It happened nearly three years ago now and it a testament to serendipity.
I shared it with a loved one recently, to illustrate how things will often change for the better when you least expect life will......
Like I said it is true.
It was my first visit to my divorce lawyer.
I had to borrow a car from Jason The Affable Despot to go.
The solicitor’s office was located in St Asaph, right next door to the cathedral, and like today, it was a sunny day.
I remember little else about the interview apart from the kindness of my solicitor and the projected estimated bill of “ several thousand pounds”
I left the office numb and silently panicked
I hadn’t got a bean to my name..
How could I fight any divorce with no car, no money and no job
I sat in the cathedral for the longest of times.
Long enough for one of the ladies that ran a small coffee stall in the corner of the naive to quietly wander over to rest a serviette on the chair next to me.
Eventually, with bleary eyes I got up and drove home
Mary was racing around the cottage when I walked in. She had a chewed envelope in her mouth. Her and William had attacked the post again, in transference to pulling off the postman’s fingers.
Flat and upset I opened the letter which was covered in bites and terrier saliva
It was from a Solicitor’s office I had instructed months before to look into any PPI claims (personal Protection insurance) I had with banks and credit cards I had in the 1990s
I had long forgotten about it .
Apparently, it said , I had a claim! ........in fact, the woman on the phone said when I hurriedly rang her , I had several claims that were successful and after 30 % fees and VAT and others costs I was in line to receive over eleven thousand pounds !
Eleven thousand Pounds ........in fact the final sum was greater than that!
I told the clerk that I could kiss her .....she laughed good humouredly
That serendipitous windfall saved me . It paid for Bluebell and paid off my credit cards and overdraft and vets bills and it allowed me to put some away for the solicitor , deadening the fear and the worry of officialdom at its worst.
But I do find the presence of stuffed toys in a totally adult household , just a bit creepy.
I say this with the sudden realisation that I have three stuffed toys in the house. Colin The Chameleon, with his jaunty leg kicked sideways underneath the art wall; a cute duck billed platypus bought from Sydney Zoo is sat in my bedroom bookcase and a now almost 40 year old Garfield sat benignly in my living room cupboard with a gentle smile upon his face.
I reassure myself that owing stuffed toys only really becomes creepy when they occupy your bed, you know the sort, sat unseeing , face forward between the pillows .....that’s when toys are creepy
Garfield was given to my by my twin sister when we were in our twenties.
I liked his slightly cynical view on life back then, and that’s a riot in itself.
When most young people were saving the whale, joining Amnesty International ( which I later did lol) and stretching their political wings against the poll tax or Thatcher’s policies
What was I doing?
I was watching movies and following the mantras of a ginger cartoon character
Go figure.
It’s a lovely day today and I am in my office sorting out what to do on my holiday next week.
Right on time Mrs Trellis totters past with Blue
She doesn’t see me up at my desk
I’ve already sorted a few meet ups with friends, lunch in Liverpool with Colin. More lunch with Cheryl from Ramsbottom ( a great sounding place) Outdoor dinner with Chic Eleanor and our friends in Conwy and a family get together this weekend if the weather holds and a socially distanced picnic with the hospice staff on Llandudno’s beautiful West Shore....
It’s a little too early for a Sheffield trip but that is on the cards alongside a London trip to see Nu....
The best was when I had to meet a huge extended family of a patient for the first time one of which commented quite loudly to another in an adjoining room “:He doesn’t look like a nurse , he looks like a Samoan rugby player!
Hey ho
I left work late, and didn’t get home until well after half nine and all I could think of was a cold beer ( I had one in the fridge) a good foot licking by Dorothy and a warm roaring fire.
Well two out of three ain’t bad
When I went out to the back shed..the one bordering on the lane behind bluebell ...the door was wide open and all of my remaining kiln fired wood ( some thirty logs or so) had been stolen
My sister warned me that there was a group of nefarious types stealing dogs locally.
Apparently this has been a more common practice given the lockdown phenomenon of soaring dog prices and increased demand for designer dogs.
I saw Maggie from the village this morning and warned her as her sweet cocker made goo goo eyes at Mary
“I’m prepared” she said pragmatically showing me a specially made waist band to which she had fixed her dog’s lead to with what looked like a climber’s carabina.
“Keeps my hands free” she said, “ in case of emergencies”
I looked impressed
She pointed to a small piece of equipment on her wasteband
“ Here is my rape alarm too !”
I laughed and was just about to ask her if she was packing a gun , when she fished into a pocket and brought out a small canister
“ pepper spray !” She explained
God help anyone trying to steal Maggie’s dog I thought
This should have won the Oscar for best song last night...
It didn’t......
Even though Molly donned 48 earrings, two miles of oven tin foil and was surrounded by a gaggle of fat Icelandic cherubs all dressed in home knitted jumpers, the beautifully lit Reykjavik skyline and the whole country’s firework stores
I got up early walked the dogs , had eggs on panini toast then realised I hadn’t planned much for the day.
I went back to bed and watched internet movies and tiktok crap then day dreamed about meeting a floppy haired bear dad with no baggage and holes in his jumper at the village hall.
Of course this only happens in specialist indie movies based in Yorkshire , and so , I walked the dogs again, and returned to bed fully clothed where Albert gleefully took advantage of a group siesta and slipped in between Mary & Dorothy before the latter made herself comfortable by resting her chin protectively over mine.
We all slept until four .
I woke slightly disgusted in myself for wasting the day, so in a fit of energetic pique, I cleaning the kitchen within an inch of its life and made soup for my lunch at work tomorrow.
When I worked In Sheffield’s Spinal Injury unit, the occasional patient would have been able to mobilise out of bed by using the Prone Trolley.
These patients were usually ones with older spinal injuries but with new, more acute skin problems or pressure sores on their bottoms and sacrum.
The prone trolley was in fact an adapted theatre trolley , which the patient could like face down upon, usually with strategically placed pillows supporting hips , sternum and feet.
The patient would move the trolley with his arms, which would propel the front wheels, allowing him or her the freedom to navigate the Spinal unit, and at the same time no pressure would be exerted on the more vulnerable sore bits , allowing them to heal naturally .
These patients would generally be covered with a light sheet , below which they would be naked and paralysed .
One patient I remember who used the trolley was a bit of a wag , I shall call Norman
Now Norman was in his thirties, and it would be fair to describe him as a bit of a joker and a wide boy. He would spend his time with the newly injured and sometimes more sensitive patients on bed rest and was one to joke around and play tricks on them and the nursing staff , who put up with his antics with uncharacteristic thin lips.
I remember one day when Normal pushed himself onto the balcony garden of my ward, he entered into some ribald joshing with several of the patients on bed rest. Unbeknownst to the staff, a couple of the patients had clubbed together and with the help of a visitor turned the tables on poor Norman and an hour after he came he announced to the staff sitting at the nursing station that he was returning to his own ward for tea.
The staff said nothing as he wheeled himself past the nursing station and allowed him to pass my office which was at the end of the corridor without further comment.
As Norman wheeled himself merrily part he shouted out a greeting which I answered
And I turned to watch him pass I saw that his fellow patients had secretly removed his sheet allowing the world to see a large expanse of buttock with two large capital W s drawn in lipstick on each cheek.
And placed very carefully between the butt cheek itself was a hastily picked daffodil, standing proud, yellow and very tall.
I haven’t done a great deal but wash my new duvet set that Dorothy thoughtfully pissed upon last night and pot up the little french half hanging basket by the front door which had dried out in the dry spell we’re having.
Sea Pinks or drift as it is also known as, wasn’t my first choice for potting up but I think they will look nice flanked by simple white violas , against the old stone of the cottage walls.
I repaired my gargoyle , fixing him back on his plinth with some fixative and spoke to Mrs Trellis as I brushed the paths free of blown rubbish.
“ I knew you were in “ she observed “ there is washing on the field gate”
Dorothy dozed on the lawn as I watered the planters
And as she looked so comfortable I laid down next to her in full view of passers by and promptly fell asleep
Late April is perhaps the best time of the year to see Trelawnyd, especially on a sunny day.
For those that read about this rather insignificant little village, I am sure most will have their own mental pictures of it, but I am aware that apart from some photographs I have never attempted to describe this place where some 500 souls make their home.
The village is situated some five hundred and fifty feet above sea level in the Clwydian Hills and is tucked on the South facing base of Gop Hill, which is the second hill in the range if viewed from across the bay in Llandudno.
Gop Hill and the Neolithic Burial Mound( the village lies bottom right)
Gop Hill is partially wooded , but the slope which backs onto the village is grazed and is covered in gorse bushes which glow gold in April when they start to flower.
I am looking at the Gop as I type this green and gold against the blue sky.
On its summit lies the Neolithic burial cairn, and the black stick figures of dog walkers can just been seen standing on the top.
The village is protected from the North Winds by the hill and lies along one road ( London Road) with the church and school dominating the West flank and the Village Hall and Pub bordering the East.
The centre of the village lies nearer to the Hall with the older houses dating from the 17th and 18th Century spreading North and South just a little.
My cottage , one of two built in the 1660s lie down a little lane which follows the boundary of the Church wall. The lane snakes down the valley to the Felin ( Water Mill) before climbing again to the South, so the village is comfortably surrounded by hills and is perched above a valley which slopes gently down to the coastal plain and the sea which is only five miles away.
The largest building in the village is the Memorial Hall which was built at the turn of the century by the Greek Consul to Liverpool Mr Michael Antonia Ralli in memory of his wife Polymnia
The Golden Gorse covering most of the southern part of the Gop
We had a power cut this morning. The village what’s app group buzzed it’s annoyance .
I went to Mc D ‘s and got a large coffee to start the day properly.
It’s sunny and lots of friendly faces are about.
I feel recharged today. Proper sleep has helped with that as did a good debrief with a friend about sad case at work which laid heavy on my mind
I’m off to buy a wisteria this afternoon and tonight I am catching up with Gorgeous Dave for a beer in his garden.
But for now I’m typing this at my office desk and as I look out of the window I spy a couple of villagers I know chatting in the lane. Pippa walks down, past them with Meg
And from the gardens comes the crow of the little bantam as he answers the call from the riding stable cockerel.
The sun is bright on the houses that border London Road and above their roofs I can see the golden gorse on the Gop glow a warm yellow.
I slept until 6.30 am when I took the dogs for a wee , then slept on until noon.
I needed the rest.
I walked the dogs properly
Did a large shop and bought some luxury puddings for Trendy Carol and her hubby.
Over the last 10 days I have worked 7 twelve hour shifts and every one of them trendy carol has baby sat them in the afternoons.
When I got home it was upsetting to see one of the field ponies had been sadly euthanised . She had apparently suffered from ill health for a while and had deteriorated recently. Her body will be collected later.
There is nothing more forlorn than the site of a dead, much loved animal lying still on the ground
I’ve just written this whilst eating a small tub of coronation chicken
A real treat for the day
And now I’m half playing at tidying the house,
The bantam cockerel who lives in the graveyard called in early for homemade sourdough
My last shift today, no 6 out of 9...I needed that bucket of coffee this morning
I think, like many people I know, foreign travel will not really feature in my plans this year.
A friend has just invited me to Sitges in September which I’m seriously considering albeit for a long weekend rather than a two week break but apart from that , I think , like thousands of others I will concentrate on meeting up with friends in Blighty ...namely London, and in Yorkshire and in Liverpool and indeed in Wales.
Next year things change as I am planning to go to South Korea !
How’s That for a curved ball ?
My friend and colleague Ben is moving there with his wife and daughter this year and in the spirit of adventure fellow colleague Ruth and I thought we’d throw caution to the wind, and don our explorer hats. to “ do” the Far East Country which still remains a mystery to many westerners and meet up with him in the process.
Note to self
Time for some overtime .....we may even visit Busan lol
Ps village news...a couple of days ago it was Auntie Glad’s birthday
She was 102.
She will have no recollection of me and the flower show and of tying bags of scones on the door knob of the cottage
She won’t remember the last show when she opened the proceedings with a bravura speech
And she probably not remember often sleeping in the sun outside her front door on sunny Welsh afternoons
This just about kills me , what with PPE and the fact that I’m wearing a couple of hats because yesterday I was community working and now I’m on in patients covering sickness
Yesterday the weather was superb, very much like the skies and temperature over Windsor.
After the funeral the dogs and I pottered around the garden.
Dorothy shadowed my every move with sad eyes. Mary just laid by the gate , hopeful that someone would say hello to her and Albert sat under the honeysuckle and pretended to be asleep.
The ponies saw me in the garden and ambled up to watch us.
I love having them in my field,
Their presence makes the field come alive again, like it used to be.
My sister has transformed the garden , the bluebells and pockets of aquilegia, iris and euphorbia are all springing up as is the hydrangea in the old french cooking pot I placed in the gap by the holly bush .
This year I thing I will plant a wisteria and will trail it over an arch by the front gate.
It may bloom before I die....
I’m working in the community today,
Nice weather for it!
My tiny hamster ears do not cope well with face masks
Nuala texted me around three to see if I was watching
Of course she knew I would have been.
I found the whole thing rather moving.
It wasn’t grand, I thought, but more beautifully choreographed and the more personal touches such as the use of the land rover and his riding carriage with his gloves left quietly on his seat were simple and powerful reminders of the man.
Last night I got home just in time for The Big Gay Quiz. Our team won a respectable fourth place, which was fun. Afterwards I watched the lovely gay, Yorkshire Farmer film Gods Own Country which is a delight and incredibly moving.
It must rank as my favourite gay movie
Anyhow....
There is a famous line in Gone With The Wind when Rhett Butler turns on the spoilt and game playing Scarlet O’Hara
“Open your eyes and look at me. No, I don't think I will kiss you, although you need kissing, badly. That's what's wrong with you. You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how."
It’s a cracking quote and is one that got me thinking on my commute home yesterday.
Where did I have my first proper kiss?
I’m discounting the time I was unexpected kissed by a policeman in full uniform when he came around to the psychiatric unit I was working in for a brew on night shift.
I was more surprised than romantically aroused when that happened, so much so , I just stood there like a pudding and was still puckering with closed eyes long after he had exited the building...
Hey ho
Happy days
I think my first, properly romantic gay kiss was with the older brother of my first girlfriend .
I was 18. He was 26
He was in the RAF ( hummm there is a uniform theme going on here) and I was a bank clerk and I ended up sharing his bedroom with him at my girlfriend’s house when he was home on leave.
I can’t remember the whys and wherefores
But I do remember the kiss
Chaste and gentle and of so pivotal in the life of gauche teen
It would be several years later when the kiss’s ripple spread wide on my life’s pond
