Thursday, March 28, 2024

The only tree in Eden

Gosh, our weather is peculiar at the moment. After the wettest February on record we might have hoped for an improvement but March has been pretty glum too, and it's really excelling itself at the moment.

On Tuesday we had beautiful weather for our boat trip. Sunshine, warmth: it was Spring-like. That lasted as long as our boat trip. By the time I got home it was raining.

Yesterday it turned bitterly cold. I walked with Daughter and GrandDaughter2 down the valley to Pobbles. The wind was howling directly up the valley and it was 'perishing' as my grampie used to say. While on the beach we took shelter in a cave to avoid the rain and hail.




You can just see some patches of blue in the sky from the cave and walking back up the valley the sky was completely blue and it was sunny. Still very windy but at our backs so didn't feel as bad.

Last night we had the merest scattering of snow, instantly washed away this morning by lashings of rain. 

* * * * *
I had my jumper tucked in my jeans in a French tuck, as I now know it's called, in Zac's on Tuesday. One of the regulars pointed it out to me, "Your jumper's caught in your jeans."
"Oh, yes." I untucked it.

I asked the question, "What is the only tree mentioned by name in the garden of Eden?" I added, "Species of tree."
Another regular replied, "The tree of knowledge of good and evil."
"No, I mean, species."
At this point, had I been him I'd have said, "Oh I see what you mean, okay"; he argued his point. And I realised this is what he does. He has to be right, have the last word. It explains why his wife is as she is. 

Meanwhile, while I was in Zac's cooking yesterday morning there was a loud knocking on the door. Now I was alone in the building and while the vast majority of our guests are perfectly amicable we get the odd one who is less so, or is drunk and difficult to get rid of, so I waited to see if the knocking continued.

It did. Big heavy thumps. It could be someone injured, I thought, so carefully opened the door. The man outside there looked a bit rough and wasn't happy. 
"Can I talk to someone about the roof?" he said.
"You can talk to me but I probably won't be much help."
So he did.

It turned out he was caretaker for the student flats next door and according to him our roof was leaking and causing plasterboard to fall off the walls in the flats. I said I'd pass on the message and he went away happy, having done his bit.

Waiting outside for Husband to pick me up I did a little jig, to keep warm. There was a man wandering down the next street talking, I assumed on a headphone thing. It wasn't; he was just talking to himself, much as I do only a bit louder than I do. (I hope.)
He complimented me on my jig and suggested some alternative moves, then as he continued wandering down the lane he turned back and said, "Do you know the sugars (or possibly The Sugars)?"
I shook my head.
"You know from Paviland?"
"Um no."
He carried on talking as he walked on, looking back occasionally to make sure I was listening. I nodded a few times. 


Tuesday, March 26, 2024

How the Welsh won Trafalgar


My problem is knowing when to stop with the daisies. I could have left off a few. I'm the same with sparkles.

So before I knew I would be leading Zac's tonight - the man meant to be doing forgot he was taking his wife away - I agreed to go on a river cruise with some friends. A river cruise = an hour and a half up and down the Tawe river. It was time I could ill spare but it was very good. The river valley has a lot of industrial history and the commentator was informative and fun. 

Husband and I had been on a similar trip ten years ago, not long after they began, and they're much more organised now. It's a charity made up of volunteers who drive, commentate, maintain the boat, and make cups of tea.

I couldn't get any photos today because my phone was playing up. "I need a new phone," I told Husband when I got home. He switched off and on again and said, "No, you don't. It's fine now."

I got home about an hour ago and have added final touches to my preparation for the study. I usually like to practise it but I'll just have to read from my notes this evening, having made my excuses first.

Three facts from my trip: Swansea has the second biggest tide in the world; the battle of Trafalgar was won thanks to the copper-bottomed boats of the British Navy, the copper having been produced in Swansea; and the only known occasion when yellow fever was transmitted in the UK was when a number of infected mosquitoes travelled to Swansea from Cuba with a cargo of copper ore.

Monday, March 25, 2024

Eight furlongs in a mile

In school I learned that there are eight furlongs in a mile. Today, for the first time ever, I needed that information for a crossword. 

Maybe I'll need to know calculus tomorrow. (I hope not. I remember nothing about it.)

* * * * *

"I've eaten food from all the best restaurants in Swansea and yours is much tastier."

That's what one of our guests said last Friday at Zac's.  He'd asked to speak to the cooks so Claire and I had come out from the kitchen to hear what he had to say. His comment was only spoiled a little when he explained that he'd taken food from restaurant bins.

Which is funny until you realise this is 2024 and people are having to rummage in bins for food.




Sunday, March 24, 2024

The goddess of wisdom and bare bums

Over on Debra's blog she writes about the goddess, Athena. This reminded me of Athena, the firm that produced posters that adorned many student bedrooms in the 60s and 70s. Most famous, of course, is the tennis player, a poster that was to be found in over two million homes.


Apparently the girl who modelled for it wasn't paid. As one newspaper article said, 'She got a bum deal'. 

Athena is still in existence, only online but still producing high-quality prints of work by emerging and established artists.

This has to be my favourite print from the current site.






The case of the missing socks

When Younger Son lived at home he would toss his socks anywhere with the result that when he left to go to university and I did a grand clear-out of his room I discovered 57 socks under his bed.

Since he's left home for good Husband and I don't have the problem of odd socks. Socks are washed, socks are returned and they're all in pairs. Until recently.

For the last month or so odd socks have been disappearing. YS was quite happy to wear odd socks, in fact, he chooses still to wear them; Husband, on the other hand, is not happy to wear odd socks.

Where do they go? It's a mystery. Sometimes they turn up eventually; sometimes they are never seen again.

Just one of life's little conundrums.

* * * * *

Gardeners, any idea of what this plant might be? It's about 15" high. Is it possible I might have planted it? Or could it have just growed?

I have a feeling it's that plant that gets little orangey-red berries on stalks. If that's the case I'll get rid of it - it always look as if it's poisonous. On the other hand I may not. But if it is that I'm not keen on it, and the more I think about it, the more sure I am that's what it is. Perhaps I shall just wait and see.


Saturday, March 23, 2024

Women Only

Just read a tweet about men only clubs and I remembered the women's club I'd walked past recently. I'd been amazed to spot it and planned to tell friend, Vivien. Now I think it must have been a dream. Unless there is a women only gathering place somewhere in Swansea. 

No, it must have been a dream. I haven't been anywhere. Have I? Oh dear.

More door trouble today. Read the Pull sign on the outside of the door from the inside. Didn't work.

Also failed to get hot cross buns today.

Lots in M&S but we've had those before so thought I'd get some from the co-op. Didn't like the look of the co-op ones so decided to treat us with some from Stuart's Artisan Bakery.  Only to find it had closed down.

Just waiting for family to arrive to celebrate Son-in-law's birthday with pizza and cake. 

* * * * *
Shocked by news of Princess Catherine's cancer diagnosis. Always worse when it's a young mother.
* * * * *

Once a month, Jim Stewart, one of Zac's trustees, travels down from Cheshire to pay us a visit. This time he brought lots of lovely rocky roads and flapjacks very kindly donated by a cafe he visits regularly. It's a special cafe that trains young autistic people. 




 



Thursday, March 21, 2024

Buttercups and tulips

Pulled myself together and did a bit of gardening.

I cleared an area that was overgrown with, I think, buttercups, or yellow buttercuppy-type flowers, which are very pretty in their own right but not when they think they're in charge. 

On a visit to the garden centre earlier this week I bought some ground cover plants, and I've put three along the front, and one, rather daringly, in an old bit of tree trunk. That one is saxifrage, which grows on cliffsides and in crannies in the wild so I'm hoping it will revel in its new position. Actually if it just survives I'll be pleased.

I've also drawn a little map in my notebook that tells me what I planted where.
So when they succeed/fail to grow I'll know whether or not to buy those plants again. 

Also in very exciting news, the tulips I planted in the autumn are in bud!

And apropos of nothing:

Available now, in advance of official launch, on Amazon.





Aspirations and reality

Boud is the sort of older woman I aspire to be. Aware, active, interested, lively. This week I am more like the cranky, creaky old bird stereotyped in sitcoms.

My back is a lot better but now I'm getting twinges in my knee. Does old age come overnight? I was fine last week.

And I've booked a hearing test for next week. It's two years since the last and I fear my hearing has deteriorated quite a lot. I am missing far more of what is being said, and not just when there's surrounding noise. I hate the idea of having hearing aids but am coming to think they might be beneficial. (I just read on Boud's blog about the price of them so I might reconsider.)

But here - I hope if I copied the link properly - is a rather lovely Mary Oliver poem.


A pome wot I wrote


Yesterday was International Day of Happiness. Today is World Poetry Day. So here's a poem I wrote long ago. I'm not a poet, I don't understand poetry. That bit of my brain is missing, so I avoid writing it on the whole. This was probably written for one of the many courses I've attended over the years.

Purpose
I stand on the sea front
morning light echoing from the tips of foetal waves,
as they warble over worn-smooth pebbles.
The sun whispers, 
its breath warm on my winter-cold skin,
and I try to take in 
the mystery 
of the ordinary become extraordinary;
of the mundane become spectacular.

And it begins.
It starts in my foot,
toe-curling, sole-tingling,
moving through my legs, stomach, heart
to my head
where my senses come alive and dance in delight.
And it’s too much.

Like a shaken-up can of coke, 
bubbles fizz, pop, explode, 
a fountain of exuberance awaiting release.

Aah, but this is me,
encased in my own can,
unable to pull the ring.

So
I smile
at surly waiters
irate drivers
queue-jumpers
And
I think:
if I marketed this I could make a killing.

But it’s not for sale.
It’s above and beyond and below and way past 
market value.
 
It’s the ecstasy of living, here, now,
and the knowledge, sometimes lost 
but always buried deep inside,
that, in spite or maybe because of,
all that seems wrong,
there is purpose,
there is meaning.


Bad door day

I couldn't understand why the door to the ladies' toilet in Zac's wouldn't open. I fought with it for some time before realising I was using the wrong key.

I went to the chemist. The sign on the door said, "Press button to open." I pressed; it didn't open. I pressed again; it didn't open. I tried the handle; the door didn't open. Pressed button again while wiggling handle. Still no success. According to the sign the shop was open. I just couldn't get in.

I stood back and pondered. There was another door but the sign on it said, "Use other door." I was trying!

By now I'd reached the point where my mind was blank, and I couldn't work out if I were supposed to push or pull the handle. I tried pulling. It seemed to move a tiny bit. I pushed and the door opened. I fell in. 

I'd already shouted at the self-service machine in Sainsburys because it kept saying that my loyalty card was in an invalid format. That was before I noticed I was using my Tesco card.

Some days you just have to give up and go home.




Tuesday, March 19, 2024

Amendments and additions

First of all, could you see a screaming face in the plank on my previous post?

Husband couldn't and messaged me to ask what it was about. (He is upstairs in his little cwch and I am downstairs in the study.)

He also told me about his adventures with turnpikes.

"I occasionally used to drive across the Bathampton Toll Bridge (an original turnpike) when I worked in Poole. Old prices still displayed, although I'm pretty sure it cost me about 50p each way."

* * * * *

Yesterday I saw a butterfly, a bee, bluebells and forget-me-nots. Spring is definitely on the way. I've even stopped wearing my vest, ignoring Granny's order advice to, "nay cast a clout till May be out."

* * * * *

I also suddenly realised that I've stalled rather on my book promoting. I downloaded a Book Launch Checklist last Friday, finally looked at it this morning. A bit depressing to see that it begins 120 days before launch. And, no, that's not 'start writing book'.

The paperback version of Danger with Lashings of Caviar is available on Amazon now and the ebook will be from tomorrow. The official book launch is planned for 18th April, just before the book blog tour. That gives me, oh, 30 days to cram it all in. 

Some stages are irrelevant, such as, get a cover designer, as I do everything myself to save money. If the amount of time I spend on a book from start to finish was compared with money made I'd be out of pocket - without paying anyone else to do stuff. 

Admittedly a more professional approach may increase sales but unless I invest a huge amount in marketing it won't improve. And I can't justify that. So, I do it to make me happy. Knowing I've produced a book, and usually one that makes me laugh, has to suffice. Even though I would love to be a best-selling author.

By the way, the book I mentioned in a previous post, that is all over the internet, A List of Suspicious Things, warrants the hype. It's good.