It began with a birthday: mine, as it so happens. A few days ago. How old? Let’s just say that my age is a number that provides the twinnage with the impression that they’re geniuses for having successfully counted so very high. Yeah, thanks boys. In my head, I’m still down wiv da kidz. But then, my 96-year-old grandmother said to me the other week that she still feels young until she remembers that her own daughter is now a grandmother. That fact makes her feel very old indeed. (None of us were particularly early breeders.)
For my birthday, I was given a wonderful print by David Day. Now that’s my kind of landscape:-
Also I was given an elegant wrought iron wellie-boot holder and an ornate boot scraper, both of which I love. Anyway, back to this week.
Half way through the morning of my birthday, the phone rang. It was the hospital where I work. You know, I’ve changed my mind a hundred times about writing this post. I never know how much serious stuff to put in my blog, so I tend to err on the side of frivolous. But there hasn’t been a great deal of knitting/crochet this week, and there is a reason for that. The phone call brought dark news. There was a terrible fire on my ward, and tragically, one of our patients died in the inferno. There is more, but it wouldn’t be appropriate to write it here. Let’s just say that the extreme heroism of my colleagues who were on duty that night definitely prevented more deaths from occurring. So you’ll understand that it hasn’t been a normal week, and that I’ve been at work more than usual, and that I’ve had a propensity in the evening to stare at mindless internet junk rather than doing anything constructive. Half the hospital stinks of smoke, and there are police guarding the entrance to what remains of my ward. Sad times indeed.
Sorry, you probably didn’t come here to read such stuff today. Let’s lighten the mood. I can’t show you a finished knitted Christmas garland yet, but I can show you my subversive Christmas decorations that I made a few years ago. I always enjoy putting them out on the tree. There’s the Father Christmas who’s succumbed to beer and fags:-
And the slightly more innocent festive cow:-
There’s the cheeky beaver that felled the Christmas tree:-
And the stained glass window:-
And finally my favourite, the little Father Christmases hatching (and in one case abseiling) from a bauble. I’m really quite proud of this one. Those were the pre-kids days when I had time to design and paint such things:-
But that’s just my over-silly imagination. I really do need to begin thinking about Christmas properly, but I confess that events this week have interfered with the process. This weekend, I’m going to sort it. All of it. Effortlessly and efficiently.
As you’ll understand, time away from work has been precious and important this week. Time to just be normal and carefree and to watch the twinnage kick up leaves:-
Time to cook a huge pan of comfort food, with venison and onions and garlic and celeriac and wine:-
And lots and lots of pearl barley:-
And then mixing some dumplings using flour, suet, thyme, salt, lashings of black pepper, and water:-
…Which taste rather delicious in the finished meal, if you’re in need of winter comfort food:-
And my favourite vegetable was available at the local farm shop:-
Such comforts help. And then late, late, late in the evening, there’s always the chance to step outside the front door and stare up at the winter moon beyond our tower:-
The world carries on turning, it would seem.
Wow, so sorry. Glad you were home safely with your family, and for sharing. Tradegy atv work is always a trial, you deserve some down time.
Thank you. I didn’t know whether it was the right thing to write about it here, but when comments such as your started appearing, I realized that it was OK. You’re right about tragedy at work.
Sending hugs. Take comfort from all the lovely people and things around you. (You are the only person other than myself who I know makes suet dumplings. They are such great comfort food, particularly in winter.)
Oh yes yes yes to the wintry comfort of dumplings. And they’re so very easy to make. Glad to speak to a fellow dumpling fan! More seriously, thank you for your kind words.
Sending wooly warm thoughts winging your way from Canada.
Woolly warm thoughts received and very very much appreciated, thank you, especially from Canada.
Yes, the world keeps on turning despite the horrible things that occur to individuals, communities and whole nations…….. It must have been such a shock, such dreadful news to hear any time, and would have bought your birthday to an abrupt end I’m sure. Thank goodness for your courageous colleagues – and I do hope the fall out and follow up is not too horrendous. Sometimes it is necessary to allow real life to interfere with the norm of happier blog posts – we all live in the real world after all and will understand.
Comfort food, large wine glasses and family are most important at times like this. Take time, take care, breathe. xoxo
Your wise words are a comfort, thank you. It’s a strange line we tread as bloggers sometimes, isn’t it? Wanting to cheer and inspire, but not to create some fictional saccharine life. I’m waffling, so I’ll stop!
So very sorry for the trauma & the sadness, sending lots of hugs. Your decorations are brilliant!! especially like the father Christmases & the beaver! 😉
Thank you for both the kindness and the compliments! AND thank you for the gorgeous, gorgeous necklace that you sent. 🙂
Thank you for sharing your “heavies” on this blog. This allows us to share your load. Caring for others and sharing such raw feelings takes a special person. Know that you are in my thoughts and prayers and keep looking up…at the winter moon, the light, the peace and quiet that heals as the world continues!
I hope this doesn’t sound trite because I really do mean it: thank you for such kind sentiments. One of the very best things about blogging has been ‘meeting’ (or in some cases really meeting) kind, interesting, creative people. And yes, the world continues…
I have been enjoying your posts for some months now. Thank you for trusting us enough to share this with us. My thoughts are with you.
Thank you. I’m feeling a little overwhelmed by your/others’ kindness here. And on a lighter note, I’m glad you’ve enjoyed the posts. One aims to please! (PS: just had a nosey at your Etsy shop. Your crochet is very cool. 🙂 )
Adding my thoughts to those already written above. Take good care.
Thank you. I’ve been a little taken aback by the outpouring of kindness here, yours included. In a good way, I mean!
I’m so sorry. Such a shock, followed by worse takes time to absorb. Comfort food is good. Running with the twinnage is good. A lot of comfort food is good. And your decorations are brilliant. I hope you can get done what you want this weekend, but if not…eh. Some years not everything happens.
Comfort food is most definitely good, you’re right. Sometimes you just have to get back to basics. Children are a wonderful distraction, too. But thank you for your lovely sentiments. I really really do appreciate them.
Thank you for the lovely balanced post. It has been hard here too: a mass shooting in the state where I live, and another in the city where I grew up (San Bernardino, California). I’ve been sad, but I think I’m ready to put up my Christmas stuff now (but my ornaments aren’t as cool as yours). The best of the season to you.
These mass shootings sound horrific. I’m sorry that the latest incidents have been close to home. That must be so unsettling. Wishing you comfort and safety and strength. Also wishing you a beautifully decorated Christmas. x
I really feel for you. Trying to make that balance between heart wrenchingly sad and being a fun loving mum is well nigh impossible. Don’t worry about Christmas it will still happen, the children will run around the house bouncing off the walls with the pure excitement of it all. Take some time, and even though you don’t know me from Adam, I shall be thinking about you.
I,be been in that horrible place too and the really does continue to rise
Thank you for your touchingly kind comment. Your words about balancing being a fun mum and yet carrying sadness made so much sense and I thought about them a lot today. I’m sorry that you sound as though you’ve learned this through experience. But yes, life continues, and my colleagues have shown such resilience and are already moving forward – not in a callous or uncaring way: they’re just tough. Wishing you a joyful festive season, and with much gratitude for your kindness.
gosh…a tough week indeed. Lovely post. Suggest a nice mug of hot chocolate with marshmallows!
Oooh, marshmallows….. mmmmmm…. (And thank you for your lovely comment.)
Phil, sending you my biggest gentlest hug. A well written sensitive post xxxx
Thank you. And I’m loving your daily December posts, as always.
Beautifully written. Sometimes it’s important to remember that for lots of people Christmas can be a sad time too. I hope you and all your colleagues and patients at the hospital can come to terms with the terrible events of this week. Love Rxx
So true. If you’d just landed from Mars, you could be forgiven for thinking that everyone is blissfully and constantly happy at Christmas. Meanwhile, patients and staff at work are proving to be brave and resilient.
Very sorry to hear of the fire. I might not have come here to read such things, but it’s very important to decompress after such events, and I’m glad that you feel safe enough to do so here 🙂
Thank you. It’s always hard to know how far into tricky territory to take the blog!
How dreadful, what a shock. Take care.
Thank you. Time will heal everyone affected, I guess.
You give a part of you to all of us who follow your blog and now it’s our turn to give something of ourselves to you.
I’m sure that I speak for all of us when I send you our support at this difficult time and our understanding of your need to share part of the trauma of your week.
Please don’t feel that you can’t share the negative with us as well as the positive as we all have to deal with the negative side of life and we can all get through what life throws at us if we have the unconditional support of those around us.
Let us surround you with our thoughts and prayers and support you through this time. A HUGE group hug is coming your way from us all.
Love Sarah xx
Thank you Sarah, for such an incredibly generous comment. It’s a difficult line to tread in blogging. I would never try to pretend that life is perfect, but it’s not easy to know how much tough stuff to include. But your comment and other people’s comments today have been so very supportive and kind that I’ve felt rather overwhelmed. I mean it: thank you.
I’m echoing all the lovely replies above. Thinking of you.
Thank you hugely. All of these replies have been so kind.
Oh, how terrible… I hope that you feel inspired to take up your needles again soon.
And congratulations on seeing the moon… I think it might have been washed away here!!
Oh no! I hope you’re surviving the deluge. Please stay dry. Meanwhile, sending you moonlight.
(And thank you for your very kind words.)
Oh my, what a week. Hurrah for your brave colleagues. The event was bad so I am hoping the aftermath doesn’t descend into a blame game. Ordinary every day life suddenly becomes more important and the way to get everyone through. Ps, I love the naughty beaver!
Fortunately, I’ve not heard any hint of a blame game: that would be awful, especially as it sounds as though staff made heroic efforts. You’re right, though: the details of ordinary life do seem especially important at times like these. Thank goodness for the comfort of those details. Thank you for your lovely comment.
I am so sorry about what happened at your work! I love seeing all you pictures, I especially love your ornaments!
Thank you on both counts. It means a lot. 🙂
So sorry to hear about the fire. Not surprised you need time to just rest, relax……….. I like your earlier Christmas tree decorations, The things you are making now will wait for next year if necessary.
True: all of it can wait, really. And thank you for your kind sentiments.
The world does indeed carry on turning. Which is a combination of reassuring and “Does anyone, anywhere, actually care?” when the bottom has dropped out of your personal world.
Like your subversive decs!
Yes, you are absolutely spot on. But also I’ve been in awe of my colleagues picking themselves up, dusting themselves off, and carrying on. They’re so resilient.
(And thank you on the decorations front!)
I love you and your blog, your humor and your straightness and your great designs and the artist in you. You make me happy each time i read your blog – this week no less. Blessing to you and your family and your ward, and may you make many snowangels this year with your twinnage and maybe tyour stoic one too
hugs from leelah
You really are far too generous in your comments, every time. But thank you. As for snowangels, I WISH! Just hope we get some snow this year. 🙂
Dear Phil, I love your blog, your beautiful colourwork and your humour. And this week seems like the perfect time to tell you that, having been a silent reader until now. Thank you! For all of this, and for your fun, subversiveness and sharing many aspects of your life, not just the shiny parts. I’m so sorry to hear about what happened at work, and so glad you can find solace in lovely home and family things. Go gently XXX
Well thank you so much for each and every part of your comment. I’ve felt a little overwhelmed by the kindness that has poured out here in the comments section, including your reassuring words. And I’ll be back to fun and subversion soon! I’m glad and very grateful that you enjoy the blog. It would be nothing without its readers.
Lovely lovely to get your reply – thanks Phil! No rush on the frolics, you’ve got a lot on your plate, and your readers will be there when you’re ready for fun again :0) XX
Again, thank you for such generous words. Merry Christmas.
Sad news. As if they weren’t traumatized enough – poor things. How nice they have you.
Thank you. People are being amazingly resilient – I’m in awe.
Sending you a big virtual fluffy alpaca scarf of a hug to wrap around yourself whilst you sit doing all the mindless internet stuff you need to while you come to terms with the tragedy.
On the decorations front, I nearly asked you where you bought them, I didn’t twig at first that you made them. Amazing. I particularly like the hatching Father Christmases.
Oooooooh, alpaca, thank you. 🙂 Alpaca is good. Alpaca is soothing.
(Hatching Father Christmas is very silly.)
What a terrible shock. I’m glad you’ve shared all that is going on. I think our blogs evolve and grow along with the community we share it with. People care about you and want to share in your joys and your burdens as well. It’s good that you shared.
It’s strange how life continues. When tragedy strikes, it seems that everything else should stop moving around us. I think part of that is the altered state we’re in when served this kind of blow. It’s hard to make sense of it.
Please continue to share your thoughts and feelings as time goes by.
It’s lovely seeing the twinnage kicking leaves. It’s such a care-free activity.
I’m so terribly sorry for the loss of your patient, for the damage to the ward and for the police presence that guards it. Such a lot of trauma to sort out.
As for Christmas, it will sort itself out. We put so much pressure on ourselves. Simplest is often best.
Your tree ornaments are stellar. I love your sense of humour. Arms around you.
Thank you so much for every single part of your comment. You’re right about it seeming as though the world should just stop when tragedy strikes. I’ve often heard people saying similar things when in a state of grief: they struggle to comprehend that the world around them is just getting on with another ordinary day. I’ve noticed that the people who work on my ward are resilient folk, and I’ve already seen them beginning to pick themselves up, dust themselves off, and move forward… not because they’re callous and don’t care, but because they’re tough. I’m in awe of these nurses.
(In other news, I’m looking around my house and wondering whether I should in fact hire your professional skills, even if you are the other side of the world!)
(In other other news, may your foot continue to heal speedily.)
I’m in awe of many nurses myself. They’re cut of a certain cloth, and I’m grateful for it. I’m also in awe of what you do.
I’m happy to answer any organizing questions, too. And I can suggest a book that many people are finding great success with: Marie Kondo’s The Art of Tidying Up.
Thanks for your well wishes.
Nurses are indeed amazing, or at least the ones on our ward are. (I guess you’ve needed some nursing attention lately?) And thank you for your kind offer. I’m going to follow up your book recommendation after Christmas.
I have been on the receiving end of nursing these past few months. Caring concern makes all the difference in how you feel about your care.
And I see from your follow up post that you’ve ordered Kondo’s book. I can’t wait to hear your thoughts.
Update: I’ve just ordered the book. 🙂
I had to think twice whether to click “like” or not. I clicked “like” because the world really does go on. Bombs and floods and fear and fire withstanding, we all go on. I am sure your 96 year old grandmother could tell you about that a lot better than I can. It’s amazing how soothing familiar routines can be when you have had your immediate world rocked by tragedy. Keep moving forward. Keep looking at that moon and keep on watching those bright spots as they perambulate past your conscience and soon life will be back on track. It has a way of re-railing. Not sure why I am telling someone who dabbles in other people’s minds this, but I guess it’s just my way of saying I would rather read about your honest week than a prettied up facsimile of life. Thank you for sharing it with us Ms T. Hugs from Tassie.
Don’t worry, it wouldn’t even occur to me that you ‘like’ the facts of what happened. And you are so so right about my grandmother: this is a woman who has gritted her teeth and got on with life in the face of a lot of tricky stuff, including being bombed out of her home during the war. Not much fazes her, except for poor grammar and people who send cutesy greetings cards. (I just wish that her health wasn’t fading – I used to joke that she’d outlive the lot of us, but it seems that this might not in fact come to pass.) And you’re so right in your advice. Already I’ve been astounded to watch my colleagues begin to adapt, accommodate, and look forward: not because they’re callous and uncaring, but because they’re strong.
Belated birthday wishes and I’m so sorry it was tinged with tragedy. My thoughts are with you and your colleagues and patients at this awful time (that sounds a bit trite but I can’t think how to express it any other way – sorry)
Thank you. That doesn’t sound trite at all. I just feel so sad for the patient’s family.
I think it’s all been said (I looked through all the loving comments) so just wanted to say that it’s your blog about your life and sometimes we do have to share some of the crappy stuff that happens because that’s what real life is like – it has crappy stuff! I hope the good stuff outweighs the bad stuff and you have a wonderful Christmas ❤️
Thank you. (And yes everyone, including you, has been incredibly kind.) Wishing you a joyful Christmas too.
So very sorry to hear about your awful week.belated Birthday wishes and know that we are happy to share the good and bad times, we all know that life isn’t all crochet and knitting Heaven and that stuff happens.
Thank you for such a supportive comment. I’ve been a little overwhelmed by everyone’s kind responses (including yours of course). But also I’ve been comforted by them, so thank you. And there’ll be plenty more knitting/crochet here soon (just as soon as I’ve figured out what to get everyone for Christmas!)
Sorry to hear your bad news. You have beautiful ornaments. Take care of yourself.
Thank you for such a kind comment.
I’m sorry, so very sad!
So sorry to hear about the tragedy at your work x