12.31

 

I try to write something everyday.

I seldom plan what goes down in print for ideas and words just seem to there, ready to be written, but I must admit with lockdown and covid and the isolation that accompanies the pandemic still in its final clutches, having something of any note to say is proving more and more difficult.

This morning is a case in point. 

I’ve shampooed the spare bedroom carpet in the east wing and have cleaned the washer afterwards. 

I’ve walked the dogs and was proud when Dorothy received praise from a regular dog walker for behaving well off her lead . 

The dog walker was one of those country type ladies who ooze brusque efficiency  

I’m working later on a late shift which is pointless and most hated one as you come into work cold and have to hit the work running.

But that’s later.

Now I’m drinking from my bucket of coffee sat at the kitchen table.

It’s cold, the kitchen that is not the coffee.

I’m irritated by the loud workmen who are constructing a small house behind the cottage. 

They have harsh local accents and play their music overly loud but luckily I cannot seem most of the new build because my buddliea bush screens things nicely. 

The new owners live on the far side of the village and own a large pack of yappy dogs.I am concerned that our peaceful days down on this part of Trelawnyd  may be numbered , but I will keep an open mind for now.

I’ve been making a list of things that need doing in between writing sentences and gulps of coffee

Albert is sat by my right shoulder , untidily eating his cat food which is placed on the window sill. The window is flecked with dried on meat and splashes of gravy 

I add clean windows to my list, just below the cancel Winnie’s insurance reminder and chase up rubber chicken picture.

I gave away some furniture yesterday.

I could have sold it , but gifting it doomed the right thing to do.

Antiques you never own, you just look after them for a while  is a favourite saying of mine. 

Hattie had my old grandmother clock  from out of the study and another friend had an old school clock and some occasional tables and a sewing box on legs. 

More de cluttering my office

And decluttering my head.

Oh lord it’s 12.31pm 

I need to leave for work by 1.15pm

And as Terry Wogan used to say on the radio when I was a boy

“ and there’s not a child in the house washed “

An All About Eve Night

I’ve always been a “ looker afterer” 

That’s the nearest I can find for an accurate description of myself 

I’ve never been happier than when I cook, feed  and nurture someone.

By doing so

I nurture myself .

Yesterday I caught up with my covid bubble friend Ruth

She has had a bloody awful time recently and so I thought quick sticks that a night in together was the order of the day.

It was a simple evening to organise for her..... 

A massive cottage pie with thick gravy flavoured with garlic and cranberry jelly

2 glasses of red

Mary cuddles all night 

And a darkened living room watching All About Eve...a classic she had never seen before.

It was a lovely night.

I say this from my own perspective .

For I knew Ruth felt recharged and enjoyed herself as she said as much taking her leave at 11 pm to sleep in the cottage’s west wing  with Mary tucked firmly under her arm.

Her climbing of the stairs reminded me of when the Prof went to bed with George galloping behind him

That used to please me more than anything .

Cooking for someone who is hurting is a joy. 

Cooking for someone is a joy....I have so missed it.

Tucking someone up on my new couch as if they lived here made me feel good, and their  laughs at Eve’s many one liners reenforced my enjoyment of Bette on her best form.

We are never truly altruistic 

We do things that make ourselves feel good

All about Eve is not just a witty and incisive look at theatre life 

It has a lot to say about long term friendships, friendships I was reminded of as we watched.

Yesterday I video chatted with my friend John from Sheffield 

It was a warm and sweet and loving interaction 

Chic Eleanor texted to sort out a coffee at McDonald’s car park next week 

She sat in her car ......, me sat in mine.a conversation between two open windows 

Darling john it’s been too long she typed 

I so agreed.

If you haven’t watched All About Eve , please do so

Love the one liners, the acting, the clever manipulation of plot and gayness 

But don’t forget the thrust of the story

It’s a really a message of friendships , of recognising and nurturing those friendships and the power of being kind

The Gay Men’s Pub Quiz

 

I think that I am a Welsh 58 year old gay Bridget Jones..

I don’t quite know what I was expecting but The Gay Men’s Pub Quiz last night proved to be a rather good natured and strangely hilarious affair.

Some 80 Middle aged gay men from all over the UK were marshalled onto zoom by a professionally adept quiz master called Kenneth  , who presumably was well versed in herding cats and sounded as though he had performed centre stage at the Old Vic. 

Like with the RAF yesterday , there was no messing with Kenneth!

With a headteacher’s authority , Kenneth split us into groups quite quickly , so I just had time to check myself in the mirrored oven cover before the get go.

Face washed ( tick)

Hair brushed ( tick) 

Clean shirt checked for food stains ( check) - there was only one small splash of pot noodle..no one would notice ...tee hee

Background looking interesting behind me ( double check ) 

I was ready.

I squirted myself with a blast of Clinique Happy as a gay moral booster, as if it mattered

My group was a nice bunch. Gerry and David, a couple from the Sheffield/ Derbyshire border in their late sixties were a riot. They bantered and bickered gently and told bad jokes throughout the evening so much so that at one stage I had a complete attack of the giggles and corpsed dreadfully throughout one session of questions . Alistair was a gently spoken and smiley  fellow nurse from Chester and Richard was a well spoken but very deaf elderly man from The Isle Of Man. I spied a Zimmer frame in the background of his spare room! which intrigued me. 

Fifty questions were set between a 7.30 start and a 10.30pm finish , but booked into the quiz was the nice opportunity to chat with a luckily nice group of men . 

We came around  6th out of 15 groups which wasn’t bad at all 

I’m not really a gay guy who has to seek the ghetto of a group of gay men , but I really did enjoy the good natured banter of some nice guys with a ribald ( and stereotypically gay)  senses of humour 

Mooching

It’s colder today

I had some lilies delivered. 

They were left on the kitchen wall wrapped in brown paper.

No note.

I’ve put them in the shrimp vase in the kitchen window.

They smell lovely

I feel flu-like today and my arm aches , both normal reactions to the covid jab. So I’ve done little but read and eat pot noodles in bed with my fleece pyjamas on . Subsequently  the cottage became very cold by mid afternoon.

I lit the fire late

And went out to see old Trevor as he passed on his daily constitutional . I promised to take him for his covid jab when he finally gets an appointment .

He’s 95

Tonight I’m taking part in a Gay Mans online Pub Quiz on zoom for the first time which will prove interesting.

The dogs are dozing together on the couch 

The Rainbow Hospital

 

The hospice rang me at home this afternoon with the offer of a first Covid Vaccine.

I jumped at the chance and managed to get the 590 th slot at the newly converted Rainbow ( Enfys in Welsh) Hospital in Llandudno .

From the get-go I was impressed. 

I was ushered to a parking space at Venue Cymru and a huge man in RAF uniform made it clear in no uncertain terms when the queuing “patients” could go in.

The Airforce had taken control of the whole kaboodle and boy did it show.

Within seconds I was ushered through the theatre foyer and was given an information sheet to fill in, seconds later uniformed airmen moved us through to the former conference centre which is the hospital proper where we waited, supported by volunteers, until the vaccinators were ready.

I have not seen inside a Rainbow Hospital before but I was totally blown away by it. 

I could have walked into any district hospital of note rather than what was essentially a field hospital , knocked up by the army in just a few months.

Behind me was a Nigerian Doctor and in front was a community care worker, both caught my eye with the same impressed expression. 

And as we waited the doctor admitted graciously that he felt rather “ humbled and emotional “ by the whole experience and I agreed.

We were seeing the Best of British organisation , military style.

I was shown into a bed space were a clerk completed my paperwork and a nurse gave me the jab and moments later I was led for a sit down before being let out for home

The whole thing from start to finish lasted 30 minutes.

An attractive and cheerful airman bid me goodbye and as I walked to my car, I suddenly felt rather emotional just as the Nigerian doctor admitted to feeling when he and I realised the enormity of the project in front of us

Mobile

 

Ever since my phone fell in the loo ( after I had just enjoyed a robust number two) it has not worked, very well. 

I bit the bullet and rang Tesco Mobile on Monday and the delightful Leanne organised me a new phone with various bells and whistles on it and a monthly tariff much lower than the one I had been enjoying.

She giggled when I told her to treat me as an idiot during her sales pitch 

And did exactly what I asked her.

I have been navigating my new phone today and I must say that

I’d rather be setting the parameters on an ITU ventilator for after four hours, my brain is totally fried and

I’ve had to recover my having a bubble hot bath with my face covered by a wet flannel.

I spoke to Nu today, she’s working on the covid wards now in London  

How do you do long days ? She asked

With difficulty I told her

We swapped laughs and reviews on tv programmes 

She looked tired.

I do miss her.

I saw Pippa from the Rectory earlier today, she was being dragged down the lane by her long legged Mongrel, Meg.She only just managed a controlled stop in order to chat.

Her husband is probably enjoying the most cerebral covid pastimes she told me after the village gossip was over

“ he’s reading the Bible in Greek “ she said proudly 

I opened my mouth but said nothing

How can you follow that ! 

  

Song along

 If you are feeling a bit low watch this

It’s a song by Eurovision stalwarts and it exudes Bonne Amie

It’s what Europe is all about

CROQUE MONSIEUR

 

The time difference between Australia and Wales makes for relaxed chatting a little difficult .

When it’s 8 pm gin time in Trelawnyd it’s 7am coffee time in Sydney but undaunted by this my old friend Nia arranged a meet for both of us but under the strict rules of cooking together .

I’ve never done it before and I must admit it’s great fun 

We chose to make a proper Croque Monsieur from scratch 

She in her high tech, sun kissed antipodean kitchen , me in my slightly chilly but perfectly IKEAn version. 

It was lovely, as neither of us had much news of any note to talk about, so we would share snippets of what was happening in between yells of “How’s your bechimel sauce coming along ? “

“ ohhh I can hear sizzling !”

An hour and a half later, the croques were crumbs and we were reminiscing about the fatly comical kookaburras I remembered watching in her garden only five years ago .

It was lovely 

Our next meet will be in a few weeks time. 

We are going to paint together in acrylics 

An abstract painting 

Sounds like fun

Nia ( front) with my arm around her circa 1980

The rest are my family and friends 

We were in the audience of a production of Oklahoma my Aunt was starring in 

My Study

 

Albert and the old bedroom

I have a spare bedroom in the East Wing of the cottage. 

It’s small and full of clutter at the moment. 

A Victorian copper bedstead and mattress , a book case, an Art Deco grandmother clock, old books, a carpet cleaner. 

This week I’ve decided to make a proper study. 

A simple one, with less fussy walls and decor.

A desk, a chair and the bed complete with an antique french bedspread , I bought last year but never used 

It’s a small room and it needs to be simple 

I need a place with limited distractions, if I am to write

So today, I’ve been shopping 

I’ve not only ordered a new phone , but a desk and an office chair

The paint I already have, the gentle buttercup yellow of the living room.

Not bad a job for my first day of holiday 

SKYFIRE

 

Just sat through two gloriously awful hours of Chinese disaster movie SKYFIRE  

A total homage to those 1970 disaster movies I loved so much as a teen

Dreadful but intensely entertaining 

Rubber Chicken

 

Sailor John from next door brought a package around for me today 

He had opened it, thinking the package was for him.

I wondered why he raised a Roger Moore eyebrow when he delivered it.

For in the parcel was very small, bright yellow rubber chicken 

It was a gift from blog reader Donell. 

The chicken has a odd skill as when it is pressed a small red egg protrudes from some sort of prolapse out of its arse...

It made me laugh, as it was intended to do.

Thank you Donell. 

For years I have been in receipt of many many similar gifts from scores of lovely people who follow Going Gently . The gifts are as varied as the givers .

25 kilos of hen feed and two bales of hay, arrived one day a long time ago and since I have received scotch eggs, a patchwork quilt, books and photos and paintings and art work. Hand knitted and crocheted items, walking dead T shirts and games and memorabilia . Dvds, doggy treats, plants and flowers, sweets and goodies and even a Steiff  scotty dog and money have been sent and all gratefully received .

Today, I’ve walked on the beach.

Prepared pulled pork and sauteed potatoes for lunch 

Tomorrow I’m meeting a friend from Australia on zoom. 

We have the same recipe planned  and will talk and cook together which is another lockdown phenomenon , born out of lonely days .....

I’m looking forward to it. 

Two dogs on the trendy couch look incongruous as do the Christmas card garlands around the room 

I need a third

And I need to fold away the cards 

Hey ho

 

Phone

For who it may concern ... I am having problems with my mobile phone at the moment 

Cold

 It hasn’t gotten much over freezing all day.

The neolithic burial mound on top of Gop Hill is dusted with snow and stands out in relief against the blue sky.

On and around it are the black spots that are the village children and their squeals of delight as they snowball and sledge can be heard down at the cottage, where I have lit the stove early.

Trendy Carol tottered past on the ice wearing a smart faux fur number

I dozed in the armchair after an icy walk.

But I didn’t dream of Mr Hemingway again,

Which was a shame .

Snow and Hemingway

The snow has fallen fast over the Eastern Welsh hills, so much so that I just had time to buy some logs  before Bluebell slid precariously over the road East of the village

I was glad to have finished work for a week. I am tired

Last night I slept on my break , my head resting in my hand

I had a dream that I was dating the writer Ernest Hemingway, I’ve always had a bit of thing for him

He had a thick moustache and heavy stubble and wore a blue woolen jumper with a hole at the neck and he had a touch of dandruff

He also looked 60 which surprised me as I only consider myself as a “young” middle age thing

 

But he had the voice like chocolate and kissed like Doris Day every time I passed him in the kitchen doorway

So I didn’t mind much

 

He also stood smiling at me as I hurried around the cottage looking for Mary to walk before I went to work.

And I tried to cling onto that image when my phone called me back from break with a vibrating tinkle

 

I was very pissed off that it was a dream

 

very

Mary, Dorothy bounce with a friend when out with the dog Walker

God Loves A Trier

 I’ve had my hair pulled, face slapped  and my face mask pulled off several times tonight

Violence seldom happens in the hospice and it’s usually only a product of terminal agitation.

Everything is quieter now but I’m watching the sleeping patient closely. 

Intensive care prepared me well for such occurrences.

It’s only 1.13 am

I’m not complaining , I’ve just read that my former colleagues on the local intensive care unit are having a real crap time of things see link

https://www.dailypost.co.uk/news/north-wales-news/north-wales-intensive-care-consultant-19570872?fbclid=IwAR2PTgdI6rXp6rEvr6fNjSZ5tjGU01XRJ8agZ-PKCWz2qzV_iX2Rj14MLGA

I send them all my love and respect

So many people have forgotten those Thursday nights 

When we clapped for those on intensive care who tried so hard to help the victims of the first wave.

I will leave you with some frivolous and some hastily snapped shots of Albert who has decided that in Winnie’s absence he will settle for a “mini me” in the shape of a somewhat perplexed Dorothy.

God loves a trier 

Never Far From Me

My patient was listening to a message from a best friend living under lockdown in another country

I was changing the medication in their syringe driver and was doing so very quietly.

The message was in the form of a song that I recognised and it’s effects were understandably profound and incredibly moving to watch

I’m on nights, covering sickness then I have a week’s leave.

I try to book a weeks holiday every eight weeks or so.

The stressors of hospice work are very different to those exhausting times, I remember on ITU and Spinal Injuries. They are subtle and insidious and lockdown makes recharging a little more challenging 

Any time I feel low
I just don't know how you know
You are never far from me
You are never far from me

Once again, there goes the phone
How could you possibly know

You are never far from me
You are never far from me

Before the time that you go
There is something you should know
You will always be in me
You are never far from me

The song is a beautiful one. 

The scenario I observed was a beautiful one too...but terribly sad......

And after two night shifts, I’ve sorted out to cover sickness I am off for a whole week 

Weak Sun

 

The chimney sweep is here!

A visitor! 

How wonderful.

He’s a cheerful chap, behind his mask and has already asked where his “ Big bear helper “ was.

He was genuinely  sad  when I told him that she had died.

To give him covid space I took the dogs into the Churchyard and sat on one of the benches facing south.

The weak sun took an age to warm my face and for the first time in weeks I sucked in as much vitamin D as I could.

I didn’t notice old Rowenna’s walking stick until it poked me in the back

“ Mr Gray ! “ she said brusquely but not unkindly “ I haven’t seen you in a long time!” 

“ I have been on night shifts” I told her

“ I have been told you are working too much” she told me 

Word gets around , I thought

Rowenna is a stalwart of the Church and strangely is a far distant relative of mine. She lives next to village elder Islwyn who she always refers to as Billy. Her sister Barbara used to be the champion baker in the village and could knock out fifteen different cakes and a pot of jam in just one morning before the flower show.

Like many older women of Trelawnyd She has a sing song welsh voice and seems always in a hurry.

Dorothy grew bored with the conversation and started chewing my crocs so I made my goodbyes and walked back to the lane where I bumped into Meirion from Maes Offa

He was walking alone , so I just knew his old dog who always accompanied him, had just died . 

He looked awkward as dog walkers always do when without a lead in their hands.

We shared dog stories as Dorothy tap danced for attention again.

He looked sad.

And I tried to be kind.

I put the dogs back in the car and watched my cottage for a while. 

I was waiting for the sweep’s brushes to poke up through the pot before I returned home.

The cottage looked warm and sweet in the weak sun, and the walled bluebirds flying towards the lane , glinted briefly an azure blue

Neighbour Mandy darted down the lane and she waved 

Then jumped when Bluebell’s horn let off a sharp Parp! 

Dorothy again, this time jumping on the steering wheel

Merv’s racing pigeons scattered above the lytchgate   

I waved back at Mandy and looked up at the cold blue sky

I am home 

Eartha

England heading to tier 5

Let’s smile at this fantastic piece

Ms Kitt singing in Japanese 

I LOVE IT 

 

Hostiles

The final scene of the film Hostiles is one of the most powerful, I think,  in recent times.

PTSD sufferer Christian Bale is saying goodbye to the woman( Rosamund Pike)  and child he saved from an Indian attack  and now finally after a whole lifetime of abuse he has the option to join her ( and salvation ) or carry on hating his Indian foes and perpetuating his hatred for ever ....at the very last minute he quietly chooses salvation, and I remember leaving the cinema after I had witnessed this , elated and rather hopeful

How many choices do we all have that actually shape our lives for the better like this 

Answers on a postcard please.

Sunday Lunch

Tier 4 has gotten  me into some awful ways .

My day off and after walking the girls at 8am, it was back to bed until midday.

Not good and a very bad habit to get into.

I’ve chided myself for it this afternoon and had a brisk and very cold walk on the beach in way of penance.  

When I returned home I roasted a lamb shank and made Yorkshire puddings from scratch. 

When they were cooked crisp, I shredded the lamb and filled them and added proper gravy made luxurious with cranberry jelly.

I ate my lunch watching How The West Was Won 

Mary won the lottery and had the bones all to herself

I washed my uniforms for the week

and read several chapters of The lost Language Of Cranes before falling asleep in my armchair.