Almost Christmas

It's almost Christmas - I wish everyone a Merry Christmas. Just before I go to sleep I'll remember those who aren't here anymore but are always in my thoughts - friends and family and cats who will live in my heart always x

30 years in the NHS!

30 years ago today I started working for the NHS - strangely enough I'm now sitting opposite the person I sat opposite on my first day - funny how things go in circles!

December time again

Such a long time since I last posted. I've been busy with major changes at work, not only the splitting up of our department but sending us to another NHS trust and another hospital! Things are slowly beginning to settle down but I don't know if we'll ever be happy where we are at the moment.
Anyway, it's the 1st of December - World Aids Day, the beginning of the Christmas season, the beginning of the frosts and also my birthday month, I'm sure more things will come to mind.
I'm going to try and post almost every day of December - see if I can focus my mind......

Whitby 2011

We arrived in Whitby on Monday afternoon,the weather isn't great but at least we can see the Abbey from the caravan.

After unloading the car we went for a walk - those 199 steps certainly tire you out.

Missing an old friend 20th June 2011

My school friend Sue Hollingshead died last year. Today 20th June would have been her 50th birthday but as I can't send her a card I thought I would share a memory from our school years.
My birthday is December and very close to Christmas, consequently it often got forgotten or I would get one present to cover my birthday and Christmas. Being the the kind person she was she declared I could celebrate my half birthday on her birthday so we'd both have something to celebrate. So here I am Sue celebrating my half birthday and hoping that somewhere you're raising a glass.......

Stop all the clocks......

Yesterday was the funeral of Jason's father. Jason was determined to read a particular poem as a tribute - you'll recognise it from 'Four Weddings and a Funeral'. I think he was brave to do it and I'm proud that he managed to get through it.

W.H. Auden: Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone

From "Twelve Songs"

IX.
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

St George and Shakespeare

The 23rd April is not only St George's Day but Shakespeare's birthday - two very 'English' icons even if St George was born in Turkey!

To celebrate I bought some St George's Day doughnuts from Greggs.

St George

St David's Day

St David's Day is celebrated in Wales on 1st March as he is the patron saint of Wales. It's customary to wear one of the Welsh national emblems - a leek or a daffodil so I've chosen a picture of daffodils taken from my garden a few years ago.

You can find more info on the National Museum of Wales website

Cats sleep anywhere

Jasper loves to sleep on the top cushion of the sofa - it's big, soft and comfy and next to the radiator. I wish I could get this comfortable.

Redbubble - trying to promote my art and photographs

Thought I would give Redbubble a go - I'm not David Bailey or Picasso but what the hell, I can take the odd good photo and paint something that catches the eye so here goes! As time goes on I'll alter my 'portfolio' and add more items.

Burns Night

Just a quick mention for Burns Night and the poem written by Robert Burns in 1786

Address to a Haggis

Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face,
Great chieftain o' the pudding-race!
Aboon them a' ye tak your place,
Painch, tripe, or thairm :
Weel are ye wordy o'a grace
As lang's my arm.

The groaning trencher there ye fill,
Your hurdies like a distant hill,
Your pin wad help to mend a mill
In time o'need,
While thro' your pores the dews distil
Like amber bead.

His knife see rustic Labour dight,
An' cut you up wi' ready sleight,
Trenching your gushing entrails bright,
Like ony ditch;
And then, O what a glorious sight,
Warm-reekin', rich!

Then, horn for horn, they stretch an' strive:
Deil tak the hindmost! on they drive,
Till a' their weel-swall'd kytes belyve
Are bent like drums;
Then auld Guidman, maist like to rive,
Bethankit! hums.

Is there that owre his French ragout
Or olio that wad staw a sow,
Or fricassee wad make her spew
Wi' perfect sconner,
Looks down wi' sneering, scornfu' view
On sic a dinner?

Poor devil! see him owre his trash,
As feckless as wither'd rash,
His spindle shank, a guid whip-lash;
His nieve a nit;
Thro' bloody flood or field to dash,
O how unfit!

But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed,
The trembling earth resounds his tread.
Clap in his walie nieve a blade,
He'll mak it whissle;
An' legs an' arms, an' heads will sned,
Like taps o' thrissle.

Ye Pow'rs, wha mak mankind your care,
And dish them out their bill o' fare,
Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware
That jaups in luggies;
But, if ye wish her gratefu' prayer
Gie her a haggis!