Best Supporting Actors

 

I’ve just found out that the veteran actress Lynn Cohen died this year

Lynn was never a leading actress, but was, what was known as a jobbing actress. 

Always busy, always in the background of a drama or a story

I always loved her as Miranda’s mother figure Magna in Sex and The City.

and when she finally kissed Cynthia Nixon on the forehead with the affirmation of “ You Love” 

I was in buckets.

Many of us have these supporting actor types in our lives. 

They aren’t best friends or next of kin’s.

We don’t have to see them all of the time , but they are often beavering  away in the background, becoming characters we all can take for granted.

And ones we only mourn when they finally disappear from view.

I consider Albert as an animal member of this group. He walks around the cottage in the background like a shadow, with wide shocked looking eyes and a faint limp which allows the eye to focus on him. But with a succession of various tap dancing bulldogs taking centre stage, he remains to be content with a full food bowl and a quiet corner in which to sleep.

Weaver of Grass ( http://weaverofgrass.blogspot.com/)  is another low key constant but a blog one. Never showy , never boastful she has been a quiet queen of blogs for a decade and a half, chatting quietly of country life in North Yorkshire with a pace that is both comforting and consistent. 

Mrs Trellis, Gorgeous Dave, Wendy I’ve been to the ballet once with, Sitges Jon, 

Leo and his texts.....Mick and Meggie and a whole bucketful of names from Sheffield.....the list is long and one I realise so beautifully long as I write my Christmas cards with my gliding ink pen 

On reflection I can think of two dozen such characters, perhaps more who provide a backdrop to my life.

Like Magna they are vital and so important  to ones existence, but like Magna, they always worked away in the background , mostly unsung, but as necessary to us , as air is to breathing 

“Have Yourself A Merry Little.....”

 

This evening I was asked what is my favourite memory of any Christmas 

What a hard question this is to answer.

I’m feeling rather anti social tonight, and the hospice remains quiet , so I busied myself with some mindless checks of sell by dates of the unit’s drugs, and I thought about specific Christmases of note.

Having a Christmas review, I think, is very much like owning a succession of dogs. Each one has its own personality but there is a tendency of every one merging into each other.

Some stand out for the oddest reasons.

The year my father fell under the Christmas tree in his underpants with one of his more glamorous but equally pissed in laws. 

The year each one of the family had to share some sort of dramatic or comic performance, each one excelling the other.

Lying on a sofa with a partner covered in dogs one sunny and lazy Christmas morning 

Last year listening to a colleague sing silent night with a dying patient at 6 am 

Childhood memories are a collage of 1970s tv, warm prawn cocktails and peanuts in glass bowls that before had been used as ash trays .

A visit to a poor psychiatric patient in their home , which had no carpets but still being offered me a mince pie and a cup of tea

The memories feed off each other and bounce around like poleroid photos in the wind.

I am reminded of a late shift one Christmas Day ( always the most hated) when I was charge Nurse on Osborn 1 at The Princess Royal Spinal Unit in Sheffield

It was dark, perhaps late afternoon and the majority of bed fast patients had many visitors surrounding them ,like musk oxen surrounding their young and weak 

Three African nurses were on duty with me and they were pushing a very drunk and smiling patient on his bed back to the ward from the smoking room .

He was nursing a rather robust looking bottle of port

And true to form, they were singing all in low easy voices......one pushing the bed, one pulling and the other holding tight to the patient’s hand.

Several of the relatives came and stood in the corridor to listen, as I did at my office door as the procession went passed and I cannot hear this song without thinking of the pure humanity of that little moment 

What’s your special Christmas memory ?

My Christmas Card To You

 

It’s been a quiet night so far. My patients are sleeping pain free and the hospice is silent save for the gentle whirl of the photocopier fan in the office and the cough of a patient .

I’ve started to write my Christmas cards this evening.

It’s been a difficult year for everyone , so I’m taking my time .

The cards have a linen finish and it’s lovely to write on them with an ink pen bought specially for the job.

Another treat realised because of covid

Another small joy out of no where.

It’s been a funny old year all told and one where it may be hard work picking out the good bits.

My 2020 has been a growth year. 

My decree absolute severed those final ties to the divorce I never wanted and despite the lockdown new friends have appeared and old ones maintained through zoom and phone and thought.

I am lucky, luckier than most

Luckier than many

So here’s is my Christmas Card to you readers

It’s is a thank you and a greeting and I send it knowing how supported I feel that you pop in so regularly to read the journals of a very ordinary Welshman who is trying to make sense of a world which is sometimes hard work.

Going Gently is not a public forum with my life up for debate, it’s a place for a ramble and a share and I am grateful for a shared good humour from nearly all of you as I so just that

So let’s all of us have a peaceful time this year.

I shall be working Christmas Eve then hope to meet up with my sisters for a walk and a present swap and perhaps a turkey sandwich and soup in the garden or by the beach.

And that will be nice 

2020 has taught us all to treasure the small and the once overlooked and taken for granted 

But I will be glad when it’s over 

Hey ho

Say it loud and other minor thoughts

• I haven’t much to share today, it’s grey and chilly
• I wore shorts when out for a walk with the girls this morning even though it was cold. I have patches of  psoriasis on my knees which I defiantly show off from time to time. 
• I’m working nights until after Christmas, I’m cooking a shepherds pie ready for supper at work tonight 
• My nephew who is 18 and has Aspergers, has just got his first job, I just told him how proud I am of him and I think that’s so important..if you are proud say it loud ....my parents seldom praised me as a kid
• I’ve bathed the dogs, Mary with her anti fungal. Winnie and Dorothy with pears baby shampoo and Winnie has had a rare once over with her fanny flannel....the cottage smells fragrant again
• I’ve just missed an invitation for coffee by Chic Eleanor and with nights now will only be able catch up with next week, it will be refreshing to see her .
• I had my first Christmas cards today one off Sue and the other from a ‘cold and dark Sweden’
• I will leave you with this delightful impersonation of Miss Peggy Lee followed by a Christmas message from Fascinating Aida 

Dido’s Lament

 Thank you to Sheffield John who gave me the heads up Queen Lennox is back

Haunting, and incredibly moving

Swallows and Hangovers

 

I met my friend for dinner last night and both of us are suffering from a gin based hangover from hell this morning. 

I took the girls up the Gop to blow away the cobwebs and burped pink gin at almost every step.

Lovely. 

Looking down on the village, it is easy to see the older houses of Trelawnyd. 

As in many Welsh villages the older houses have names rather than house numbers to tell them apart and these names are officially linked to the house postcode so cannot easily be changed.

My cottage is called Bwthyn y Llan which literally means Church Cottage.

The more historic name for it and it’s sister cottage next door was Tan y Fynwent which literally means under the graveyard.

I always liked the name Mrs Miniver gave to her home. 

It was simply called Starlings, and with that in mind I have just hung some cheerful blue birds on the front of the cottage

Hey ho

Brunch

Dorothy and I have gone out for brunch. We have taken Rubber Chicken too as he doesn't get out much.

A large americano at the Horizon cafe in Colwyn Bay is the order of the day.

The barista here makes the most fabulous of coffee..its all in the milk, he explains.

Affable despot Jason's elder daughter is 15 today. I dropped a card in before we left and Hattie picked up mary before that for their 1:1 time. I left her a wrapped christmas decoration in the shape of a terrier.

She a nice girl

Its dry today and not too cold, so the village seems more alive than it did. Animal helper Pat was out walking, as was old Trev who wanted me to change his old fluorescent tube lights for him.

I've been changing them for years

I'm meeting a friend for dinner later

The beach promenade is busy with walkers too....they must be sick of the sound of rubber chicken squeaking 

 

I’m a celebrity

 The tv programme is in essence a reflection of life under lockdown and covid 

The celebs face adversity and unhappiness in that awful tv show  but they are in a group of essentially rather nice individuals 

They are winning through with kindness to each other and

I am loving this years’ programme 

What a lovely bunch of people 

Nos Da

 

One of the oldest rules in nursing is the one about self disclosure.

A Professional distance must be kept at all times.

I generally subscribe to this notion.

But not always.

Not quite and I will tell you why.

Recently I had a patient who had been admitted for symptom control .

Often these patients need a short sharp bout of medical and nursing care to alleviate problems before going home again.

They are still dying, but the end is not quite in full sight.

I nursed my patient on consecutive nights and so we quite quickly developed a rapport and an understanding how things needed to be done.

I am an efficient nurse who doesn’t fanny arse around and she appreciated this. 

In between turns and medications and dressings she asked me direct questions about my life and I got the impression she wasn’t being nosey, she was just being interested , interested in something that wasn’t her life of carers and of cancer and of isolation and of dying.

She fed on the nuggets of a life outside hers with a sort of hunger

She had little experience of gay marriage and she dug deep and quickly into my divorce and my thoughts of being single again, of adoption and gay rights but when the work was done she would settle quickly under her fleece blankets , close her eyes and say  “ Nos da” ( Welsh for Goodnight) until I saw her again in the morning.

I worked a lot of nights with her 

The day of her discharge eventually came and that morning, around 6 am I turned her and made her comfortable before I went off duty.

It was still dark outside, but you could just see the ghostly shapes of the Welsh goats as they pastured on the side of the Orme from her room window.

Just before I left the room she said quietly“ I’ve enjoyed our chats..... I won’t see you again will I?”

“ Probably Not” I said as gently as I could, a little burst of sadness in the air

“ Nos da” she said carefully

“ Nos da” I repeated 

And I silently closed the door to finish my rounds.....

Så som i himmelen

 

If you ever want to taste what it is like to sing in a choir, have a look at the Swedish movie , As it is in heaven (Så som i himmelen)

It is in essence a musical which chronicles the personal lives of a handful of choristers, who sing in a village choir. 

This scene from the film is powerful , it’s called  Gabrella’s Song, and it’s an empowerment piece where the character  Gabriella finally has the confidence to stand up to her abusive husband aided eventually by the villagers who initially ignored her plight 

It’s a lovely, lovely  film, I’ve just watched it

   

A Gift Of Flowers

 

I had a friend over to stay last night.

Now before anyone gets their covid knickers in a spin. 

It was the chap that was ‘ conscripted ‘ into my original and allowed bubble way back in the summer 

Do you remember the one who got village tongues wagging?

He was the one I decided just to be friends with.

And we are friends. 

We talked and talked and laughed and ate and for the first moment in a long time I felt more human.

I felt more human too because of the fact we laughed and talked and hugged and cuddled too.

The hug and cuddle not no more significance than a hug and a cuddle but it reminded us singletons that we are here and valued and pertinent 

It’s 8.30 am and I’ve just taken the dogs out for a quick wee walk

Cup of coffee in hand. 

My friend is still asleep in the spare room, 

So I may take them out for a proper walk.

On the counter top is a glass jug with a bunch of blue iris drinking from it and I smile .

A gift of flowers from a man.

How nice

Rubber Chicken goes forth

 

Rubber Chicken has survived the weekend

It’s now standing guard over the kitchen wall and will be having a car jaunt out soon to the supermarket

I’m getting rather fond of him

One Of Our Own

 Today our choir master and leader emailed us all with the sad news that Sharn, one of our fellow choristers had been killed in a freak accident .

It’s a strange thing losing “one of our own” and slowly but surely our choir website is filling with thoughts and best wishes for Sharn’s family and her friends 

Durme durme

Strength

 I dont know what shes singing about but boy is she determined 

Sophia

Surreal or what ? Rubber Chickens earlier 

Now for a lovely , rather moving 

Portrait 

I adore this photo

Sophia Loren at 85

Sometimes I really hate being 

But hey let’s embrace our years 

We are Not old 

We are here.....

Bed early tonight, 

 

Rubber Chicken Overload

Today is my single day off this week.

I am on a long day tomorrow, then, thank the lord, I am off work for five long days! 

I have organised things to do each day

Trendy Carol ( still in her Autumnal hues) will have the girls tomorrow

Today I’ve done some Christmas shopping and had an extra sleep and a long bath with Hawaiian Midnight.

The Rubber Chicken was a great success yesterday.

In fact it was too successful as Winnie has not been as excited since she overdosed on workmen when the new kitchen went in and was found eating chicken crisps in the passenger seat of their works van 

She squeezed the friggin life out of it last night, so much so, that I’ve had to ration it from her gummy onslaughts, so sick I was of it screaming around the cottage.

It’s presently cooling off quietly in the only bulldog safe place in the kitchen

 

Puffins and a Rubber Chicken

 

After just 2 hours sleep , I met a friend in McDonalds’ car park for a side by side car chat and coffee.

After that I bought a rubber Chicken at Lidl and squeezed it around the aisles like a badly behaved  toddler

When I got home I brandished it at Trendy Carol ( in her muted winter ensemble ) and Animal Helper Pat as they passed the cottage, neither looked unduly impressed or shocked.

Oh it’s nice not to be working 

I’ve lit the fire and the fairy lights.

I’ve squeezed the chicken at a near hysterical Winnie 

And I’ve hung my latest piece of art

Three bespoke made puffins in flight 

The art wall is now complete  

I’m so happy to be home 

Not Pritti

 Priti Patel is back in the news as her behavior at the home office was said to have breached the rules of Minister’s’ behavior.

I suspect if the likes of Sir Philip Rutnam who resigned describing Patel’s behavior as ‘vicious’, has spoken out then there is no smoke without fire even though Ms Patel has denied all accusations.

In my experience  ( and believe me the NHS is nose to nipple with inadequate managers) the most common bully is one that exists by taking advantage of group situations by “carpet bombing” and brow beating a group of more  “junior staff” in a meeting.

No direct confrontation occurs, which often proves that the protagonist is in fact the weak link in a chain, and so all it usually takes is a calm firm

‘ No I disagree” by one hardy soul present for the bully to be exposed and power to change hands.

This firm and fair” approach works with most bullies, especially when accompanied with a smile but a more robust response may be needed if the bully is more confrontational.

 

Once a few years ago, I was challenged over something by a village bully.

I could have explained my side of the argument  too with a calm, comfortable “No I disagree!”

I chose to half bellow a loud “ Oh do fuck off!!!!!” across the village green before walking away

 

That, as I recall worked very well too

“ You Have To Be Careful with Your Loneliness”

 

So said Neil Horan in an interview with the BBC yesterday.  

A fifty something gay man living in London, he once suffered isolation and loneliness before coming out in the 1980s and is liking those feelings to experiences now under lockdown.

“ You have to be careful with your loneliness...it is a separate illness to say depression and needs to be treated as such”

From I can see there are a myriad of ways people have been coping with months of enforced isolation.

Frazzled Cafe is something a friend of mine has used recently

It is a charity for those who is finding life a challenge at the moment and has the mantra 

“it’s ok NOT to be ok”

Not a counselling service , Frazzled Cafe offers an online zoom service where peer support can be obtained in a large group. Indeed one of its founders comedienne Ruby Wax actually facilitates several of the meetings that can be accessed daily.

I love the innovation and the positivism of such an enterprise at this time where the Office Of National Statistics report that 8% of all adults ( some 4.2 million people ) have reported to always and often lonely.

Mrs Jefferson from her pensioner bungalow rang me the other day to check up on how I was 

I haven’t seen you walking the dogs for a while” she said “ I wanted to check up on you as you live alone”

She lives with a husband with dementia and her call made me a little ashamed that I had not checked on her ( leaving the job to the village street wardens) 

“ Have you found a man yet? “ she finally asked 

I told her I have not

Her grandson is gay and now married 

She’s very gay friendly and wants everyone to be in a gay relationship.

Psychologist Vivian Hill says that “ The decent into winter can be a significant factor how people feel about loneliness” and I get this only too well with night duty recently. Four nights on mean five nights without any significant natural light on my face even though I walk the dogs as soon as I get home 

Under my boffin friend Nigel’s advice I am taking vitamin D daily.

It will boost your immunity he said seriously .

I need to talk to best friend Nu too....I’ve never gone this long without not physically seeing her .

Ten months or so....is too long.

My normal self help areas seem to be shrinking rapidly. Despite the relaxation of the lockdown in Wales the cinemas that are left are mostly closed .

I’ve booked to see a rerun of Uncle Vanya filmed at the Harold Pinter Theatre in London which is showing in the valiant Colwyn Bay Independent Cinema  next week and have five whole days off before my next run of nights where I intend to catch up with a few friends for coffee and walks and just talking in the daylight which hopefully will turn into sunlight.

I’m very mindful that it has rained almost every day for weeks

Another factor which can compound loneliness.

Arnt they fabulous 👍

oh Christmas Tree

 

Oh dear

The Rockefeller Christmas Tree in New York has been erected under beautiful blue winter skies and for some strange reason its a balding and somewhat raggedy affair.

Perhaps it’s a metaphor for 2020

Who knows .

I remember as a child having such a tree.

Bought as an afterthought from the greengrocer on Meliden Road, it was bald and patchy and ever so sad looking, but to my sister and I who bought it, it was an underdog who had to be made the best of.

Bottom branches were literally sellotaped into place. 

The gaps were filled with fairy lights and thick snakes of tinsel and if you squinted long enough the whole finished article looked cheerful enough

Like I said as long as you squinted.

Christmas trees mean different things to different people and we all have our own connections to them.

For me it’s Shelley Winters and the cast of The Poseidon Adventure climbing up that impossibly blue 18 foot monstrosity in my 1970s  childhood but this memory has since been superseded by traditions of Sunday trips to Calver in Derbyshire to pick up the tree for the Sheffield front room.....and  after that various incarnations of the Nutcracker tree, at the ballet

You know the one that grows like a beast when the toys are sleeping.

I haven’t had a tree for a couple of  years. 

I did buy one of those tiny ones that the supermarket sells last year but it was too small to be viable and I planted out into my new back garden. 

It’s still there , bright green and cheerful and still with its battery lights on it

Another metaphor for 2019 perhaps.

On night shifts all week