Heaven

Mary

There is nothing more pleasurable than a very hot bath.
Welsh terriers adore a long soak and both William and Mary sat in the tub for nearly forty minutes each today with eyes half closed in pure terrier ecstasy.
I can potter around the cottage in the full knowledge that neither one will jump out until I lift them out.
I made a low macaroni cheese, a swede and carrot mash and cleaned the floor as both soaked until their paw pads went crinkly
   

Fanny Chat


I was in Boots -The Chemist on Monday and overheard a young woman say to her friend something about "..having an itchy fanny".
Usually with these sorts of strange conversations I would have lingered a little longer in order to hear more, but the vagaries of vagina chatter does leave me somewhat cold.....
it always has...

Anyway speaking of vaginas,
(as Miriam Margolyes once purred "I'm warming to my subject!")
I was once threatened with physical violence by someone for looking at a woman's vagina.
In my defence I must add that I was a student nurse working at the Jessop's Maternity department in Sheffield at the time  and the vagina in question was just about to expel a bouncing baby boy. It was the baby's father who threatened me, in a sudden and rather unexpected bout of excited paranoia.
" WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT?" I remember him bellowing at me as I was trying to look all inconspicuous at the end of the bed.
Thank goodness I resisted the urge to  point at the "spot" in question and just opted to shuffle away instead.

When I was a boy, a old Welsh farmer once showed me how to "help" a  stuck lamb from it's mother's back end and her distressed bleating gave me nightmares for an age afterwards.
Child/sheep/any baby birth would be shrouded in mystery to me until this day

Years later when I was a charge nurse, an elderly lady's prolapse waved at me like a baby elephant's trunk after she sneezed violently when I helped her into a wheelchair.
I was so shocked I did let out an unprofessional shout of "fucking hell!!!" when it appeared but luckily she was unfazed with the whole thing stating pragmatically that " it did that sometimes" and could I just don a glove and "pop it back"

It wont surprise you then, that "toilet parts of the lady persuasion" are another country to me. True Winnie's enormous fanny is the only fanny I ( and the rest of population of North Wales) has seen in many a year so it is understandable to all that I am no expert even though I have been a nurse for 34 years.
and long may it remain that I am not

Sparrowhawk

Sparrowhawks are amazingly fast predators .
They skim hedgerows and zigzag through trees like silver bullets and if you blink just once, they are gone, usually in a puff of victim's feathers.
I saw that explosion of white feathers this morning, just as I looked out on the old Churchyard whilst making pea soup.
Moments before the bachelors had walked the top of the Church wall in Indian file formation so it was with a heavy heart that I hurried outside to check


The female sparrowhawk dropped with one bachelor into my field.
He was dead when I got to him

Big Mistake

I still can't quite shake this virus.
I suspect I have had the Yule plague Australian Flu.
Last night I had the great idea of having a hot steaming bath in order to clear the old sinuses
And thinking it would help I dolloped a very large glob of vics vapour rub under the running hot tap!

Big mistake
Lying in a bath containing vics
Burns your knackers! 

Hostiles - A Study Of P.T.S.D.

Christian Bale
Cinema at 10.30 on a Sunday Morning! Bliss!
The Prof is away and I indulged myself with a good movie.
I went to see Hostiles and it left me reflective and quiet....a sign of a good movie.

Hostiles is a thoughtful and well crafted Study of 19th Century post traumatic Stress disorder. Set amid the brutal end of the Indian Wars the film explores a whole set of characters ( civilian and military) who all are suffering from varying degrees of the condition. Consequently their stories are not an easy watch and after two hours of what feels like abject misery the viewer is left rather exhausted by it all, but the effort is worth it, believe me as the performance by Christian Bale as  Capt  Joseph Blocker , a serial Indian Killer who is entrusted with transporting a dying old enemy Chief Yellow Hawk ( Wes Studi) to his Indian burial ground, is worth the price of the cinema ticket
alone!
Blocker is near retirement and is reluctant to take the assignment on . He spent a career watching and participating in the horrors of the Indian wars and adheres to the maxim of the only good Indian is a dead Indian with almost religious zeal. But as the politicians in the East want to sanitize their treatment of the native Americans he is forced to face his prejudices by having to co operate with Yellow Hawk and his family on the dangerous Journey from New Mexico to Montana.

Rosamund Pike

Add to the mix a traumatised rancher ( Rosamund Pike) who has just lost her entire family by an Indian raid. A suicidal trooper ( Rory Cochran) , who is depressed by his violent military career and a court marshalled prisoner ( Ben Foster) who murdered an Indian family with an axe and you can see where the narrative was going.
Bale is wonderful as the damaged, complicated and in his own way Honourable soldier who has been brutalised by life. His character seesaws between cruelty at his Indian Charges, loyalty and genuine affection for his men and pitch perfect treatment of the traumatised Rosalie Quaid ( Pike) and his scenes with the granite faced Wes Studi are especially powerful and ultimately incredibly moving.



Wes Studi

Unfortunately the Indian characters are less successfully fleshed out with director Scott Cooper sticking to the tried and tested stereotypes of savage killer or Dancing With Wolves nobility. But Studi  's Understated performance complements Bale's nuanced performance well as a mutual respect starts to grow between the two men.

The violence in the movie is pitched just right as it erupts from nowhere in a clumsy confused and totally surprising way typical of a life is cheap time when brutality was everywhere and PTSD was the norm rather than the exception.

Not an easy film to watch but it's worth the effort.

A Post For Ellen in Ohio

Oh dear....my last post was somewhat depressing.
Necessary but depressing.
I don't feel depressed today.
It's late afternoon and I'm all clean and shiny after a long hot bath.
I have my Jim jams on too......the Prof is away working and it's freezing outside so I'm slumming it today.
Now blogger has been fickle of late and several commentators have had varying success in posting comments on Going Gently. Indeed, Gail from Oz, Joni from Canada and Ellen from Ohio all have emailed me about it and today's follow up post is a reply to Ellen's request for an update on village Folk namely Auntie Gladys and Jason the affable despot. Apparently I have been rather remiss of late and have not mentioned them
My apologies!
Now that rascal Yorkshire Pudding penned a somewhat fruity and almost libellous post about Trelawnyd recently....it made for some interesting reading ( see link)
http://beefgravy.blogspot.co.uk/2017/12/awards.html
Tonight , I shall endeavour to put the story straight.

Despot Jason

Affable Despot Jason usually hibernates for most of the winter months, so it's common not to see him until the Daffodils have flowered and the Vicar has changed into his spring time surpluses, but he has thrown caution to the wind and has been in touch suggesting we go to the theatre in a few weeks time, which will be fun.
We saw many of the Church characters at the Christmas Eve service including Mrs Trellis who, as see is now signing all correspondence  with her " adopted " pseudonym rather than her real name.
He greyhound Blue is as difficult to control as ever!


Mrs Trellis


Her Christmas Card

Village Elder Islwyn is just getting over the death of his dear mother and will hopefully be jumping into another village - benefit project which will desperately need his organisational skills. I saw him today pottering in the new graveyard.
Animal helper


Boffin

Trendy Carol 

Animal helper Pat, sailor John , Cameron the teenage boffin and Trendy Carol all remain well and as far as I know happy, indeed Trendy Carol floated gaily past the cottage today  wearing something wonderfully ethereal and rather expensive.

The members of the Flower Show Committee are all on fine form too,(you may recall that most of them helped out at the Christmas Fayre recently) and I saw Auntie Glad at her nursing home before the holidays . She looked vague and frail but held my hand for the longest of times as we sat together in the nursing home sitting room which was festooned in decorations.





Let's Talk About Death


Yesterday I was sat in the car waiting for the Prof to arrive at the station on the 17.59 from Bangor.
Eddie Mair, was, as usual, being all clever on Radio 4 and his subject du jour was this time about death.
Well it was more about how we prepare for death, especially in this tight arsed, head-in-the-sand modern day world where death is not viewed as a part of life and living but seen as a something that happens external to our battle with love, shit and the universe.
Mair's debate was an interesting one. "Experts" extolled the virtues of discussing your death with your loved ones "over a glass of wine" where the subject of living wills, power or attorney, financial considerations, burial details and legacies.
It wasn't rocket science, but it was common sense.
One commentator pitched it just right.
"Discussions like these are best done in a more detached and abstract way well before the fact and should not have to be faced in the high emotion of hospital admissions and nursing home waiting rooms."
Having autonomy at the end of your life is paramount. Instructing a legal advocate who perhaps can act in your interest rather than a medic who may act in "best interest" is becoming more popular nowadays but often that "chat over a glass of wine" may be more beneficial, especially when family is involved.
Nothing can split a family more than a death of a loved one

ManBag

Quick Post today...lots of jobs to do and not enough time.
This morning on the way to collect the car from the Station I bumped into an old friend from Intensive Care who commented on my manbag.
She actually referred to it as a handbag which is by definition an incorrect term.
Manbags, I am reliably informed by The Prof , are slung across your body and not carried over the shoulder (Dick Emery Honky Tonk style) or held in the hand (Lady Bracknell style)
a manbag, he says, is an essential accessory for every modern man!

NowI don't know about that, but ever since the Prof bought me my Manbag for Christmas I have not mislaid anything, which for me is some sort of mega achievement
The items I presently have in my manbag are as follows

one pot of vicks vapour rub.
one pen,
one pair of novelty Christmas socks,
keys,
£2.30 in change
My wallet,
Notebook
phone,
Bluetooth earphones,
facecream (body shop)!!!!! - YES I MOISTURISE!!!
Clinique Happy
Mary's ear drops,
Beanie Hat

Simple Things


I've just bought a set of dominos from eBay ...
I had to follow the bloody thing until 22.40 before I " won" it!
It cost me £ 6.99 ( including postage)
Is that surprising for a man of 55?
I've bought it because when The Prof and I were in Broadstairs I escaped to the micro pub The Thirty Nine Steps  and had a lovely hour teaching the Prof to play dominos!
I could have bought a bingo dibber as on New Year's Eve , ( and much to my horror) , The Prof's family set up a game of bingo at the dinner table ...- and that provided us all with a strangely entertaining and somewhat lively after dinner pastime!
But I didn't
My innate snobbishness precludes buying bingo accessories !

Neat And Tidy and a lesson on doing the right thing


I have a soft spot for Jenny our now retired village postmistress.
She remains as disorganised as ever, (indeed she only posting our Christmas card and those of our neighbours through our letter boxes after Christmas) and today I remembered her post office counter with some affection as it always looked in total disarray and as though she had just been burgled.

I am trying to organise myself better.
It's a product of having a new orderly kitchen for I am liking everything having a place and a purpose.
So, when I am waiting for a new arm chair to be delivered ( it's to go in the corner of the kitchen ) I'm sorting out our piles of paperwork. It is these that is reminding me of Jenny and her chaotic post office counter.

I'm not making any  I must be organised resolutions this January, indeed I'm not making any unattainable goals which could ( according to the charity MIND ) affect my mental health negatively if I don't fulfil them .
But I have decided to orchestrate more nice things for us to do.
Retirement must have its own perks.
So 2018 will be a year we travel a bit more. I have already organised a couple of London jaunts and we are having a whole week's holiday in Sitges in the summer.
We also hope to get to Canada and Sweden too......

The John Lewis arm chair arrived early so the paperwork was stuffed away to be forgotten for another year.


Have you made any resolutions? 

I'll leave you with a handmade thank you heart which arrived  by post today.
It was from someone we gave a Christmas present  to.
A gift that we easily bought and we easily gave
The recipient was strangely moved when we handed it over and only then did we find out it was only one of two gifts they received over the Christmas period (the other gift was a small parcel of sweets)
Christmas is about giving, and we often forget that fact.
It was nice that The Prof and I exchanged humbled glances when we realised we had done the right thing



Never Surprise An Old Bulldog.


Everywhere you look there seems to be a man in a white van delivering something.
This afternoon just as I was leaving a message for the Church warden to say that I will continue with the Church cleaning rota I heard a bang then a scream by the back door.
I had put Winnie outside to finish her dinner only a few minutes before so hurried through the kitchen and opened the door. There was a white van in the lane and standing on the other side of the wall was a very frightened looking delivery driver.
Standing with her paws on our side of the wall was Winnie and she was puffing like a steam train with a very angry look in her eyes
" He's ripped my pants !" The man gasped grabbing at his overalls . A broken bit of wall on the floor told me everything I needed to know of what had happened.
The delivery man obviously couldn't be arsed walking down the lane to our old wrought iron back gate which is covered in honeysuckle and clematis and had vaulted the low kitchen patio wall from the lane with a leather bag for the Prof in his hand. He landed with a clatter which surprised Winnie as she mooched around the back garden and like a bull she had launched into sudden protective mode and had attacked. The man had knocked the top of the wall off as he bounced back over the wall with the pocket pulled off the leg of his combats.
" Fucking hell" the man swore as Winnie gave him a series of short barks and as I took the package I decided to have a bit of fun with him.
" Think yourself lucky " I told him " "he put the last delivery man who surprised him in hospital " 
" Fucking Hell" the delivery man repeated with eyes as side as dinner plates.

Grey ( Gray) Journey Home


Thank goodness it's now all over.
Negotiating a rainy Euston station in the rain with a paper carrier bag stuffed with gifts whilst you are still full of cold and after no sleep ( thanks to a slightly deflated rubber mattress I may add)...is not a bag of laughs.
But it is part of the rich tapestry of family visiting just after Christmas.
I've already told the Prof not to "bang on about rubbish" as I am in no mood for it.
You may think I have been somewhat direct but at these times I have found it easier to be direct rather than subtle. A pale expression and a silent demeanour is lost on The Prof.
Mother in law Sorrel was full of the same Yule Plague as I, so I felt sorry for her having to feel that she had to look after us whilst under par.
I've tried to help out at every turn though I do feel slightly guilty that there still was a fairly untouched raspberry pavlova sat on the cool table in her conservatory when we left this morning.

I've only got the dogs to pick up, the fire to light and apologies to give when we get home. Apparently Winnie peed on her hostess' new sofa throw the first night she was away, which is unlike her. I don't think she could be arsed going outside on a wet and windy night.

Normal blogging service will be resumed tomorrow......


Mad Fuckers


What is it with Brits, public holidays and taking a dip into icy waters?
We braved the torrential rain on Broadstairs beach at midday to watch several hundred locals run screaming into the cold cold waters of the English Channel ( then run screaming out of it almost immediately!)
Most had donned various illfitting and inappropriate pieces of fancy dress....including this lunatic in a sombrero
It was all great fun.
Happy New Year

2017 Review

It's round robin time.
Thank goodness ( I think) I have a sense of humour, so it shouldn't be that painful.
It's only a snatched post too as we are between relative visiting.
I'm " doing " The in laws so to speak!


Compared to most we've had a peaceful year.
No deaths, no trauma, no real angst.
Animal numbers have remained static and apart from Winnie piling on the weight post hysterectomy and William's eyesight failing so much he constantly walks into the ironing board the dogs have been lucky.
And so have we......
We've had them for another year.
The new kitchen arrived and I retired from a career which has served me well for three and a half decades.
I was ready to go. Clinical Nursing is a young person's game and now I still fart when I bend over. I have noticeably thinning grey hair and a bald spot the size of a fried egg!
I look like my dad.
Which is a blessing......my mother looked like the wreck of the Hesperus when she was older

2018 will offer new adventures and no antisocial shifts to muddy home waters, which is Grand.

2018 is the year we travel a little more. Bosoms will be resurrected and old friends will be connected with. 2017 has taught me the fragility of health ( a lesson I never really learnt in nursing) and loved ones are only loved ones when you've got them.
Make the most of people is the phrase du jour

So dearhearts, be brave, head up, tits out
2018 will be fine, and bright and new
Let's enjoy it together xxxxx


Where Are We?

Forgive me for not replying to my previous post's comments
I have read each reply and as usual they eclipsed my original words and thoughts.
I've just woke up after a sneaky nap on a blow up mattress
We spent the day in a rather picturesque British city and I was tired
Where are we?
Here is a little clue

Thoughtful

Tom Stephenson's blog will affect a few readers today.
Suicide and the debate surrounding this, the most emotive, most irrational and to some most selfish of self destructive acts will bang on to the end of time.
Soon I shall me mentoring new Samaritans during the final parts of their extensive training.
In between the time wasters, the sex callers, the lonely, the unhappy and the distressed they will be faced with the suicidal caller and how the newbies cope with those first calls can have a profound effect on their careers within an already shrinking service.
I remember one particular caller when I started as a volunteer. A young professional man sat in his car on an unamed beach somewhere in Britain who was taking an overdose.
I remember throwing everything I had into that call.
Every " trick" I had in my arsenal was brought into play to bring some positive resolution out of a terribly sad situation but after an hour of talking the caller finally ended our conversation and I was left unsure of the outcome of a person I had suddenly come to care about.
At my debrief my mentor just let me talk about the call
She simply reflected that I had done my best.
and that's all any of us can do in situations like these


Winter Morning


Not sure I have anything to say today.
The cottage is uncharacteristically quiet
The sun is weak and watery and all I can hear is the tick of the clock and the squabbling of the hedge sparrows by the front door

In All Seriousness

I had a laptop for Christmas and my computer skills are noticeably lacking given the fact I am now so used to iPad workings.
Taking a break from acer this and Firefox that, I ambled through social media news with it's memes, fake news and photos of kittens.
One " party game" caught my eye
It was titled " NAMING YOUR VAGINA!" 
Apparently your vagina ( and presumably penis) name is that of a recently watched movie you have enjoyed
God help us.....with all that is happening in this world , I am reading a list of vagina names ..named after movies?!
However The First Lady that answered made me guffaw
" With my luck with the opposite sex......it would have to be Disney's FROZEN " she typed

Your Best Gift

My light box message this morning!

As a kid, gifts mean more than anything else in the world.
As a adult other things seem to matter more.
Blogger Rachel's reunion with Peter on Christmas Day was sweeter than the ending of Shiela Burnfords's The Incredible Journey and her joyful post, I know has made many of our Christmases just that little bit nicer, especially given the painful and at times arduous journey she made after he originally left.
The Weaver, in her indomitable let's get on with things style has faced her own demons this year and still manages to face the world with a ukulele and a smile and Thomas is still soldiering  on despite  Brexit and slump in European candlestick sales.
The older I get, the more importance I hold in health. In making the effort and in enjoying things.
When Some people take joy out of a tv the size of a barn door or a car that is able to talk to you and park itself...I quite pride myself in getting giddy as a kipper over my new vinyl floor in the kitchen .
Horses for courses.
Christmas Day was sweet because the family got together without agenda. It was a day when my twin sister merrily got drunk during charades. When my older sister manfully battled with dishing out the starters as the entire male population made balloon animals and when the Prof delighted in wearing his gold lame underpants in public! 
That's what is important.
Enjoying the small stuff.....

So as I play with my new light box message board! I have to ask what's your best gift this year?
What are you thankful for? What's made you smile, proud or just happy?
It has to be positive......
I want things to be positive today
I'd be interested to know! 

Gold Lamé Underpants

One of the gifts my sister bought The Prof and I were a pair of gold ( for him) and silver ( for me) novelty underpants which went down a bit of a storm.
I was reminded of a long distant Christmas from childhood when my father ran into a crowded room in his vest and y fronts and fell into the Christmas tree with an inebriated in law.
That was in the 1970s and public underwear wearing was deemed hilarious way back then.
We seem much more sophisticated now

The Prof is cooking today in his Christmas pyjamas !
He is presently cooking a ham and is preparing a mountain of bubble and squeak.
I am sat in the living room armchair, still a bit washed out but grateful that my now chest infection is becoming more mobile. I sound like a pan of scouse which is bubbling away on the stove top.
Yes I'm painting a rather attractive picture of myself rant I ? .....lovely!

I better get up....as the dogs need feeding,
I've been reminded as I've just seen Winnie eat a very small hand knitted Christmas pudding tree decoration.
Hey ho

We were fed and watered wonderfully at my sister's home yesterday so today's its 1970s Boxing day fare with a retro trifle !