Saturday, June 30, 2018

Holiday thoughts so far

Wednesday
No internet tonight so I'll try creating a document here and copy it later.

Currently it's 9.00 pm and we're sitting outside our caravan in Camp de Gorges, Ardeche. It's finally a bit cooler and a lot quieter: earlier the woods were filled with the noise of crickets. You wouldn't think crickets could be so loud.

The caravan is pretty basic and very spatially challenged but the location, right on the edge of the river. I feared the water would be very cold as it's fresh water coming from the mountains but it is deliciously refreshing. Air temperature today about 32 degrees.

Thoughts on the journey.

After careful consideration Husband decided it was user i.e. me, error to blame for yesterday's detour. I put in the wrong co-ordinates. However Miss Sat Nav was also to blame as she let me use an imaginary number.

Today's journey was only about 4 hours through very beautiful and varied countryside. From rolling farmland to gorges, pine forests to vineyards. We drove through Le Puy lentil country where I realised that I don't know how lentils grow. They're pulses so I suppose they're like beans but most of what we could see from the car looked like wheat and other grains. When I get internet I shall look it up.

We passed one of those signs that proclaims what it is the upcoming town is famous for. This particular sign said something about a patrimoniale site. I know what matrimony is but not patrimony. And if matrimony comes from the root of mater (mother) then why is it another name for marriage? Another thing to check on t’internet.

I can't drive through one of the many small towns that looks as it has done for decades without visualising troops and battles. The pretty young French girl whose family hides and cares for the wounded English captain. They fall in love but he has to return to his unit and they never meet again. I have seen too many films, read too many books, watched too many episodes of 'Allo Allo’.

Thursday
Still no internet.

Tried to go kayaking but fully booked. Lay in the sun instead and bathed in the river.

When I am alone I can compose a perfect - to my mind - sentence in French but when spoken to by a French person the only word I can remember is Merci. I could be spending a lot of this holiday smiling, nodding and thanking people.

While flies eat Husband I seem to be the human of choice of the caterpillars here abouts. While I have nothing against caterpillars I would rather the big hairy ones didn't crawl over me.

Keep thinking the grandchildren would love it here with the abundance of scampering lizards, hopping frogs, swimming fish and chirping crickets.

We are again in France during a major football tournament, this time World Cup 18, in Russia - ah, I cannot do full stops on the keyboard with my tablet - some keys fell off and I thought I could superglue them back on - not one of my better ideas - I have been using the tablet keypad until now - I had better return to it or this could be a very long sentence!

Last time we sat in the campsite bar and watched England lose to Argentina and Daughter received a proposal of marriage from a complete stranger. This time we watched England lose to Belgium in a very boring game. I admit I spent most of the time studying other watchers and the bar’s unusual American-style decorations.

Friday
Skinny-dipping seems to have become something of an anniversary holiday tradition. Last time it was in the sea off west Wales; this time in the Ardeche river in France.

“This looks a bit slipp… ahhhhh … ouch!” I exclaimed as I landed on my bare bum.

It was even slippier trying to get out. I finally succeeded on all fours. Tres elegant.

My brilliant navigation led us, on our walk back to the campsite, past a restaurant where we ate later. Tres delicieux! Very fancy and wonderful flavours, all sorts of combinations - and very happy staff. A small garden next to the terrace where we could watch the chefs wandering out to pick the herbs they needed. Les Chaumes should you wish to visit. Highly recommended.

Also highly recommended, The Scandal by Frederik Backman. ***** The author of A Man called Over and another absolute favorite of mine, My Grandmother sends her regards and apologises. Very different sort of book but marvellous. It’s about ice hockey so I had to bleep over some bits I didn't understand but that doesn't matter to the story.

Have to stop now as we’re going kayaking. And I hope I can work out how to get this from here (docs) to there (blogger).

Later
It took me some time but I did it! Copied this from Google docs.

I will do a separate post about kayaking. Later. When I feel more charitable.

Tuesday, June 26, 2018

Stupid sat nav

'Even on my worst navigating day I didn't add 60 miles on to our journey.'
I smiled happily.
' I may have taken us on an unmade road at some point and I may have led us to the middle of a field another time but at least I didn't take us thirty miles out of our way to do it.'
Husband is less sure. "What about when we had to pick Younger Son up from Genoa airport? That was a huge detour."
"Yes but at least it was vaguely in the right direction. Just a bit eastish instead of westish. No, I am definitely a better navigator than Miss Sat Nav."

Monday, June 25, 2018

Still there

Arriving in Portsmouth a few hours early we wandered along the sea front as if we were on holiday. I thought we were just meandering looking for somewhere to get something to eat but I noticed that Husband had a strange determination about his gait.
''I'm looking for a pub,' he said.
''A pub?'
'Yes. I used to drink there in 1969.'

It was still there.

Sunday, June 24, 2018

Crazy weekend!

To celebrate our fortieth wedding anniversary we invited the children to join us for a weekend of activities.

On Saturday morning we headed out to Glan-rhyd woods for a wilderness/bushcraft experience. It was a very hot day and we could have done with using the first open air swimming pool in Wales had it been in a fit state.
The woods are on the old estate of Arthur Gilbertson, a wealthy local industrialist, and have lots of interesting features as well as being a source of peace and tranquillity. Until we all arrived. Then it was camouflage, cooking and den-building.

At base camp the leader of BeeWild Conservation and Education explained the purpose of camouflage in nature before his intrepid team set off to be hidden.


It was really and surprisingly hard to find them. They all did very well keeping quiet and still.


Some of us even managed to fit in a bit of whittling to prepare sticks for cooking marshmallows.

The den at an early stage.

Climbing trees wasn't meant to be part of the adventure but some of us see a tree and have to climb it.

After a picnic lunch in the woods it was back to our house for much fun in the pool before the barbecue. Toby decided he'd have a go at this camouflage lark too.
Today, our actual anniversary, we went to Port Eynon to play on the beach. We built castles and hearts, paddled and rock-pooled. We caught a fish, a shrimp, a large crab and a small crab. We also found a dead shark i.e. dogfish. My attempt to get the grandchildren to help me fill in a heart shape with stones was less successful than I might have hoped i.e. other things proved more interesting leaving me to collect most of the stones.

If you look very carefully you may be able to make out the 40 in the centre.
It finished with fish and chips on the beach and ice cream before we set off for home. A pretty good way to celebrate a special anniversary I think.

Tomorrow we set off for France for the re-creation of our honeymoon. No idea if we'll have wi-fi but I'm sure I'll be popping up every now and again.






Friday, June 22, 2018

A good year for blossom

I'm waiting for Elder Son and family to arrive. They're here for the weekend to help us celebrate our fortieth wedding anniversary on Sunday. But before that we're off out into the wild to celebrate GrandSon1's seventh birthday (early). Photos and stories to follow.

When I was young my mother planted a mock orange shrub in the garden. She said it would be ready for me to carry some on my wedding day. 

She died before I was married but I made sure my bouquet contained some of the orange blossom from our garden. Today the house I grew up in is being renovated and the garden is a tip. I suspect the orange blossom won't have survived, which is a shame as it's a very good year for all blossom. This tree is in our garden now.


And here we were almost forty years ago.




Sunday, June 17, 2018

Specific gravity

Now there's a term I've not had cause to use since ... probably 1970. It came to mind this morning when I was thinking about cream.

In Tesco I asked the boy on the till if he had scales and if he could weigh the pot of cream for me. 
'Why?'
'Because I want to know how much it weighs.'
He looked puzzled. 'Why?'
'Because my recipe is in grams and this is in mls.'
'Oh. No.'

I bought three pots just in case.

Back home I emptied one into the basin of the scales. It turned out that 300mls weighed just less than 300g. And that's when it struck me. Well, not exactly struck so much as there was a stirring of the brain cogs.

Something was sending my brain a message. Something from school days. Something about specific gravity. Possibly. Whatever was relaying the message wasn't sure. But the theory goes like this. The specific gravity of something is to do with water. Something like 1 litre of water weighs 1 kilogram. Or maybe that was how they defined measurements in the beginning. So it might have nothing to do with SG.

Cream is only a bit thicker/heavier than water so ... a very rough estimate would have 300ml weighing in at 300g. I'm sure Stu will tell me if I'm wrong. Or Husband. Whoever gets here first. 

All these years and I never knew that. Well, I did know it but hadn't applied my knowledge. I wonder if in a year or so I will realise the value of log tables. What on earth were they about? Do they have anything at all to do with life?

Incidentally when I came to pay for my shopping I realised I had left my purse at home. 

Saturday, June 16, 2018

Andale! Andale!

Listening to BBC Radio Wales in the car this morning on my around-Swansea hunt for gluten-free wraps. I dislike Owen Money but he plays good music, the music of my generation. It's largely a request show and most of the requests are for birthdays for people who are in their sixties and seventies.
'What a lot of old people,' I was thinking when it occurred to me that I am of that age, that era, one of them.

But I'm not old!

But if someone on the radio says, 'I'd like this played is for my husband, Johnny, who's sixty-five today,' I don't relate to that. It's like a block in my brain. Sixty-five is old. I am sixty-five but I am not old. Everyone else may be but not me.

Incidentally if you see the word underlay do you immediately start saying, 'Underlay, underlay, underlay'?
speedy gonzales

Not that I'm old or anything.

Friday, June 15, 2018

Grave cleaning

Remember I visited my mum's grave some time ago? 
After that visit I arranged for a mason to clean and renovate the gravestone.
I am so pleased with the result.

Bloody Weirdo

The Lonely Life of Biddy Weir
By Lesley Allen

First of all don't read this if you're feeling a bit down. Otherwise do read this!
This story of a young girl, Biddy Weir, whose life is effectively taken from her by bullies, one in particular, who nicknames her Bloody Weirdo is searingly painful to read. 
It takes someone who notices and someone else who is willing to give time, energy and love to this bloody weirdo before Biddy eventually reaches a turning point. It's not all sorted out at the end but the ending is satisfactory and you can feel hope for the future for the real Biddy Weir. But oh dear, it's a hard journey. ****


Happiness for Humans
By PZ Reizin

Jen and Tom are the humans; Aiden and Aisling are the AI machines being taught to be 'human', or to appear human.
Jen's job is to talk to Aiden to improve his conversational skills but when her boyfriend leaves her for another woman Aiden decides it's time for him to find her the perfect mate. Not only that but to bring them together somehow.
And all works wonderfully well with our two humans falling in love. But then the developer of the machines suspects that Aiden and Aisling, who is helping Aiden, have gone rogue - which indeed they have - and sends out another AI named Sinai to track them down and delete them.

It's a love story and a great tale in which I ended up caring not only for the humans but their machines as well. It's also slightly worrying. Machines like Aiden and Sinai are already in existence and the potential threat they pose, should they truly go not only rogue but evil as well, is monumental. And because they're so intelligent they are aware of all the traps and safe-guards put in place by their developers to take effect in the case of rampant misbehaviour (for want of a better description).
***/****


In praise of bras

I bought two new bras last week. Expensive bras. But as I argued previously I'm worth it.

Today I wore for the first time the bra that is even more expensive than the expensive bra. It is wonderful. I love it.

It is comfortable, gives me a fabulous shape i.e. makes the most of what I've got, and makes me feel good. I was even tempted to take a photo of myself a-bra-ed but decided that was probably a step too far. So you'll have to take my word for it. 

Women, if you're wearing a saggy or ill-fitting bra - and research shows that far too many women do - go and get measured and splash out. It is so totally worth it.

Have I mentioned my bra is just so wonderful?

This is what it looks like on a model.
Empreinte bra

Anti-ageing is non PC

Over on his blog Nick writes that an American magazine has decided to stop using the phrase anti-ageing as it suggest ageing 'is a condition we need to battle'.

It always surprises me to realise I'm getting old. I am oblivious to it most of the time. It's only when I happen to be wearing my glasses and glance in the mirror that it strikes me afresh. A visit to the hairdresser's, where you are obliged to sit and look at yourself under bright lights, is worst of all. If my face creeps downwards any further it will  - I was going to say 'catch up with my boobs' but I realise they too are on the downward trek and ne'er the twain shall meet.

I confess I would like to be rid of my saggy jowls. But then I think: actually my eyelids are very heavy too; and those little creases in between my eyebrows make me look grumpy; and the bags under my eyes are packing cases. Let's face it, I am sixty-five and I've never paid huge attention to my skin or had a daily facial routine. I've washed - with soap which I discover is skin's enemy - and used Oil of Ulay, and that's it.

I do remember my mother's advice: always pat gently around your eyes and use upward movements when applying cream to your face. I remember the advice; I just never used it. Little wonder then that, although I like to think I look young for my age, my skin tells a different story.

It's the fact that the ageing of my face makes me look grumpy that upsets me most of all. I'm not a miserable person. On the contrary I'm a jolly little bunny. So to have my face telling lies is very annoying. I am trying to get into the habit of keeping a Mona Lisa smile on my face but I fear this just makes me look demented.

Oh well. Husband loves me as I am so all's well with the world.

Thursday, June 14, 2018

Me in a bee suit

Just gave the bees a good talking-to. 

Younger Son is on holiday until Saturday evening and the bees are getting ready to swarm. I told them they must not even think about swarming until he is back.

Should they decide to ignore me and swarm anyway I am under instructions to follow them and keep them in my sight. As long as they stay in my view they are still mine (or YS's anyway). I can see me trampling through people's back gardens saying, 'Excuse me, excuse me, I just have to follow the bees.'

I have further instructions. If they stop, in a tree for example, I am to put the spare hive underneath them before banging the tree with a big stick - that should make them fall into the hive. 'Put the bee suit on first,' Younger Son reminded me.

Wednesday, June 13, 2018

Beauty out of ugly things

I was leading the bible study in Zac's last night. Normally I ask one of the men to call everyone to attention but yesterday, in a nod to the suffragettes, I decided, 'I don't need a man! I can do it.' 

And I did! 

Fortunately there weren't that many people in. Enough chatty ones to keep the discussion going though. I only had retake control a couple of times by leaping in when someone stopped to breathe and continuing talking (over and) pretending I didn't hear further attempts to prolong the distraction. Go me!

A really lovely passage (Ephesians 2:1-10) about grace and the love of God. It's liberating to realise there's nothing you have to do, no bar to reach, no ladder to climb, no palms to grease, in order to experience God's love and grace. Not only nothing you have to do but nothing you can do.

'Grace makes beauty out of ugly things.'
Grace by U2

If humans had ringtones

Spent the morning making a cake for Heather for a baby shower. Not for Heather you understand.
I have to say it looks better in the photo than it does in real life. You can't see the cracks and the joins and the sludgey bits in the photo.

But I think it will be added to my list of personal favourite cakes, along with the cake I made for the wedding of two spider lovers
and GrandDaughter1's 3rd birthday cake.
Prior to that I did a lot of lying in the sun, going into prison - a bit of a rumpus in there - before more lying in the sun, preparing to lead bible study in Zac's, childminding GrandDaughter2, and ... I think that's it.

If humans had ringtones mine would be, 'I'm sorry I didn't ... I've been a bit busy.'

Saturday, June 09, 2018

A bad bird and a lost dog

The magpies are treating our garden as a self-service restaurant.

We have two lots of nesting birds but they're both coal tits while the magpies are currently terrorising baby blue tits. We noticed them again this morning hounding and trying to pick off the babies. I remember Uncle Horace telling me years ago that magpies were nasty birds but I've seen it for myself now. Every time I see one now I shoo it away and try to be as frightening as possible but as they stroll off carelessly they just give me, 'Seriously?' looks. I just hope that when 'our' babies make their appearance I have my water pistol to hand.

Walking George in the afternoon I passed a woman with a whippet. A little further on our walk we came across a lone whippet. I deduced - just call me Sherlock - he belonged to the same woman although he was a long way behind her and she hadn't shown any signs of the anxiety that I would be feeling were George so distant.

We - George and me - turned around and headed back with the whippet trotting along with us. Then he decided we weren't going anywhere interesting and turned around again. We followed and I put the lead on him this time. We walked back towards the car park and as soon as Mum came in sight I let him off thinking he'd run straight to her. He ran the opposite direction.

George, who'd been slightly perplexed by me putting his lead on another dog as well as the backwards and forwards walk, said, 'Come on, we've done our bit. I want my walk now,' so we left them to it. I assume she caught him in the end.

Thursday, June 07, 2018

Sometimes it takes a while

Something occurred to me this morning: I could have done my administrative job even though I wasn't going to church.

Backtrack. I used to be the administrator of Linden Church. A few years ago I decided I would stop attending church services because* I wanted to concentrate on Zac's. My exact words in my letter to the trustees, my bosses, were, 'I'm taking time out.' It was read as, 'You're leaving.'

Soon after that I was due for my annual review. I turned up innocently not expecting what happened. The trustees I was meeting with said they didn't see how I could continue to work for the church if I wasn't part of the church. They suggested I went away and thought about it.

I was amazed. I told Husband and he said, 'Why are you surprised?'
'Well, because ... I hadn't expected that.'
'They were bound to say that,' he said.

So I thought about it and offered my resignation.

It has taken the years since for me to come to terms with this. I hadn't appreciated how much I had been hurt. I hadn't acknowledged it and therefore couldn't deal with it. But time is a healer and I've made progress - deliberately taking action to repair the damage.

But even so every now and again, for some reason, it stings afresh. Like this morning. I told Husband about my realisation. He said, 'It was the best thing you ever did leaving work there.' Which is a sad reflection but not one that should be seen as mirroring the people in the church as a whole.

*I kept finding excuses not to go on Sunday mornings.

A lovely day that ended badly

After looking after GrandSon4 this morning while Nuora was preparing for their holiday starting tomorrow I worked on my next article for The Bay this afternoon. Then played again with GrandSon4 when they came around to check the bees before holidaying.

So far so good.

Dinner followed by some television. Husband was trying to get BBC iplayer to work when there was a kerfuffle outside and a bird banged into the window. A blue tit was flying around in an agitated fashion so I got up to see what was going on.

A magpie had a baby blue tit in its mouth. I banged the window and the magpie dropped its prey. I rushed outside but I was too late: baby blue tit was dead. I tried massaging its tiny chest but it was still.

I buried it in the garden.

Husband pointed out that I probably deprived a baby magpie of its supper and I know it's the way of nature but I don't care. Nasty birds.

Tuesday, June 05, 2018

When you're least expecting it

Many years ago an older Christian woman said to me, 'Never expect anything from anyone and then you won't be disappointed.'

I'd just told her how my expectations had not been fulfilled so her comment was fair but it still left me feeling sad. So I carried on expecting and carried on being disappointed when I was let down.

A few months ago I stepped down from leading the women's bible study group in Zac's. I'd led it for the most part on my own for over three years and I'd given it all I could. The numbers were right down and I no longer looked forward to it or enjoyed it so I felt I wasn't going to be giving it my best and it wouldn't be fair on any of us. I discussed it with Sean and we agreed I'd step down. 

Someone else offered to lead it for a period but last week it finished in its current format. Whether it will start again in some form or another is yet to be decided.

I wrote a FaceBook post explaining the reasoning, apologising and thanking everyone for their support. I meant everything I said and I didn't write it with the express hope of being thanked. That said I thought someone may thank me.

Nobody did.

A long time ago I led a church writing group for very many years, keeping it going even when the church was in turmoil. When I eventually handed over the lead again I thought I might be thanked. I wasn't.

'Is it me?' I asked my young friend - who makes up in wisdom what she lacks in years - when we were walking last week. 'Is it God telling me I'm not humble enough and that I'm doing things for the wrong reasons?'
'Huh,' she said. 'I don't see God anywhere in that. Imagine if the situation were reversed; what would you or I do?'
'I'd like to think that I would say thank you to the person.'
'Precisely.'

That same evening I was in Zac's when the newly-release prison inmate was there. He came up to me and was beaming. He shook my hand. 'Thank you for coming into prison. The church service is the only light in a dark place. Thank you for your lovely smile.'

And I wasn't expecting it at all!


Taking the tip for granted

Over the course of the last thirty years our local council refuse tip has become a glorious place to walk - or take a leisurely stroll as it now is with George.

Clyne refuse tip
It's very easy to take it for granted: saying 'I'm just going to walk George on the tip,' without thinking about how fortunate we are to have this wonderful amenity on our doorstep. Not only is it close it's flat enough for George.

Family gathering 2018

I think I mentioned on here before that after eighteen months of family funerals I decided it was time to have a family gathering that didn't demand black and tears.

A number of people who'd originally planned to come were unable in the end so our numbers were down but I think it's safe to say that all those who attended had a good weekend.

We began on Saturday evening in our local Prezzo. An aside: do restaurants really need to play loud music? Apart from that the food and the company were good.

When they advertised it as mini dessert they weren't joking.

From left: Gareth, me, Husband, Deanne, Rhian, Debbie, Carol, John, Daisy. They had come from York, Surrey, Taunton, Cardiff and Swansea.

Sunday everyone came to our house for a lunchtime celebration.

Tony teaches in a boarding school and one of his pupils had given him this ham.
That's Tony and his wife, Rhian, toasting the ham with champagne. The stand was specially made by Tony and the woodwork teacher in the school. Put together incredibly professionally in just 45 minutes. Tony and Rhian offered to bring it to the lunch party and I was very grateful to them for the offer as it made a great centrepiece. (And a quick google suggests it's worth hundreds of euros.)

As an alternative I cooked a salmon and found myself thinly slicing cucumber just as Jennifer Aldridge (The Archers) on the radio was suggesting the same dish for Ruth's birthday party.
But I'm better at desserts.

It was a beautiful day and we were able to sit in the shade and enjoy the food, reminiscing and browsing through old photo albums.



Until next year!

All in a morning's work

My calendar is empty; I have a week of no commitments. I don't know what to do with myself.

I did all the tidying last week ready for the family party (to follow) so I can do 'other stuff'. Hmm. I have an article to write and I could get try and get in touch with my subject for the book again. Or I could relax. 

As the weather is cooler today I decided I'd take advantage and go into town to buy a new swimsuit. Husband said, 'Another swimsuit?'
'Yes. One that doesn't make me look like a dam-buster laden with bouncing bombs when I walk at anything faster than a snail's speed.'

Swimsuit designers seem to have melt-downs when creating: the majority are either black or a confusion of colour. My problem is worse because of said large boobs. What I really need - and what I ended up buying - is what I think is called a tankini: bikini bottom and a proper bra-sized long top. But not quite as long as I would like. Mind the gap! Some fake tan is called for on my belly I think. 

Having found a swimsuit I moved on to the bra shop where I ended up buying two bras at a price I am afraid to confess. But my excuse is that I get good wear out of them and I don't buy expensive clothes normally and good support is important and anyway I don't need an excuse because I'm worth it.

Like my silver trinity pendant
Then it was on to H. Samuel. I bought a chain there some months ago and the clasp had become very tricky to open. The jeweller replaced the clasp and brought it back for me to try. 'Yes, that's fine,' I said, 'but where's the dingle dangle?'

It wasn't until he'd disappeared to look for it that I thought dingle dangle might not have been the professional terminology with which he would have been familiar. But he found it. 

Then I booked a hair cut for next Tuesday and bought some Deep heat for my stiff neck and still manged, in spite of being confused by the car park machine, to get in under an hour's car parking.

A good morning's work I think.

Friday, June 01, 2018

How I set off for a funeral and ended up in tesco

Funerals and me. We don't seem to have got it together of late. Last funeral I went to I was accidentally ready to go to one hour early. This time I got both the time and the name wrong.

I had it in my head that the funeral was at 1.00 pm but because the traffic was horrendous, even though I'd allowed plenty of time, I arrived there late.

I was wandering around pathetically when a gentleman asked me if I was okay and I told him what I was there for.
He shook his head. 'There isn't a cremation at 1; the next one is 1.30.'
'Oh,' says I 'perhaps that's it then.'
'Let's go and look at the list.'
I follow him and he asks what the name of the deceased is. I tell him and he consults the schedule. He shakes his head again. 'No-one by that name today.'
I must look perturbed as he goes on, 'Perhaps it's a burial? That's next door.'

I drive down to the cemetery but the car park is empty and there is no sign of life of any sort.

I phone Husband and guide him through the task of looking up old messages on Facebook for me. Eventually he finds the relevant one. 'June 1st ...'
'It's June 1st, isn't it?'
'Yes, June 1st at Margam Crematorium ...'
'Yes, that's where I was.'
'At 2.30 pm.'
Silence.
'This is why I love you,' Husband says.

What on earth can I do in Port Talbot for one and a half hours? Go to Tesco obviously.

Back at the crematorium I join the crowd waiting for the 2.30 service. I don't see anyone I know and I glance surreptitiously at the order of service the woman next to me is holding. I recognise the photo but realise that he must have taken his mother's surname not his father's. Success.

As for the funeral, a young man lost too early. As the minister leading the service said, 'He wasn't a saint but he loved and was loved.' That's as much as any of us can hope for. 

Paul might have believed that death had lost its sting but it doesn't always feel like that.