Seascape imaged

So this is how the seascape (shown in an earlier Blog Post) eventually ended up looking like when using Winsor and Newton professional quality Watercolours applied onto Sennelier Pastel Paper. The watercolor painting is approximatel 25cm high by 63cm long. It's our intention to mount the Artwork using White Mounting Board and to surround that with an Oak Frame ready to hang above the bed in our Guest Bedroom. 

The restricted space between the Dado Rail and the Bedroom Ceiling in that part of the room; is the reason for the deliberate narrowness of the image. Some of the colours were used for the Watercolour to compliment the color of items bought for the room make-over, now that the room has become vacant. 

As usual, I can't put myself under too much pressure when doing these sort of tasks. So the redecorating has already taken many weeks, instead of a day or two.  I've managed to fill the holes, and today I got around to eventually painting the ceiling.  I now have to build myself up to painting the walls.  We are thinking, take tomorrow out and instead do some art at 'MIND Aberystwyth' and go for a coffee, and then see how I feel on Wednesday.  If not Wednesday then Friday might be a DIY Day.  But Wifey understands that Friday could even turn out to be next week or the week after.  But in between all that DIY and pressure sort of stuff, I shall try to complete a Soft Pastel Drawing image of the same scene and using the same type and size of Pastel Paper. But I am enjoying using watercolours and I am already on the look out for some new Kolinsky Sable Art Brushes. I also intend to buy a sheet of watercolor paper, having today been told the difference between 'hot press' and 'cold press' paper.  I want to paint some butterfly's and I'm also keen to paint eight or ten leafs (in two rows, one above the other) without a background. Don't ask me why, because I simply don't know.  But there you have it, this is where the art direction is going at the moment. And before you know it, the art will probably be placed back inside a box (metaphorical not actual) and I shall move onto something else. Which of course is what we do when we need and use such defensive mechanisms. 

 

NATO

Is it wrong to write about the NATO Summit being held in South Wales? We can't afford a holiday this year and are staying in Cardiff after a kind relative offered to lend us their place in the City while they are away. So with the support of my good friend Adam, I am chancing my arm at the South Wales International Open Chess Tournament. A six day chess extravaganza held in the centre of our Capital. 

Although at the moment it is not the vibrant cosmopolitan city that I know; not with all of this security fencing and vehicle barricades dotted about everywhere.  You can't even escape the intrusion when strolling or jogging through what is normally the lovely Bute Park. Nope, for the last five days, I have felt quite intimidated and feel as if I am in the Middle East rather than in South Wales. The worst part is, I thought that the NATO thingy was taking place in Newport.  Gwent get the Summit, but South Wales get the expense. And what's this 'working lunch' malarky? I've dined in the Castle many years ago, and with that standard of quisine, there's not going to be that much working going on.  Unlike me at the chess board, slogging it out for a few hours at a time.

To be quite honest, if it wasn't for Adam, it's highly unlikely that I would be here at all. Well yes, I would be here drinking coffee and strolling around, but not playing chess. You see, the aforementioned friend sort of acts like my 'second'. Of course it is quite unheard of for a club level chess player like me to have a 'second', but the support is essential with my mental ill health. 

Adam researches chess ideas and themes, researches my opponents and preps me as to what chess opening to expect, and then analyses each of my chess games in detail following each round. I wake up in the flat to a ping on my mobile phone, and that is a text or email from Adam informing me who I am due to playing etc., Following the game I photograph my chess scoresheet and then email it to Adam for analysis. We also met up several times prior to my jaunt to the fenced off City. So while other people do a lot of work, I just have a lot of fun, and the pressure valve folks is wide open. 

So thank you Adam, because you are helping me to live my dream, but bugger off NATO because you are making me feel vulnerable and intimidated. 

Next time, please host your Summit out on a ship or away in the countryside. 

Oh the chess, how is it going you ask? Well I lost in Round 1 to an International Master (so no surprise there then) and somehow drew the next four games. Part of this unusual string of draws, is risk aversion, and of course lack of confidence. The other part must be down to my aims and objectives, the primary one being enjoyment. I mustn't care about the result, but I must ensure that I do enjoy playing.

British Chess Championships

Well that's a strange but rather interesting turn around. Having been treated to the 'Chess Menu' at the Gwesty Cymru restaurant yesterday evening by our good friends Adam and Nia, I went and made the plunge and entered the Open tournament AM for Week 2 of the British Chess Championships. 

Now. Haven't played competitive chess since I had my first mental health breakdown in 1998. So the big question for me is quite simply: can I wrangle my way out of the opening five days on the trot next week?

Will I have to resort to 1. b4 the Polish opening when white, and some strange fianchetto when black? Or do I play 2. f4 irrespective of what my opponent plays, while revisiting the chess openings with some swatting on Sunday? Quite a lot to consider, and seeing that I need to avoid stress, it's quite likely that the plan won't be formed until Sunday night and very little or even 'no swatting' will actually occur. Meanwhile I look forward to relaxing tomorrow in this heat, running on Saturday, and doing very little on Sunday.

Working Budget

Well the doctor mentioned that I hadn’t got over my 1998 breakdown let alone the others that followed. So there were no surprises there, but it was still worth the trip to see the new surgery and have a nice chat and cry with someone outside of the family circle. My long term mental ill health is a bit like the Budget really, the same old stuff, but illustrated in a slightly different way each year.

I thought that the Wallace and Gromit Budget gag was very funny but underhand. I know what it was supposed to mean, but I also understood the innuendo. Well done to the Coalition Government on the intended broadband improvements across the UK as that is indeed what a modern industrial society should have. Oh, but where's our industry gone? Probably where our Gold Reserves went; down the plug ole.

I like the idea of the rich paying the most and the poor paying the least, especially now that I’m on an Occupational Pension. 45% of an awful lot isn’t that much, whereas any taxation on very little is a burden. Mind you 50% of an awful lot wasn’t much either, but that figure unfortunately no longer exists. The grannies seem to have come off badly and that is a surprise. The ‘Granny Tax’ wasn’t the kind of publicity the coalition would have been looking forward too when the contents of the Red Box were being compiled and leaked. Then again, if the contents stayed in the box until the day, there is less chance of someone building a comprehensive argument quickly. So lesson for the future; keep the budget secret as it doesn’t pay to share in advance.

The thing that really got me and I hope that I am not alone in this one; is the poor maths. Now I’m no Oxbridge maths genius like my mate, but I do know that 20% of a £600 increase in basic rate taxation level equals £120 and not £200+ as quoted by someone on the box. So I save £120 per year which is an extra £10 per month. Very nice indeed, except I live in West Wales where the public transport system is crap and the fuel prices are extortionate. So while the rest of you complain about fuel costs, we actually feel the ridiculously high costs and continue pay the most. Note to the Chancellor, please introduce a national fuel cap and stop the thieving B’s from robbing us blind out in the sticks. You opt for public transport to keep your costs down, but we can’t use public transport because like I say its crap. They stole the trains to South Wales and the ones that go the long way around through England aren’t that nice or that reliable. The buses seem to be worse. So there goes my tenner then.

My basic arithmetic also means that I know that £5 something per week extra for a pensioner is £250 per year and not like someone said this on the box; £500.

With all of this in mind, maybe the next budget could set aside some money for the poor politicians to have much needed maths lessons. Apparently these can be accessed by schools on line with providers living in India rather than working in the classroom. Good job that we are getting the improved broad band then, as all of those that need the maths update won’t even have to step outside the House of Commons.

Blue Lips

Phew, back home from South Wales and so glad to be back in the safety of my home environment. Strange really as had to get away from this house as the last week or so has been so stressful and we needed to plant me somewhere where I could grow and avoid the then current stressors in my life. Just when you think it’s all ok, everything goes pear shaped. Or as a qualified Strategist I know that no plan survives first engagement with the enemy.

As you all know I believe in fate. Or as the Street Pastor said in Cardiff after the event, “it was the guiding hand of God”. That comes as no surprise as I do pray daily. We had planned to pop along to the cinema check out the film times and the then scurry away for a meal to return when the chosen film was due to begin. We wandered inside at the electronic listings, and we wandered outside to check out the posters and the paper time. This to-ing and fro-ing went on for a bit until we stuck on a choice between three Thrillers. I got my way and we opted for that one. Then wifey suggested that we caught the film straight away and went for the meal later. Now given wifey’s willingness to throw her two main choices by the wayside, and opt for one of three thrillers, agreeing to the early evening film was the least that I could do. So folks, we shouldn’t have been where we were, and we could have been walking out at any of the varying times each film ended.

So why on earth do I walk outside and turn right instead of left (where we normally turn) and end up saving the life on my 6th victim? This time it was a young girl lying on the ground surrounded by people; who wifey and I clocked simultaneously and I’m already moving away briskly as wifey shouts “go!”

My first and obvious question was to ask if an ambulance has been called, to which one of the bystanders asks “do you think that we need an ambulance?” I mean come on folks, young woman on ground, partly in gutter, hardly moving. You don’t actually call for a taxi do you? A few seconds later and I am engaging the Ambulance Trust in my first of three calls that evening. During the first, the operator answers but no one from the Ambulance Trust. Indeed the operator told me that he was trying another number and still no answer. I gave up and continued rendering first aid and wifey instead used her phone to dial 999 as well. Which was also met with no success when wifey handed her phone to me. The onlookers in a state of shock as the condition of the young woman deteriorated. None of them knew what to do. My third phone call was when the Ambulance Trust rang me back on my phone and I explained the circumstances and gave the address. As I stood to locate the street name a voice said, “no pulse, she’s stopped breathing”.

Wifey mentions that when the victims pulse stopped and her lips turned blue and she looked like death, I said "Oh shit, here we go" as I passed my phone to a bystander to finish the call with the Ambulance Trust. I heard the bystander say something like, “do you want assistance, they are saying do you need assistance?” but I was already rolling by then. The thing that struck me the most was that the young victim was the Spit of Resusci-Annie: her face and hair shape, body size, age, facial expression, and right down to the white neat teeth as the lips separated from the mouth. It was all extremely emotional for me, but also almost like being in the classroom. I don’t know if the violent jolt as I moved her briskly from the Recovery Position to the resuscitate position and tilted the head, or the finger scoop for debris inside her mouth where maybe the forcefulness of the action caught the roof of the mouth or the back of her throat and thereby prompted her brain to react, but whatever it was one eyelid moved as I withdrew my finger. I found the pulse before putting her back into the Recovery Position where she started to wretch without any vomit coming out. Maybe she was choking when originally in the Recovery Position and either the violence of the movement to resuscitate or the finger scoop dislodged debris. Or, equally credible is that the high level of intoxication meant that her systems had closed down and the movement and the scoop prompted them to restart. I can’t be certain for sure. But I do know that her best friend had thought that she had died in the street and was crying; but it wasn’t going to happen on my watch.

I’m upset while typing this Blog, but the story has to be told as others should learn First Aid and be ready for the day when your help will inevitably be needed. I had my first of many nervous breakdowns in 1998. That was a combination of stress and anxiety and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). The PTSD was brought about during a First Aid situation with a family member. My continuous poor mental health and the flashbacks of the PTSD means that saving victim number six was extremely traumatic for me. It happened on Saturday and I am still crying today some 48 hours later. But you have to talk about it to help recover from the trauma. It’s a strange thing when you are part of a good positive happening but so emotional that the event makes you feel unwell and upset. Then again you can’t walk past someone when the guiding hand of God puts you next to them and say “Sorry lady, but if I save your life, I will make myself ill.” So come on folks, learn some First Aid and share some of the burden. And if you can’t learn the First Aid then at least call an Ambulance.

My eldest is worried that I am still ill as she seen firsthand how I was affected by Saturday nights action. I shall say to her and to others; don’t worry, I shall get better – it’s just that I don’t know when. Or as wifey says, “you sure got f@cked up working for that lot.”


Ps if you survived post Ambulance and Hospital, then I would love to hear from you. Find me on Facebook as I know your name as I asked your friend at the scene and used your name every time I talked to you while waiting for the Ambulances to turn up. I say plural as like London buses when you need one there is none about and then two come rolling along.