Autumn

 

I feel a bit spaced this morning.

I only finished night shift yesterday morning.

Now I’m drinking a bucket of coffee before a long day at work……with my head fried 

All my fault.

It was darkish when we all got up this morning. 

And when in the lane I noticed a yellowing of the hedgerow and felt a slight autumnal chill in the air

Where has the year gone? 

I was nearly late for work.gridlock welsh style

Hathersage and Hope

 

The Sheffield City Hall Ballroom

The dining ballroom in Poseidon

When I was repainting my bedroom that smart navy I cleared out lots of clutter and flotsam.

Amid the detritus of 59 years on this planet, I found a box of photographs.

We don’t seem to have or keep boxes of photographs anymore do we?

Amongst them, , when I got to sort through the memories as I was sitting in the bedroom window seat, was a postcard of the moors above Hathersage in the Hope Valley.

I remembered who had sent it before I re read the inscription on the back

Sorry, call me please….Adam x …it said simply 

I had met Adam at the unlikely sounding Poptastic back in 1995. I was on a break from a boyfriend and a relationship that was fraught with difficulties and too much drama, so wasn’t looking for anything in particular. 

Poptastic was a camp-as- Christmas gay night at the city Hall Ballroom  in Sheffield.

I loved the night, not particularly because it was gay themed….it was more that the surroundings reminded me of the Art Deco dining room in The Poseidon Adventure . 

A middle aged gay movie buff’s fantasy .

Adam was a farmer, well to be absolutely pedantic , he was a  powerfully built livestock feed salesman who used to be a farmer and he looked every inch of one, what with a rosy expression, a tweedy jacket with brogues,  and several young female friends from Hathersage and Grindleford and Hope all determined to have a great time on the works night out. 

He was perhaps 32 and had genuinely never kissed a man before 

I was a tiny bit older and had kissed a few so I was surprised that only after some mild flirting on my part

he came home with me. 

He was closeted, gauche, sweet and very serious and he fell in love with me after that first fumbling evening, even though he was terrified of his family’s and friends’ reactions to the fact he’d gone to bed with a scruffy nurse from Walkley. 

I fell for him too.

For he was a gentle, kind and old fashioned soul

Who couldn’t of? He was a big puppy of a guy. But I was in the throes of a destructive relationship where my boyfriend was already closeted and secretive and at the time ashamed to be gay and I was realising what I could cope with and what I wanted and so a man who was so new to the the gay world wasn’t quite what I needed .

But I saw him again, and again, when he would turn up sweetly with bunches of flowers and an uncorrected assumption  by his parents that he was visiting a girl in Sheffield . 

Then my ex started to call too…..we’ve all been there…..

When I finally broke up with Adam , he cried like a baby. and broke a pane of glass in my kitchen door as he stormed home …..soon after that I disastrously revisited my former relationship which lasted and limped on, like a sick rat until the millennium.  

In retrospect I’d probably been better staying with Adam 

It was a timing issue  I guess. 

It often is…….

The postcard arrived six months later . 

I kept it but never replied to it

I’ve always liked Hathersage 

Such a pretty place.

Saturday

 I’m working tonight as a favour to a colleague.

I’m back on day shift Monday .

It means she can spend sometime with her son . 

She left me a goody bag of gin and men’s toiletries as a thank you and when she had her break 

I sat at the nurses station with a manly face pack on 

I haven’t slept much today. 

Lots of noise from nearby village gardens.

I got up , made falafels which I baked in the oven 

That’s about it

Chilli Scotch Eggs to die for

 

My obsession  love affair with scotch eggs is now the thing of legend. 

Just recently a I ❤️ scotch Eggs T shift was delivered to Bwthyn Y Llan and before that a gift of two,were left on the kitchen wall, wrapped in silver foil and an Aldi Carrier bag.

Tonight I was left a trio of bespoke chilli Scotch Eggs, a gift from the a hospice head housekeeper whose husband works as a Butcher in nearby Conwy.

Suffice to say my diet went out of the window

The butchers they came from is Edward’s Of Conwy 

https://shop.edwardsofconwy.co.uk/

And it must be said their chilli scotch egg is a thing of sublime beauty 

I ate my first without taking my clinical mask off, which is not an easy procedure in anyone’s books…and the second I savoured more slowly….like a Frenchman may do over six oysters and a glass of champagne

Two minutes later, I was finished

The third I shared with some colleagues. 

As I didn’t want to appear as greedy.

I am set up for the night now, and as I was placing my patient on his ventilation system he gave me a questioning look ….which obviously meant you,reek of chilli and sausage meat!

 

Goodbye Ben

 

Ben and his family

Ben and I were interviewed for the same job at the hospice on the same day. 

I was convinced he would get the job over me as he had worked there already, was responsible for research between the University and the hospice and had taught student nurses as a lecturer in my ex husband’s School of Nursing.

I was desperate for the job and was retired and felt old.

Getting the job meant that I could finally afford the mortgage on the cottage

As it turned out we both got the job

And Ben turned out to be a dear and loyal friend .

In the last two years, he, fellow nurse Ruth and I have been part of the same messenger group as well as work colleagues. We are planning a reunion in his new home next year.

We “talk” out of work more than we do in, and the banter was a lifeline during lockdown 

That group will continue to flourish, I am sure,  as it’s a site for banter, childish innuendo and gossip.

Ben, as the only straight man, is inordinately gossipy.

The only downside to the messenger group will be the time difference.

For Ben and his family are off to South Korea.

I had the challenge of buying Ben’s leaving gift, which wasn’t too hard as he is travelling light and will just have the money. But I wanted something a little more special for him, given the fact he’s a bit of a hippy.

Finally I thought of something and I’ve bought three trees in his, his wife Sokyo and daughter Luna’s Names from the National Trust.

So they will have something of theirs rooted in the soil of Britain 

Pockets of Greenery

 

I was never that fussed with house plants.

I have had an aspidistra and a Christmas rose for over 20 years and neither can be killed off by lack of watering and care despite my best efforts.

During lockdown, I got into the habit of treating myself to a small houseplant every time I braved the supermarket.

And now Pockets of green fill every corner of the cottage, with leaves fighting for light in front of little windows and shady corners.

The Chinese Money plants are my favourites, with their delicate parasol leaves, jaunty and flag like 

I’ve even got a tiny money plant in my bathroom. 

But that’s plastic 

Don’t tell anyone 

Not

I love this poem 

It was shared to me by Hattie 

It’s a poem that suits her

All of us who write blogs, have something in common 

We leave a little of ourselves here, for always.

I leave a journal of a small life.

One looked on benignly.

One based on reality but one which is gently sanitised, idealised and seen through an optimistic hue

(With occasional warts for balance of course)

I’m melancholy tonight 

The dogs know it and have crowded around 

Albert , pragmatic as ever, is by himself in front of the fire.

My nephew has just texted with a grown up I will treat you to lunch when we meet in November 

He has Aspergers  and is 18 so his  comment was sweetly atypical 

I’ve cut the lawn, washed windows, gardened, visited the vets , got stuck in traffic, shopped and spring cleaned the bathroom 

Oh and I had a meeting about the pond with the avuncular Nick from the apt sounding Well Street

I disregarded by diet and treated myself to cheese and crackers for tea 

But I’m still melancholy 

I’m feeling lonely today 

Just today

 

The Lion King -

The raw emotion and power of this first rehearsal of The Lion King since lockdown is palpable 

A beautiful bit of good news

I’m tired of the bad

We, all of us, have stressors in our lives 

I love this illustration of other people’s stressors

An Art Deco Sunburst on a pale Blue Sky

 I spent most of my day off getting my nursing paperwork signed off at work

It sort of felt like a waste of a day, an hour and a half commute in bad traffic

The sun came out and I picked some flowers from the garden to cheer up my office.

And for a good half hour , I lay down on the lawn and cloud watched ,Mary under one arm and Dorothy under the other.

The sky is filled with the vapour trails of aircraft 

An Art Deco sunburst on a pale blue sky

And we all fell asleep

Vidui

I finished my revalidation paperwork around 6pm 

Just enough time after that to walk the dogs, eat something healthy ( spiced garlic roasted cauliflower with prawns) and chat with a friend, a wisecracking Frenchman called Oli.

By definition, my day’s intense reflections have thrown up a great deal of nursing memories.

One special one came to mind.

A dying patient once asked me to join her in prayer.

She was Jewish so I didn’t quite understand how she thought an agnostic Welshman living in Yorkshire   would fare with such a request.

I compromised by saying that I would sit with her as she prayed.

She needed to be heard

Quietly she recited the vidui prayer of the dying  in Hebrew with her head against the pillow, a hand over her eyes .

And I listened , head bowed

Terribly moved by words I didn’t understand 

Rudbeckia

 

Today is my deadline for completing my Nurse revalidation paperwork.

I will be at it for all of the day, which is a bind, but I have no one except myself to blame for the lateness of the job. 

Having said this I’m still wasting time answering messages and emails and giving the dogs an extra long walk in the rain. Oh and I’ve just photographed the sunny rudbeckia in the back garden, which are providing the only sunny view  from my office window on such a miserable day.

Big breaths 

I need to knuckle down

"GAGA MASHUP"

Just back from a lovely meal with family 

I’m tired, it was a hard shift last night

Watched this ……

This is so hard to sing. The kids make it look so simple 

Joyous

The Wedding Suit

In October my nephew Jon and his girlfriend Holly get married.

It’s the first family wedding since my own back in 2015.

Jon is my brother’s son. 

(For those that don’t know, my brother Andrew died of motor neurone disease almost ten years ago now)

The wedding will be a relaxed affair in a country hotel over the border and so, I think my family is going to book a large shared suite at the hotel in order to stay over.

It will be nice to have a few drinks. 

I do love a nice wedding.

The only knotty thing about the wedding is that I will need a suit.

I am sure, non of you will be surprised to hear that I don’t own one.

I did have a tuxedo however, a matching one I wore at my wedding. But since I have lost over two stone ( and counting) it no longer fits!  I dug it and my dress shirt out last week and took it to one of the hospice charity shops for recycling. 

The man behind the counter was broad, like me..and he immediately took a personal interest in the tux when I handed it in with the caviat that it had only been worn one by one not-so-careful owner. 

“ I think it’s my size” he preened and asked hopefully  “Have you got the tie to go with it too?.” 

I told him I had not, for I had kept the woollen maroon tie and had placed it in my almost empty tie drawer ( alongside my black funeral tie)

…It is the only thing I have kept from my wedding day….….I’m still not quite sure just why I have kept hold of it.

And so I am still left with the suit dilemma. Should I buy one for the wedding or just get a jacket and trousers ? I’m not sure of what is appropriate.

A bit lost I reviewed my options and have texted Chic Eleanor for advice

She’s left me with a reassuring and simple note of

“ Leave Things to me”

The wedding isn’t until October so I will wait to nearer the wedding day to pic my duds as I hope to lose at least another stone plus before the nuptials.

I don’t want to be the fat bastard in the wedding photos

Mule Train

Bob Blackman was a phenomenon, albeit a minor one on the club circuit in 1970s Northern Britain. 

I first saw him in a working man’s Club in Rotherham around 1981, a place that had a stripper on in the men’s bar at tea time at the same time families were enjoying dinner in the main lounge. 

I remember crying with laughter at his antics with the tray.

As I recall I got very drunk on Barley Wine 

I’m Still on nights, and strangely Bob was a product of some nostalgic chatter in the wee small hours of last night.

My first sojourn to my beloved South Yorkshire  

I got up at midday when Dorothy started to perform CPR following a tickling bladder and donning shorts and my new I love Scotch Eggs T shirt, we all went out for a walk which was nice because everyone seemed to be out and about and I could tick the box with some human contact.

Trendy Carol ( nice bomber jacket, designer jeans, chic sandals  ) stopped. She’s pulled her left arm at work and has to wear a sling. She said that she is coming to the church meeting on the 2nd as did Pippa from the rectory then Mrs Trellis and Mr Poznań who was pottering in his front garden.

I came home and ate some chicken and salad before going on line for a bit in order to purchase a subscription to Disney + 

The Walking Dead returns on Monday and can only be viewed on Disney which sounds a bit odd given it’s an ultra violent zombie show

I also managed to get cheap tickets to the Liverpool Philharmonic and their performance of Tchaikovsky’s Pathétique which is a Sunday afternoon concert….

The Liverpool Philharmonic has a sexy new conductor Domingo Hindoyan

What fun

The walking Dead returns next Monday for its final season

"I Wanna Dance With Somebody"

Piss Boring Post then Hiraeth

 I’m back on night shift again, which is ok given the miserable weather, grey skies and chill in the air.

I lit the fire last night, and the Dogs and Albert crowded around it as if they had never experienced a fire before.

I’m going back to bed in a bit. There’s no one to see, and little to do on days before night shifts.

The postman has just knocked on the window with a package for me.

I bought a jar from a private buyer on eBay the other day. 4£ for the jar 3 £ for the postage.

It’s my spectacle jar .

I’m a bugger for losing specs. That is the reason I never buy any expensive ones as invariably within a few days they be lost for eternity.

I buy a selection of nice no prescription reading glasses on line every few months or so, but even then I’m always scrabbling around the cottage looking for a pair when I’ve lost the ones that are generally perched high on my forehead.

Now I have a spec jar, compete in cheerful yellow, which comfortably holds 6 pairs standing up

Life in the fast lane

Ok there IS always something interesting to blog about.

As a postscript I’ll post this illustration , which was sent to me by friend and blogger Mike 

In wales Hiraeth is often a popular name for a house . 

So many rural houses have no numbers in Wales so often have to have a name to differentiate them from each other.

My cottage and Mandy & sailor John’s cottage next door used to be collectively called dan  y Fynwent which means under the graveyard . Then they were known as Llan Cottages ( Llan is one of several words in Welsh for Church) Now my cottage is known as Bwthyn y Llan which is Welsh for Church Cottage

Hiraeth, has other meanings in Welsh , as well as nostalgia, it can simply mean homesickness and yearning but I think I prefer the above definition

There is a magic quality about it .

Pond Bun Fight

 

I was a little disappointed by the pond meeting.

It was wasn’t quite what I was expecting.

Let me explain…

The village pond used to be a bit of tipping ground and thirty years ago or so the Community Council suggested a renovation .

They did a cracking job, utilising local farmers to bash the pond into shape. They planted trees around the new pond and eventually a lovely oak fence and gate surrounded the area. 

It must have looked wonderful 

However over the years,  the oak fencing provided an effective barrier to locals to use and visit the pond and eventually it has more or silted up and has been totally overgrown . 

In my sixteen years here, I have never seen it visited .

Now members of the new Community Association  have taken an interest in rebooting the pond as a conservation project, and so a proposed plan was drawn up, the AONB dept consulted and a grant obtained to support the project.

Yesterday was planned as a relaxed meeting with interested members of the village, members of the community council and Association  , a  AONB *ranger and a council expert in amphibian and pond wildlife present.

The ranger and expert provided positive support and information for the pond project but I found some of the comments from others, rather negative, slightly confrontational  and a little unhelpful . 

A lot of people had a lot of advice to give, barriers were thrown up before basic information was shared about the project and complaints voiced thirty years ago about basic seating areas were unhelpfully resurrected. 

I made sure that I voiced some positive comments about how good the project seemed.

I caught the eye of the ranger, who had obviously seen village meetings like this before, 

“Too many chiefs “ he whispered “ Things will be fine when work starts” 

I liked his attitude and I like the proposed plan which is a detailed conservation project which can be utilised by the school as well as the community in general. 

Things are different than they were thirty years ago. 

Although there is a place for bish bash bosh, where the local farmer would sort everything out  informally with brute strength, chutzpah and his trusty JCB there is much to be said for getting the experts involved and doing things systematically.

I wanted to scream out “ Let’s be positive 

Hey ho

I photographed the pond site today in the rain. 

and thought how lovely it would be for it to be functioning again , with crested newts swimming in reed beds and with locals sat in the shade of the cherry tree watching dragonflies dart in and out of the dappled pond light.

Hey, but I’m a romantic 

* area of outstanding Natural Beauty 

————————————————————————————————————————

 

Big thank you to Joyce for my new t shirt

No gravy stains on it yet ! 

Why I left Psychiatric Nursing

 In his morning blog, Cro talked about the state of psychiatric care in the country, discussing its efficacy especially when dealing with the sad case of the recent Devon Shootings.

I trained as a psychiatric nurse back in 1983, just as the big asylum system was closing and the relatively new community nursing system was being set up and greatly expanded.

The nurses, especially on the acute admission wards, were becoming much more psychologically focused in their care and training, like most  branches of care, nursing was becoming more academic, research based and professionalised. 

It was an exciting time to be a nurse, in many ways but after just three years training and three years staffing on an acute admissions ward I left to become a general nurse. I was burnt out, jaded, and a little cynical.

I was also just twenty seven years old

Very few of our patients were the Conrad Jarrett type. (Conrad was the lead character in the book Ordinary People , the character played by Timothy Hutton in the film version,  who was wracked with guilt and depression after his brother’s death) Conrad was cured by the intervention of a kindly old Psychologist after his discharge from psychiatric hospital. 

Our patients where the acutely ill psychotic and depressed. Patients that were admitted time and time again when meds were not taken, home stressors remained unchanged and when life too a turn for the worse. 

The community teams supported many so very well, but magical cures were few and far between.

Such is the nature of the beast which is mental illness. Running alongside those patients which enter the psychiatric system are millions that are just , well, psychologically damaged. We all…all of us fit into this category in one way or another. 

Most of us, through luck, self awareness, experience and with support, manage our demons and our weaknesses ourselves, but many others just get by. They often exist within a life of varying sadness and emotional pain. 

They don’t receive the benign insights from a kindly psychologist.

They don’t get the chance to have psychotherapy, or have a stretched community psychiatric nurse visit them once a month…

They are the people that live next door, the people you work with. The people you date.

I’ve meandered off a little here….and have not answered my own question. 

I left psychiatric  nursing because it overwhelmed me.

Plain and simple.

I left because I wasn’t fully cooked myself to cope with it

and I left because it saddened me. 

“ No One Ever Called Me Darling”

 

That gown ! 

I’ve never reviewed Now Voyager.

Having said that, I’ve never seen it on the big screen as it was meant to be seen.

And so nearly 80 years since it was made, I thought it time for my Going Gently review.

Now Voyager is a melodrama to cap all melodramas. 

It is pure nectar to a middle aged gay man’s sensibilities for everything but the kitchen sink has been thrown into the mix .

In two hours we are witness to the transformation of Bette Davis’ neurotic, monobrowed spinster into an assertive , shoulder padded, coiffured  woman about town through some unseen but obviously highly effective psychotherapy .

What a bitch Gladys  Cooper

Throw into the mix a harridan mother ( A gloriously hateful Gladys Cooper), a handsome married Austrian (Paul Henreid), a voyage to South America, a benign psychiatrist ( Claude Rains) a wise cracking nurse (Mary Wilks),  oodles of pop psychology, a dozen gowns to die for and more cigarettes than one set of lungs can cope with.

I loved almost every minute of it.

On the big screen, Henreid is quite beautiful

Ok I could have lived without the snivelling Tina and the “ hilarious “ comic aside in the mountains of Rio  but the rest, with the eye rolling Davis in full gallop, was a camp lesson in emotional romping.

Having said this, Bette Davis is still incredibly moving as Charlotte Vale, and I found myself tearing up at the quiet, understated moment Henreid’s character shows his affection and thanks to her,  the first time anyone had done so in her life. Her expression when she received his gift of perfume , literally  breaks your heart.

In 80 years, the movie has lost none of its power