MIND
I was jobless and bored with four kids, well five really if you count my hubby, and a mortgage. No, that’s not fair. He was working his butt off but it was never enough . I needed to find work. I toured around Antrim, knocking on premises doors and eventually my efforts paid off. I landed the role of cook in a house in Rathen Raw estate. It was named Rathen Raw Hostel. Just an ordinary Housing Executive home owned by Holywell Hospital. Residents from the hospital were encouraged to live outside the constraints of the medical building. It was headed by two doctors, Dick and Jackson. Lovely, easy going guys. Always available when needed. I settled in nicely there and spent many happy days in the kitchen cooking up dinners and treats for everyone.
Actually I had two job offers at that time. One permanent in the Bailiwick restaurant in Antrim town. It’s gone now. Well, how permanent would that have been! Also the position in the Hostel. Wow, how popular am I? They probably couldn’t get anyone else! The Hostel placement was never going to be mine. The lady was out on maternity leave and would be returning soon. Why did I choose the temporary post? I don’t know. It just appealed to me. I’m so glad I did. I made good friend there, both staff and residents. Jimmy, one of them was a lovely man. A dedicated Elvis fan to boot. He knew a fact about the King that I didn’t and should have known. Elvis favourite record I Was The One, which will be played at my demise when the kids are hurling me over Graceland Gates. They say they are going to sell all the Elvis pieces I have, book a flight to Vegas, ask the pilot to hover over Memphis and just dump me out the plane window. I might have to tell them that both places are a good few miles apart. If that happens I will know. Well I won’t obviously! On my first trip to Graceland I wrote Jimmy’s name on the Wall and brought him back a little gift.
Another resident I got friendly with and I can’t remember her name. That’s awful but the age I’m at now I’m lucky I remember my own name. Anyway one day I had gone out to empty the kitchen bin, heard a crash, came running back in, fell and completely skidded across the kitchen floor and landed on my back. The lady had decided to come and help me and had lifted the deep fat fryer which unfortunately was still a little warm. Bang! Down I went! Thankfully reasonably unharmed. I think she was more shaken up than I was. All Shook Up! Had to get a bit of Elvis in there. Those two incidents come to mind first before the Saga of the Mad Cow Disease. I was probably the Mad Cow who didn’t listen to the media or chose to ignore it.1994 it was when it raised its ugly head and no beef products were considered safe for human consumption. Well, that’s not quite true. People were afraid to eat them because of all the hype. So what does Phyllis the cook do! She grills beef sausages for dinner. Of course none of the residents would eat them. If I remember rightly, I think Dick and Jackson did have them to try to encourage the rest but no go. Good sausages wasted. My own know best, stubborn fault.
During the time I was employed there my husband’s fortieth happened. I had made friends with two of the housekeepers, Grace and Valerie, lovely ladies. Out of the goodness of their hearts they decided to make a load of sandwiches for the birthday party. I was so grateful but I have to hold my hands up to a bit of criminal activity. All bread and ingredients were snaffled from the Hostel and we didn’t feel the least bit guilty. There was plenty. Unfortunately my two cohorts were unable to attend the function.
I so enjoyed my time there but as I said it wasn’t my job. Time to leave. I did find employment in Holywell Hospital’s large kitchen. Size of a football field. But had no contact with the residents at all. Not the same at all. Everything cooked for a multitude. No individuality.
Most people experience some kind of a downer in their lives, maybe more than one. But nothing compares to the depth depression can take. It’s sometimes named The Black Dog and people telling you to snap out of it is not helping. I have suffered from it in one form or another since before my teens. But at that young age I couldn’t understand what was wrong with me and I told no one. My friends just thought I was odd and very quiet. Later in life it developed into severe depression, resulting in my absence from work for many months .I have my downers in life like everyone else now but thankfully never as bad. If anyone ever feels more than a passing sadness please talk to someone. It really helps. There are many organisations out there ready to listen. I attended a counsellor for a few weeks and look at me now. I’m a complete nutcase and my friend Esther in the audience there would verify that. I’m joking! I think! I’ve got my life back and hoping to return to stand up comedy, I’m writing and have a website, phylliscreative.com. If anyone has a spare minute I ‘d be so grateful if you would follow me. Have to warn you though some content is a little bluey!! Which reminds me. One day, when my granddaughter was in primary school she wanted to show her friends her Nanny’s website. Unfortunately she clicked on one of the adult only stories. Her teacher was standing behind her.
“Keeley, what are you looking at?”
“My Nanny’s website, Miss.”
Flip, I was waiting for the NSPCC to arrive at my door.
Thank you for listening and please look after your mental health and that of others.