Why Bank Holidays are a nuisance

I was determined to have a good eating day today but Girlfriend brought chocolates back from Italy for us - and I ate so many I felt sick. I blame the royal wedding for putting me in a jolly mood.

Kate looks as if she were born to be a princess, so calm and assured. I'm sorry though that the Queen isn't staying for tonight's party; I was really hoping Kate would have an embarrassing uncle who would drag HM on the dancefloor for Hey Macarena.

Speaking of the party, I found out today that a girl who used to come to Linden before she left for the bright lights to seek her fortune as a singer, is singing there tonight. Kate Westall is in Ellie Goulding's backing group - and she sang at the wedding I went to a couple of weeks ago. It's almost as good as being there myself! (And she has a wonderful voice and is a gorgeous sweet Welsh girl.)

I am, however, very confused as to what day it is.

And why are Bank Holidays a nuisance? I usually work on Mondays and Fridays, for 10 hours a week. I get 2 hours off pro rata per bank holiday so over these two long weekends I should be in work for 20 hours but only get 8 hours off meaning I owe work 12 hours.

It's all quite fair but a bit of a pain.

I'm not in the least bit obsessed

Doing the National Trust thing

Yesterday, taking full advantage of our new National Trust membership and the lovely weather, we took GrandDaughter to Knightshayes Court near Tiverton.

From the National Trust website:

One of the finest surviving Gothic Revival houses, Knightshayes Court is a rare example of the work of the eccentric and inspired architect William Burges. Built for the grandson of pioneer lace-maker John Heathcoat in 1869, the house is an exciting architectural experience, with extraordinary 'medieval' romantic interiors, rich decoration and ceramics. The restored and fully productive organic kitchen garden is a treat for everyone who enjoys local produce. The vast garden, which was the Heathcoat Amory family's great passion, is renowned for its rare trees, shrubs and seasonal colours.
The house was intriguing but the real beauty of the place lay in the very extensive grounds. Imagine having this for your front garden ...

Zac's Beatitudes

Last week Sean asked if I'd be in Zac's this week as he was away and wanted Martin, Steve and me to lead the study. So this last Tuesday I turned up bright and early to discuss with the other two what we were doing but when I got there they weren't there.

Time passed and eventually Martin arrived; he didn't know anything about leading it. And Steve just wasn't there.

Steve did turn up about halfway through the evening and he also denied knowing anything about leading it. Either Sean forgot to mention it to them or they're both lying.

Neither would surprise me ...

As it happens it went fine. A few of the ... um ... more vocal regulars were absent so there was a bit more space and opportunity for others to participate and it was a lively discussion.

As it was a reflection on the study we've just finished on the beatitudes we wrote our own Zac's Place beatitudes.

Blessed are the tea-makers for they serve the unseen Christ.

Blessed are the soup-makers for their heavenly bowl will be filled.

Blessed are the artists for they see through the eyes of God.

Blessed are the bikers who stand up for my name for they shall be called God’s Squad.

Blessed are those who empty the bins for they will be washed clean.

Blessed are those who truly search for they shall be found.

Blessed are those question and doubt yet still hang on for on such is the kingdom of God built.

Blessed is the end as a new chapter is beginning.

Blessed are those who listen to God for they shall hear.

Blessed are those who encourage not criticise.

Blessed are those who wash your feet.

Blessed are those who come last for they shall come first.

Blessed are the bridge-builders.

Blessed are those who long for the kingdom of God.

How we spent Easter Monday

Having cleaned the kitchen floor, washed the sofa covers and been to Sainsburys, Georgeous and I decided to relax in the afternoon Easter sunshine.

A word of advice to dieters: don't go to Sainsburys on Easter Monday if you're being weighed the next day. I was quite good and only bought a half-price Cadburys Easter bunny; Husband stood for ages doing calculations then bought the largest - but best value for money - egg, which happened to contain Bailey's Truffles. Thus saving money?

My metamorphosis is almost complete

I think I am either in the process of or should be metamorphosing.

I've been getting light-headed when I stand up. Husband says it's my low blood pressure not taking enough to my brain. And we've seen from Mother-in-law what lack of oxygen does to the brain. Therefore I need to spend more time upside down.

'Like a bat?' Husband asks.

'More of a sloth I think. I could do sloth well given the chance.'

Although it's one of the seven deadly sins and insulting if you accuse someone of it, slothfulness is a much undervalued quality in my opinion.

Once I've cleaned the kitchen floor, washed the sofa covers, been to Sainsburys and changed the bed, I shall practise it. If there's time.

Lighten up!

You remember what John Lennon sang about life is what happens when you're busy doing other things?

Our Easter weekend plans - such as they were but mainly relaxing - changed suddenly yesterday morning when we had a phone call from Sister-in-law in Derby saying Mother-in-law was back in hospital - she only came out on Wednesday - and that S-i-l had visitors for the weekend so could we go up.

After hanging around long enough to get a photo of Younger Son who was Best Man at a wedding (he's on the left as you look at it) ...

we drove up there.

Three hours later on arrival Father-in-law said M-i-l was on her way home.

She's supposed to be on a high dose of oxygen 24 hours a day and she'd turned the machine off and then panicked when she couldn't breathe. The hospital had pumped her with oxygen and, as there was nothing else to do, sent her home.

Father-in-law had eaten his dinner at lunchtime, M-i-l didn't want anything and there was no food in the house so Husband and I popped to the local Harvester pub restaurant. It was really good: they had a special Lighten Up menu with meals all guaranteed to be below 500 calories. There was even a poster on the wall advertising this just behind the table we sat at.

I turned my back on the poster and ordered fish and chips and rhubarb crumble and custard, which, strangely enough, weren't Lighten Up options. But very nice they were.

A good Friday

I don't walk around the cliffs as often as I used to but when I did it was normally morning time and I'd regularly see three old gentlemen sitting on the same bench just a short way onto the cliff path. They were always very polite and chatty and I thought of them as my Last-of-the-Summer-Winers.

Today I discovered that one of them has died - see the little memorial next to the bench? He was quite a debonair gent and I imagined him being a bit of a ladies' man. It's sad to think that the three have become two.
Just because we haven't had a photo of my handsome boy for a while.
Lots of people making the most of the late afternoon Easter sun on Langland bay. Spot the enormous castle!
I hope they escaped before these clouds broke.

Why I think Judas is in heaven

Judas has a bad press, and rightly so for the man who betrayed his friend for 30 pieces of silver. And to make matters worse he killed himself, which in the eyes of many is an unforgivable sin. So why do I think he's in heaven now?

I don't think money was his motivation for betraying Christ; if it had been he got what he wanted and he'd have been happy. So I tried to imagine what went through his mind before his decision to betray and after Christ's death and I wrote what I think could have been his last prayer.

Our Father in heaven, have mercy on me.

Have pity on a poor sinner, oh, God have mercy on me.

Hallowed be your name.

You are the great and mighty God; you know the secrets of my heart; you know what I've done.

God have mercy on me.

Your kingdom come; that was all I ever wanted.

(Continued on my other blog)

What a lovely smile

As we walked another dog came bounding up to us. He was very friendly and bouncy and I smiled down at him. As his owner approached she said, 'What a lovely smile ...' - aw, shucks - 'your dog has.'

Do these things only happen to me or am I the only one silly enough to admit to it?

Beautiful blues

I think the bluebell woods are even more lovely than usual this year. The scent as we wandered through the blooms was delicious. The sun was shining, there was a gentle breeze and the birds were singing their socks off. Bliss.
And I found number 9 of the ten sculptures on the nature trail. I have yet to uncover number 10. I think I need a new set of eyes so will get Husband to look when he's better and out and about again.

Garden break

Every year about this time it's the same: I start to think I'm a gardener. I see the adverts in gardening catalogues and think, 'That sounds lovely,' and I order the poor plants who would surely make an escape attempt if they realised where they were going.

This year it was a collection of 5 scented roses, 24 cottage garden plants and 66 geraniums. So far the roses and cottage garden plants have arrived. My few remaining sense cells should have been alerted when I first looked at them and thought, 'These are strange looking roses,' before realising they were upside down.

And as for the cottage garden collection, well, this is how they arrived this morning. No sign of the garden plan promised and very little clue as to what was what. I suppose I could check on the internet but, hey, I'll go by instinct when it comes to planting.
Instead of handing them over without any armour to the mercies of George and the slugs I thought I'd let them grow in pots for a bit. Now, come on, looking at this tray, wouldn't you think I'm a professional gardener? As long as Husband doesn't move it or turn it around I might even still be able to work out what's what.
The roses I planted in a bit of bed I'd cleared. Unfortunately it's in direct line of fire between George and Mortal Enemy Over the Fence, hence the George-scarer.
I haven't mentioned that Husband has had a stinky cold this week and has been quite poorly with it. So poorly he hasn't been able to do anything except play on his laptop, read and watch rugby dvds. (Which every time I go in the room seem to be showing England wopping Wales.) So we haven't gone away either to Devon or Derby - as yet.

Now to find out if it's me or Younger Son walking George. If it's me that means I can put off the ironing for a bit.

Marmite on leg

Applying fake tan to my legs this morning I was a little concerned to see that I seemed to be using Marmite.

It's the same stuff I used last year and I'm sure it wasn't Marmite then. I hope it hasn't gone off. And that people don't start licking my legs.

This is my third blog post in about 10 minutes. I think I set a record for blog-posting in one day last week. Someone asked if I didn't have anything else to do but I find that the days I blog most are usually the days I'm most efficient in everything else too, and I get a lot done.

I have my list and I'm ready to go!

Must try harder

I was cold-shouldered at Zac's last night. In a very real sense of the word: the person concerned was walking away as I tried to speak and answered me as briefly as possible, making it very clear that conversation wasn't welcome.

I can understand why and my excuses sound just like - well, excuses.

Must try harder.

The final beatitudes

I struggled with writing something for the last two beatitudes: blessed are the merciful and those who are persecuted for righteousness.

I've been trying to write in different styles each week and I liked the idea of a questionnaire that I've used for the merciful but I'm not happy with the final outcome. It needs more work - but I just don't have time at the moment.

And lack of thinking time was my problem with the final beatitude on persecution. So I was crafty and I've used a monologue that I wrote some time ago about the prostitute who poured oil on the feet of Jesus. It's one of my own favourite pieces of writing and affects me each time I read it.

These two final beatitudes are over on my other blog.

Oh and after I'd read the monologue last night one of the men complimented me on my reading. He said, 'You should record it and send it to the BBC.' Hm, I wonder.

I've often been complimented on my buns

Postscript

The buns went down well at Zac's. Gareth said, 'It's no good; I'm going to have to marry you.'

I told him he'd have to join the queue to which he replied, 'I'll eat the queue.' (Gareth is a rather large-getting-smaller man - he's recently lost me in weight.)

A nice cup of Earl Grey anyone?

I used to listen to radio 4 then they started Radio 7 - which was largely repeats of old comedy and drama shows - and I changed my allegiance (except for the Archers and odd documentaries). Now they've changed Radio 7 to Radio 4 Extra and it's different so I'm back on Radio 4. And now I remember what was so good about it.

This morning while driving I heard a fascinating programme about Earl Grey. I think it's part of a series about Prime Ministers - yes, he was a PM. Back in the nineteenth century.

He began life as a spoiled Tory and during an affair with Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire, was converted to the Whig party and the idea of reform. It wasn't until he was PM in his sixties that the Reform Act (RA for short) happened though.

I'm aware, naturally, of the suffragettes but the idea that all men didn't originally have the vote hadn't sunk in. Before the RA only a couple of hundred men were allowed to vote and there were anomalies: Sarum, which was non-existent by then I believe, still had two seats in parliament while Manchester had none.

Although it was called the Reform Act after it, it was still only men owning a house worth more than £10 could vote. Earl Grey himself never envisaged or wanted universal suffrage just a fairer system. But it was the start - of the rot as some Tories would have claimed - and was followed eventually by many other reforms including the abolition of slavery and the child labour act.

So Earl Grey was a very significant figure yet most of us only know of him as a blend of tea. And that's another story.

When he was PM an ambassador of his went to China and somehow managed to rescue somebody - I had to pop out of the car at this point - and the Chinese rewarded him with a cask of specially blended tea. When the ambassador returned to England he presented this to the PM who enjoyed it so much he sent a sample of Twinings Tea Company and the master blenders there recreated the blend. It was the custom then for individuals (rich I'm guessing because tea was so expensive it was kept in locked cabinets) to create and select their own favourite blends and records were kept of these under that person's name. Thus it became known as Earl Grey's blend.

I am a mass of useless information. Which will stay in my brain for about 6 hours before gradually dissolving.

Poor cow!

She didn't stand a chance with these two bully boys.

Incidentally my bovine breed knowledge is a load of bulls. Husband tells me the bulls are short-horn crosses with not a Charolais in sight.

Shortly after I'd taken this photo and walked on, George disappeared into the bushes. All I could hear was rustling and I feared he'd sniffed out the cow food and was on the trail. I had visions of him being charged by a ferocious - and very long-horned - bull.

Hm, that bull resembles Vampire Sheep.

I fought a tree ... and the tree won

I thought I was being stalked in the woods today so I decided I'd practise some kung fu fighting to show my stalker what he'd be taking on in me. It must have worked because I lost him. Fortunately before I attempted the double side leg kick. How Jackie Chan does it without ending up on his back is beyond me. (I assume he does it: I've never seen him in anything.)

I'm an awesome sight when I fight. Or rather I'm an awful noise. I'm like that tennis player who always grunts.

Monday's Odd Shots

A beautiful field full of dandelions ...

surrounded by an electric fence!

For Katney's Odd Shots.

My hippy baby

Wearing the trousers her mum made for her!

The Devon hedgerows were bursting with colour. For some reason Picasa won't let me put more photos in my collage but this will give you an idea.

Like ice in the sun

Some time ago Husband purchased a remote controller and the necessary doodahs to use on the lights in the lounge. Trouble is, I can't work it. He comes in the room, presses a few buttons and lights magically turn on; I press every button and it stays dark.

He's away at the moment so I'm having to sit in semi-darkness. (Fortunately one of the lights isn't on the remote so I have that one on.)

* * * * * * * *

As we're not in Devon today I decided I'd go to zumba class tonight. It's still with Cherie and part of the Rosemary Conley circus but I haven't done this particular routine before. So when Cherie asked at the beginning if there was anyone who hadn't done it I waved my hand. She said, 'Ah, it's just Liz and you've got good co-ordination so you'll be fine.'

I stood and looked around thinking she must be talking to someone else.

Having said that, I was better than some of the regulars!

So I'm feeling very righteous having walked George and done zumba tonight.

* * * * * * *

Driving to Zac's on Tuesday I realised that Status Quo sing, 'Like ice in the sun I melt away,' not 'Like nights in the sun I melt away.' Makes slightly more sense although my version is just about plausible.

The Boddingtons Beetle

The council has created a mini nature trail on the edge of 'our' woods. There are 8 or 10 trail markers with information and at each one there is a hidden creature. The creatures are made out of rubbish emphasizing the need for recycling - and how it can be fun.

I read about this yesterday so, today, George and I had to follow the trail. I say there are 8 or 10 marker posts because it says there is one creature near each post and I've got 8 but I definitely couldn't find one. So that makes me think there must be 10. We'll have to go back and do it again!

Sorry about the quality of the photos.

Where would we be without Chambers?

I must look up purpose and pious.

In the wedding on Saturday, in his talk, the minister kept using the word purpose as a verb. It disturbed me greatly: can purpose be a verb? 'God purposed this.' Really? At the end of the service I turned to Nathan who was sitting behind me and is another grammar pedant and said, 'Purposed?'

'I know!' he said. 'I noticed that too.'

Let's see what Mr Chambers has to say.

Blow me down. vt to intend. Mr Pastor, I take it all back.

And pious. It's been used in Zac's recently as a derogatory term and that hasn't been my understanding of it. So once again it's to Mr Chambers I turn.

Piety is defined as dutifulness, devoutness, sense of duty while pious itself is defined as dutiful but it does have an alternative and less good meaning - professing to be religious.

I guess it's one of those words that the behaviour of those who claim to be it bring into disrepute.

Monday's Odd Shot (belatedly)

Finally thought of a photo I could use for Katney's Odd Shots.

A lost shoe tree on the way back from the beach.

More bull - and bluebells

We see these bulls regularly on our walks. The brown one is a Charolais - which always makes me think of K D Lang - crossed with something and the other is something else crossed with something. Maybe a Welsh Black? Husband knows. He knows about bulls and he's talked to the farmer.

That photo was taken in Sunday's sunshine. Today in the rain George and I walked to the secret bluebell woods hidden off the track. The bluebells are beginning but haven't quite reached their full glory. There is something magical about the colour of a mass of bluebells. They seem to shimmer and almost glow.

But I noticed quite a few whitebells intruding. This is not a good thing. Let the whites in and they take over and wipe out the natives! A campaign of ethnic cleansing may be required.

I was just considering this deeply serious topic when I tripped and nearly tumbled down a steep bank. That was, I concluded, God's way of telling me that ethnic cleansing is never good. Which is just as well as I couldn't have done it. There was no way I could have pulled pulled up a sweet but not-so-innocent whitebell.

With a shimmy here and a strut there

It began to rain just after we'd started our walk so I took my hat out of my coat pocket. Except it wasn't a hat; it was gloves. Not to worry, thinks I, I'll wear a poo bag. A clean one of course. But it didn't fit my head. 'Oh well, it'll probably stop soon. I'll make do without.'

'Thank goodness for that,' George said. 'It's bad enough putting up with you impersonating a very camp man.'

'It's not a camp man; it's Mick Jagger!'

George looked at me doubtfully. 'He didn't look like that in the video you showed me.'

'Not even in the pink trousers?'

'Nope.'

'Must be the slinky hips I'm lacking then. Ah, well, never mind. I'll practise my shimmy instead.'

'Just a minute,' George said. 'Give me a chance to put a distance between us.'

Now what did Ginny say? 'Shrug one shoulder. Now the other. And there you are: you're shimmying.'

George glanced back and shouted, 'You look like you have St. Vitus' dance.'

'You don't even know what that is!'

'Do too.'

Rats. It's humiliating when your dog knows more than you do.

Incidentally it didn't stop raining until we were nearly home.

Creation

This is either:

a) an advert for a mobile phone;

b) an amazing rendition of Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring.

First seen by me on BanksyBoy's blog.

Something in the woodshed

I was cleaning out the under stairs cupboard and discovered this Hoover attachment lurking in a dark corner.

Now we got rid of the hoover last year when it died after several years' use. And I have never seen this attachment before.

I suppose I must have done when we bought it but ...

Maybe this explains why my nose keeps running.

* * * * * * * *

I received a text message this morning saying: Baby arrived safe and passed chainsaw exam.

And I thought GrandDaughter was talented because she can wiggle her bum.

Bully boy

The gorgeous little bullfinch that was on our path this morning.

Beatifically challenged

As I've said before, we're currently studying the beatitudes on a Tuesday evening in Zac's Place. If you don't know, the beatitudes (Matthew 5:3-10) could be considered the first sermon of Jesus and in it he sums up what it is to be his follower. They're a familiar set of words and each of the eight beatitudes begin 'Blessed are the ...'

I set myself the challenge of writing something each week about that particular beatitude and I've blogged the first two on here but now I've put them all together on my other blog lizslongbits

I've tried to use different styles of writing so you've got my ramblings, a soundbite, a prayer, a story and so on. I was away for one week (but will do it in time) and I haven't added this week's yet as I'm still working on it, but, in case you're interested they're here: The Beatitudes

Don't so much as twitch

Elder Son and Daughter-in-law need to buy a new car before GrandBaby is born in June so, tonight, Husband is driving to Surrey ready to take ES to a car auction in Birmingham tomorrow. I have told Elder Son that if Husband looks in the least bit interested in any old Jaguars or Land Rovers he is to stop him bidding for them by whatever means necessary, including force if that's what it takes.

From there Husband is probably going to Derby to see ailing Mother-in-law. Our regular weekly visit to Devon has been postponed until the weekend when Husband is required to help knock down a shed.

And I'm needed to play with GrandDaughter. (Somebody must need me for something!)

Cakes for Zac's

Toffee apple and pecan muffins - although in the one I ate I could only taste apple.

No excuse

I just saw this brilliant quote over on cherrypie's blog:

Little girls, like butterflies, need no excuse.

Robert A. Heinlein

Springtime in ... Clyne

It was a gorgeous day yesterday for a walk in the woods: they look fabulous in their Spring clothes. The violets have just about finished but the floor is covered in white wood anemones and yellow ... flowers. And the swampy bits don't miss out as the marsh marigolds flourish there.

And the very first bluebells are just beginning to open up.
And as an added bonus it wasn't George who was being naughty! Although it is a little embarrassing when other dog-walkers say, 'Oh everyone knows George!'

In mourning for Maltesers

Two bags for recycling, full of writing magazines that I'd put to one side to read 'one day when I have time'. Three of them dating from 2007 hadn't even been taken out of their plastic posting covers.But now look at my tidy desk. No excuses any more for not writing because I can't find the keyboard.
It was fairly traumatic making the decision to throw out all those magazines but not as traumatic as having to throw away two Maltesers I found in the dust at the bottom of the drawer.

Hospital visiting

I finally plucked up courage to go for an allergy blood test. When I arrived at the hospital I discovered the rules for the car park have changed. Now you have to show your appointment card or letter to the attendant to get a token. I had neither so went to check with the attendant what I was supposed to do. He said, 'You'll get a numbered waiting order slip; bring that.'

All the time I was fingering the slip saying to myself, 'Don't tear it up, don't tear it up,' only to find when I got back that the attendant had finished for the day and the barrier was up permanently.

I thought lunch time would be quiet in the vampire department but there was quite a queue so I got to read year-old celebrity mags full of people I've never heard of. Then I got this pain in my chest. A really bad pain. I thought, 'This it: I've come for a blood test and I'm going to have a heart attack.'

I am seriously not good in hospitals or with anything to do with blood.

By the way, I didn't have a heart attack.

Dressed by Daughter

I couldn't find anything in the shops I liked so I borrowed a dress from Daughter to wear to the wedding. That's an unexpected benefit of losing weight.

And after writing yesterday that my Lenten resolve was going well I forgot to write in my novel! So I've just written a bit (Sunday morning, about 9.30) that will count as yesterday's. I'm allowed to do that as it's my game so I can make my own rules. I'll write today's piece later on.

My Lenten resolve is a lot easier than that of some of the girls I was talking to yesterday at the wedding. One had given up tea AND coffee - and all caffeine drinks - and two had banned themselves from eating chocolate, cake, biscuits and crisps. Now that's just plain silly!

It would be rude not to

Girlfriend has just been to Switzerland on a field trip and she brought me back some Swiss chocolate.

It would be rude not to eat it ...

The happy couple

Tim and Kerry Tudor

A novelty

My Lenten resolution to write a bit of my novel each day is working. My initial excellent progress has slowed mainly because life has been getting in the way but each day I manage to write a little. And some days it is a little: two words - and they were Chapter 14 - in one case. And one day I had to make do with writing 'in my head' but that was okay.

I'm finding it very helpful because I'm so immersed in the story it's flowing much better and very naturally. It hasn't been without its traumatic moments though. When I used the F word I came over all peculiar and giggled embarrassedly to myself, and at one point, when the heroine was talking about something she struggled with, I had to take a break to emotionally regroup.

So this exercise for Lent has been my most productive and useful to date, much better than giving up or doing without. As I said initially, it's not for any religious reason that I choose to do something for Lent but just that the discipline seems to work for me.

Time for a wash

Last week, after dithering for some time about whether we'd get our money's worth, we finally joined the National Trust. And the first place we visited for FREE was Killerton House.

We frequently dog walk in the extensive grounds and woods of Killerton when we're in Devon but we'd never been in the house. First of all though a very old tree that like a lot of aged characters needs a bit of support.
The house was built in 1778 by the local MP and given to the National Trust during the second world war if I remember correctly. We had GrandDaughter in the pushchair with us so she was a bit of a distraction and we couldn't go upstairs but that's the benefit of being a member: we can go and visit as often as we like and see different bits each time.
What we did see I liked very much. It's not an enormous and incredibly grand house - although it's not your average residence! - but it's the sort of house you feel you could live in comfortably.

As long as you had servants to do all the cleaning and the washing. The laundry was quite spectacular. I didn't take a photo of the collection of irons but there were different irons for every sort of laundry including special ones for lace collars and so on.
We thought GrandDaughter needed a scrub.

The problems of old age

In Devon on Thursday morning Husband received a phone call from his sister in Derby: both parents were in hospital.

Mother-in-law had been taken in on Wednesday because she'd been very weak and poorly. Because Father-in-law and Sister-in-law had been at the hospital most of the day they decided not to go in and visit in the evening s,o when M-i-l phoned him and asked for her watch, F-i-l took it upon himself to walk to the hospital.

Now it's not that far for you or me but F-i-l is very wobbly on his legs so it probably took him about an hour and when he got there he collapsed. (If you're going to collapse a hospital is a good place to do it I suppose.)

At first they feared a heart attack but they think it's angina. He was allowed home yesterday afternoon. Husband has gone up to stay for a couple of days to keep an eye on him. They think M-i-l may be sent home on Monday but how the hospital can do that when her main carer has just collapsed is beyond me.

She has carers who go in twice a day but she won't let them do anything. She is very confused and forgetful but fiercely independent and doesn't realise how much F-i-l is struggling. Husband and his sisters are having a family powpow this morning to try to work out what is best for all concerned.

And I'm still in Swansea because I was in work yesterday and I'm off to a wedding today. And it's a gorgeous sunny day: a perfect day for a wedding!

She is definitely my daughter

Daughter received a parcel from Amazon and thinking it was worms she put it in the fridge. A few days later when she opened it she found a very cold book.

That's my girl.

And this my grand girl. In the garden of Killerton House.

Exeter Quay

The old - cellars along the side of the river have been converted into antique and curiosity shops -and the new.

Jesus in a pizza

As Jams is taking a break from blogging I feel I owe it to him to bring you the latest coming of the messiah, this time in a three cheese pizza in a shop in Brisbane.