The Daughters I Never Had.

Albert and his deformed leg

For this week I have been working one day off one day on. 

And apart from meeting up with an old friend this afternoon, all I have done today is sleep.

Feeling that I’ve wasted a bit of the day , I woke up enough this evening to be more productive, and in the warmth of dusk I’ve listened to David Sidaris as I potted up more cheap coloured plants by the back door.

Albert watched me from the sunny garden wall, his deformed  leg stretching out painfully  before him. 

He blinked slowly at me in that silent hello that cats do when when you catch their eye.

Then sat still pretending to be asleep.

He remained there, until the sun shifted and I had retreated to the kitchen in order to oil the work tops and feed the dogs.

The cottage is tidy and I’m pleased.

I sit at the kitchen table and reviewed my to do list.

I didn’t cross anything off today.

In the middle of my list, just under 

Inform car insurance company about my speeding fines

And just above,

Pay fucking vets bill

Was the words

Hattie’s gift

Hattie leaves the village in a few days.

For several years she has lived in one of the cottages by the old post office. They are tiny street based cottages accessed to the rear by a tunnelled ginnel located every third home. and hers had its own pretty little back garden which faced south .

Now she and her boyfriend are moving out of the village to a new build in the next village a jump to their own home which is wonderfully exciting and fortunate in this time where the housing ladder is so difficult for young people to climb.

I will see Hattie in choir of course, but some of me will still miss her move from just around the corner. 

She is a young woman of warmth who possess a big heart and she is a person who has the envious and innate talent for making people smile. 

The villages took her to their heart readily and easily . 

She reminds me of my nephew’s partner, Rebecca who possesses similar traits, the both of them, in my mind ideal daughter material.

The daughters I never had. I thought idly today.

I would have made a good dad me thinks, and I told Albert that when he followed me indoors 

He blinked at me in his agreement

Hattie and I at the Folk concert at the village Hall 

 

Every Day , say something

 

I’ve blogged ( more or less) every day since 2006

It’s a labour of love and strange as it may seem, it’s never been a chore, even on days like today when I’ve finally managed to sit down after a work shift minutes after 9 pm, I never not want to write at least something.

Blogging is a friend I need to say hello to every day 

The Great British Sewing Bee is on the tv, the dogs have been fed and walked and I’m wondering what to chat about.

I want to be urbane and witty and wisecracking tonight, but it just won’t bounce forth and that’s fine ,  

And so I’ve slipped on my fat bastard jogger bottoms , lit the fire and am now watching the 12 talented and rather sweet sewing nerds do their thing, as my feet throb gently like two  hairy and slightly podgy Belisha beacons.

Hey ho.........hey ho

Horses Noses

 

The ponies are back in my field.

A mare and a colt

Two friendly souls who like to blow down their noses then breathe in your smell.

They please me

I drove to the Mostyn Gallery shop and bought a print for my bedroom and some bespoke greetings cards

I had take out coffee on the beach

Love

 

One of the privileges of working in palliative care is that you work alongside people that truly love each other.

Looking after someone who is dying that you care about  is a labour of love and where as it is not always possible or practical to always achieve the death that so many of us want ie at home in your own bed, there are a whole plethora of services , like ours, which are specifically designed to help that wish be realised but not without commitment and care from loved ones .

I have witnessed true love at these times.

And I have just witnessed it today, so powerful it was that on my way back from the community to the hospice I had  to sit in my car on north Shore for a few moments and watch the sea with the windows wide open and with the breeze gathering my thoughts and soothing my feelings.

I have witnessed.....

Pure, undiluted, warts and all love 

Desperate love

Tired and hopeful and hopeless love

And I am moved , every time I witness it. 

To be loved that strongly is such a privilege.  

A Thing Of Beauty

This speaks for itself 

 

Nutmeg Gnocchi with a chilli courgette sauce

This is a therapeutic and easy supper dish 

I made it from scratch today

Here is my masterclass 

You will need

2 potatoes

Garlic

Chilli x 1 red

Butter

1 cup flour

Nutmeg

1 egg

1 courgette

Seasoning

Parmesan 

Mash 2 potatoes and allow to cool

Grate one courgette, chop three cloves garlic and finely cut one red chilli

( this is for the sauce) 

Measure out Half a teaspoon of grated nutmeg

Put one cup of mash into a bowl add nutmeg

Add One cup of plain flour 

Add one egg

Mix and kneed into a dough

Cut into quarters 

Roll into rough rolls

Cut into 3/4 inch pieces and flatten sides with fork 

Boil a saucepan of water and drop gnocchi in. Meantime fry off chilli, garlic in a little oil and large knob of butter. Season well.

Wait for gnocchi to float

Add courgette and fry gently until cooked

Add gnocchi and ensure all is heated through

Season well if needed , add Parmesan cheese and Basil 

Eat with rocket salad

Bloody lovely

41 Guns?

 

The ruins of the Elizabethan house Siamber Wen located just a stones’ throw South of the centre of the village

According to the village Facebook page there was going to be a 41 gun salute to the Duke Of Edinburgh at midday. I went to collect eggs from the livery stables and managed to snap a brief video of the “ excitement” from the centre of the village.

The salute took place on top of the Gop 

You can here me and villager Mandy discussing the spectacle

On my walk I bumped into Affable Despot Jason who is a staunch republican.

“ 100,000 dead from covid and they are shooting guns off the Gop for Philip...makes my piss boil” he commented ....not his usual smiling self. Mrs Trellis passed with her over erect bobble hat on, and she waved 

Jason and Mrs Trellis ( with Blue)

Jason invited me for a drink in the garden.

More sporadic gunfire echoed over the valley as I headed for home.

The sun is shining and the sky is an azure blue 

I’m making home made gnocchi in a chilli and courgette sauce for supper  

Chic Eleanor has invited me for an outside gin at 6pm

The Wall

 Yesterday I rearranged the paintings and the lithographs, and the drawings and the photographs and the embroideries and the ceramics and the tiny piece of the antique Japanese Kimono on the art wall of the kitchen.

The exhibition looked clean and tidy and comfortable once I had finished

A history of my years post retirement

Every framed piece, a step forward to independence .

The wall has significance and it has power.

Where I once had a great deal of pleasure showing joint treasures, and dreams and memories in such a medium now I show my own milestones and art and loves and likes in one place and it feels nice to do so...kind of empowering.....kind of significant .

A while ago a friend asked me about the art wall 

He acknowledged how important it was to me

And he understood when I said 

It is something real , very real to me ...and nothing .....that is a lie

Ok ....that’s enough of all that.....me and Mave won the Big Gay Quiz last night which was fun. Today me and the girls are going to Colwyn Bay beach for a walk and a proper coffee

I’m counting the days until I can go to the cinema, I maybe able to book a seat very soon!!!!!!

Philip

 

He’s been a bit of a constant in my 58 years.

I’ve always rather liked his chutzpah 

My favourite quote of his was about his daughter Anne

“If it doesn’t fart or eat hay, she’s not interested”

he told reporters.

If he had a mop of white hair he would remind me of Tom Stephenson

Chirp

 Lots of wonderful replies to yesterday’s bit of fun

Some moving , many funny, all interesting 

Thank you

Keep them coming if you want , 

I’m listening to this song as a certain bulldog licks my tired  tired feet

Conchita

I just realised that I need a bit of glitter in my life! 

How about all of you ? 

What do you need........

Just one short sentence ! 

Prize for the best answer!

14

 

Hello deArheart,

I’ve got 4 minutes to blog before work.

Clinique Happy has been squirted, face washed, eggs on sourdough eaten, dogs walked, Mary given her antibiotic, coffee made and decanted into my travel cup

Three minutes to go

Soup in the slow cooker liquidised.....it’s butter bean and chorizo again tonight.

One minute to go.

Hair brushed, teeth brushed , 

One minute late

Back home in 14 hours

Fish Pie

Yesterday my bubble friend Ruth was over.

We ate fish pie ( completed with quarters of hard boiled eggs), drank wine  and watched Amelie 

It was a nice evening. 

Amelie is a movie that only gets better when rewatching . 

It’s film in which it’s editing takes centre stage and where a million visual ideas joint together seamlessly 

I adore it.

Today I’ve bought eggs from Rachel at the village riding stables and have dodged snow showers in favour of cold sunny breaks, then I’ve picked up antibiotics for Mary ( at last my demand for a swab on her ear has yielded a bacterial and not fungal infection as I suspected ) and bought flowers for Trendy Carol who never takes any payment for looking after the girls when I’m at work. 

It’s a no news, bland blogging day today.

I will leave you with this excruciatingly funny clip of  Nick Mohammed
He sings the plot of a film to its score


Enjoy x

Theatre Again

I haven’t much spare cash. 

This is merely an observation rather than a moan.

Fuck me if it was a moan the trolls out there would wet their knickers in the scrum to message what a truly awful person I am .

No, it’s a truism. I have to watch my money. 

True I treat myself to the odd desk and very trendy sofa . 

But generally I have to be frugal, and generally I am 

I have a tv the size of large cornflakes packet, I never buy new clothes and my main extravagance is never on expensive cars, men and liquor! 

But I have just bought a couple of tickets to the outside production of Pride and Prejudice in Grovensor Park in Chester.

How lovely to be sat watching a play again

Old Enough.....Ugly Enough

I went to bed early last night. 

It was 8 pm....unheard of for me.

Subsequently I was wide awake before five, woken by Dorothy who had noticed one of my psoriasis covered kneecaps sticking out from under the duvet  and was busy plucking off the scabs with her teeth and tongue.

It wasn’t an unpleasant sensation, to be sure , so I sipped my coffee ( I leave a flask by my bed now for early morning get ups), left her to it and prepared myself for another day at work.

We all have our own sayings, I’ve always thought.....

Many of them are inherited by parents or significant others or we just have them evolve through the general trails and tribulations of life.

One of mine is .....

“ I’m old enough and ugly enough to deal with it.....”

 This is all about not keeping your gob shut, whether it be in a conflict situation or just in everyday life.

I have an example

Last Monday I went to the garden centre in the village for bedding plants.

The lockdown rules had just been relaxed and the place was busy.

On one till, in front of me a middle aged woman was having an argument with the cashier. The wrong price had been accidentally left on a plant pot and the woman was insisting that she was only going to pay the price advertised on the pot  which was ludicrously cheaper than the right one . 

The cashier politely pointed out that all of the other similar pots had the correct pricing on them and only this one had been incorrectly labelled. She apologised for the mistake but the woman was not having any of it and became belligerent and rude in her manner.

The manager was called and she too was polite , only to be shot down moments later by a louder voice and harsher words and buoyed up by her own adrenalin she looked around the waiting queue for any sign of support.

No one caught her eye but me 

“ Oh pay the proper price you miserable cow” I said

It wasn’t the reply she was expecting.

I should have added something here, but I didn’t as to be the sub text is plain to see

“ If you don’t want my thoughts on the matter don’t ask for me to comment” 

And so it’s Easter Sunday. 

Easter has always been a non event for me. 

For me it was a bland day, filled with Jeffrey Hunter in King Of Kings, a half decent roast dinner and my ex husband going to church. Even as a child the day was marked with bad tv and too many Easter Eggs

So the prospect of working in the community and driving around the pretty places here such as Llanfairfechan can only be a bonus from the old norm. 

I will try to keep to the speed limit too, I suspect I was clocked in the hospice car doing 35 in a 30 mile an hour zone on Monday......another 3 points on my licence ! 

I’m not complaining by the way, just commenting

I’m not as nice as Jeffrey Hunter.....

Hey ho

Happy Easter All

Standards

 

Mave and I , alongside Peter, a soft spoken Glaswegian with a plethora of ribald stories and Latino Tim from Atlanta in Georgia won the Big Gay Quiz last night which was fun.

It was nice to enjoy some healthy double entendre conversation without someone getting all thin lipped and upset about things.

I’ve found that to my cost here.

Say something earthy and indecorous  

And there is always someone with a mouth like a cats arse, bursting to tell you off .

I’ve made the effort today. 

I’ve ironed a shirt and jeans ( yes IRONED!)

And I’ve had a shave , oiled my beard and combed my hair. 

Standards have been slipping in Chez Gray recently and it’s time to get a grip on things.

I’ve even had several squirts of Clinique Happy...

I’m ready for action

I made lovely strong coffee this morning and flavoured it with algave Nectar and sat outside in the sun with a book. 

At lunchtime I’m meeting up with my sisters for a distanced garden lunch which will be a real treat.

The sun is out but it’s a little cold

Bracing ! 

Strangers on a train

Before I ventured to Bodnant Gardens 

Mary and I visited the Horizon Cafe on Colwyn Bay’s Promenade.

You still cannot sit on the outside tables there, but the cafe does the best brewed coffee and so I treated myself to a grande and Mary to a single sausage .

We sat on the raised flower beds and watched the sea.

The woman with the Welsh Terrier stopped. 

I had met her before several times and she commented how neat Mary looked.

Her Bertie looked scruffy and unkept and remained uninterested in Mary as he always seemed to be

The woman stopped intent on talking.

She wore a straw hat and dungarees and looked around sixty

I wasn’t bothered one way or another .

The conversation flowed immediately to lockdown. 

The woman asked if I was furloughed and I told her where I worked.

She had lost her job in a solicitors office last year, she told me but didn’t miss it

She also asked if there were many men working as nurses at the hospice as she presumed it was more a mature woman’s role.

Back to the nun’s perception of palliative care I thought and said so

But she was right , like primary school teaching ,palliative care seems less populated by male workers.

She asked a lot of questions and instead of fending them off, I found that I was answering them

How long had I been working at the hospice?

What made me pick it?

Why had I gone back to work after retiring?

She was relentless

But I answered her questions as if she was working for the gestapo 

There is something very flattering about someone being interested in you and when I said I was divorced 

She shared the fact that she had left her husband the day after she lost her job.

“I think you and I are like Anne Elliot from Persuasion” she said with a laugh before she moved on with the scruffy Bertie in tow

“ We are late To Bloom,” 

The Color Purple

Not the nicest day at work today

No one died

Just a bit of conflict that needed sorting

Time for a gin, dog cuddles and the ending of The Colour Purple     

My Girls

 

One girl asleep sat up on my trendy couch

Another, sat carefully on my knee, watching the world 

My girls....

I wouldn’t have enjoyed Bodnant Gardens without my Mary today

And tonight, I wouldn’t have laughed out loud spying Dorothy asleep with her head propped up at the strangest of angles.

These two have carried me throughout the last year of lockdown , and have lifted my spirits through the year before that  without even trying..... without them 

I doubt I would have made it........so easily .....

My girls......

Bodnant Gardens

Mary amid daffodils

Very slowly, things are starting to open up here in Wales.

On Saturday I am meeting my sisters and sister in law for a garden based light lunch and today Mary and I are off to newly reopened Bodnant Gardens * for a walk.

I am so glad that the National Trust allows dogs into their gardens. Going alone is always fraught with the vague sense that I’m seen to be an old pervert. Having a dog with you precludes this strange stereotype.

Dorothy is far too excitable for such a place.

The gardens were thick with people determined to get the most out of the spring sunshine

I was so happy with Mary at my side. My girl is such sweet company

* Bodnant Garden (Welsh: Gardd Bodnant) is a National Trust property near Tal-y-Cafn, Conwy, Wales, overlooking the Conwy Valley towards the Carneddau mountains.

Founded in 1874 and developed by five generations of one family, it was gifted to the National Trust in 1949. The garden spans 80 acres of hillside and includes formal Italianate terraces, informal shrub borders stocked with plants from around the world, The Dell, a gorge garden, a number of notable trees and a waterfall. Since 2012, new areas have opened including the Winter garden, Old Park Meadow, Yew Dell and The Far End, a riverside garden. Furnace Wood and Meadow opened in 2017. There are plans to open more new areas, including Heather Hill and Cae Poeth Meadow.