Going to see the live filmed performance of The Cellist and Dances at a Gathering tonight
I'm tired xx
The Journey Home
My journey home tonight was delayed by a couple of hours, so I am thankful to Trendy Carol and her hubby for seeing to the dogs at short notice.
I managed to get The Walking Dead on my iPad but most of the action was set in a cave so I couldn't quite work out who was chasing who.
Also the zombie growling was a little too loud for the other passengers to stomach so I had to turn the volume down.
Not good if you want to enjoy the zombie apocalypse at its best
I'm not an avid shopper but I did have time for mooch around Waterstones ( where I bought three books and birthday cards) primark ( where I bought some woolly hats..) and a posh kitchen shop ( where I bought a frying pan)
When I met my friend I noticed that he studiously ignored the fact I had bought a frying pan
" Only You" he remarked shaking his head with a sigh when I finally got it out
There is nothing quite as lonely as the last train home.
The carriage ( even on a Monday night) has the vague wiff of alcohol and tiredness
The Venice Sleeper
The Welsh rail system is abysml
The rolling stock is outdated and feels dirty and unloved and carriages can be cramped and uncomfortable.
Im on the 14.20 to Manchester and already there is no wifi and I am unable to buy a coffee with my debit card
The train is the sort you have to open the windows to gain access to the door handle and the guard although English is giving his announcements in a sort of strangled Welsh first.
My spoken welsh is almost as good.
But at least he's giving it a try.
Not very romantic
Not very mysterious
I feel as though im travelling in 1978.
I'm planning a holiday of sorts in my head. It will have to be funded by overtime and from a jar in the living room cupboard where ive placed money made from the selling of unwanted items on ebay
Im going to venice on tbe train
Apparantly there is a sleeper train from Paris. A friend of mine catches it every year and his stories of waking up in the centre of the city after a night lulled by the thump-thump of the train wheels is the stuff of Agatha Christie
Lets hope the venice sleeper is better than transport for wales eh
Theatre On A Sunday
What fun
Theatre on a Sunday afternoon!!!
The Storyhouse in Chester's own production of Miss Julie was an interesting choice for what I suspect is an experimental foray into Sunday productions and I think my Sister enjoyed this adaptation of August Strindberg's 1888 play as much as I did .
This production has been moved from the original Victorian Swedish setting to 1940s Hong Kong
Where Miss Julie, a brittle and somewhat lost colonial daughter plays a dangerous flirting game with her father's Chinese chauffeur as his fiancé, the family cook and nanny, looks on.
The original play has a great deal to say about rape, mental health and class. And this Amy Ng's version adds race, English colonism into the sexual mix.
Sundays can be depressing days and my sister described them as having that Sunday night before school feeling!
It was nice to do something different
Deva memories reworked
This video was forwarded on to me by Miss Norm
It's been 34 years since I left
I knew most of the staff and a few of the patients shown
Reclaiming
Mary watching Albert
I find I have to reclaim it back, so to speak after I finally get out of bed with the dogs and Albert in tow.
After walks and the extravagance of buying two bunches of spring flowers ( one bunch for the kitchen and one for the living room)
I reclaim my home
The fire is lit first as the cottage's 18 inch walls take an age to air against the damp cold of winter's nights and the flowers are illuminated by the glow of the standard lamps hidden away in green corners
The cushions are returned to the kitchen reading chairs as Winnie moves her heavy botty onto the sofa for the duration.
Supper is warming in the oven and the scent of beef hash mingles with the smell of wood smoke and the wiff of linen from the gift candles that I saved from Christmas.
The dogs are fed and settle down in untidy clumps and the dishes from the last four days of snatched tea times are washed and stacked and then put away.
My Sitges lamp warms my art wall in gold
The washing machine whirls quietly behind music picked just for me from Spotify
Its warmer and I can now take off my fleece
and my new bobble hat.
I am home
Be Careful What You Wish For
More stormy weather had the five of us scuttling off to bed after my second night shift of three.
By 1pm, the wind had woken most of us to a restless mass and we resembled a nest of baby blackbirds waiting for their mom to return with food until I couldn't bare it any longer and I took the younger dogs for a walk in the old Churchyard.
The new Postman was standing at the cottage gate when we returned as the driving rain started.
He was afraid to walk into the garden as Winnie was Standing guard in the doorway, and passed me a small parcel to me before running back to his van.
The parcel contained a hand knitted bobble hat.
It was just like the one I described earlier this week. The one I coveted from the amiable gay smoking guy on the railway line.
And it fitted perfectly.
Thank you Lee it was a lovely gesture.
I banked up the fire, ate some baby bananas and drank tea as the wind and rain increased
And I'm typing this , in bed
Still with my bobble hat on
Bed
Another Atlantic storm is whistling through the brazen cat flap as violent as the tornado did in Dorothy's wooden farmhouse in the Wizard Of Oz
I've lit the fire
And I'm off to bed
I've lit the fire
And I'm off to bed
Returns Monday
Being Unfaithful
Have you ever been unfaithful?
I guess I am in an ideal position to be able to ask this question because I have an anonymous feature in my comment box, so if you would like to share things with the group , feel free to unburden yourself without judgement.
I'm asking this because I have had the conversation with an acquaintance who admitted that they could have been unfaithful a couple of times within a long term relationship, but didn't .
I have never been unfaithful inside any of my relationships but I was tempted once as I recall, after being approached by a drunken hunk of bearded god who gave me the glad eye on a ward night at Sheffield's Ledmill.
For me, the frisson of excitement and flattery couple with the fact a red cheek was rubbed against by a lumberjack the size of Norwegian Christmas Tree was almost enough to get me giggling like a Schoolboy on heat....but I kept my head ( and my knicker elastic) firmly under control and went back home to my partner.
Being unfaithful is a complicated phenonomen
It's swathed in guilt, sometimes a rewriting of the truth,
Bargaining and denial.
It can be a springboard to a new begining or a death knell of a relationship
It can be something you just think and fantasise about
Or it's something you can do without guilt or remorse
What's your story?
Temper
I have owned four bulldogs and all but one have had the tendency to tantrum when things don't quite go their way.
To stop squabbles among the troops all of the dogs are fed separately and this morning because she was fed up with being outside a few moments longer than she expected Dorothy had the mother of all tantrums at the back door.
Within seconds she had broken Albert's cat flap, knocked over several potted cyclamen and kicked the shit out of the recycling bins
When finally allowed into the house she threw herself, gayman style onto the reading chair in the kitchen and refused to look at anyone for over half an hour
Mary, surveying the damage
Tantrums in Bulldogs are much deeper and more graphic than anything a terrible two toddle could bring to the table.
After years of practice , I did what any responsible bulldog owner would do in similar circumstances
I went to bed
Went The Day Well
My day got better after the making of the will
I had found it rather sad to change my beneficiary, from someone I once would have happily left all of my lifelong savings and assets to. So much so that my solicitor who had originally overseen our will making, was sweet and thoughtful and timely with her tissue box..
But like I said, the day got better,
As days nowadays often do.
I met a friend for lunch then caught up with the affable despot which is jason who sent me this video via what's app, as he a want to do with viral gems
Now I may have to explain that " Bashing someone's back doors in " is a more lurid example of one of our British euphemisms relating to anal sex......
I won't draw pictures but The Despot cackled like a loon when I saw him, so ticked by the schoolboy humour of it all .
Jason and I are off to see some sort of Zombie theatre performance at Theatr Clwyd next week.
What fun.
Trelawnyd's full choir contingent was present tonight as Heulwen was back after her two months journey to Europe, so after a somewhat spirited and balanced version of Hallelujah ( the choir was so pleased that we had impressed Jamie with our singing) we ( , me Hattie and Heulwen) went to the pub to swap personal and village gossip.
We are arranging to see the sentimental Military Wives movie ( the one about the choir)
I think a filmed version of our choir would have been a better story, but then I would.
Last Will & Testament
I'm sat in the solicitors
Not my divorce solicitors
But another, more local one
I'm just about to amend my will
I'm working out who to leave my fortune to
The solicitor's clerk has just made me an Americano and offered me a Danish pastry
I feel strange
Thank You
Thank you Nu for my London treats.
Thank you to Roscia for your theatre gift
And thank you to Chic Eleanor for more yellow roses, all wrapped up by a simple black ribbon
How lucky am I ?
The Walking Dead starts again next Monday
David's message that accompanied the sticker was only half washed away by Dennis' storm
"You're a funny sad git that man " it said.......
Lol
Got it in one!!!
To My Face
The sad death of Caroline Flack has galvanised the ongoing debate about trolls and social media.
There is, I think, an underlying truth about some people that patrol the internet
And that is they feel vindicated to say exactly what they like on line,
Words and phrases that they would never say to anyone face to face.
The internet buffer allowing a type led Tourette's to be unleashed and unchecked.
I last lost my temper a week ago.
I was in the gents toilet in Sheffield's Lyceum Theatre and had just washed my hands when three giggling young women boldly walked in and stood next to the one occupied cubicle.
In front of them stood six men all in the process of having a wee.
I went off like a fire cracker
" How DARE YOU COME IN HERE, HOW DARE YOU! Get OUT! GET OUT! A MAN WOULD NEVER BE ALLOWED INSIDE A WOMAN's TOILET GET OUT!!!!!!"
You get the gist
I had the three of them scuttling for the exit like panicked chickens and before anyone of you jump to their defence at the poor provision of lady's bogs in theatreland compared with the average size of a woman's bladder..All I will say is that ....I DONT CARE!!!!
(Btw I did note that in the Albert Hall , all of the toilets are multisex)
Privacy is privacy and men deserve it just as much as women regardless of the fact they can effectively wee into a hole in the wall...
Like those women in the theatre, or the man that can't control his Huskey dogs on the railway walkway. I am quite capable to say my piece, but I shall always do that to their face.
This ability to speak my mind has improved the older I get, but immaturity and low confidence or low self esteem is no excuse for trolling insults.
Trolls feel they have the right to say anything they want
They feel that they have the moral right to speak their own truth and I guarantee that they would never speak the shit they do online to anyone's face.
I guarantee it...
I'm sat in my favourite cafe , the one with the bad tempered barista .
I've got some small jobs to do
I've collected Albert's "rustic " bowl from pottery
I have to buy a belated birthday gift for my brother in law ( Ive decieded on some fresh steak and trimmings)
And I want to visit my aunt who is home from hospital
I bumped into labradoodle guy,again this morning. I think he is gay but I've gone off him as I caught him chainsmoking in his car!
It's a shame really,
I really did like his bobble hat
Yellow
Flowers c/o Chic Eleanor, worried face c/o Dorothy
He always posts a photo of what he had for breakfast......
I love Rachel's posts too when she talks about cutting the lawn and having sardines for tea
I like to know what people get up to
I enjoy reading about pottering.
It was 1 pm before I realised that I hadn't eaten or drank anything all day.
I'd walked Dorothy and Mary along the old railway line and we met up with a chap with his labradoodle who I have bumped into several times.
He's my age and friendly and I wonder if he's gay.
He has a nice trendy bobble hat which I am coveting
Anyhow, I made a mound of eggs, avocado and sour dough bread which will last me the day.
I'll make soup this afternoon
Butternut and chilli soup
And I shall watch How Green Is My Valley later when I can sip it.
I've always had a thing for Walter Pidgeon
The tail end of Storm Dennis has arrived with more gales and rain and I watched from the lane window at the few members of the congregation as they scurried back along the Church path towards home.
I was watching them as Dorothy was watching me.
The little bulldog's anxiety of being separated from me has never wavered since she arrived.
I doubt it will improve now.
Like some humans she just naturally anxious.
I booked a babminton court for me and Gorgeous Dave to play tomorrow, made a couple of phonecalls, shampooed the living room carpet free of mouse entrails, and lit the fire
I'm listening to Coldplay now as I type
My Next job is bed changing
Yellow is my favourite colour
Come From Away
Yesterday was a pure treat. and a total surprise .
I have always wanted to go to the Royal Albert Hall and so after a rather swish lunch in a Kensington Brasserie Nuala took me there to see the latest performance spectacular by Cirque du Soleil, which was described as A Waking Dream Around Mexico.
It was a wonderful experience to watch top notch acrobats perform in a score of surreal and enchanting tableaux themed by the music and culture of Mexico
It was beautiful and entertaining and so different from anything I have ever seen before.
I was blown away by the sheer skill of it all.
A wonderful afternoon.
We ate supper in a lovely modern Indian restaurant in Ealing and we talked all night.
Nu told me she could see a change in me on this visit and told me how proud she was of me for surviving a divorce which has ripped my guts out of me 18 months ago.
Her pride meant more to me than anything else has done recently.
Today amid fears of Storm Dennis I left Nu at Marble Arch and took a tube to Charring Cross Road to see the musical Come From Away.
I loved this musical .
Set in the Newfoundland town of Gander, it chronicles several stories around the phenomenon of 9/11 when 38 international planes had to make an emergency landing at the isolated community numbering just 9 thousand souls .
Over 7 thousand people had to be fed ,watered and housed amid the plucky, Celtic community and the musical explores several themes, mostly of kindness and utopia between passengers and the locals against the background of the largest terror attack on earth.
It's a beautifully simple and effective piece of theatre and I loved it
Through Others' Eyes We See Ourselves
The title of today's post is a bastardising of Lev Vygotsky's famous
Through others we become Ourselves quote.
I was thinking about him on Tuesday on the way home from Sheffield.
He was a hot looking Russian psychologist who was photographed with a wonky shirt collar
I like to think he was my kind of guy.
Last night I bathed Mary.
I didn't really have time to do it.
Night shifts mean that there is a quick turn around of eat, shit, sleep and brush teeth before you do the same again, but her skin has been playing up of late and she needed some pamper time without the more ebullient Dorothy bouncing around in the foreground like a loon.
Mary watched me with somber brown eyes as I washed her
Welsh terriers watch you.
They sit and watch everything and all of mine have loved a hot bath where all they have to do is to stand and be pampered.
They watch you slightly worried that the stroking and the warmth and suds and happiness is going to stop and their eyes never leave yours.
It's the nearest moment I will ever to have to having a baby of my own
I met my friend John on Tuesday morning. He has been ill and now really doesn't " do" the more old fashioned Wine glasses into the wee small hours thing that we used to do.
But he looks well, and fit and as always, was dressed to impress
We have evolved as friends and now often meet for a long breakfast , with sausages and eggs and toast and tea ( coffee in my case)
He hasn't the look of a Welsh terrier but like Joan Crawford's wisecracking best friend Ida in Mildred Pierce,
he misses nothing
I saw myself through his eyes on Tuesday.
It wasn't a rebuke, it was a reminder.
I was reminded just how nice my life is now.
My friends and family, my "new " career and new friends and colleagues . My home, my village, my theatre going, my choir......my life.........and... my health
Vygotsky's main work was in child development but his Through others we become ourselves quote rings true on so many levels
When John and I got up to go from the wine bar which now does fancy breakfasts for business folk, and as the snow fell on a grey but welcoming Sheffield City centre,
John turned to me with some exasperated affection and said
" You have tomato sauce down your front!"
Hallelujah
I missed choir last tonight as I was rostered to work night shift
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