I should be there, but I don’t want to be there... BUT I should be there - Part8

I should be there, but I don’t want to be there... BUT I should be there - Part8

 

I stared at the door.  The more I looked at it , the more I could see every defect, every blemish in that door.  The thing that made things worse was that my imagination was playing games in my head.  I just knew that Karl was dying. I had flashes of real stupidity, and I knew that Karl would find it funny.  The Grim Reaper standing over his bed, saying to him, "Look, you knew the salon mouse was off.  I didn't want  to push the door open, but I owed it to myself and Karl to do that.  I placed my hand on the door handle and pushed.

It was like moving from the light into the dark.   The room was hushed, and all the lights were dimmed. There were oasis of light, I cold see three nurses, and Karl.   He lay on the bed in a picture of obscene grotesque beauty.  His head had a red halo of blood, and his hair was plastered to his head.  His face seemed to move, as his blood exited his body.  His body was like one of those CSI shows,  The nurse holding his had, wiped clean the blood from his face, only to find it had returned.  His body provided the bed, with an insane line around it.  The deference was it wasn't chalk, it was blood.

The blood reflected the light, and one nurse made herself busy on pain control, another had several changes of bedding, and they'd gently but firmly put fresh bedding,  on the bed, only to find it's crimson hue was replaced by fresh blood.  Karl Screamed.  It tore through me, like the claws of a thousand finger nails, being scraped on a blackboard.

My mentor came in, and gently took me out, leaving the door to close, and hide Karl from the world again.  Allowing him to leave this planet, and hopefully find peace. She told me that Karl was going hard, and that he'd either "bleed out" or choke on his own blood.  I just felt it was unfair, and I told her so.  She agreed, and gave me a hug, and told me to help keep the ward running.

I tried to get as far away from that room.  There was someone I cared about fighting not to live, but to leave with some dignity.  I went through, into the ladies section, and Karl screamed again.  We all jumped, and so I told them that a patient wasn't well (Under fucking Statement  of the year..  )  and if they could pray for him, or think good thoughts, I'd appreciate it.  He screamed again, and we all jumped.

The mentor had got in touch with Karl's wife, and she was on the way in.   I stood there praying under my breath that she's make it.  I went through most of the shift on automatic pilot.  With every scream, I was waiting for the end.  The screams were changing their tone, they were becoming more animalistic, more angry.   No matter where I stood on the ward, I could hear them.

My mentr came to me, a hour before the end of my shift, she told me that I could go home early.  Her reasoning was, as it was snowing heavily and I'd have to rely on  British  Rail, I should get off,  or I could be stuck here over night.  I honestly think she was doing it, because of  Karl dying..  I left, and passed his wife on the way to the life.  As I was waiting for the lift, Karl screamed.

The next day was my final day on the ward, and I'd got an  absolutely great report.  My tutor then told me, how Karl died.   His wife sat by his bedside holding his hand, and got up to go to the toilet, and while she was gone, he screamed, and died.

Over the years...

Karl visits me, not in the spiritual sense, but I remember, and in my head I spout theories.  I think about him screaming. Every  visit creates another theory, and he came to me, just before Christmas in a dream.  So  what I'm going to do is  spout them out, and you can say "oiy you ponce, you're so wrong!"

The first one, and the obvious one, is that the pain was too much, and so he screamed.

The second one, and I must admit, I like...  He's not going into the dark night gently, he's going kicking and screaming.

The third, he was announcing his exit...

And the fourth, and final one, and I really hope it was this, Like   Tennent's "Doctor Who", he just didn't want to go...  His  wife was with him, and he was angry he was leaving...

Why did I write this?

I suppose  I was exorcising a ghost, and I really loved him.  I wanted you all  to meet him, and hopefully like him too.  I miss him,  and I hope I did him justice...

OH last night "The life of PI" was on, and it answered why I feel guilty...   "I suppose in the end, the whole of life becomes an act of letting go, but what always hurts the most is not taking a moment to say goodbye. "

I should be there, but I don’t want to be there... BUT I should be there - Part 7

I should be there, but I don’t want to be there... BUT I should be there - Part 7

 

The talk was interesting, and I came to the conclusion, that you are going to struggle with the young,  as they take things literally.  The class was a broad spectrum  of age groups, and I prided myself I could talk to anyone.  I met up with my friends and we sat together and watched it begin.

The two nurses introduced themselves, and began with a question.  "How do you explain Death?".  It was thrown around the room, and a broad variety of answers came, fluttering back to the front of the hall.  "The release of the soul/spirit", The emptying of the life force",  "The end, full stop", and then there was a pause.  The tallest nurse turn to the collective group of students, said, "How do you explain death to a child? ".  She quickly points at one of the students who was talking.  I knew him, he was tall, he had longish hair, (Which he'd recently cut), and he was a friendly easy going guy.  "OK, I'm your child, and for some reason, we don't see Grandma anymore...  DADDY, DADDY DADDY, WHERE'S GRANDMA?".  She pauses, places her hands behind her back, joins hands, and starts to sway.  WHERE'S GRANDMA DAD, UNDER THE PATIO?".

She waits, and the guy looks nervously round the hall, pleading with us, begging to get out of this hell that had been unleashed on him.  The nurse lowers her voice, "Where's Grandma, Dad?  I miss her".  He nervously says, "Grandma, has gone on a journey.... and she won't be coming back.".  The caused the nurse to wail, "You never liked her did you?  Mummy always said you said, you'll be glad when she's put in a home".  She then thanked the student, and turned to the class and said, "There are loads of pitfalls, talking to a child, you must see through their eyes, and to that purpose, we are now going to role play!"

The first thing that went through my head was "Fuck!" and the second was, "Fuck, Fuck, Fuckity Fuck Fuck", I hated role play.   "OK", "The nurse carried on, "The more mature students, struggle to remember your childhood.  The younger ones think back a few years, and go there.".  She paused, then she said, "We're going to be coming around the room, observing.  The really interesting ones will do a repeat performance, for the whole class, but to motivate, we have...", there's a dramatic pause, and the other nurse smiled.  The smile turned into a grin, and with a flourish, she pulled out a large family size bag of "Malteasers".  (A chocolate ball, with a honeycomb centre).

I teamed up with "Steve", a student from Sheffield, and at the time a good friend.  (I honestly thought he might not be, after I'd finished with  him.  (I had a malicious streak of humour  and I was going to unleash it on him).  We had to take turns, one being the child, the other the parent, I got to be the child first.

Me - "Where's  Grandma, Dad?"

Steve - "She's gone away to a really nice place".

Me - "Is she coming back?"

Steve - "No, she can't come back?


This was when one of the Macmillan nurses came to observe.  "Fuck" I thought, and then realised I'd committed myself to this, and carried on.

Me - "Why can't she come back?  Doesn't she love us anymore?"

Steve pauses, takes a deep breath,  gets a small but quiet, round of applause from the observer, and carries on.

Steve - "She loves you very much, but the rail service is very bad where she is now".

Another round of applause...

Me - "Can we visit her?"

Steve - "No,  we'd be stuck there too."

Me, "We could drive..."

Steve - "Bad roads"

Me - "Why did she goes there?  It sounds like shit..."

"Steve - "Grandad is there..."

Me - Can we book a taxi?"

Steve replied "Too expensive". and got a round of applause from the nurse.

To  make matters worse, we got a chance to perform in front of the class  (SODDING KARMA).



What happened on the second day; they took pity on us.  They came in with a table of children's books.  Each book hsd been chosen to explain death, and the told use to choose a book that touched us, as we're liable to remember it.  

Taking Steve's stellar performance the day prior, I chose one about a family of fishes.  The grandma tells the grandson, it was time for her to go into the river.  The Grandson cries, and grandma tells him, she'd try to swim back, but to know she loves him.   

She enters the river, and she's buffeted about by the current, and realises she wont get back.   She ends up in a pool, where Grandad is.


I enjoyed it, and looked forward to telling Karl.

The next day, I arrived on the ward, and Karl's door was closed.  I opened the door....

I should be there, but I don’t want to be there... BUT I should be there - Part 6

I should be there, but I don’t want to be there... BUT I should be there - Part 6

 

Thus went the days on the ward, I'd come in, riding the train, marching through snow, like an  insane person.  I'd be looking for bad puns, all containing the word. "Buddha".  I'd share it with Karl, and we'd then set it free, as we entered the women's section of the ward.  (I say "we", I should say Karl would do it, I didn't want the blame (or the groans)).

The weeks went on, and i learnt how to dress a wound, and Karl would tell me,how he'd organised  the remainder  of his life. There was nothing in great detail, but I knew his wife and daughters were "settled", and they'd be alright. I never met them, but I saw the aftermath of a visit, as he'd be more happy and in less pain.  I could see he was hurting, he had control  of his pain relief, even though it had a limiter, to stop over abuse.  

The days went by, and the snows turn to slush, dried and then snowed again.  I started to notice, he'd want the bowl more, but the humour was still there,  He'd mention about my football team, through a few insults, and I'd reply with "how many sheep have been ahem, violated.  We'd tell jokes, and hed take to his bed, and read,  he'd do "find the word"  and various things, ("Just to keep the brain stimulated").

The days went on, he would bathe less and less, but this didn't mean we never went into the woman's part of the ward.  I'd come up with  one,  (as he'd not heard of it (too young)) and we pushed  through the door, into the sunlight.  It was like God was laying on  spotlights.  I frantically looked at the ladies lockers, and found it.  I performed that day, and to be honest, it was crap, but Karl and I wet ourselves with laughter.  I pointed at a bottle of lime cordial  and said, "Buddha, can you spare us a lime".  Only the woman who had the bottle really got it, but we laughed and laughed..

I was on a break, as we didn't work 7  days a week, and when I got back,  Karl had been moved off the ward.  The first thought that comes to mind, is that he'd died while I was off the ward, but it turned out he'd been moved into a side room.   I went to see him, and he seemed to genuinely pleased to see me. He told me that the service had gone downhill when I was off and he demanded his own room.  In reality, we both knew he was dying.

It may have been a moment of synchronicity, the fact that the tune was on his radio, but it was like the radio station had laid our final performance.  It was going to be a two parter, I'd finish, Karl would start..

We pushed through the door (and I wish I could say we knew it would be Karl's final performance, but we didn't) and Karl began.  

"The road is long
With many a winding turn
That leads us to who knows where
Who knows when"

He tried to stare at each woman, and there were all waiting for the punchline.  I burst into song,  (or croaked into song..  as my Mum used to say, Our Kenny, Flat as a Fart".

"But I'm strong
Strong enough to carry him
He ain't heavy, he's my Buddha!"

We broke records getting into the bathroom,   I could say, that I was warmed up by the red cheeks of embarrassment, but he laughed, and I did.

He was telling me, that he was worried about his daughters.  They'd not told them he was dying.  I told my mentor, and she told me that my class would be in the main hall of the nursing school.  She organised two Macmillan nurses to do s lecture on the subject, but it would mean I'd be off the ward for a couple of days.  I told Karl, and he graciously allowed me the days off. 

I should be there, but I don’t want to be there... BUT I should be there - Part 5

Back on the ward, and Claire tells me to do the care plan for Karl. It’s about time I described the ward. The best description, would be Victorian, and as you enter, you see 3 patient rooms on the right, on the left, there’s a room, for patient’s family to grieve in, a sluice, a small rest/break room, for the nurses, and finally, (well imagine The tablet room from “One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest”, as it was virtually it’s twin.) Not used for tablets, as we had a tablet round, and two nurses delivered to your bedside, with a smile.

 

Down the right side of the ward (Male side) 6 beds, with a fire escape next to Charlie (Probably not a good idea after, my night on said fire escape). Down the right hand side, 5 beds. Karl was first bed on left, (as you walked in) And Charlie was fourth on the right. The ward was separated by a wall and a pair of central doors, and this lead to the ladies section of the ward. It was a repeat pattern on their side, with a door leading to the bathrooms and showers. The windows where cathedral like, and had large blinds that were drawn at night, and were central to each pair of beds.

 

I went, dragged a chair next to Karl’s bed, and began.

 

I found out the general gist of things, and wrote it down. Karl was an accountant, 32 years old, a beautiful wife, and two kids, (both girls). He loathed his job, as it seemed everybody was trying to buck the tax office. Those that had reasons he helped, gladly but those who’d got money and wanting him to find out ways of making more money, made him feel sick, and he started to drink.

 

It was fine at first, he’d have just the one “to calm him down”. It got worse, and it soon became 3 or 4, and he’d be “calm enough to go home”. Then came the accident, he nearly pranged his car, and came home bleeding. His wife smelt the drink on his breath, and insisted that he needed help, “as she didn’t want her kids to be orphans”.

 

He went to the meetings, and thing were going really well but he was in “toxic” job and the stress led him back to drink. The problem this time, his wife found out, and took herself, and their two daughters away. He was distraught, and he decided that his wife and children were more important, and he stuck it out, until he became a “lemon”.

 

The good news, his wife and children were back in his life, the bad news, he’d “never be a grandfather”, or “walk his kids down the aisle”. I decided to ask him about his “hobbies” (as it was getting a little sad) and he told me he followed “Derby County”. (Now this is like someone from Philadelphia, meeting someone who supports the “New York Giants”, (mortal enemies)). This was because I was a supporter of “Nottingham Forest”. I told him this, and to my surprise, he was genuinely pleased. He told me it was nice for “Charlie”, as there was someone else “demented” on the ward. I hit back with, “Has your firstborn shaved off her wool...” (which I thought was crap, but Derby County’s nickname was “The Rams”).

 

We carried on with the care plan, and he suggested we compare it with the other one. He would check the “professional” one, as I read out my answers. I did quite well, and we were both impressed, as I’d got things that wasn’t on the ward version. We chatted for a little while and he asked me who my mentor was. I told him, and got back to work.

 

Later that morning, I was talking to my mentor, when Karl called to her across, I came with her and he said,

 

Karl - “Can I just say, the quality of care has gone up since Charles has come on the ward, and, and, he’s a really nice guy”.

 

Mentor - “I don’t know about the quality of care, Karl, but your quality of bullshit has improved.”

 

OH well...

I should be there, but I don’t want to be there... BUT I should be there - Part 4

The conversation, went down like a turd being flushed down the toilet. I was rather confident, and started off asking, “What are Charlie’s beliefs?”. To this question, I got a few interesting answers, ranging from, “John Wayne, was the greatest American ever.” to “Coronation Street had gone downhill since Elsie Tanner had left the show”. My first thought was this was useless, and then I thought, at least I’d have something to talk about with him. Then I realised it was just the dragon’s acting, and so anything that I got from this, wouldn’t turn into any use. She waited for me to carry on.

I asked, “What are his religious beliefs?”. This got, “Well he quite likes Buddhism...”, which upset me a little, (Not like he liked Buddhism, but I was not structuring my questions, in a way that got the answer I required). 

 

I tried “Has Charlie got any hobbies?” I got a single answer, but I couldn’t use it. The answer was, “He likes drinking...”. This caused a attack on Charlie’s health care. “Could he have a tot of whiskey? It helps him sleep” was the first assault. Then came the traditional “friend” question, “A friend of mine, told me that he’d had a pint of Guinness, every day while he was in hospital, could Charlie?”. I sat there gob smacked, silent and thinking, “Don’t these people know, that alcohol put Charlie in here?”. It was after this that the dragon took pity, and told me that the whole thing was over.

She told me that nearly every nurse screwed up their first interviews, and that the whole secret was, “planning” and gave me a hand written list of things.

 

“1. Find out all you can about your patient’s health problem. This was detailed, and included what “he could have” and “couldn’t have”.

 

2. Remember, that even if you initially think the family members are “thick as pig shit”, remember that it’s their loved one in the ward, and they are carrying all the fears and worries with them, so they may not give clear answers... So clarify, and reassure and bloody care about these individuals.

 

3. The patients are not a list of symptoms. The patient is NOT the illness. You may find you can use certain symptoms and their effects on a patient, but remember EACH ARE INDIVIDUAL... and some may be able to deal with certain things, others not...

 

The list ran on, and the last read, “Most, if not all the patients on this ward are going to die. A lot know they’re going to die, and accept it, but it doesn’t mean you should feel sorry for them. Feel sorry in your own time, this is a happy ward, and it can be very rewarding, so smile you dumb shit, chat to the patients, and be caring.

Love Claire”.

 

So the Dragon was called Claire and she’d hand written the list the night before.

 

I decided I liked Claire.

I should be there, but I don’t want to be there... BUT I should be there - Part 3

So. I was working with Karl. I set about filling the bowl with warm water, took it back to the table, he’d managed to get his shaving stuff out (Razor, cream and towel) and a couple of sponges. I should really describe him, so here’s my feeble attempt. He had raven black hair, and he was quite good looking, I couldn’t remember his eye colour, so lets say they were blue. This is where his health problems join the fray. His skin was bright yellow, and his stomach was distended, bloated so much, that it looked like a whale breaching the ocean. It was a weird sight as it, didn’t match his physique, which was good. I’d drawn the curtains My memory of him seems to be of conversations, so let’s look at one, while he washes and shaves.

 

Charles - “Hi, has it been mentioned that I’ve got to design a care plan for you?”

Karl - “I’ve got one, and it makes for interesting reading”

Charles - “I’m a student nurse, and.....”

Karl - “Never!. I mean, you’re old, er mature, no old... mature... er older than the normal student”. (I was 41)

Charles - “Like great wine.... I’m more....”

Karl - “Fruity?, Full Bodied?”.

Charles (feeling slightly miffed) - “ So how long have you done this “humour thing?”, cause it needs a little work...”

Karl - “Well Charles, it all started when I woke up and I realised, I’d turned into a lemon. You find you’re carrying 2 illegal immigrants, and you don’t know how they got in there... I think it’s a defence mechanism”.

Charles - “So you’re a little bitter about things?”

Karl - “Shit, that’s great. I’m a bitter lemon... No, not at the moment, but... Ask me tomorrow, when I read about another political scandal, another tin pot dictator, who drinks at his private club, and then I may be a very bitter lemon.”

 

I was just about to carry on with the conversation, when a voice behind the curtains, boomed out, “Karl, is Charles in there? Only I’ve got to quiz him on care plans”. He looks at me and whispers, “Do you want me to fake a heart attack, and you can escape in carnage, a la “Scooby Doo?”. I shake my head warily, and turn to the curtain.

Karl - “Yup, Charles is here, he’s able, fruity and full bodied, and mature, and he’s ready for you.”

He turns to me and says, “Good luck!” and smiles. I walk feeling OK... I’m ready to face the dragon.

I should be there, but I don’t want to be there... BUT I should be there - Part 2

I struggled writing this, as while it contains something that inspires me, every day, but it also contains something of great pain and regret. So don’t read on, if you’re upset by death.

 

The next day, the snow fell. It’s downy feathers caked the earth it that pure pristine whiteness, that looks good on postcards, Christmas cards . This was early, it was dark, coming up to the Christmas period, and each street light had become a conical shaped snow globe. I was full of expectation, and the snow filled my head with joy, as I trudged through it’s purity, leaving only my tracks to mark my passage.

 

The train came, and as I sat down, I pulled out my notebook, and sketched a rough plan on My care plan technique.. Within 17 minutes, (the time it takes a train to get from my station to the city) I’d got an idea how to deal with Charlie’s “Family”. I would play on my age, I was more “mature” than my fellow student nurses. Heck, I was more “mature” than many of the nurses on the ward (but didn’t carry the work experience). I walked on the ward, feeling reasonably confident, but that was punctured by the fact that my mentor, wouldn’t be on my shift that morning. I would be shadowed by a “dragon” of a nurse, and she would be playing Charlie’s “Aunt, brother and sister” during our break. It goes without saying, it wasn’t the nurse I was expecting. It was time to change the game plan. I’d wing it.

 

We went though the morning getting the patients up and ready for breakfast. This meant a wash, a shave or a shower for those more capable, (Even though you asked, as we promoted independence) and I, like a fool, hadn’t asked during hand over, but smugly thought, I’ll check their care plans. I’d made it to the edge of Charlie’s bed, and was intercepted by the “dragon”.

 

“Naughty”, she waved her index finger, (like those nannies from the films of the 40’s would do), and told me to “ask her”. We walked away from the bed, and I was told “Charlie was a sweetie”, all I needed to do was collect a change of clothes, a towel, and his cleaning bag, walk him to one of the two shower bays, make sure the water was warm enough for him, and “leave him to it. With him being a “flight risk” after last night, check on him every five minutes. You then check on Karl, who makes the decision based on his pain levels. If it’s bad he has a bowl, if he’s feeling OK, you’ll have to help shower him”.

 

Looking after to Charlie was fairly simple, I made sure the water, was like Goldilocks warm, set his slippers, robe, fresh pajamas, on a rail. and told him to “ring” if he had difficulty. I then went to Karl. “Good morning Karl, my name is Charles, I will be your nurse for today, what do you require, bowl or shower?” He replied, “Good morning Charles, I’ve come here to die, and I think I’ll have a bowl”. OK I was taken back by this, and I thought I’d clear, something up.

Charles - “What now?”

 

Karl - ”?”

Charles - “You’re dying now?”

Karl - “Nah, not until after breakfast... You can’t die on an empty stomach...”

Charles - “Oh OK”.

Karl - “and Charles....”

Charles - “What?”

Karl - “Stop sounding like a effing air hostess...”

 

I had my first encounter with Karl, and it was glorious....

I don’t want to be here... honestly... I don’t want to be here.... Part one

It was the week back and we’d all been assigned places that were challenging. My placement was on a ward where all were dying due to alcohol abuse. My mentor assigned me two patients and I would have to care for them during my four week placement, and I was expected to take the “obs”, (Blood pressure, temperature etc) through the day at a regular time. I would be able to administer drugs but under strict observation. It was interesting, but not as interesting as the Christmas week, I spent with one of my patients.

 

I had two diametrically different patients, one called “Charlie” who, (for my American friends, looked like “Gomer Pyle”, and for the Brits, “Trigger”) was a streaky tall guy, who had no visitors, and spent most of his days on the ward dressed in a “Wee Willy Winky” type night dress, and purple slippers. He did have a dressing gown but rarely wore it. I can’t remember his age but he was older that me, at the time.. He suffered from hallucinations and tremours.

 

My other patient was a “Stockbroker” type, “Carl”, around 32 and he was dying. He was in the end stage of liver disease, and his skin was yellow and his stomach was so bloated he was unable to close his pajama tops. He was a really nice guy, who through pressures of work. turned to drink as “a crutch” and when he realised it was destroying his marriage, he decided to stop, but by then, it was too late. He was small and due to his stomach swelling, looked chunky.

 

It was the Christmas week, and we’d got snow, which I liked. The streets looked like they were drowning in peppermint icing, and there were large flakes falling for the steel grey skies. I’d done a week on morning and this was my first week on nights (ever) and I don’t mind telling you, I was crapping myself. The train ran late as the temperature had dropped and the rails had ice on them and it was still snowing. I’d actually planned for this and caught an earlier train, but the bus to the hospital played at aquaplaning in the snow, and so I was a jangle of nerves when I arrived.

 

During handover, we were informed about how each patient was, and I was told to watch Charlie as he’d been a little “Antsy” but he was fast asleep now and “should be fine”. I was told by my mentor, that nights usually were easy, and she’d get me to write care plans for both “Charlie” and “Karl” and we’d spend the end of the night comparing them to the real thing, as care plans were “the rocks on which we build care”.

 

The ward was shrouded in dimness, with oases of light from each bay and the nursing stations. there were four nurses on, two were in the office catching up with paperwork, and two on the actual ward. We’d done the first round of “obs” and things were going okay. My mentor told me that she’d fetch my both “Charlie” and “Karl”’s paperwork and the blank care plans and I could get to work, and so for 5 minutes, I was the only “nurse” on the ward.

 

I was so diligent, my eyes scanned the bays, like spotlights, and I was dreading a ringing of the “Nurse” needed. It was then that I noticed that the curtains around “Charlie”’s bed were moving. They were swaying as if blown by an unseen wind. I’d been told that the “dead” walk the wards were there’s so much death, and so I marched forward, slowly, and pulled “Charlie”’s curtains back only to reveal... no “Charlie”.

 

I quickly looked around, and noticed the fire escape door was open. I rushed towards it, and hit a wall of snow and ice. It was blizzard conditions out there and we were 3 floors up. I looked down, and there was “Charlie, looking like a refugee from a poor man’s version of “Scrooge”. His hat was blowing with the wind, and I could only see the tops of his purple slippers.

 

I knew I’d have to get him back in the ward, and so I quickly worked my way down the fire escape, only to realise, that underneath the snow, was a layer of treacherous ice. Things that went through my head at the time. I had visions of slipping and falling and sliding passed “Charlie”. His “junk” waving as I slipped by, and my last view of earth would be “Charlie”’s genitals, as I plunged to my death.

I, though more luck than judgement, caught him, and then he announced he was “going down the pub”. I pointed out that it was 3am, and “the pubs were closed”. This got the reply, “It’s okay, I know where there’s a “shut in” (This is a pub that stays open for the locals, and locks it’s doors) and we’d both be welcome”. and we’d only go for “the one”... I pointed out he wasn’t dressed for it, and he pointed out it was a “festive” outfit. I really didn’t want to be there.

 

Matters were solved when I informed him, “I’d have to clock out” and I’d book a taxi and at least “we’d be nice and warm when we got to the pub...” and we marched back up to the ward, to meet a concerned mentor, and her words were a little more “Fruity”. “For F**K’s Sake, Charlie, I’m freezing my tits off, and you’ll be looking for a welding torch to put your balls back on..”. We got back on the ward, and my mentor fetched the other two nurses, who took over, while I warmed up, and was told that “I would never forget this” and I never have. Hence me typing this.

Donne said "No Man is an Island" and...

I'd disagree, but a man who is an island, may be part of an archipelago.  OK this is a bizarre way to talk about the internet, but the more I see of it, the more powerful the idea becomes.

Life at the hall and elsewhere...

The Cook - Rhoda's Friend

As Rhoda showed her commitment to her job, her duties increased and she was given various other duties.  These varied from the downright scary to downright fun.  I'll tell you about one of them.  The first was being playmate and and servant, to the Master and Mistress's two sons.  From what I've been told that they were two scamps, but didn't have a bad bone in their bodies.

They'd been bought a pony.  Rhoda thought the pony was a miniature but the butler informed her, that it was bought with the whole idea, to prepare the boys for riding in the local hunt, when they got older.  What they loved to do was to get any servant that wasn't busy, to come outside and ride the pony.  The thing is that the pony was barrel chested and when the servant mount it, their legs could reach the floor.  Most servants were not keen because as the pony trotted in a circle, their legs would be going at the same speed.

They called the thing "Merrylegs", and that was probably because the servants' legs were going like "merry hell" in a circle.  The day came, when they pestered Rhoda to ride "Merrylegs".  She argued against it, as she was a poor horsewoman.  They pestered and pestered until Rhoda decided to do it, as it made them both very happy.

They stood there in the warm Summer sun and looked like two angels.  They smiled as Rhoda mounted the pony and promised that they wouldn't do anything.  Rhoda didn't have to use any mounting stool, as "Merrylegs" was so small, she could just throw her right leg over the pony and get comfortable in the saddle.  She turned to the boys, and they smiled sweetly at her.   The groom gave the order to "trot on" and kept the reins firmly gripped in his hand.

Rhoda had pulled her legs up for as long as she could and on the third circle she was getting a little tired.  It was then the children stroke.  The eldest one crept up to "Merrylegs" and slapped it on the rump.  The pony, startled took off like a scalded cat, tearing the reins out of the grooms hands and off down the long drive.

Rhoda hung on for dear life and hoped and prayed that the little pony would tire. The trees flashed by and they were heading towards the gate.  Her muscles in her legs were shaking, and then from the left of her, there appeared a miracle.  It was the groom on a bicycle.  He managed to pass the deranged pony and reach for the reins.   Rhoda never knew how he did it but he managed to stop "Merrylegs" and Rhoda fell out of the saddle and kissed the earth.

The boys were apologetic and they couldn't look Rhoda in the eye.  Later that night, Rhoda was bought to the Master's study and he'd got his two sons to formally apologise.  He pointed out that not only "Rhoda could have been seriously hurt, but so could "Merrylegs"".  From that day forward, Rhoda stopped being the boys maid but they were most respectful to her and the other servants.

The upper classes...

Rhoda but not THE hat

As I said before, Mum fitted into her job, like a well oiled cog.  She got on with everybody and she knew her place.  It got to the point where her responsibilities broadened and while there was no increase in wages, it made her life more interesting.

Being a parlour maid, meant for three weeks to a month in the year, she and a skeleton staff were left behind to "mothball"  the hall, while the family moved to warmer climes.  This was a enjoyable period of Mum's life as she and the rest of the staff had it easy.  The Housekeeper told them, that as long as they did there jobs, she didn't mind if it got a little lax.  This meant that Mum and her friends could examine the rooms in the great house.

They knew it was more than their job's worth, to go into the master and mistress's rooms, but in the attics, they found treasure troves.  There was suitcases loaded up with dresses and suits of the families and also diaries and love letters.  Mum and her pals, used to hurry through their work, to rush up into the attics.   There, they would try on the dresses, and read the diaries and imagine that they were the ancestors.  They found out all the indiscretions, skeletons and let their imaginations run wild.  The Housekeeper knew all this, for she'd been with the family for years and also been in the attics.  So, in a way, Mum and her pals were following a staff tradition.

The family of the house, would hold  hold dinner parties and overnight guests would bring their staff with them to not only augment the house staff, but also have servants to look after their needs.  This was a mixed blessing for Mum as she'd be roped in to serve at mealtimes, but fortunately, she was taught by the butler.  She never actually described these occasions in detail, but what she did describe was, that with the extra staff, came  extra gossip.  This was frowned upon by the managing staff but the maids used to chat before bed.

She found out all sorts of things.  There was many a time she found out, that the lord or gentleman that arrived (fashionably late) had also arrived with a fashionably high class prostitute.  She knew if any couple were not getting on and the master of the house, was spending time at his club...  It was an underground intelligence and it really made Mum think that "they" were probably as bad as any commoner.

OK going to close, with another Mum tale.  On the eve of the family's return to the house, Mum was informed that because of a chambermaid being ill (She remained in Halifax  (I'm assuming she was in Hospital)  Mum would be promoted to chambermaid for the mistress of the house, for a few days until the other chambermaid got well.  Mum didn't mind this, as long as it wasn't a permanent position, as the mistress tended to be a little overtaxing.

The mistress arrived home with plenty of luggage and Mum laid out her mistress's formal gown and garments for her to change into for dinner.  (OK getting fed up with typing "Mum" all the while, so going to call her by her given name. so everybody, meet "Rhoda")  Now, as the mistress left the room, Rhoda was expected to tidy the bedroom, put the mistress's clothes away for washing and pick up anything else, strewn around the bedroom.  She'd got most away and picking up the mistress's traveling hat, she tried it on.  She liked how it looked, and so, she placed it into it's hat box and put it on top of the cupboard with all of the mistress's other hats.

Rhoda (and the rest of the staff) had 1 weekend in every month off (it was staggered so that there'd always be  enough staff to cope).  So, Rhoda and one of the cooks went to Halifax.  The cook's family lived there and they invited Rhoda to stop.  Now Rhoda hadn't forgotten about the hat, and how good she looked in it.  She'd told the cook , and so the very next day, the cook and Rhoda searched the town.  Disappointed that they hadn't found it, they were returning to the cook's family home, when Rhoda had an idea.  They stopped in a Haberdashery and sure enough, there was a pattern for the hat.  Rhoda bought the pattern and fabric and the cook and her returned home.

The weeks went by and each night, Rhoda committed a small amount of time making this hat.  It was of great felt and it had a peacock's feather in it.  She finally finished the hat, and then she had a brainwave about the feather.  She got hold of the boot boy, and persuaded him, to chase one of the hall's peacocks towards the gate of the hall's walled garden.  He knew he was going to make sixpence out of it and so, the game was afoot.

Rhoda and the boot boy woke early, and in that misty dawn, they both went in search of the peacocks.  Sure enough, they found one and the chase was on.  The peacock ducked and dived and cried out but the boot boy had the measure of it, and chased it towards the open gate.  It shot through the gate, like "Shit off a shovel" and to it's surprise, Rhoda was waiting behind the wall to pull a feather out of it's bum.  With an indignant cry, the peacock flounced off and Rhoda and the boot boy exchanged the money, both smiling happily.

On Rhoda's next weekend off, the hat received it's grand showing.   On the way out, Rhoda heard the mistress of the house call her back.  "Rhoda, who gave you permission to wear MY traveling hat?",  she said.  "No one, Ma'am" Rhoda replied. "But it's not your hat", Rhoda said.  "Nonsense", the mistress said, and with that she ordered another maid to fetch the hatbox, with her hat in (Fully expecting it to be empty).  The maid returned, and with a flourish, the mistress flung open the lid, only to see her hat (an exact copy on Rhoda's head) lying there.

She hastily apologised to Rhoda and asked her where she'd got it.  Rhoda told her.  "And how much did it cost you?" she asked.  Rhoda said, " 3 shillings and sixpence" (3 shillings for the fabric and pattern and sixpence for the boot boy).  The mistress look astonished, "I purchased mine for 12 guineas">  With that, Rhoda curtsied and went her merry way.


1 guinea = £1-1s-0d ( £1/1/- ) = one pound and one shilling = 21 shillings
(which is £1.05 in todays money)

shilling (which is 5p in todays money)  

It was a dark and Stormy night...

Mum

When my Mum trudged down the lane to the hall, she saw that the main gate was large and wooden.  It was also resting with it's base in a pool of water, that reflected the drizzle of rain.  She was soaked and while she was confident on her ability to do her job, she just wanted to get out of the rain.  She wasn't the only one who had the same thoughts, as down the lane came a mass of rats.  It was like a living carpet of fur, and it caused her to open the small door, that she'd noticed, barely in time and step through onto the main drive of the hall.

She saw the hall for the first time, in the moonlight that broke through the rain clouds.  She enjoyed a good book and it reminded her of the heroine, who would arrive at the creepy hall owned by her uncle.  The only difference was, that the heroine would arrive at the front door in a carriage, and she, Mum, would have to trudge to the rear of this grand house, to the servant's quarters.

She took to her job, like a duck to water and being a palour maid meant that she'd be up early to make sure that the rooms she was assigned to were spick and span before the family of the house were awake.  This was when she was caught up with a moral dilemma.  She was doing her best to clean her room when she noticed something sparkling on the floor, tucked underneath the corner of the carpet.  Wondering what it was, she bent down to take a look.  It was a half-crown coin.  Now to mum, a half-crown was quite a bit of money but something seemed not right.

She went and fetched another maid, who told her it was a test to see whether she was honest, trustworthy and able to do a good job.  If the coin was gone the next morning, then the family would assume, being as it was Mum's room, she'd took it and so, she would be dismissed as being dishonest.  If it was still there, then it would be telling as Mum didn't polish the floor to the standard that was required.  It was virtually a "catch 22" situation. What she did, she finished off the room, to the best of her ability and fetched the house keeper to inspect her work.

The house keeper, could to see how well Mum had done her job, but must have been disappointed to see that the half-crown was missing.  She turned to Mum to dismiss her, but before she had a chance, Mum pulled out the half-crown placed it in the house keeper's hand and said, "I  know I'm an unknown but I do not appreciate being placed in a situation where I might be called a thief, or my ability to clean is questioned.  I hope you'll pass this on to the master and mistress of the house. I don't take what isn't mine".  She curtsied and left the room   

OK, I may have altered slightly, as I can't find the tape...  I remember her saying that she confronted the mistress with the coin, but more likely, being the new girl...  it probably went down how I put.

I'm going to finish...  Next post...  Life upstairs

The Three Rs

OK, I'm going to try to put on record, as faithfully as I remember it, my mum's life story, leaving out things to protect the innocent (OK this does sound like she's on witness protection) but keeping to the facts as I know them, so expect a lot of artistic license.

She was born in a Nottinghamshire mining village.  She had 3 brothers and two sisters and the boys were expected to go down the mines and the girls into service. First though, she had to get school, over with.  The school she went to was split, the boys one side of a fenced wall and the girls on the other.  The teaching was basic, (The 3 R's).  They had a teacher called Miss Bottomly and Mum said that she had a nickname.  The used to call her "big" as she had a very large bottom.

Mum wasn't the ideal student, she used to get into fights.  The sisters had a enemy.  Her name was Gerty Grice and her nickname was "Gobby".  Mum and her would fall out.  Mum told me that once, Gobby Grice was slagging her sisters off, so she laid into her. She got her on the ground and was punching her, when one of her sisters saw the fight, and shot off. When mum got home, her mum confronted her.  "N said you were fighting with Gerty Grice again!", she said.  Mum turned round and said, "Yes, and I'll punch her again to, if she calls my family".  She got slippered for fighting.

The funny thing about Mum and "Gobby" was that they became good friends when they left school.  They'd chat and talk and one day, "Gobby was coming up the road and she looked lik she was packing a little weight.  Mum asked her about it and "Gobby" told her that she'd been to the doctors and he'd told her she had a very large "tumour" and she'd have to go away and have it removed.  She didn't see "Gobby" for months and the next time she saw her, she was pushing a pram.  Mum stopped her, looked at the baby, and said, "That a lovely "tumour" you've got there".  "Gobby" had the grace to go red.

As I've said before, Mum and her sisters were expected to go into service.  What happen was, her mum, (My Grandma) trained them.  What would happen was that they had to clean a room each, and it had to be spotless.  Grandma would go round every work surface, every door frame, with a white glove.  If there was one speck of dirt or dust, she'd make them do it again.  She was harsh but she wanted her girls to be the best.

They applied for jobs and Mum got one, in the wilds of the Yorkshire moors...

"Hudson, Apone... That's it, we're screwed" - Memories of a cyber nerd.

I made friends with a geek.  I'd say that this goes back ages, and being as it's another memory, it goes back years but last night, the geek and I (Fellow geek, that I am) wallowed in nostalgia.  I say "wallowed", in reality, we soaked it into our pores and let it refresh our little cells and braincells.  It must have been a good thing as I didn't get to bed till 3am.

My friend is into board games and he took me onto a world tour of some really obscure ones, I saw "Rebound, Tilt, Police Alarm!and then we went through old TV and movies.  This is where things got interesting (not that they wasn't before) but it bought back really pleasant memories...  To get you in the mood, I'll have to tell you how me and my geek friend met.  So fasten your seatbelts it's going to be a bumpy ride back to the 80s.

I had a job.  I worked in a warehouse (No, not "Warehouse 13", I wish (and yeah there will be geek references all the way through this) and it was part of the textile industry

 

Me outside the textile mill

Anyway, due to cheap imports, the factory closed down and I was made redundant,. (but I wasn't in the factory at the time, I was in hospital having tumours removed from my arm pits).  When I came out I sign on the dole.  This was the first time ever I'd been unemployed and anyway, they placed me on a work program.  This was a interesting thing (I didn't realise it at the time) building duck ponds (SORRY Natural environmental habitats) a farmer would donate part of his land and we'd move in and build a pond.  I now like to think that we were the "A team of "Duck Pond" builders but I think we just used to arse around.

Anyway, we were a motley crew, I was like the middle of the group age wise, and what used to happen, Mum would bake cakes and pastries and I'd take them in for the group.  This of course, made me popular (The way to a man's heart is through his stomach, after all) and (I'll probably do more about this motley crew at a later date).  There was one guy there I got on well with (No it's not the geek).  His name was Barry and he had bright pink hair.  As you can see from the picture, my hair was fairly normal, so this friendship was strange to say the least.  The thing was though, the van used to drop us off at the same spot and we got to talking.  He'd recently been bought a Spectrum 48k computer and he wondered if I wanted to see it.  I of course, was polite and vaguely interested, said "Yes".

When I arrived, I was taken into the living room and Barry and his brother were playing "3D Death Chase" .  This sounds more lethal than it was and as you can see, from the link, it wasn't pretty.   I watched, and showed of my skills as a player (basically played like an epileptic amoeba) and it was a joyous few hours.  Barry's sister turned up, and trailing behind her, was her boyfriend.(OK you can applause now, the geek has entered the room).  His eyes lit up when he saw the game, and like every typical male, he wanted to play and Barry's sister was relegated to observer. (Don't worry she dumped him later (or he dumped her)).

The weeks/months went by and Jonathan (formerly known as Geek  (I felt like calling "Geek" all the while, suggested that he belonged to an "S&M" Rubber club) became a friend.  I managed to obtain a "Spectrum 128k" computer and had purchased the game "Aliens".  Now the game, with it's limited graphics managed to recreate the scene where you're controlling the Colonial Marines. (Are you bored yet, it gets worse (or better if you're a geek)) and I invited Jonathan round.  He knew what we were playing and bought the soundtrack album round and so, with all the lights off and just by the light of the TV screen, we'd try to kill the queen.

OK this sounds, totally boring BUT there were two things going for it;  the soundtrack and Jonathan.  He did drama as a hobby and we'd sit there, he'd be doing all the voices, and physically shouting at the screen as each marine was taken by an alien. The atmosphere was ripe with tension (and it wasn't because of the "Red Hot" Crisps we'd been munching)

So Jon, I dedicate this blog to you...  and the late Hudson, Apone ,Vasquez and all the other dead marines we left behind.

Childhood Memories

The Bradford lot

OK, my mum, was a maid, (a la "Downton Abbey") and she made friends with a number of staff, and kept in touch with a few.  We'd get holidays out of it and one of her biggest friends was my Auntie M (as usual keeping names quiet as who know who reads these things).  I loved going to stop at Auntie M's because she ran a corner sweet shop and me and her youngest got on like wild fire.  We'd go out on day trips, like to Ilkley Moor.  There'd be a picnic or maybe a pub lunch, and me an C (Auntie M's son) would climb the smaller rocks and belt out "Ilkley Moor bar t'at".

C, Aunty M's Son and my Mate

Ok the next tale might seem offensive to my "aunt" but the shop and her were immaculately clean and so what comes next as a surprise.  On the first morning there, I'd slept in C's bedroom, with C and he told me we should go down the stairs and open the curtains, to let the morning sunlight into the house.  I went down the stairs and C followed but paused on the bottom step.  I thought it strange but went down and went to the curtains. I was 3 steps into the room and all I could hear was "Crunch, Crunch" like I was walking on cornflakes. I looked down and the carpet seemed to be moving.  (I tell you now, I'd be on a chair if it happened here)  I made it to the curtains and pulled them open.  The floor was covered in cockroaches and as the light hit them, they disappeared and after 15 seconds, the room looked immaculate.  This became a holiday treat for me and C, we'd come down each moring and stomp arround that floor like Godzilla invading Tokyo.. 


C and I used to play games outside the shop that would have shock the parents. I'm not going to go into the games, as it'd be, I wonder about his gene pool???  If the kids play things like that now, it'd scare the crap of everyone, it scares me now.

The great thing about the people of Bradford, they were so friendly and open. C's sister, had a great Dane.   A dog so lovely and affectionate.  The thing loved kids.  We went to visit her once, and she told Mum to beware of the dog as it was affectionate.  When we came into the house, there was this horse like creature.  I looked at it and my first thought was, "Can I ride it" (I was only 8) and my second, "Boy that's BIG".  The third thought came when the Dane let out "WUFF", and charged towards us.  I thought, "oh well, Mum's screwed" but to my surprise, he took one look at mum (Who in a really stern voice said "NO!") and veered around her to me.   He looked into my eyes, as the drool and tongue dropped towards the floor, and very gently placed one paw on one shoulder, and the other paw on the other.  He then proceeded to lick my hair.  I was mortified, but it got worse.  He walked forward.  the weight of this monster took me and him to the ground.  He loved this.  He saw it as a way of cleaning all the dirt and grime off my face.  I was his puppy, and be darned if I wasn't going to be a dirty one.

To finish, I'll tell of the perils of drink.  It was a time of celebration and both families went out for a drink or two at the local pub. My Auntie M's husband was lovely and he was the designated driver.  Anyway, the beer and the shorts flowed and the night dragged on.  We got back to the shop and and it got to the stage where Aunty M's husband told her that he'd sleep on his own, and left his drunken wife to it.

The next morning was punctuated by screaming.  We all rushed around to find out were it was coming from.  Mum was there first and it was Aunty M.  She was in tears.  She turned to my mum and Cried, "OH Rhoda, OH Rhoda, It's finally happened.  I've had a stroke and I can't move me legs".  Mum being the practical person she was, said "let's have a look".  With that, she pulled the blankets back and burst into giggles.  "You daft bitch, she said.  "You've got your roll on half way down your legs, no wonder you couldn't move..."

Anyway, I'm going to close, as I'm tired and I want to go to bed.

I'll publish this and if I can find the CD, I'll tell you mum's story in her own words

Night

Boundaries...

I've been gnomed... You probably thinking, "What the hell is he on about?".  Well, I know a gnome, who in reality, is a good friend, who happens to be a gnome.  I can hear the sounds of people, going, "He's certainly committed (OR HE SHOULD BE committed).  HANG ON.

The thing in life as you get older, you loose the sense of magic, you had as a child.  Sometimes you can get it back, with TV shows, movies and books but it's not the same as each one provides boundaries.  It could be the screen (As in Films, TV), or paper as in books.  My friend the gnome, happens to be an old friend is trying to alter that.  He started gnoming ages ago, it wasn't a big thing, the whole idea was to make someone smile.  He took it to the next step, probably because, not only he made that person smile, he got a kick out of giving.

Well it's moved on, the gnome has a family, he has friends and a Facebook page.  He's extending the joy out to people in the world.  I'm a bit of a cynic at times, but I love what he's doing.  I know this gnome, I'm privileged to call him friend.  He'd tell me about his gnoming, I'd grin, and think it was great.  

The thing is though, I'm 58 years old, and tonight, the boundaries fell down, there was magic in my world and I remembered the power of being a child, all through the power of a little ceramic gnome. Thank you Freddie Finwick Fisher and long may you reign...    

Heading for the Abyss

I am getting over a problem with the pipes, and while I'm also playing an online game (I may or may not blog about that...  If I get desperate for ideas) I didn't want to go to far from home in case I got caught short.  I decided to watch "Wuthering Heights" ((A TV Version) and I highly recommend it).

It was scary, I could see Heathcliff and Cathy skidding towards the abyss, and I was so stressed.  I sat there, dismayed as their story played out,  I'd seen so many versions of this, I knew the ending BUT I Still screamed "NOOOOO!".  It's a bizarre thing. but I actually hoped for a happy end.  I was exhausted by the whole thing.

I've not been through anything like this since the great films of the 60's and 70's.  "The Haunting" pulled me in, and not using any CGI scared the crap out of me.  I watched it recently and it still scares me, and leaves me with dread.  "The Exorcist", while weakened by spoofs, still frightens me, and there's the fear of things unknown, the travel through the dark, to pray on the innocent.

This is turning into a supernatural thing, and I didn't particularly want to head in that direction.  There are so many films out there, that can drag you into the abyss.  I'm going to talk about one.  It's a film that doesn't telegraph the abyss, and when it finally comes, it comes like a runaway train.  It's a powerful film and I can honestly say, you want to see a masterclass in acting, it's so worth watching.  Saying that, you'd have to stop me from plucking out my eyes, to get me to watch it again.

The Film's "Jude"(1996) starring Christopher Eccleston and Kate Winslet. and it's a romance.  It's based on a Thomas Hardy Novel and I went to see it with a good friend.  So here's the tale.

It was a cool winter's day and myself and my friend, Linda, were doing what we'd do once a week.  There was two cinema's fairly close together and what we'd do, is pick a film in one and then go on to the second and watch a film there.  I don't know who chose "Jude" but we both enjoyed the classics (TV not Books).  We got our tickets and sat through the previews.  I was expecting a good film and wasn't disappointed as the lights went down and the film started.  (I'm not going to give any of the story away, as I may have flashbacks and I don't particularly want them.  Even though it's a POWERFUL love story, it has an ending, where you not only stare into the abyss (It's behind a curtain) you almost cheerfully leap into the bugger.  I was going to string it out, make a proper tale of it) It was beautifully filmed and it's one of those romances (Like "Romeo and Juliet") that goes against society's moral stance.  They take everything that society throws against them.  You cheer them on, you admire them and you rage against their society that abandons them.  Just as you feel
things may turn, the abyss turns up.  You find yourself being hit by a sledgehammer of grief and remorse as you, Jude Fawley and Sue Bridehead fall into that black darkness.

Well we left that cinema, and I turned to Linda and said "FUCK!" she replied with the heartfelt words, "FUCKITY FUCK FUCK" and I tell you now, if the wasn't railings outside that cinema we'd have been tempted to walk out under a bus.  (Tempted but I doubt if we'd have done it).  It was one of the most powerful films I'd ever seen.  We laugh about it now, but that film broke my heart.

Anyway What's "Tess of the Dubervilles" like? 

Devious - A cat's skill set.

Selly Doing her "Rockstar" and
"Meep Meop"  (reconstruction)

My cat is devious.  I didn't realise this till fairly recently.  I'm not saying she's not loving and fun to have around (She is) but she's devious.  She's not always been devious, but I've notice that she does certain things to get attention, get her way, or get food.

Attention -  This is the obvious.  It starts with the meowing, that usually fails as I'm deaf (But being as, I've had my hearing aids fixed, I now can hear every meow).

She has variations on the meow.

There's the "Meep".  The "meep" lets me know she's looking particularly cute or gorgeous, and to show this, she'll stretch out on the floor, doing her rock guitarist Pete Townsend stance.
There's the "Meep Meop" OK this is a variation on the "meep" but this is done on the bed, and it means "I'm cute and beautiful, I will allow you to stroke me"
Then there's the "Meow meeop", which is given in the kitchen.  This is the "Yeah Bitch, I'm getting my food...  I'm getting my FOOOD!..."

Getting Her Way -

This is one of the nicest things about her.  I have in my living room; a number of chairs and a couch.  Two of the chairs are wooden and not particularly comfortable and  the couch is a pull out bed.  She normally lies on that but she's not happy.  She wants the most comfy chair in the flat.  She does this in a way, you can almost forgive her for her deviousness.  First, she leaps onto the arm of the chair.  She then stares at you.  (Has everyone seen the cat in "Shrek"?.  The one with the BIG eyes? )  Well, Selly has those eyes, and she looks at you with pure love. She'll pause a little and then she starts to purr.  At this stage, you're saying, "I love you, you little shit", and she makes her next move.

She reaches out with a paw, (all the while looking at you) and she places it on your chest.  Then, realising there's no objection to this, she'll follow up with the other three, and then, looking at you, she'll rest her head on your shoulder and start purring (This is the only cat I've known, who can purr loud enough, that I can hear her without my hearing aids).  She lays there, content.  You stroke her and all is right with the world.

She then makes the next move.  She half gets off your chest, and lies with half her body across you, and the other half across the corner of the chair.  This is okay and you carry on stroking her, and carry on getting her purrs.  Then, the master stroke. she starts to wave her tail across your face.  You're mildly irritated at first but you think It'll stop in a minute.  She then increases the wave of the tail.  You feel the urge to push her off and then she then stops and leaps off.  After a predetermined time, she returns and follows the same routine... and repeats until you move...  SUCCESS... 

Getting food

This one doesn't always work and it doesn't happen often but it is irritating.  I go to bed, she spends time on the bed and when I go to sleep, (She knows this, cause I put my book down, put my glasses down) she leaves the bedroom.

I'm now off in dreamland, and she's peckish. She sneaks in, works her way around the bed, jumps up on the chest of drawers and leaps off onto me.  I imagine a flow chart in her head.

1. Any reaction? -No? - Repeat.

                       Yes? - Leave the bedroom as rapidly as possible
      2. Lie on passage floor and do the "Meep" routine...  "It wasn't me"
      3. Go into the kitchen and meow "While You're up...  I don't suppose..."

Sometimes I feed her and other times it's... "ARGH  I'm not feeding you, feck off!!"...  She then retreats to the other bedroom.

It just depends on what kind of day I've had... and she'll return to my bedroom after all this and "Meep Meop" me into submission... and we end up as friends

There you go, her schemes so far...  I wonder if birds or other animals have routines?

Selly Kitten/Cat... Love Catz part 3 - Final Cat/Part

Selly Cat in Smug Mode

(OK the heading does sound like she's an amputee, and she is in a way).  We inherited, Selly Kitten, as a kitten from my great-niece.  Her cat had kittens and she wanted to get them to new homes.  She was down to the last two and she asked Mum to take her little one in.

Since we'd lost Loki, (despite a more extensive search, better organised, we never saw him again) we thought it'd be good for Push Cat to have a friend.  She was a little monster.  Do you know that Warner Brothers cartoon, with the kitten and the bulldog?  Well, that was how Push Cat and Selly Kitten's relationship was like.   She'd walk all over him and he'd allow her to do so.

Around 14 weeks of her life, Selly Kitten's life changed for the worst.  She used to try and sneak out of the flat.  If I'd gone to take out the trash, she'd come too.  One day, i came home from shopping and I had 3 heavy bags.  I opened the door and left it open while I took the bags up.  She got out.  Now, here's the thing, my next door neighbour had 6 cats, and they were all weird.  They'd come up to you, hissing away and expect to be stroked.  I used to, as a joke, call them the local mafia and when I heard the screams and fighting outside, I realised what had happened, Selly Kitten was no where to be seen.  I was frantic with guilt.

I wandered the street in the pouring rain, calling out her name.  Mum looked out of our front window and when I came home, without her, we didn't know what to do.  I went out again and there was no sign.  The next day, started off the same way as before...  POURING RAIN.  I looked out the window, and I could just make out a shape behind an large ornamental plant pot.  Could it be Selly?  I got my coat on and rushed down the stairs.  I crossed the street and sure enough, looking like a drowned rat, there she was.  I picked her up, she was shaking.  I don't know whether it was with fear, or cold but I had to get her warm.  I placed her in my coat and through her damp fur, I could feel the start of a purr.  I bought her home and mum had the fire on at full blast.  She knew she was home. 

She still tried to get out, but the difference was this time was, when I was closing the door, she'd break her neck to get in before the door was closed.  She's been out several times now, the only problem is, she never returns to our door step.  It's now the right side, but a different door.  She also developed some really strange quirks.  There's a  small part of brickwork between Mum's bedroom and the living room,(What is now mine).  Well she'd wait until she knew someone was going to walk by, and then run up that wall, and you'd be surprised to see a cat staring you in the face... from face height.  That wall could never be decorated, as she'd just do the same.  It looks like a child's measurement chart, except where there would be pencil marks, there are claw marks.

She'd run up curtains, just to stare at you.  She loved my Mum and I only got the affection when it was feeding time, and then she's lay it on really thick.  Selly Kitten loved Push Cat.  They'd lay together and she'd try and get him to play.  He was a devious old soul.  He'd wait until she'd leapt  around for an hour, getting closer and xloser to him, and then he'd strike.  He'd strike with the scratching of the back leg, you could see he'd not got his claws extended and then he'd play.  Five minutes later, after all of this, he'd lay down and relax.  Meanwhile, peaking around the corner of the couch, was Selly Kitten.

Selly never really got over Push's death but what she did do was adopt me.  It's funny, I feel like I'm the Alpha cat.  I'll put down her breakfast, and I'll get mine and then she'll go out into the passage and wait for me start eating.  Then she comes in and finishes hers.  She gets upset of I'm not in bed at a certain time.  I have to groom her and she favours me with the loudest purr.  She then lies down on the bed and looks at me.  When I put my book down, she leaves the bedroom.  I then shut my eyes and go to sleep.  When I wake up in the night, I can feel this warm shape against my back.  It's Selly, and she's sharing.

I'm typing this now and because of health problems, I can't sit on a comfy chair, but Selly Cat, (For she's a Cat now...) leaps behind me and just PURRS...

Her life is good

There be Treasure in your street...

Last year, or maybe the year before that, my nephew told me about a way to get fit.  Now, I'm not a big fitness fanatic but, I listened politely ready to dismiss and then, when he said "treasure hunting" (NOT his exact words, but this is known as "artistic license").  I was about to dismiss it as silly... but the word he actually said was, "geocaching".

What this means is that all over the world, are little pieces of treasure.  Now there are strict rules to this thing. first you find out where the caches are on a map.  Then you record the co-ordinates in your mobile/tablet and off you go.  There can be clues (like a pirates treasure map) and when you're looking, you must be discrete... as everybody else in your vicinity are "Muggles" and can't be made aware of the treasure.

  You can, if you want, take a piece of the treasure,  BUT you always should replace it with something else.  You then record your name in a log book. (That's in the Cache). You must replace the cache where you've found it, (Without the "muggles" noticing) and then go look for another  OK that's the basics.  My nephew said, that basically you have to get to a cache site, so that involves walking.  Then the cache is not in plain site, so it may mean, bending, crawling through undergrowth...  (though the author of the cache, actually tells you what may be involved and how difficult it may be to find on the website, so you can actually choose which cache you want to find). 

The caches vary, from magnetic, to plastic and the contents may vary as well.  There maybe a small gift, or just a log book.  There maybe something a little special.  Sometimes. a cache may have a clue, leading to another cache...  Some may even be a history of the town or village where the cache have been hidden.

Anyway, my nephew came to visit last year and he asked me if I wanted to geocache.  I was quite excited, as while I'm no Jack Sparrow, it appealed to me, searching for hidden treasure.  So he got out his fancy phone, with GPS and I got on the website.  To my surprise, there was one, just around the corner.  In fact, every morning when I'm having my juice and toast, I was looking at its location.  I was gobsmacked.  There were loads.  I was really surprised, as I thought, little town and there wouldn't be two many people into it.

He said to me, "You pick" and being as we needed to go to the local shop, (and while it wasn't a strenuous walk, it WAS a walk).  It was a magnetic cache (This meant it would be stuck to something magnetic) and he programmed his phone, and we were off.   I'd looked at the map and had a good idea exactly where the thing was.  It was halfway to it's location when we ran into trouble.   The app on his phone, faded out and he swore.  He then realised that his network probably wasn't working around here.  I told him that it wasn't a complete bust, as I knew the street where it was on.

Now the street, was off a main road and had a steady row of traffic, and there was few pedestrians (Sorry, Muggles) and so, it became "Story time".  I turned to my nephew, "Are you sure you lost it round here?" and we turned quickly and started to peruse the hedge rows.  He marched on, and I got it my head, that he was trying to beat me to it, (He was) and I found myself looking a metallic bolts and also wire...  He then looked at me and said very quietly, "I've found it".  It was just like "Carter at the tomb" and he said to me, "Can you see it?"  I stared at where he was standing, and all I could see was.... (not going to tell you as, maybe someone might read this).  We opened the "tomb"...  (okay, it was really a tin sweet box) and inside was a small figure, a jack and a logbook).  He then asked for a pen.  To my horror, I realised we'd not bought one, and then he asked for the small figurine (It was a pot dog curled up asleep) and I'd forgot to pick it up...  BUT as we replaced it... (Making sure there was no muggles around) he asked me if I'd "enjoyed it".  To my surprise, I'd loved it.

If you just want to see what it's all about

http://www.geocaching.com/