive got the same again but this time with another new nurse who used to work with my husband in the University.

I think I will become firm friends with him, 

I have nose for nice people

Dorothy's confidence is growing daily

Today the sexy bearded dog walker took her out with Mary across the village fields and sent me a video to prove it.

Tonight she sat on my shoulder. Just happy to see me home

Fleabag

For someone who boasts that he is a bit of a culture vulture, I am surprised to admit that the whole Fleabag phenomenon has literally passed me by.
My sister tried to get tickets for the National Theatre's live showing but it was sold out , so this evening we went to Theatr Clwyd to see a re run of the filmed version.

I enjoyed it.
Phoebe Waller-Bridge is a wonderful storyteller and describes her strange modern day life with it's distant relatives, a guinea pig cafe, feminist views, sex, porn and friends with energy and an edge of cruelty which is refreshing and at times achingly sad.
Hers is an essay on grief and how sex fills a void of pain and the need to be properly loved

I can see just why her subsequent tv show and her poaching by the American tv lords has signalled just how big the Fleabag franchise has become.

I wonder where the move will take her.

The House Concert and Red Dragon

Andrew Waite

I have never been to a house concert before, but I am told they are quite common in the folk world where talented singers and musicians put on a gig in someone's house for a donation!
I adored my first time.
I've never before put the word  "enjoyment" and "accordion " in the same sentence either but after listening to two hour of French Jazz, Traditional Scottish  jigs and reels and some lovely songs by a a real Scottish pro Andrew Waite.. I am now a real convert.
It was wonderful watching a guy at the top of his game
The venue was a cottage perhaps 500 metres from my own and I knew twelve people out of the audience of fifteen which was nice. We had tea and cake in the interval and I've been invited to another gig later this month! What fun!

And now a quick thank you
Yesterday I received a parcel in the post by the bad tempered postman! It was from Janice who apparently has enjoyed reading through the archives of Going Gently with some relish
She reminded me of a blog I wrote nine years ago!
It was about a story of my affection for a simple garden ornament, a pair of Welsh Dragons who always stood either side of a path  in my Grandmother's garden,
https://disasterfilm.blogspot.com/2010/04/dragon.html

I complained in the blog that although, I loved the dragons I never got to own one and Janice in her travels remembered my lament......

And so she sent me this

My own Welsh Dragon
How kind x

Titivating Again

It was cold at 7am this morning despite having a Welsh terrier tucked firmly under my left armpit and  a needy new bulldog resting nervously against my right thigh.
The weather has turned and the sharp cool of Autumn has arrived .
I contemplated climbing under the duvet from my place under the ancient and now scarred patchwork quilt cover, but decided to get up.
I have not slept under the duvet since my husband left 18 months ago.
I'm sure some friendly psychotherapist would have something to say about that one

The village feels damp and muddy looking and the Day before yesterday I planted out cheerful looking cyclamen in pots and planters on the kitchen wall to brighten things up.
Mr W stopped to chat as I was firming down, he's my age and sports a bigger smile
" Titivating again I see!" he giggled charmingly
Mr W , is always giggling unless he's chatting about his health
I thought it was too good to be true for after a brief titter I listened to a text book and rather comprehensive journey into his recent arthritis experiences.
Trendy Carol tottered past as we talked . I am sure she had a pair of animal print pumps on, she and her husband have been true friends since I started work at the hospice as they have allowed the dogs to take over their very trendy conservatory on the evenings I am working.
At 9pm I find them all sleeping on her expensive garden room sofas surrounded by scatter cushions kicked with gay abandon upon the floor.
She never minds Winnie's more destructive traits.

I had just collected the dogs last night and found a message from the wonderfully named  Kelda Manly who lives in the Still House on Well Street.
" Would I like to attend a House Concert tomorrow night at the Papworth's house down our lane at 7.00pm?"
I have no idea what this concert is all about but of course, somewhat intrigued,  I agreed !

The dogs and I walked around the village before bed last night and I should have thought about sleeping under the duvet again then, as I watched the breath puff out like steam jets from the dogs noses as they breathed in and out the flavours of the Village Green

Ten Years An Asian Lab Tech

I worked part time on Intensive Care for over ten years and for most of that time had another member of staff's face on my ID card.
I must admit, I was at fault there as the clerk who was originally responsible for giving me the card had underlined that I should only use it as long as the " machine" responsible for making them had been fixed.
But there was my name on the ID proclaiming that I was an ITU Nurse
Underneath a photo of a robust, handsome Asian man in his thirties who was sporting a full beard.
I never bothered to change it.
I liked my alter ego's " look"
Perhaps it's says a lot about apathy and lax security within the NHS that not one person pulled me up on my unlikely ID photo.
Ok I got a few double glances from relatives when they strained their necks in order to remember my name, but at no time did anyone say
" That's not you!" 
Even the security guard who I turned the card into on the day I left the trust never said a word.
He just glanced at the photo then looked at me and sighed

Stir Crazy

Sunday has slipped by almost unnoticed
I'm going a bit stir Crazy.
Last night I joined the family for a meal and only managed to stay until 9.30pm before giving up the ghost..it's no fun having dinner party chat when no one can understand what you are saying.
I felt short changed as for the past 18 months any family activity was overshadowed by my moods.
Now I feel brighter, it seems ironic the night was scuppered by being poorly.

I drank three large gin and tonics in rapid succession, a hopefull but redundant panacea to a snotty head, so had to get a lift  to collect Bluebell this morning. I was sitting in a pair of trackie bottoms in the rain waiting for that lift when Mrs Trellis passed , clicking her heels towards church
" I hear you have a new Bulldog" she tutted
I only half smiled my reply, I felt too ill to be defensive

This afternoon I've half watched  a succession of old Friends episodes ( and didn't find any of them even half amusing) Then I lit the fire, had a long bath and ate homemade soup out of the pan, following which a friend texted me
I told him that if my  cold continued , I would be found dead at home with my face eaten off by the dogs seeing that no one REALLY  cared
He scoffed at my drama queen ideas.
" Get a ruddy Grip" he told me

I steam cleaned the kitchen floor then took some painkillers and  had a sleep on the couch as Dotty watched from my window arm chair.
Her harness looks like a cross your heart bra, I thought before I dozed away

Dorothy

It's been a week since Dorothy arrived and I have spent it assessing her needs and getting to know her
She is somewhat of a contradiction .

Personality
Lively and friendly for the most part but like most rehomed dogs she is very eager to please and very timid at times. She remains very timid of anything new and is dreadful when out alone on the lead, crouching and stopping at every new experience, noise and person.
Subsequently she has been difficult to toilet as she doesn't relax enough to sniff and sniffing always leads to peeing.
I've noticed she is more relaxed when out with Mary and Winnie
She is , however , relaxed and well behaved in the car.

Relationships 
She is a watcher and needs to know where I am at all times. I have allowed her to sleep on my bed which is something she requires at the moment
The pecking order has not quite been sorted out between all of the girls at the moment which leads to regular growls of warning , but she is playful with Mary and defers to Winnie
Albert is an anathema to her but she has understood very quickly that chasing him is a no no!
I have always fed him first and always makes a fuss over him before even looking at the dogs, so she has been left in no doubt who is top cat.

Behaviour
Scared of everything new. Hoover, visitors, sexy bearded dog walker ( he's very loud)
But does settle in her own four walls. When out on Railway walk with Winnie ( no road traffic) , very bright and friendly with other dogs . Comes back when let off lead but did chase one jogger ( in a bouncy friendly way) which was understandably not reciprocated

Friday

Work all this out 

And you are a better man than I gunga Din

Fag Hag

Dotty is a fag hag
She spends an hour after I get home from work trying manfully to suck my face off
I have a heavy easyJet cold caught from the great unwashed during my trip back home
Perhaps it's the snot she is after
Or perhaps she's heard I am a great kisser !!!!!!!

Spanish Light In The Evening

This is my Spanish light bulb
It kind of pleases me
I like table lights
Like I enjoy occasional cushions
I have fifteen sofa cushions ( and only a two seater sofa)
( a few are hidden away for best)

Home

Mary and Dotty on the couch

I got home around 9pm  to an empty house
Another week of missing choir
Trendy Carol ( in some lovely floral pumps no doubt) had left a message
" Dogs Round at mine!" 
They galloped to meet me as I walked through her gate
Mary first at full pelt...tongue lolling, eyes hopefull and oh so happy
Winnie second, puffing like a steam train coming into a station
And Dotty last......not quite sure what was expected of her but understanding a mighty fine game was afoot

It's lovely to be welcomed home
After a long shift

Sourdough....sourface

It feels like the night before the first day back at school tonight.
Sitges seems a million miles away.
I'm back to work tomorrow!
I've spent the day getting Dorothy used to our routines and to Albert who is watching the new girl with very narrow eyes.
Dorothy is a feisty madam who is not shy at challenging the other girls where food and my attention is involved .
Mary is in too minds biting back
Winnie just can't be arsed.
The sexy bearded dog walker has been introduced and was immediately smitten with her delicate good looks.
She lay shyly on her tummy when he boomed his hellos and wagged her stump tail

He played with the dogs and treated them to strips of beef which he had secreted in his pockets after his lunch.....he played as I kneeded sourdough just after it's proving

I caught up with my solicitor and mediator and swapped info on my divorce for photos of Dotty
and as the rain fell on a murky Trelawnyd I daydreamed I was back in Catalonia

Stealing Words- SRA

I'm sat at my work table in the kitchen, preparing to write today's blog alongside my bucket of coffee.
My Shadow is watching every move after her morning walk and night curled up next to me and Mary on a comfy duvet.
I'm making sour bread later.
She will be watching every move no doubt.
Anxious bulldogs can be very needy,
It's a good job, I'm an old hand at all this.

I've been training up a new Samaritan recently and have asked him to shadow other experienced sams  in the weeks that follow. " Pick  and choose those great replies you hear other sams give their callers !" I advised " Be sure to steal them for your own interactions !"

We all steal words and phrases we hear others use.
Sometimes those words have such resonance they burn themselves in your own vocabulary for life.
All of us sponges...for the different, the funny.....the pertinent.

In the late 90s I nursed a somewhat taciturn man for many months.
He was a formidable character, every inch a stereotypical policeman from say a 1970s tv drama...sli butch, unsmiling and ever slightly distant....think Valquez from Aliens and you'll get where I'm coming from.
He was difficult to engage and only seemed to perk up when he was visited by his police colleagues both male and women.
One  policeman that visited seemed to be more smiley and less frivolous than the other visitors and I suspected with my gaydar at full beep that they may have been closeted lovers.
One day, when the visitor was leaving, I noticed my patient murmur " S R A" almost under his breath and this three letter goodbye was noticeably used too as a greeting after several visitations .
A week or who later , when I was teaching the patient how to manage his own bladder I asked him if I could ask a personal question and given the intimacy of the situation he surprisingly agreed , albeit  gruffly.
"When your mate comes to visit ....what does SRA mean?"
I busied myself with preparing the nursing equipment as he looked at me squarely and after a long pause  he said carefully
" It means  a Sudden Rush of Affection!" 

A hidden code between lovers

Daddy's Knee

All three bitches have been playing the  " I want to sit on daddy's knee" game
For the past three hours!!!!
Newbie Dorothy seems to be winning!