By Bryce Cameron Liston
North Wales 1978
I’m with the cows lick and no blazer
I was perhaps sixteen years old.
Prestatyn High School circa 1978
I don’t recognise that gauche young boy.
This is because my school years were some of my most unhappy ones I ever experienced
Perhaps you can tell that from the half non smile on my face.
Earlier this week I put a few ghosts to bed.
I accepted that many of my happiest memories were when I was partnered and married .
The anger masking these ....left behind , just a little
Clingy
It’s easy to anthropomorphise animal behaviour to suit your own mood
But take a close look at this photo, taken just before getting up this morning
Dorothy is on the left, Mary to the right.
Both with a part of their body pressed close to mine.
And overlooking everyone is Albert, wide eyed as usual.
Albert never sleeps in my bedroom.
Every morning he would be found in the back bedroom on his own or else sat with Winifred in the kitchen reading chair.
But since Winnie died he has slept on the window seat, facing us.
Two nights in a row.
Funny what you notice
Mecrowavey
This has brightened my day
And speaking of food
for locals
Please order from The Crown takeaway menu
It looks bloody lovely
Down With A Bump
I’m flat as a pancake today.
I thought I would be.
Thank you all for the kind comments of the past two days.
Everything is back to normality though Albert is pacing the cottage more than normal
I’m not surprised .
I went shopping and bumped into one of the senior staff from intensive Care. She asked me to go back saying that they were in need of my humour and she hugged me....
I felt like crying
I’ve made vegetable soup, warmed with chilli and wrapped gifts and wrote Christmas cards
And at lunchtime John Lewis delivered the small table I’d ordered for the living room, which gave me another construction job to do.
Social media from the village let everyone know that Mrs Turpin had lost one of her beloved schnauzers, so I took a plant around.
She cried buckets.
My friend Brian , who lives in Ireland has just married his long term partner Aaron yesterday. He sent me the photographs. I wish the couple well.....Covid weddings are not easy , I am sure .
Brian and Aaron
Winnie Remembered
Winifred Sâlote Tupou lV was a diva of rare proportions.
She was a blog writer’s dream as her adventures over her seven years at Bwthyn Y Llan never ever needed embellishing.
She was truly larger than life
Larger than I ever expected from our first, rather lacklustre meeting.
The meeting was September 1st 2013.
I was in the middle of organising my last open Allotment Day when she arrived with her previous owner for an introduction, so our meeting was brief and , for me somewhat disappointing.
All I remember thinking was that she was overly large, had no neck to speak of and looked frightened of everything but I agreed she could come a few days later for a trial run.
And after that, stay she did.
I think Winnie was a fully cooked five year old bulldog when she arrived and it wasn’t long before I worked out that she had her own quirky set of obsessions which proved to be somewhat of a challenge when she finally got her confidence.
- She masturbated incessantly, goaded on by the Professor who thought this behaviour hilarious rather than embarrassing and the object of her desires centred upon his tastefully buffed brogues and the infamous “ Slippers of sex” which were strange hand knitted slippers designed and made by Kit, an old lady who still lives in Bron Haul......Her habit of self pollution continued until her late onset emergency hysterectomy a couple of years ago, but even then , very occasionally she would back her toilet parts seductively onto her trusty fanny flannel when having a periodic summer bath.
 |
| The slippers of sex |
- She adored visiting Workmen of any description , though it was fairly obvious that a generic friendly masculine type with overalls was her man of choice, and I must say that she would sulk for hours if she was not allowed to watch what household job needed to be completed. I also remember, her going missing when the British Telicom men were here putting in the broadband extra line. .........I eventually found her sitting in the telicom van’s passenger seat sharing a packet of cheese and onion crisps....
- Winifred was also totally obsessed with food. All food. Any food.....and I once famously brought her round after a particularly robust attack of heatstroke after dipping her nipples into a cold bath and dropping a Tesco cocktail sausage on her gums.
- Her food obsession lead to a life of stealing if left unchecked and I remember the toe curling embarrassment when she raided an elderly woman’s handbag for her polo mints and the time she helped herself to a baby’s Farley’s Rusk , which she found wrapped on the lower shelf of a baby buggy parked in the Church Yard.
- She adored very small children too, and given her great size remained totally in control and gentle when around them. I remember one very emotional moment, observed a couple of times on Going Gently when she suddenly found herself surrounded by a large gaggle of pre school children out for a crocodile linked walk on the Dyserth walkway one summer. I warned the supervisor that she was indeed safe and as I walked up I saw a plethora of stubby little hands rub every inch of her in wonder.....her gentleness and obvious pure pleasure of the toddlers’ attention moved me to tears as I glimpsed just for a moment her natural ability of being a mother
Of all of her fellow animals in and out of the cottage, only one became a true friend, and that friend was Albert. I have often blogged that only she, out of all of my dogs had the capacity for thought and the understanding of simple concepts.
She understood Albert, and was never fazed by cat behaviour, (idiosyncrasies that were always lost by the other dogs
)and last night, as she lay silent and still on the kitchen floor, only Albert came to her, carefully and wide eyed, to sit between her paws , his black head rubbing hers.
In full sulk
Albert and Winnie
George and Winnie on their last walk up the Gop
Winnie was so pissed off with me in the photo taken Christmas Day 2018
I had taken her down the beach and she was cold and wanted to go home
Now Winnie, was also a serial sulker. I often referred to her as being a gay man in a bulldog suit as when thwarted or god forbid told off in any way she would stare carefully into the middle distance for the longest of times before flinging herself with gay abandon onto a rug or an unoccupied sofa.
The longest sulk I ever timed, lasted almost six hours....a lifetime in the dog world.
Her last half hour on earth was typically Winnie. She ate a full bowl of dog food ( garnished with several Aldi cocktail sausages) then was allowed a ten minute hysterical rubber chicken gum before settling down on the mat by the door ( instead of her usual place in the reading armchair next to the radiator )
And that was where I found her only an hour later.
Quiet and peaceful
And all on her own terms
I’m sad but not heartbroken ....it was her time to go
And like the ideal cocktail party guest
She didn’t outstay her visit
But I shall miss my old girl
Winifred The Queen of Tonga
She had all of her tea,
then Joined Mary in some rubber chicken horseplay
And died quietly in the kitchen
When I was having a bath
I will write an appropriate eulogy for her tomorrow
She deserves one
Forward
I have been mulling over something quite serious for some time now.
Covid and isolation, have re circled my more neurotic wagons so to speak and conversations with new friends who have gently raised an eyebrow have made me think about my divorce and my feelings of hurt and loss.
And anger.
I’m rather tired of still feeling angry.
It’s heavy and odious burden
So today I did something about it.
I spoke to my ex husband and to my former mother in law on the phone.
They were careful but ultimately kind.
The conversations were emotional in their own way but both ended quietly and with a positivity long such lost.
I was reminded of the quote below as I walked around Trelawnyd this afternoon. I was delivering Christmas Cards in the freezing rain.
The darkness and weather hiding tears of release .
“You have to forgive yourself sometimes. Accept your scars for what they are and forgive the old you and people who have hurt you. Maybe that is how you learn to breathe and walk again. Maybe that is how you heal from the past. Maybe that is how you move on.”
Anger
I deal with grief most days
And I see how much anger often smokescreens it
It feeds grief and effectively insulates it when in excess
I know the story.
I’ve lived it .
Covid with its rules, has compounded anger
Anger in isolation, anger in blame
Anger in the pure unfairness of it all
And grief, in many cases has been halted and denied its natural way to go
The Tree
It’s been a funny old day today.
Sunday’s and Christmas and Night duty can be a strange mix
Of memories past.
I drove through the village in the dark to work tonight and the village Christmas Tree was up and lit
Sunday
Night shift days scoot by in a succession of short sleeps.
I walk the dogs when I get home.
Then they are fed and all come to bed for a few hours before Dorothy wakes me up around 1pm for another wee, then it’s back to bed until five or so.
The cottage is invariably cold when I prepare “breakfast” and so I switch on the little oil heater in the kitchen and we all cram in like the Waltons in order to eat and keep warm
Today some village Children delivering Christmas cards woke us all up around four and so wrapped in fleeces, I made a breakfast of ravioli infused with walnut oil covered in pecorino cheese.
Bloody lovely
Just enough time for a bucket of coffee before more dog walks
The drive to work is accompanied with radio 4
It’s Pick of the week tonight
Only Me/ You
So many people have a strange habit when introducing themselves on the phone
They say
“ It’s only me”
Almost as if they are apologising .
Which they are.....
I do it all of the time.
And I shouldn’t ....
Being awake when nearly everyone I know is asleep allows the mind to wander around such
conundrums.
Tiktok is filling with American Shite and Twitter with two many gay men, shirtless and drunk
My book The Object of my Affection by Stephen McCauley is untouched .
It was the first “ gay” novel I ever read back in 1989 and I can still remember a quote from it that resonated with me
“ Often, what's most attractive about a person is that part they're trying hardest to conceal, that part they think is least likable. You find out about it and it becomes a secret bond between you, something you never talk about but hold close to your heart and are continually touched by”
It still does........
Alison Moyet looks better now than she did thirty eight years ago
How is that possible?
My mask smells of olbas oil, a few drops before shift makes the wearing it bearable for hours at a time
I Remember, “I Remember Mama”
Elizabeth Moss as Shirley Jackson
I managed to go to the cinema yesterday.
What a treat!
The film, “ Shirley” was a much praised fictional account of a very dark period in the life of 1950 s horror writer Shirley Jackson.
It’s an unsettling film, part gothic horror, part psychological and erotic romp and despite an excellent performance by Elizabeth Moss in the title role, I found myself irritated by it , so I left early .
On reflection I needed a film with a certain lightness of touch , so I came home, looked through the BBC IPlayer and found George Stevens’ classic I Remember Mama
It was an inspired choice.
If you have not seen I Remember Mama ......please do, for its a little gem of a movie
Set in San Francisco in 1910 it is a simple tale of family life , seen through the eyes of a teenage first generation Norwegian immigrant girl ( Barbara Bel Geddes).
The family is ruled by the Mama (Irene Dunne) a gentle but pragmatic matriarch who not only supports her three daughters, son and husband through the difficulties of a frugal life but who remains the moral compass for her three elder and less virtuous sisters, the timid Aunt Trina ( Ellen Corby) , bad tempered Aunt Jenny( Hope Landin) and the bitter Aunt Sigrid ( Edith Evenson) and the thunderous and her overbearing Uncle Chris ( Oscar Homolka)
Oscar Homolka as Uncle Chris
The family is perfectly described during the normal but significant life vignettes everyday life. Of course they are older and more stereotypical than they could be, but they are the product of a teenage girls’ memory and so the larger than life performances of Landin, Corby and especially Homolka ( In probably his most remembered role) are pitched just right.
The story meanders through illness ( when Mama in an effort to keep her promise to see her youngest daughter after surgery famously pretends to be a hospital cleaner), death, and the formative moments of a girls’ growing up and does so with such affection and warmth, that by the final credits when daughter reads out her published stories as Mama looks out of the kitchen window , there is not a dry eye in the house.
Irene Dunne is a revelation and breaks your heart as Mama
The famous washing the hospital floor scene
Nice People Come First
The last three on the much slated I’m a celebrity
Are just sweetly nice people
Chatter
Wales in back in a sort of lockdown until Christmas.
Last night I went to The Crown for a pint with Gorgeous Dave and again it was nice to see much of the village there filling the tables for a last time.
The new landlady was sanguine,
Everyone will drive over the border for a drink she said.
I’m not surprised, then the non essential shops were closed in England, the English did the same with us and shopped here.....
Yesterday I caught up with jobs,
Mary had a vet Check up in the surgery car park and I was sure to point Winnie out to the junior vet as she sat smiling in Bluebell’s passenger seat eating the remains of a sausage and egg McMuffin
He smiled genuinely enough.
I posted my traditional Christmas decorations to friends in Australia and Derbyshire and posted my Christmas Cards before dropping off a team gift to a nurse who has just left the hospice through fears of catching covid.
Today I’m off to the cinema
It’s cold today
Nu
Since 1989 my best friend has been Nuala......
She’s always Nu to me
For for over thirty years she has been my touchstone, my constant , my bestie
And apart from a short, and rather painful separation when she worked in Saudi
We have never been apart for any longer than a few months in three long decades!
I’ve not seen her for over a year now and that’s been tough.
She recently sent me the above video when we met at her second home in Kenmare in Ireland just after my husband left and her words that accompanied it shattered me just a little
“ You looked so happy but I know your heart was broken”
I working within the rules as the Welsh are allowed to cross the border, so before Christmas I am meeting up with her
And do you know what? ......I will hug her and hug her and hug her
And then
I will hug her some more.
Rent A Cuddle
Welsh terriers are desperate cuddlers
They will cling to you as a baby would, but unlike babies they never cry and will snuggle all night without pissing themselves.
Over this year Mary has been loaned out many times to friends that need this “ cuddle time”
The other night my friend Ruth collected her for an under- the- duvet night, only a few hours after Hattie collects her for a walk ( and long hugs on a country bench) and a day after Trendy Carol collects all of the dogs but only allowing Mary to come up to her drawing room for some sit on her knee time .
All my Welsh terriers have been the same
Moral Support
I met up with a friend in the back and beyond of Snowdonia before the galleries shut again in Wales and bought this......isn’t he delightful?
We met a third colleague and friend ( social distancing of course) who has had a dreadful time of late to offer some moral support.
The Welsh Countryside has never looked so alive
Postscript
Eleanor and I
This is a short postscript to last night’s blog.
I met Chic Eleanor for coffee and cake at two.
It was just what we both needed.
I had just sleepily tumbled out of bed and looked it
She looked fantastic in a beige and cream ensemble.
We talked and laughed and even though she has family traumas afoot
she was gracious and called me darling John several times over.
And when she said her goodbyes her expensive perfume lingered long in the air
So perked up I bought a miniature Christmas tree on the way home.
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