Dumplings & Love

 

I forgot to photograph my dumplings 

Later in the year the village is holding a What did you do during lockdown ? show.

My entry was going to be a sweaty balloon NURSE covered in PPE but after some thought , I think I will prepare a plate of Japanese Vegetable Dumplings or Gyoza Dumplings.

Gyoza dumplings are half fried , half steamed dumplings that can be filled with a mixture of any vegetables you have to hand. I tend to use carrot, cooked onion, and cabbage, ingredients that make the filling taste sweet, but shiitake mushroom, spring onion and tofu can be added ( I don’t like tofu) add lots of garlic and ginger a bit of soy and some shredded chicken or crushed prawn if you need meat and bingo low calorie stuffing. 

The dumpling skins can be bought frozen on line, I get he happy Belly ones on line .they cost around 12 £ for three packets

Stuffing the skins is a bit fiddly at first but I learnt by watching this video 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YAcMQWqVln0

As for cooking , it’s easy!  you pan fry them with some sesame oil 

, but you add water to the pan and cover. The water evaporates, steaming the dumpling on its sides but the bottom of the dumpling will go crispy and brown.

Today I prepared a healthier lunch by just steaming my dumplings but you run the risk of them going soggy.

They taste just as good though.

I’m having a thoughtful time today. It’s hot and I have nothing planned but choir later and I’m in two minds to go to that, seeing that choir practice is now outside. 

I find singing outside, away from the safety of being shoulder to shoulder with my fellow bases very embarrassing. I know I shouldn’t , but I do, and embarrassment is an emotion I just do not cope with very well. 

I’m weighing it up anyhow…..over coffee.

I’m listening to a podcast of an interview with Kenneth Williams 

The interviewer has just asked him if he has ever been in love.

It was a question Williams side stepped 

Then I thought…how many times have I been in love.

I’ve had a long thought about that one 

In my life ……three times……you?

 

Ally mcBeal

 This afternoon Mary and I went to Colwyn Bay

We went to see the new( and very short new Pier) 

It was too hot for Dorothy.

We were standing , looking at it, when I heard a woman’s voice 

“ Hello there” it called

I didn’t recognise the woman but felt I ought to

She introduced herself as the sister in law of one of my favourite patients! One who I will call Holly

I placed her then, of course I did ….

We chatted about things!lockdown and her husband and her work and she asked me to thank the hospice staff for their care but before she left, with a shake of hands she said 

“ Thank you for dancing with Holly, She told us about it, it was a very special moment for her “ 

I laughed

“ It is me to who has to thank her” I told her “She made me dance in public , something I could never do” 

I told her the story from my perspective 

One day, as part of our last conversations together, Holly asked me what things would be on my bucket list, if I made one….after a long think

I shared that I always wanted to dance in public 

She asked me if I remembered Ally McBeal , and specifically the scenes when the cast would share an over choreographed dance to the velvet voiced Barry White

I told her I did and on impulse we danced the dance together. The music from her phone and me in my uniform and she in her expensive Italian bathrobe that dwarfed her. 

I remember that

She placed her bed table in front of the door , like a teenager to prevent any one else from walking in. 

And we giggled like schoolgirls as we did so

It’s always been my best hospice memory 

Summer Evening

Mr Poznán  caught me watering the Women Institute’s flower bed at half past seven. I had already checked on the village green beds but all those had been watered by one of the wardens.

I was hot and sweaty and I joked that the exercise would burn more fat off me  

Mr Poznań looked serious and told me not to be so hard on myself , he had already noticed that I’d lost nearly a stone and a half.

 “ I’ve noticed that You have a habit of dumbing yourself down “ he said kindly “ you don’t have to do that” 

His smile was disarming and I found myself suddenly a bit emotional.

He patted me on the shoulder as a goodbye. “ You need a man friend “ he told me looking at the watering can

I have a habit of indulging in self depreciating humour. 

Of course it’s a defence mechanism…and as I watered the plants  I reminded myself of the lesbian comic Hannah Gadsby who once specialised her act at one time with self put downs 

She described what she felt about thus

“ I have built a career out of self-deprecating humor and I don’t want to do that anymore. Do you understand what self-deprecation means when it come from somebody who already exists in the margins? It’s not humility, it's humiliation. I put myself down in order to speak, in order to seek permission to speak“

There is a resonance in her words

 

Summer

The village from the West

 The temperature gauge says 22 and sunny but it feels hotter than that. Dorothy  couldn’t take a long walk so we took advantage of there being no sheep in Graham’s fields and the girls ran around for just five minutes before wanting to go home to lay their nipples on cold concrete, 

Albert joined us as per, but he too found the sun too fierce and so retired under a giant Beech tree like a lion.

We left him watching a couple of foolish rabbit pups with narrow eyes.

He’s still bad tempered .

It’s Sunday morning and the shooting range over in Trelogan is in fine form. The putt, putts of the shotguns echoing around the valley hills like fireworks at New Year.

I’ve heard a cuckoo, just once which is rare

There is a heat haze over the village and it feels deserted , like a Spanish village at noon

Thank goodness the elderflower cordial I prepared three days ago is ready to drink.

Sisters

My sister Janet had her beloved dog Jess put down today.

We were meeting up with our elder sister Ann for dinner tonight 

That dinner carried on without her…

It was understandable she couldn’t attend.

and We missed her.

I felt better that I gave Janet some flowers yesterday, I sort of preempted today’s decision…

And as I left Ann’s this evening SHE gave me a bunch of sweet peas 

Too and fro 

Back and forth …

Ann and I and the family talked about songs and memory tonight

Songs that spark memories that are everlasting 

I have one such memory from decades ago

My sisters and I were driving home after a concert or a theatre visit and it was dark on the country road, 

We burst into a spontaneous version of  drink drink drink from The Student Prince

And as we sang the main words my sister Ann who can’t sing a note burst into an operatic “ arrrhhhh” an acomptiant  to the libretto…It was so bad that we laughed and laughed  until we cried.

Such memories make a family’s love 

The Church Meeting

 In the graveyard there is an ancient prayer cross. 

It dates from the 13 th Century and was a focus of prayer and the sharing of news long long before the church was built.

Yesterday the amiable and rotund Vicar with his sexy young curate in tow held a meeting around the cross to discuss the future options for St Michael’s.

I thought they looked a little like Batman and Robin in their black.

I was worried that few people would turn up, but was pleasantly surprised that in addition to the smattering of regular worshippers many of the non practicing residents of the village arrived.

A good thirty to forty people were stood or seated in between the gravestones and the cross. 

I looked around from where I sat on the grass, my bare feet itching on the clover, Affable Despot Jason with Liv, Mrs Trellis with her surgical mask firmly in place, Pippa from the Rectory, many of the members of the Community Association and the Women’s Institute were there, Sailor John too as well as a smattering of younger people I didn’t know.

The numbers were encouraging 

Some of the Villagers 

Islwyn , the village elder, who had single hand idly transformed the new cemetery from disrepair to bowling green chic stood under the shade of the sycamore and made a strong speech about community spirit, as did Tim from Plas y Dre Ucha. Who I would like to introduce Chic Eleanor to. And there were many questions asked as the vicar gave us the four options the Church has.

It was a sobering listen. 

1) The Church could stay as a Parish Church but that would mean a new Church Committee would have to be formed with the responsibility of raising their allotted share of money for the Diocese yearly. The upkeep of the Church coupled with these costs were guessed to be around 12 thousand pounds a year

2) The Church could be adopted by Friends of Friendless Churches who would keep the building but would show it as a sort of museum

3) The Church could possibly become a Pilgrim Church supported financially and physically by the village. In this guise it could still be used as a place of worship ( approx 6 services a year not including funerals ) but it could also be used for other purposes, such a meeting place, food bank, community venue or whatever to be used by the general community.

4) The Church could be sold off, although access and use of the graveyard would be carried on

Village Leader Helen , led the meeting and people were asked if they would like to volunteer their help to whatever choice they thought fitting.

I looked at my laburnum, standing tall , just off the path behind us.

And hoped that things will work out for the best.

The Horror Of Old Cat Food

 

Ever since he was a kitten, Albert has been fed on the window ledge in the kitchen.

Like most cats, he’s a faddy eater, so at any one time , foul smelling , pieces of meat, licked clean of gravy , sit in his bowl like some nasty witches’ brew. 

I have to remind myself to empty and clean Albert’s bowls and in an attempt to recycle any old food, I tend to hurl the contents over the garden wall, and lane into the Churchyard where the rooks from Well Street swoop down to consume it.

Now a while ago now , I once flung a bowl of wet left over pasta into the graveyard only to pepper the side of a farmer’s land rover as it passed unexpectedly and I’ve narrowly missed shaving the top of village Leader Ian’s electric “Creeping Jesus” car, with a stale hard half bagel 

Today I peppered neighbour Mandy with two day old kitty Kat as she hurried past, but at least she was laughing as I belted out an apology. 

It’s a beautiful day today.

It’s the vicar’s meeting this afternoon outlining the possible future of the church, he’s meeting on the grass near the prayer cross

I won’t tell him I’ve been chucking kitty kat into the cemetery 

The Curse Of The Village Wardens

The new lavender borders on the village green

 The Trelawnyd Women’s Institute have centred some of their considerable power base to spruce up the flower beds and borders of the village green. They asked for donations and plants to help the work and

As I got home fairly early, I went out to lend a hand.

The conversation not only centred around plants and shrubbery but also the fact that that many of the village wardens have had mishaps recently. Karen M had sustained a fall in her garden as did Nick from Well Street and village leader Ian has a surgical boot after snapping a ligament as he was pottering at home. All this tempted  fate, as when I was showing off humping watering cans full of water from Affable Despot Jason’s house , I felt my back twang painfully.

I knew what to do, I went home , took a painkiller and tried to keep moving, but the pain was rather intense so I plumped for plan B which which was Valium.

Back pain is often all about managing spasm and Valium or diazepam is often an emergency drug of choice. So I rang a friend in the village who I knew had some and he kindly popped two tablets to me within twenty minutes.

I thought I had taken 4 mg of diazepam but as the tablets kicked in I suspected I had in fact taken 10 mg so by 8 pm , I was nicely off my head and giggling happily at shit on the tv.

The pain is back today , but not so sharply, and I am trying to potter to keep myself going

Tears Before Bedtime

 

I’m relaxing at home with a cup of tea with Sheffield all done and dusted.

The drive home clocked up just under two hours, and that was from Dronfield ( where I’d had coffee and cake with friend Kathryn ) over the Derbyshire Moors and down Snake Pass…..a glorious drive.

The one thing that can be said for a divorce is that it’s made me a better driver. 

I really enjoyed the drive, much nicer than the train.

I arrived in Sheffield just before four and met my friend John for a late lunch at Browns at St Paul’s Chambers at five. I haven’t seen him for the best part of a year,  

Now John, on his best form can be described as a performer par excellence. Arch, camp, funny, waspish……think Tallulah Bankhead crossed with Bette Davis sprinkled with a bit of Sondheim and you will get the gist. 

Over the last few years John has been dealing with cancer. He’s upfront and open about it and indeed has faced his condition with all of the fortitude of Carlotta Campion out of Follies , but even though I am up to date about how things are, his recent weight loss caught me a little by surprise.

We talked about it, but then, as always, we laughed and gossiped and laughed over a leisurely dinner where 2 hours flew by like swallows in a blue sky.

I had planned to meet two other friends in All Bar One and was delighted when John joined us. He is at his best when playing to an audience. And we all had a riotous time, like the silly, boozy ones we had when we first met way back in the 90s..

John was the first to go, and there was much swishing and “ darlings” bandied about as we hugged our goodbyes. I watched John walk off for the tram to Hillsborough his figure very slight, almost frail but his wave jaunty and pure Showgirl and  I promptly burst into tears

My friend Mike, a burly, very straight Yorkshireman understood, as did Jane and both of them each held my hand until I sniffed a few times and felt better through the tears.

Sheffield

 Post lockdown …..we all needed a blow out

Hummm I have a hangover

We had a blast xx

Sheffield

I’ve got up early today and after a tepid bath ( the log burner wasn’t on long enough to heat the water properly) I walked the dogs , had my weight watcher’s breakfast of eggs on dry toast and am just about to drive to Sheffield after I finish my bucket of coffee.

I’ve just bought a twenty quid ticket for Come From Away when I’m next in London, there are bargains galore to be had if you look….

The cottage is tidy for dog sitter Ruth’s arrival 
Ive changed sheets, cut flowers for every room including the living room bookcase and her treats are in the fridge all ready, but all I can really think of is the thrill of meeting up with old friends after  so long.

Flowers on the bookcase

It’s a lovely day today,

I feel brighter after my night shifts

Off in Bluebell now, heading East over the Pennines 

To my home town 

A Strong Cup Of Tea

 

The one thing about working night shift as a nurse, is that on one deep dark moment in the wee small hours, you and your colleagues WILL succumb to what is colloquial known as NNH ( Night Nurse Hysterics)

Now, obviously this depends on who you are working with, but if you are lucky enough to work alongside like minded characters, all it will take is a look or a word and giggles worthy of a gaggle of oestrogen filled schoolgirls on heat will ensue. 

This morning , all it took was support worker Cat making me the worst cup of tea this side of the Welsh border and me asking “What the fuck is that? for all three night staff to be reduced to childish giggles.

It’s not rocket science that stress and tiredness finds an outlet in silly humour and banter.

I remember one particularly stressful night on intensive care where seven out of a full compliment of eight patients were sedated, ventilated and incredibly poorly. 

I just happened to be looking after the only awake patient who had just been woken up from his induced coma, and throughout the night he had watched, wide eyed as one patient had been resuscitated successfully and another had been given unit after unit of blood to combat a huge bleed. Aware of every noise and activity from behind paper curtains.

Around 5 am, the nurses took their first proper break which was a grabbed cup of tea behind the nurses station and all it took was a very loud and unexpected high pitched fart from my patient to silence the banter of the eight nurses and one doctor on duty.

In the stillness that followed the doctor , who was not known for his humour said wryly 

“ I believe that was an A sharp”

And the hysteria that followed was long and prolonged and much needed.

Even my patient was laughing, albeit weakly

I remember him saying 

“ It’s not like this on effin’ER”

“It takes as much energy to wish as it does to plan”

Who said that? 

I think it was Eleanor Roosevelt ?

It’s my favourite Roosevelt quote 

I like a plan.

Plans are like lists to me, they are vital when things need to be done.

When interacting with any patient or patients ‘ relatives at work over my decades of nursing, I always come back to “ The Plan” 

“ Have you a plan?” , “ Shall we make a Plan?”

Lockdown in finishing and I think we all need a plan of action. Whether that plan is a clear idea of how you are going to approach our brave new world, or what you are not going to do.

For me, after months of isolation and difficulty, it’s a serious decision that I am not going back there…..to those dark months where I didn’t realise just how lonely and low I had become

Roosevelt also supposedly said It’s better to light a candle than curse the darkness but even she was in turn quoting an ancient Chinese saying, I think I like it almost better than her planning quote…it means …quite simple …..don’t moan about things…just get things done.

I am lucky now , for in my friend Ruth I now have a great new friend and wonderful occasional house and dog sitter. For a small treat ( meringue nests, strawberries, marks and Spencer’s special custard and a bottle of wine) she will house sit the cottage on Tuesday so I can drive up to Sheffield so I can have tea with my dear Marlene Dietrich- sequel pal John H ( Bel Ami in the comment section) and evening drinks with stalwart friends Mike And Jane at All Bar One

In July Ruth is Dorothy sitting again, so I can visit Nu again in London, this time for a meeting with thirty mutual friends from all over the country. The same weekend I had planned to meet my nephew Leo at comic con and catch up with another friend,Alex,to see Andrew Lloyd Webber’s Cinderella 

After that it’s York ( my old Psychiatric stamping ground) for a catch up with Nigel, Ruth and Dale (Sheffield Spinal Injury friends) ….Vivaldi by candlelight in Liverpool’s Sefton Park Palm House c/o Col, another work base picnic on the beach at West Shore, a village Green Party in Trelawnyd   and a hot air balloon ride outside Chester this time with hospice Ruth, who like me ,was brought up with the 1970’s Nimble Girl.

So what do I mean to say with all this planning? 

Why is it so important?

A bit of social media showing off? 

“Look at me , how happy am I …..?” 

The Facebook 😀 syndrome?

No, not really….though it’s always nice to look interesting I suppose. 

I think Eleanor Roosevelt had it right , although I don’t quite subscribe to her most famous of diktats Do one thing everyday that scares you…..

Post covid, perhaps the saying could be amended to do one thing, everyday that pleases you!….AND more occasionally than not, with someone you care about

I don’t want to revisit those bleak lockdown singleton days when zoom just about kept your head above water, 

……non of us do

Love this, heard it on the way to work

More to go

Weight loss now 8.3kgs

I can bend over without farting

I can fit into my uniform without Matron frowning and pulling down the front

I’m feeling better about myself

No Provenance

Mrs Trellis remarked how well my old fashioned rose in the front garden was doing this morning as I was dead heading it.I told her its name ( Ice Cream) and said it has  a fragrance to it that reminds me of when I was a boy at home and she took the time to sink her nose into the nearest bloom and inhaled deeply

“ lovely !” She said then asked, pointing to an emerging bloom nearby

“What’s the little yellow rose called? “ 

I checked and smiled when I saw it

“ That’s a new rose, a gift from a friend,” I replied, it’s called Winnie” 

And indeed it has a species name of Golden Winnie and was a kind gift from my friend Colin after the old girl had died.

This was its first flowering

“Flowers like this one should have a plaque saying just how important they are” Mrs Trellis mused “ The next tenant of your cottage will look after it accordingly “

She looked thoughtful 

So many things we keep have the  same personal resonance. A drawn postcard of me dog walking from a friend, a hand made hand painted cheese board, a crocheted blanket, a Spanish lamp, a framed piece of an OS map, a rainbow heart….things without formal provenance… 

….just things……

We talked about this for a while,  and Mrs Trellis said and laughed that she was being overly philosophical today.

She pointed to a poppy head, in the flower bed near to my  front door

“What does any of this stuff really matter? Look at the poppy, beautiful and delicate and it will gone tomorrow” 

I looked at the poppy

And realised she was right.

Back To Work

 

This framed print arrived today.I’d bought it when planning my new blue bedroom. It was posted from Florida. I’ve cut the lawn. Phoned a friend. Cleaned the windows. Washed Bluebell and cut flowers from the garden.

Pippa from the Rectory caught me in the lane, worried about the possible closure of the Church.I’ve asked her to get as many people that are interested to email the vicar supporting the possibility of it becoming a pilgrim church. She said she would. 

I go back to work tomorrow 

I really don’t want to go

Memories of Postal Orders

 I’d organised my revalidation paperwork yesterday and will complete my reflective essays when I’m on nights at the weekend, so there was not excuse to sit at my desk today. 

I took the dogs to my favourite bit of promenade where we walked for miles…. an amble broken by a large Americano at the Horizon cafe for me and a shared sausage butty for them.

There was a light rain which was refreshing 

It felt warm.

In the silence of a long walk, I remembered arbitrary memories, like you do when your mind wanders in croc squeaked steps.  

When I was a boy I collected film stills. 8x10 black and white film stills bought for around about a pound each ( without posting) from the British Film Institute . The institute was located at 81 Dean Street in London.

And London felt a million miles away.

As a child, I could only pay for my purchases with a postal order, a green one with extra stamps for postage. I haven’t seen one for years.

Once in every two or three weeks a single photo would arrive in a neat cardboard backed envelope marked with a stamped do not bend instruction on the upper left hand corner.

My name and address would always be formally typed and because of its size the postman would leave the package neatly behind the milk bottles, milk bottles that would be stripped of their red foil tiles by the blue tits in the garden. 

Those envelopes , were exciting and important 

And they put me into the habit of loving post of all kinds,

A love that remains with me to this day.

Funny what you remember when your mind wanders into mindfulness 

In my case today

It was of 1970s postal orders, photographs of disaster movie stars, and a strange and unchanging love of letters through the post

Trying for a beach selfie , I only caught Dorothy’s strange fixation with me  

He’s still pissed off

 

Slugger Albert

 “ He’s not the easiest of patients!” 

So the know-all receptionist told me when I called back to the vets after Albert had received his X-ray 

“ I did warn the vet that he’s not the friendliest of cats, he WAS mismanaged at a previous surgery “ I reminded her but she wasn’t really interested.

I asked to see the vet

Albert had come round from his anaesthetic and was fighting fit.

I could hear him from reception.

I had booked him in early as a precaution. He was eating fine and had asked to go out early this morning for his usual hunt, but he was slightly guarding his deformed leg and he limped a little more than usual.

It had taken two burly country vets and a practice nurse to anaesthetise  him.

He had no new leg fractures but must have jarred his old injury the vet told me as there was marked arthritic changes around his repaired leg fracture of a decade ago. The vet noted an “old “ vertebral fracture that was probably missed by his former vet. She had also checked his teeth and removed a tick from his shoulder given the information he didn’t like , even me picking him up

“ He’s lucky” she said “ and he’s a fighter!” 

I noted she had a fresh plaster to the back of her hand.

Without the dogs in the car , he wailed all the way home from inside his basket, only shutting up when I let him out in the kitchen where the dogs smelled hesitantly  at his left leg, where he had been shaved and canulated . 

He’s slept on my bed most of the afternoon, only coming down to eat some specially cooked chicken on the window ledge. I snapped him then sharing my eggy breakfast plate with Mary before he took himself off upstairs again to rest. 

The fight all but left him

EUA

 I’m sat in the vet’s car park

Thinking of where I can get some proper coffee in Denbigh.

Albert has just been dropped off for his X-ray . 

Examination Under Anaesthetic 

He was a bit stressed, bless him, something that Dorothy didn’t help with as she dropped her pacifier ( an expensive hard plastic handled gardening trowel) into the boot from a dislodged back parcel shelf and barked her annoyance so much I had to stop off at a lay-by to retrieve it.

Gawd only knows how much the X-ray will be

Hey ho