Too much red wine and Gin
Irish stew and dumplings
1940s film Portrait of Jennie
Lots of serious and not so serious conversations
Squeaky toys and welsh terriers in the garden
Happy Day
Rabbits in a bag
I'm sat in a nice restaurant waiting for my breakfast guest to arrive
I've bought two rabbit Christmas Decorations for their Children and the buggers are watching me carefully
Later I'm making supper for another friend. Irish stew with dumplings...no Christmas food to be seen
And Just Like That
Episode three of the Sex and The City reboot…. and the whole thing has got back in its stride
I loved it
Big has left money to his ex Natasha, Charlotte’s daughter doesn’t identify with being a girl, Miranda is drinking and maybe going bi and Anthony had all the best lines and wants Charlotte’s daughter to use more deodorant
Carrie is back acting like a neurotic best friend who we all identify with
I wish I had watched the episode with a gay bestie or gay friendly significant other x
It was an episode you needed to share and talk about and ….
I loved the Central Park Angel fountain reference
,
My favourite place in New York
And just like that….I walked Myself home
Worth Repeating
Christmas stories are always worth repeating its one of the traditions of the season
Enjoy this one
Christmas 1985
Christmas week 1985 I was shadowing a community psychiatric nursing sister with her caseload in the deprived and depressing northern town of Runcorn.
Through a succession of faceless maisonettes, we sat on grubby sofas and listened to sad stories of loneliness, mental illness and substance abuse and I watched as my mentor tried her best to keep heads above water and bums out of the local psychiatric unit.
The last visit of the day was to a woman called Jean.
Jean lived alone in the top flat of a ten story complex. She had suffered from severe mental health problems for forty years and had recently been placed in her flat from long term psychiatric care only a few months before.
I remember her flat very well. There was no carpet in the hall and the living room but there was a tiny tinsel Christmas tree standing on top of a large black and white tv. A homemade fabric stocking was hung on the fire surround and just two Christmas cards were perched on the mantle.
( one of those cards having been sent by my colleague) The flat was sparse but incredibly clean and it was evident that Jean had been waiting for our visit all day.
In mismatching cups we were offered coffee with powdered milk and a single mince pie served on a paper plate and I remember sharing a sad glance with the nurse when Jean presented us both with gifts hastily wrapped in cheap Christmas paper. My gift was two placemats with photos of cats on them. The nurse received a small yellow vase, and I remember Jean beaming with delight when we both thanked her effusively for her kindness.
When we washed up our own cups, the nurse quietly checked the fridge, noting that most of the shelves were empty . There was a calender on the wall with the note " NURSE COMES TODAY" written on that day's date. Nothing else was written on it until the week of new year's eve, where the same sentence was written.
It was the very first time that I had experienced someone who was so totally isolated in a community setting and it shocked and saddened me.
I listened as the nurse talked about medication, and as I waited patiently when she took Jean into the bedroom to administer a regular injection I noticed a carrier bag which the nurse had tucked away by the side of the arm chair shortly after we arrived. In it was a package of cold meat, and what looked like chocolates and a cake.
Before we left, we let Jean monopolize her only conversation of the week and as she retrieved our coats, I watched and grew a few years older as the nurse silently slipped a ten pound note behind one of the cards on the mantle.
Through a succession of faceless maisonettes, we sat on grubby sofas and listened to sad stories of loneliness, mental illness and substance abuse and I watched as my mentor tried her best to keep heads above water and bums out of the local psychiatric unit.
The last visit of the day was to a woman called Jean.
Jean lived alone in the top flat of a ten story complex. She had suffered from severe mental health problems for forty years and had recently been placed in her flat from long term psychiatric care only a few months before.
I remember her flat very well. There was no carpet in the hall and the living room but there was a tiny tinsel Christmas tree standing on top of a large black and white tv. A homemade fabric stocking was hung on the fire surround and just two Christmas cards were perched on the mantle.
( one of those cards having been sent by my colleague) The flat was sparse but incredibly clean and it was evident that Jean had been waiting for our visit all day.
In mismatching cups we were offered coffee with powdered milk and a single mince pie served on a paper plate and I remember sharing a sad glance with the nurse when Jean presented us both with gifts hastily wrapped in cheap Christmas paper. My gift was two placemats with photos of cats on them. The nurse received a small yellow vase, and I remember Jean beaming with delight when we both thanked her effusively for her kindness.
When we washed up our own cups, the nurse quietly checked the fridge, noting that most of the shelves were empty . There was a calender on the wall with the note " NURSE COMES TODAY" written on that day's date. Nothing else was written on it until the week of new year's eve, where the same sentence was written.
It was the very first time that I had experienced someone who was so totally isolated in a community setting and it shocked and saddened me.
I listened as the nurse talked about medication, and as I waited patiently when she took Jean into the bedroom to administer a regular injection I noticed a carrier bag which the nurse had tucked away by the side of the arm chair shortly after we arrived. In it was a package of cold meat, and what looked like chocolates and a cake.
Before we left, we let Jean monopolize her only conversation of the week and as she retrieved our coats, I watched and grew a few years older as the nurse silently slipped a ten pound note behind one of the cards on the mantle.
On Guard
For such a gentle dog Mary has inherited a complete and utter hatred for everyone delivering post and parcels to Bwthyn Y Llan. This is a legacy handed down over generations of Welsh Terriers.
From Finlay to Meg, from Meg to William and from William to Mary, they all delighted in racing down the stairs barking loudly as soon as there was a click of the letter box.
It’s bright and sunny today, so I knew there would be a few hand deliveries of Christmas cards coming.
Subsequently, Mary has been up and down the stairs like a fiddler’s elbow.
Eventually I gave sleep up as a bad job which was fortunate as I found a Christmas Bara Brith on the garden wall which was wrapped carefully by Animal Helper Pat.
I sliced the bara brith thinly as it should be , and spread the slices liberally with salted butter.
There is nothing better with a strong cup of tea.
I watched tv until the postman arrived to suitably robust Welsh Terrier hysteria.
I am the second to last in the village to receive post, and at Christmas that’s not until three pm.
Christmas gift today too ( thank you Goldensunflower)
Once the postie left, the cottage reverted to its more peaceful state, but not before I opened an unexpected parcel .
Now anon is going to have apoplexy here, but the parcel turned out to be a food hamper.
An unexpected but wonderful Christmas food hamper.
I was overwhelmed and incredibly touched by the thoughtfulness of the gift
Thank you Kim…thank you
And I’m now back off to bed.
Smiling
Tuesday
In a week when covid life seems to be threatening to curtail life again and where night shifts do exactly the same thing, I was grateful for the lunacy that is BBC Radio4 ‘s podcast of I’m sorry I haven’t a Clue
This week one of the games for the contestants was to share alternative television programmes titles that would be interesting to watch
Marcus Brigstocke, won hands down with his
“ On BBC’s Area programme sculptor Antony Gormley unveils his statue of the Russian leader made entirely from caramel in Antony Gormley’s Sticky Toffee Putin on BBC 2 “
I love the clever madness of this joke.
I have no other news from yesterday .I got up briefly at three pm to collect the post from its plastic box outside the front door and to walk the dogs.
I had ten Christmas cards which I read then hung up on a string which “ circles” the living room beams.
I like the tradition of hanging the cards even if clambering on the backs of the sofa and chairs is somewhat precarious
I then ate soup and watched episode 9 of Season 1 of Game Of Thrones covered in dogs
It’s all boobs.
Sleep
It’s 12.27 am.
I’m sat in a chair next to a patient
I’m waiting for them to fall asleep.
They asked if I could sit there in the dark until they did so
No conversations, no lights save for the muted glow of my iPad.
Just silence apart for the gentle whoosh of the radiators and the faraway rumble of a late night car.
My fingers are moving silently on the screen.
I’m waiting until their breathing changes.
The relaxed breath of sleep.
Then I will creep out of the room, like a maid in a hotel.
I miss listening to someone sleeping next to me.
The dogs with their farts and snores and brief galloping dreams keep you company for sure
But there is nothing like the deep rhythmical breath followed by a long sigh that says
I’m ok…..
I’m relaxed…..
I’m slumbering….
It’s like listening to an old clock without a chime.
I look at the digital clock across the room
It’s almost 1 am
and I’m the only one awake now.
I will wait another five minutes to be sure
And then I’ll get up and go.
But is it art?
Before the cinema, I met a friend for lunch.
On the Promenade, I photographed some of the public art work that is dotted around and mused just how much these little pieces enhance the spaces we inhabit.
We often take them for granted which is sad
The relaxing bowmen in Rhuddlan
The giant otter, in the flooded River Elwy in St Asaph
The metal holiday makers Colwyn Bay
West Side Story
I thought I had seen the original West Side Story, but on reflection I think I’ve only really seen bits of it.
Of course, I remember most of the famous set pieces, but I think on the whole I found the film rather too theatric and somewhat overlong for my liking.
Perhaps I was too young to fully appreciate it.
Who knows.
Anyhow, Spielberg’s homage and remake is a revelation.
It’s not a theatrical musical filmed
But it is a filmed theatrical musical.
I hope that made sense.
For apart from one or two sequences, the whole film feels real and gritty and totally 1957 New York City.
It’s quite, quite beautiful and breathtaking just to look at.
I totally loved it, even though it remains a tad overlong.
Alvarez and DuBose
Spielberg’s casting is sublime.
Ansel Elgort and Rachel Zegler are totally believable and incredibly moving in their lead roles of Tony and Maria. David Alvarez and Ariana DuBose almost steal the whole show as Bernardo and Anita and Rita Moreno creates a new role of Valentina ( Doc in the original) and at the age of 90 (her birthday was yesterday) I am sure she will be the oldest actress to ever win an Oscar, for her rendition of Somewhere literally breaks your heart and makes you want to give her a standing ovation
Moreno
Zegler and Elgort
Spielberg’s touches are everywhere, enhancing Jerome Robbin’s original choreography and Bernstein’s music into a proper, hyper-real cinema treat. The vibrant set piece America has been bravely shifted from the tenement rooftops at night to the busy streets of the Upper West Side in fully summer.
It’s a truly stunning piece of cinema.
The director has also managed to inject more characterisation into the characters wisely leaving the Puerto Rican cast to speak Spanish when needed.
The violence is not stylised as it was in the original and the tension between the Sharks and the Jets is palpable and made very real during the lead up to the final show down.
On the negative side, the musical remains very slightly too long for me, and I could have done without I Feel Pretty aside, as well as the gender ambiguous character of Anybody’s who added nothing to the story
But these are just two minor points for I adored this version which is a real triumph for Spielberg
Breakfast at Tiffany's Moon River
This song always seems to haunt me every run up to Christmas
Hey ho
Every Cloud
It’s been a bit of a bust of a day.
Got a cheap matinee ticket to Oliver Twist at the Storyhouse but got caught up in the Christmas traffic in Chester and couldn’t find a parking space for love nor money.
Finally admitted defeat and came home but not before popping to a local deli to buy some Korean ready made meals
Every ugly cloud has a sort of a silverish lining.
Out Patients
Two pairs of eyes, overlapping surgical masks were looking worried,
A gloved hand was on my shoulder.
“ Sir are you ok? Are you alright? Came from under one of the masks and I noticed that the technician’s eyes were a deep brown with speckles on the iris.
I had dribbled a little on my hospital gown.
Sputum and not wee, thank goodness.
I only noticed that after the fact
I apologised and hurriedly assured the xray staff that I had not arrested as they thought I might of done , but I had fallen asleep in the chair after a long night shift.
Both giggled , more out of relief than humour I thought.
I left the hospital soon after.
It’s very cold today.
My sister has made me a steak and kidney pie dinner( with starter AND pudding)
Once Upon Another Time……..in Trelawnyd
At 6.30pm Radio Four showcases its comedy half hour.
To be honest this can be all a bit hit and miss given their inclusivity remit but I have found their series Relativity by Richard Herring rather vital and sweetly moving.
Today’s episode was a four handed between sixty some parents Ken and Margaret ( Phil Daniels and Alison Steadman) and their grown up children Jane and Ian ( Fenella Woolgar and Richard Herring)
It was essentially half an hour of a family remembering family holidays from the early 1980s where the Children bickered about being left in dangerous situations, no one wore seat belts and where egg and chips was the go to meal of the day.
The mini play was full of affection and nostalgia and brimmed with the observations of the unsaid ties between siblings and parents from an age not far from my own and listening to it underlined my own ties with sisters who shared a lifetime so different ( and then so not) to those of today.
My memories of my sister Ann belting out this Mario Lanza classic rather badly on the way back from a night out at the theatre or a concert rushed back to me as I drove in the dark to work tonight
A memory that couldn’t be fully understood or appreciated by anyone else in this world
The nostalgia theme continued this afternoon with the catch up ( after 17 years) of Sex and The City - and Just Like That .
I won’t give much away, but the first episode was a bit clunky.
Samantha’s absence was explained away in a hurried and slightly obvious way.
Charlotte looked incredibly plastic, and Miranda’s Brady is having noisy set at home with his girlfriend.
But the whole thing is just getting into its stride and like a popular red wine, you have to let it stand for a while before things settle.
I’m not a lover of Sarah Jessica Parker’s Carrie, but her relationship and acting alongside Miranda (Cynthia Nixon) has a ring of truth about it which chimes with the nostalgia of seeing the “ girls” yet again..
I will give the series the benefit of the doubt and note it was a brave step bringing in such a turn about in the narrative only two episodes in ……
It’s nice to have my old friends back
I will leave you with the what’s app message Affable Despot Jason posted today
West Side Story
Anon may be sickened with this fact but I’ve just booked tickets to me and a friend to go and see West Side Story on Sunday.
What a fucking extravagance !
What with me pleading poverty only yesterday with only one ten of beans to my name
Anyway I was getting all haughty about Steven Spielberg’s upcoming version of the musical classic, thinking to myself that the original Jerome Robbins’ version could not and should not be beaten.
A BBC interview with Spielberg totally changed my mind
The reasons for the remake were simple in his eyes for he just could not bear the fact of several generations of the movie going public not knowing of the power of this musical.
And he’s right.
Whole generations of younger people have never heard of the 1950 s version.
They know nothing of the sheer exuberance of the choreography, of the singing and of the innovative staging and so he wanted to be faithful to the original by presenting an updated but classic version, set in the New York streets with Latina actors instead of a tanned up Natalie Wood and George Chakiris.
I’m very much looking forward to the new production
And so I’m on nights again. I will pop off at Tesco on the way home to by provisions so don’t worry Anon I shall be eating healthier today….last night my colleagues and I treated ourselves to an Indian takeaway on our break time which was a real extravagance ( I can feel Anon quietly shaking in repressed rage at the very thought of it )
Storm Barra
It’s wild out there.
After work and dog walks, we all went to bed
I’m on night shifts until Christmas
No food in the house when I woke in semi darkness
I found chicken drumsticks , roast potatoes and a container of saved gravy in the back of the freezer and shared the feast with the girls in bed.
We are cuddling up to keep warm
As Barra roars on
“ You see, no one ever called me darling before”
Yesterday I had coffee with a friend, Steven, who I’ve know for years
He’s gay but not “out”
A decision I don’t quite understand in this day and age, but one I respect.
He’s younger than me and is in his late 40s
And all he wants is to find Mr Right.
I think he gets a little exasperated with me when Mr Right is mentioned , for I often lapse into Victoria Woods’ now classic mini documentary Mr Right where Anne Reid, playing spinster Pamela Twill famously muses
Steven always gets a bit haughty when I quote Victoria Wood at him and accuses me of not taking him seriously.
I apologise as I should do.
He just wants to be part of a couple and always asks me if I’ve met anyone “ Nice” in the constant hope that I haven’t .
I never let him down in that hope.
“ Your problem John, is that you don’t try hard enough” Steven advised after telling me all about a frenetic date he had just had on Grindr “ You don’t put yourself out there?”
I’m not sure just what he meant by “ out there” as to me the apps are all about sex and very little else
so I laughed at the dichotomy
I think I’m becoming content with being “ Charlotte Vale “ I told him
He looked confused
“ Now Voyager? “ I explained and he shrugged .
Steven is not a cinefile gay
I was going to become fully Bette Davis with Charlotte’s full and most famous quote in character
but settled with a half arsed version with a mild pouting
Steven laughed and asked
“ Who the fuck is Jerry?”
Christmas Card
This is my Christmas Card for all of Going Gently’s followers
For those that don’t know this is Finlay my first Welsh Terrier
He was asleep sat upon the sofa like a little old man
It’s been another challenging year for all of us, hasn’t it?
Thank you all for your continued support, comments and good humour
2022 is going to be better
It has to be..
Love
John
Dorothy, Mary and Albert
Olivia Colman/ The Queen Mother and The Last Duel
It’s been a nice evening.
Before I watched the movie, I wrote the blog then watched this delightful video of National Treasure Olivia Colman reading one of the original Queen Mum’s letters to her mother in law Queen Mary.
The applause pleased me as it wasn’t just for the scene stealing Colman. ( who deserved what she got) ……but it was also an affectionate nod to the Queen Mother , who always seems to have seen the best in people ( except for Wallace Simpson of course)
The chef had the best line..”France Will Rise Again”
The Last Duel was an excellent watch. Another swan song triumph for Ridley Scott
Jodie Comer was especially good in this gritty portrayal of middle age misogyny and male pride.
Siambr Wen
Siambr Wen lies on the western village border
Foolishly I left around a dozen sprouts on the kitchen worktop last night
This moment of utter madness allowed Albert to spend a happy few minutes after lights out playfully flicking a good portion of them onto the floor where Dorothy found them in the middle of the night.
I knew trouble was afoot when I was awoken by a whole series of sprout flavoured burps followed by some insanely veggie smelling and resoundingly loud farts.
The kitchen floor resembled the La Brea Tar pits in Los Angeles when I got downstairs
And I won’t describe the state of my Egyptian Cotton white duvet cover
I almost lost the will to live
This afternoon I have delivered the village Christmas cards, some 40 in all. The ones earmarked for people on the outskirts of the village, I will do tomorrow by car, (that’s another ten or so)
I don’t take the dogs with me as they never “get” walking up drives and paths they are not used to , so alone and with headphones in, the whole process lasts around an hour.
It only took me 45 minutes today as I had forgotten around ten cards.
The weather was cooling by 3pm . The sky in the West an ice/grey blue.
I photographed Siambr Wen, the remains of the. 16th Century country house that housed a room which doubled as a local courtroom. Siambr Wen means White Chamber in Welsh
It looked spooky and cold seen through the trees.
I was glad to get home to a warm cottage before the light changed.
This afternoon I’m watching The Last Duel on Disney +
Homemade gyoza dumplings for supper
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