David Harewood

 

This afternoon Gorgeous Dave and I went over to the Storyhouse to see “an audience with…” 

The 1:1 talk between David Harewood and the new director of the theatre proved to be an interesting listen. With much candour the actor, director and writer explored some rather painful memories of childhood racism in Birmingham in the 1970s before linking that ingrained trauma to a psychiatric breakdown when in his 20s.

The subsequent racism he experienced as a patient ( mostly concerning being over sedated by a fearful mainly white nursing team) resonated with me, and I recalled one snowy night in York where I faced my own inherited racism during one pragmatic shift

It was 1987 and it was winter night filled with snow in York.

I was transferred to take charge of an elderly ward as staffing was dire.

I was a very junior staff nurse supported by two support workers.

The support workers were two Jamaican ladies of mature years.

I was told to refer to them with a respectful " Mrs Lewis and Mrs Williams by the handover nurse

" They will show you the ropes" I was told carefully.

I had never really spoke to a person of colour before. You never saw many non whites back then in North Wales and Chester, where I grew up and trained as a psychiatric nurse, but I was bright enough even then not to pull rank on two experienced nurse aides, and so I stepped back and allowed myself to be told what to do.

Mrs Lewis and Mrs Williams worked at their own pace. They were unhurried and respectful, as they washed dirty bottoms and undressed the confused and the mute and I watched with some awe as together they bedded down 25 confused elderly ladies with the tired and practiced ease of two broad hipped grandmothers that had seen some hardship over a 40 year career.

They sang together as they worked and they laughed and hugged their patients with some warmth when hugs were needed and by midnight the ward was quiet as they dished out their own suppers of rice and peas and jerk chicken at the nurses station.

I was given a plate too, with a napkin and a glass of homemade ginger cordial and as I listened to them chat and laugh and I answered their questions about my home and family I realised just how sheltered I had been for the first 20 years of my life

At 6 am I asked their Christian names.....Matilda and Angel, I was told and we all laughed....

It was a cold and snowy night in York and I took charge of an elderly ward of 25 senile patients

And I learnt more about good nursing care and life from two big hearted support workers in 10 hours than I ever did from six months of my psychiatric nurse training.

Blazin Fiddles

Lovely night at the hall…great to see The Manleys, Boffin Cameron’s parents, Pippa , village leaders Ian and Helen, Velvet Voiced Linda , Nick, Claire and Other choir members all enjoying the music

The Wallet

I drove back to Trelawnyd and had to meet other trustees of the Community Association for a meeting.

I was late getting home.

Tonight I was due to drive back over to the hospice for a curry night out with staff but the prospect of the hour and a half round trip was something I didn't quite need.

I need to stay in the village today

So I’m going to see Blazin’ Fiddles at the Hall 

Ian from down the lane said he’d Knock  on the window for me if I managed to get a ticket, and I did, so he will. Several other people I know will be there from the village and from choir.

It’s what I need today.

A few beers and some good music 

I had a lie in this morning, ( another thing I needed) and came down stairs to find that Roger had managed to remove my leather wallet from the kitchen table and had done a good job on it

It had been a birthday gift from The Prof from years ago. 

And I was surprised just how upset I was when I found it in tatters

Another reason for a pint with good friends tonight

Campaign Against Living Miserably

 

This Christmas will be the first one ever I will not be sending any Christmas Cards.

The posting cost is far too prohibitive.

After much thought I will make a donation to CALM which is a charity against living miserably 

And this remembered old blog is the reason why( it is often posted this time of year)

Christmas 1985

Christmas week 1985 I was  shadowing a community psychiatric nursing sister with her caseload in a deprived and depressing northern town

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 I shall call 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 five pound note behind one of the cards on the mantle.

To Live ( Spoilers)

 I studied Akira Kurosawa’s film Ikiru at University so I was intrigued to see how the melancholic Katuzo Ishiguro would recreate it in this much lauded remake. Interestingly the film is set in the 1950s as Ikiru was, so from the get go, it had turned the tables on the original which had a great deal to say about the modern Japan.

I had been making notes in my head when I was sat with my laptop in the Storyhouse Cafe, sipping a pretentious orange hot chocolate 

There are perhaps eighty people in the public space here. 

A baby and toddler group has just finished a fairly low key and sweet clap a long to You are my sunshine my only Sunshine as the waitresses weave in and out of the tables mostly filled with people studying or working on line. 

Tom Burke 

Living as it turned out, is a beautifully crafted and elegant piece of filmmaking which perfectly captures the stuffiness of post war Britain. It centres upon Mr Williams, a tight, self contained widower who rules his civil servant office with a quiet , almost silent whisper. Nicknamed Mr Zombie by junior clerk Miss Harris ( the doe eyed Aimee Lou Wood) he has no friends of note and returns home each night to a an ungrateful son and his ambitious and money needy wife.

It is an existence, nothing really more, and when Mr Williams finds out he has months to live, he suddenly embarks on a journey towards acceptance by learning to live again.

Aimee Lou Wood

Bill Nighy, breaks your heart in a simple look . 

His lugubrious face perfectly captures the look of a man who hasn’t lived the life he expected and he’s at his most moving when he’s saying very little at all.

You just feel , his pain, 

Plain and simple.

And it is that which is the power of this film as writer Ishiguro and director Oliver Hermanus lead Mr Williams into connections with a whole group of characters who immediately empathise with him and his situation and whose reactions break your heart all over again .

Tom Burke a drunk writer  ,who takes Mr Williams on an impromptu pub crawl is moved to tears when he witnesses the older man singer a Scottish lullaby from his youth and a beat  policeman ( Thomas Coombes) is affected almost in a spiritual way when he finally witnesses Mr Williams enjoying the fruits of his work labours in the construction of a child’s playground in the slum area of London.

It’s a sad, but gently optimistic film which has a great deal to say , not only about living….but about empathy

I drove  home with radio turned off

And thought about what I’ve just witnessed 

It’s winter tonight and my joints are aching 

I made beef stew and dumplings for supper 

 

I’ve read for most of today 

I’m reading Bethan Robert’s novel MyPoliceman which is a study of an on going triangular relationship between grammar school girl Marion, her policeman husband Tom and gay museum curator Patrick.

It’s a cracking read. 

Do you have whole days, just enjoying the company of a book and its characters ? 

Following a hot shower, I found my grey tracksuit bottoms from the wardrobe and after putting them  on with my second best walking dead T shirts, I curled up on the trendy blue couch wrapped in a throw, and read in the warmth of the winter sun which cut through the rain around midday.

Every hour or so, I’d refresh my tea mug with tea sweetened slightly with algarve nectar and at two I shared my lunch of faggots and mushy peas, bought cheaply from Marks and Spencer early this morning,

with Mary who curled up with me for the duration.

I’m thinking of starting a village book club 

Old Trefor’s niece called around to tell me he’s having some tests in hospital and will be there a few days. I promised to help her clean his house tomorrow. 

I’ve texted a few friends, agreed to buy some tickets for the TCA village casino night next Friday and made a lasagne which is now bubbling gently in the oven. 

But for the most part I’ve read 

And as the fire has been lit early, the cottage is toasty warm, and smelling of garlic and it’s all oh so cozy .

Not Much

 Old Trev , his niece told me is in hospital, she knows not where. 

I hope they found him an appropriate bed, so many of the patients sit in their ambulances outside A&E nowadays, a place , to be honest, I’d prefer his to be rather than on a hospital trolley. 

At least he would be warmer, and supervised by two trained professionals in the ambulance.

She will keep me up to date with any updates.

It’s college day today and I’m off soon. 

We [ the students]have presentations to give tonight.

I’ve practiced it in front of the dogs but only Roger seemed interested.

I may go to the cinema tomorrow to see Living 

I suspect it’s been a bit overblown by the critics but we will see

I met a guy with a hole in his jumper yesterday, there wasn’t the time to have a chat 🙁

And thank you for follower Jane ,    Who kindly left me a small gift. 

After a long and somewhat taxing shift yesterday, it was most welcomed…..

Eyeball

 “ Whats up with your eye?” 

So asked a patient’s relative moments later after I started to talk to him in the ward office

The sclera of my eye had turned an unsightly red giving me the look of a fat friendly zombie, which is not the look you want to have when you are sharing support on a hospice inpatients department.

Roger had given me a right swipe last night 

I irrigated my eye with chlorampenicol eye drops nicked from the work fridge but when I got home my eye felt sticky and painful 

Sailor John was waiting for me when I walked to the cottage.

Old Trev had had a fall in his garage  and had just been carried to bed by a young passerby who had heard his calls after lying there for a few hours.

I was happy to help sort him out , 

His niece will be accompanying him for a check up in hospital in a few hours time.

Ambulance waits in wales are calculated in hours 

It’s a scandal 

Typical of Trev , after we had assessed his pain , and warmed him up with multiple duvets and after I got him to show me he hadn’t broken his hip 

He said in his sing song , welsh accent, his tiny face peeping from under the bed clothes

“John , do you know you’ve done something to your eye?”

Black Eyed Mog

 Got home late tonight after a busy shift 

Wanting to talk catch up with a friend and relax with beer in front of the fire but

Ended up with back ache watching episode three of The English a western with Emily Blunt 

Which featured a very odd female Welsh villain called Black Eyed Mog 

The whole evening feels a bit surreal 

Roger has given me a black eye

Sister Act

 Two long days at work now 

Roger is now sleeping on my bed with the others and did so without any accidents last night.

And non wanted to get up at 6 am this morning.

I will leave you with this bit of silliness from a mother and daughter 

Let The Right One in

 

It was a lovely talkie evening all told. 

We met in the city centre, found a pub where we could talk and 

then found a tapas place near the Royal exchange where we could relax and talk some more.

After the play we returned to the hotel and watched the apartments opposite as if we were James Stewart and Grace Kelly in Rear Window. And we drank Prosecco cooled in the sink in the bathroom and yacked a great deal more.

Jack Thorne’s stage adaptation of the Swedish horror/ drama was excellent.

Essentially a study of bullying and loneliness it follows shy adolescent Oskar’s life , from sad school time to his quiet existence in a snowbound apartment with his alcoholic mother.

As gruesome murders affect his community , Oskar meets up with Eli, his new and equally lonely next door neighbour, and a somewhat sweet, mutually support relationship blossoms between the two despite Oskar’s growing awareness that Eli may be a vampire.

The performances in this production are top notch. Rhian Blundell ( who has the look and energy  of fellow actress Jessie Buckley ) brings an alien type physicality to her role as the ambiguous Eli and Pete Machale, ( who is probably in his mid twenties in reality) looks and acts every inch like a gauche thirteen year old boy from a damaged home and a sad school life. 

The horror moments are well handled with flashes and hints at gore which certainly makes you jump ,rather than a explicit blood fest  seen in the movie. 

I’ve been to the Royal Exchange before but had forgotten just how beautiful the impressive the building and design is.

This morning we walked up to Manchester’s northern quarter for a fab breakfast at the North Cafe before catching the train homeward 

Larks

 Aviva Trains Wales are notoriously a bad ride.

I’m on the 12.18 straight through to Manchester and already it feels that I’m on something out of the Wild West. 

I messaged a friend so, as the usual rough looking yobs that often frequent the coast trains got off in Flint.

The refreshment trolley man was a breath of fresh air though.

Small and wiry and used to being ignored I suspect, he ambled down the aisle muttering a low chant of a list of his refreshments like a Monk chanting a prayer.

“ Tea, coffees, hot chocolate……..soft drinks…hard drinks……very hard drinks, snacks, crisps, sandwiches, all manner of things to stuff your faces with……complementary napkin….with every purchase.”  

Can anyone suggest a nice place for breakfast in central Manchester…I haven’t got a clue.

Off for drinks and a meal later and the well reviewed horror play Let The Right One In at the Royal Exchange

What Larks Pip

Pee Stains On The Landing

 

Old Albert has been having accidents fairly regularly now

I think his “ thinking” has changed a little…some organic changes perhaps 

He’s clingy and reluctant to go outside. 

He paces the house and is awake on the bed at night when he used to patrol the garden.

I’ve tested his wee stains no sign of infection.

I’ll buy a litter tray on Saturday 

In the meantime I’ve got a carpet cleaner.

I looked at the old boy this morning before leaving for work.

And my heart ached for him just a little 

He was sitting on the window sill , his deformed leg bent painfully to one side. 

Waiting for his breakfast .

He’s been a constant here for fourteen years

A best supporting actor to the leading dog actresses 

They break your heart don’t they?

Objects Of My Affection

 

The Anonymous Arsehole Commentator will be shaking themselves into a apoplectic fit of the vapours with today’s post for sure as I’m talking money. 

Ok I’ve got a few theatre trips booked, ok I’m off to London with my nephew, but like everyone else in the country, I have and increased amount in bills per month now so have a need to save a bit of money where I can.

I’m going to have clear out.

Only yesterday I looked at a wood cut print of two geese, I have hanging on my stairs .

I looked at it as if I had never seen it before.

It’s pretty enough, I thought, but over twenty years it has been ignored and not enjoyed and so I moved it where I could see it more clearly.

This one thought and action has prompted me to sell some of the unseen, unwanted and not needed items I have around the house. 

I feel a car boot on the way

With a few smaller items earmarked for eBay 

Within three minutes I had the starters collected

A bespoke early Victorian corner cupboard from a Northumbrian farmhouse.( above)

A broken Art Deco mantle clock

Some silver pieces, tarnished and isolated on a bookshelf 

A pretty Staffordshire sheep

A tea caddy without its liner

Old dvds and books , flamingo containers, bits of treen, plant pots , an Art Deco bedside cabinet, 

Oh and some antique Italian marble fruit bought from an antique shop ran by my sister’s mother in law in the 1980s.

I must admit that a proud little Staffordshire Greyhound who was sat unloved in the duck egg blue bookcase I fell in love with all over again and I moved him to a new spot in the limelight in my bathroom but the cull will be extensive yet compassionate me thinks 

Sentiment is a big emotion with me and the pieces that I love will be kept and dusted and looked at with affection. 

I will leave you with this video. 

An audience made into a choir

Rather stunning

I have sung in a choir that seemingly out of nowhere made something equally as emotional and as beautiful as that video and it’s a magical place to be 

Bra

 I forgot to blog this tiny moment of surreal joy today, what with the family news and all that

Zoe Ball was shouting a lot on radio 2 this morning as she has a want to do 

But this sentence did make me laugh out loud in the dog walking car park early doors

“ Ooooh I’m all out of sorts today” she moaned  ……”I’ve put the wrong bra on!”

Ps Leslie Thomas never said “ Goodbye”

Sadly until now x

Family News

 It’s a day for celebration, family celebration. 

Nephew Pete, My sister Ann, Brother in law Tim and nephew Chris

My sister Ann’s husband Tim is in Windsor Castle with the family  as I type this. Princess Anne will be awarding him his MBE today for services to the local business community. 

Several years ago Ann was awarded a British Empire Medal for her services to the community 

It’s lovely to have some good news 

Shouting Into The Wind

 Trendy Carol and husband Ewan took the dogs this morning so I could spend 5 hours in the library and at work .

I have a college presentation to prepare for and Google slides baffle me to the point of extinction.

I was surrounded by 20 year olds, most with headphones and ear buds in . 

Kids making their way forward in an uncertain world. 

I got stuck inserting photos on my last slide 

It was a slide that was suggesting what moral quality I thought I possessed which could be linked to the BACP ( British Association for Counselling and psychotherapy ) ethical framework. 

For better or worse I chose wisdom and I attempted to illustrate with various photos…of me looking old ( and therefore wise?) a photo of Winnie looking thoughtful, me in PPE looking like a pig in a condom

And a photo of a little Mongolian girl yelling joyously into the wind 

( I was going to use it as a metaphor for not peeing into the wind …hence wise….but ok I know the link was weak) 

Like I said I got stuck using the software so looked around for someone to help me. 

The librarian had already pissed me off for telling me it was bottled beverages ONLY and her halitosis was striking even a yard away, so I asked the young chap in a beanie hat on the next computer if he could help.

Bless him

He was gauche and shy but soon sorted my slides out with his long white fingers , and was kind enough to centre the text up too

He loved the photo of the Mongolian girl and of Winnie too and asked me what I was studying 

“Ahhh counselling ! “ he repeated, “ Ive had that at school… I was very depressed when I was eleven”

He looked like a child now, I thought , so bugger only knows what he looked like when he was eleven .

“ It helped” he said cheerfully before moving back to his desk with a wave

Suddenly I felt happy that it did.

I’m bit Bored

Omaha Cat Lady has brightened up today. She’s a bright spark for sure. 

I enjoy listening to her talk through online recipes 

I forgot to help out with other volunteers to clear the garden of the a memorial Hall 😥

I made chilli con carne, with sticky white rice  as my mother used to do, and in a nostalgic rush organised the rice into a ring to encircle the meat.

I ate it with chopsticks in front of the fire watching the British Social Realism film Woman in a Dressing gown in longjohns and my third best Walking Dead T shirt  but the film depressed me so I turned on a recorded Only Connect instead after listening to The Archers

I’m bored today . 

I feel as though everything feels rather anticlimactic, which is strange. 

As little of note happened in the week.

I showered the Welsh terriers and cleaned their ears properly . I do this as I have a shower with them , which sounds odd but it works .

Dorothy watched the action with her face pressed against the shower door 

She’s recovered from yesterday’s Bonfire night fireworks, where she spent the evening trembling behind the Trendy Blue Sofa covered in a blanket . 

Lots of italics today …..lovely
 

Something Quite Beautiful

 I hung the fairy lights behind her bed and looped them around the tracking hoist.

We turned off the main lights and the support worker helped the patient into a pretty blouse.

I twisted the bottles of Prosecco into an improvised ice bucket made from a sharps bin and

We left the friends to enjoy their Chinese takeaway and drinks.

Sometimes nursing is dire, sometimes unforgiving,  mostly it’s a challenge , but often …it’s a pure joy.

I witnessed someing quite beautiful tonight, just before I left for home.

I knocked on the patient’s door to say goodbye

And saw four old friends sitting on a bed together like sisters do

They were all holding hands .

And very quietly , almost in a whisper they were singing as one

I recognised the chorus 

All I needed was the love you gave,

          all I needed for another day

          And all I ever knew, 

          Only you….. 

 

 

Sex Bomb

 

My sister Janet arrived yesterday and did a cracking job on the front garden . In the afternoon, well  after she’d left Mr Poznan knocked on the lane window specifically to tell me now nice the garden looked. 

He came in for tea.

Janet has bought me a ticket to ABBA voyage for Christmas 

We go in February which means another lovely trip to London. 

The last time we went to a concert together, we went to see Tom Jones at the Sheffield Arena . 

I smuggled in a bottle of gin , divided into two water bottles and not knowing it was neat, Janet decked hers a little too quickly 

I remember when we’re on the tram home to Hillsborough she gave a drunken, spirited and rather variable version of Tom’s hit of Sex Bomb to a rather stunned 100 or so fellow passengers as she slid up and down a nearby handrail like a somewhat shaken poledancer 

I think I need to get her a ticket to the Royal Ballet for her Christmas pressie she  needs to experience the Opera House as she’s never been.
Nu and I are going to see The English National Opera’s version It’s a wonderful Life in December, it’s our pre Christmas treat and my nephew Leo and I are off to see Six in London in a few weeks time. 

I’ve booked us a meal in Dishoom Convent Garden as a treat. 

Add to that the fact that old Sheffield friend Jane and I are meeting in Manchester for Jack Thorne’s theatrical adaptation of John Ajvide Lindgvust’s horror piece Let The Right One In next week, and I’m pretty lucky theatre wise 

I think we will have a boogie in the gay village too…hey ho

Last night was a real Hugge night. 

At 6 pm I had a glass of port ( a miniature given to me last Christmas by Mrs Trellis alongside a mars bar wrapped in a red napkin ! )   With some cheese and crackers. I turned the lights low and stoked up the fire and watched the dvd  I Remember Mama with Irene Dunne with a handkerchief  

It was just after 8pm when I got ready for bed mindful of another busy day and I stopped to watch Roger

He was asleep on the yellow arm chair , his tail whirling like a helicopter  as he dreamt happy doggy dreams 

So sweet.