Other people's posts

AC's post today reminded me of when we had magazines in waiting rooms. It was one of the joys of life, that little added pleasure, being able to flick through and check out how the other half lives in the celebrity magazines. Our dentist always had golfing mags, and occasionally up-market fashion mags. Not my cup of tea. And at £500 and up for a handbag just as well.

I think the doctors' surgery stopped first. Something about unhealthy spread of germs. But now no-one has magazines; we're all expected to read our phones. I don't have anything interesting on my phone apart from a couple of children's games. 

Janice's blog has a post about waking up dead - no, waking up alive when you're supposed to be dead. This is one of my fears and the reason I think I would prefer burning to burying. At least it would be quicker. Janice cites lots of examples so I am definitely demanding a bell in my coffin when I go.

Debra's blog, well, what can I say? Don't visit if easily offended! I was so shocked I had to read on to the end . . .

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It's so exciting: parcels keep arriving! It's just like Christmas! Because I can't remember what I've ordered or when it's due every delivery is a thrill!

Curled up on the sofa yesterday and watched Nonnas on Netflix. Aw, lovely and comforting. What to watch today, that is the question.

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I made a lovely curry, lamb and spinach (with added parsnips because I had some), and what do I get? Complaints.

Just because I make the dish a bit dirty. 

Husband did say it was a very good curry but his grumbles outweighed his compliments!

Postscript

Conclave was my film of choice. Imagine being gripped for two hours by the process of electing a new pope! I thought it went a bit haywire towards the end, unnecessary extras, but overall very good, and fascinating to see the process.

She tried

Thank you for the lovely suggestions for my tombstone. I think the most appropriate would be, "Well, she tried."

Emptied the Christmas shelf this morning, the bit at the top of the wardrobe that I use to store wrapping paper etc. Turns out my mum was green before being green was a thing. I imagine most of our families were. I was told to unwrap presents carefully so she could save and re-use the paper; now I'm doing the same thing. I have a box and a bag full of pieces of paper most of which is inevitably the wrong shape or size or torn in the wrong place to be useable*.

Plus a Christmas elf, DIY cracker kits, and a bag full of bags. Who actually buys gift bags? I don't think I've ever bought one; I always have plenty in my cupboard to reuse - and they don't even get creased like paper.

Also found the strangely-shaped neck rest with three bits. Can't remember how it was supposed to go but pretty sure it wasn't the way Husband modelled it.

And enough unused Christmas cards, I hope, to avoid having to buy any this year. I plan to use some of my recharge time to get those written, and finish my present shopping. Watched Bridget Jones' Baby yesterday afternoon. I must have seen it before but it was a silly enough way to relax.

* Google tells me usable is the preferred spelling but both are acceptable.

A woman of merriment

So Wales lost (26-52) but they scored four tries and at one point the score was 21-24. Of course, that led to the flame flickering a little brighter only to be doused fairly quickly. But apart from a couple of silly penalties leading to sin-binning, the boys dun good. They battled, not giving up, and played well. Definitely hopeful signs for the future.

Not the immediate future however.

Next weekend they play double world champions, South Africa. Not only that, but the game's been arranged outside the official window so many players who play for teams outside Wales won't be available. Thirteen of the squad actually, including some of the best ones. Why the Welsh Rugby Union bosses thought it was a good idea to arrange this game is a mystery, but then they don't seem to have much sense about anything, and rugby in this small country is in a right state.

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I've been to the dental hygienist this morning. The appointment has been hanging over me for weeks, clouding my joy: I hate going to the hygienist. As I told her when I got there. 

It wasn't too bad apart from the wanting to swallow and not being able to. At least not when she began. When she got to work on my lower front teeth I was grimacing. 

Lying back in the chair I kept telling my body to relax only to find, within seconds, that it was tensed up again. I guess a hygienist's chair isn't the place to relax. And when she was working on the bottom teeth, each time she touched a nerve my body straightened out - like a cartoon character who's had an electric shock. I expected to shoot out of the chair at any moment.

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I'm a bit snuffly and dry today so I'm planning an easy few days. Maybe get my Christmas shopping mostly done. The last few years I've tried to shop locally but life's been so busy recently I'm afraid I've had to go on-line. I did manage to buy a few gifts from local artists though.

I hope my tombstone will say something like this.

"A man of music, of merriment, of poetry and love."

Shaken not stirred

At 11.45 am today I was still in my nightie. But I had ordered some Christmas presents and been distracted by Christmas jumpers.

Last night we all gathered at Ask restaurant in Swansea's night life street to celebrate GrandDaughter1's 16th birthday. Not actually until tomorrow when we'll have cake. She wouldn't let us sing happy birthday in the restaurant but agreed her uncle could sing it when we walked back to the cars.

We all sang along - and a group of revellers joined in and insisted on singing it again.

I plus GrandDaughter1 and GrandSon2 all enjoyed a pineapple martini (non-alcoholic) but it does nothing to quench a thirst, barely three mouthfuls.

Meanwhile in Italy Younger Son and family have had their first real snow day. 

Now I'm getting myself ready for the Wales All Blacks game this afternoon. Some new youngsters have been called up. Apparently they have lots of promise which instils in me this tiny little glimmer of hope. Which is nonsensical. We're going to be thrashed. But there might just be promising signs?

Porridge please

It seems our theorist friend, when visiting a community church-led cafe, has been told not discuss such things or he will be banned. But they have also banned others of our guests. Zac's is famously the last place in Swansea to ban anyone - and it has to be a really major offence for that.

Yesterday, ah yesterday. It was a long day. It began at 6.40 am when I woke up, for the fifth time that night, to check if it was time for the alarm to go off yet. It was set for 6.45 so I switched it off and got up, showered and went out. 

Yesterday was the Grand Re-opening of Zac's. Meaning we opened.

Another charity, the Wallich, uses Zac's building to serve breakfast and has been doing so, via the hatch, since lockdown, but they only offer hot drinks and slices of toast. Yesterday we welcomed people into our building again, and it was wonderful. 

(At this point I would post photos but my computer has stopped working - I'm using Husband's after some time playing with tablets, phones, and passwords to enable me to get in, and I'm limited in what I can do. At least without spending another hour and more tears of frustration.)

Claire, our cook, offered porridge with banana and syrup, and/or toast with scrambled eggs, baked beans or just butter. The Wallich team was still in attendance but were able to give their full attention to the rough sleepers who came in, while Sarah, another volunteer, and I took orders and served the drinks.

We had about ten guests, which was great for the first morning.

I was able to give one young man a warmer coat and he was so unbelievably grateful for it and the food. 

(Husband is a genius! He has fixed my computer, again, so I'm back on it, although it did insist on me doing more identifying checks to make sure it's me. I think I will spend the afternoon lying in a darkened room with a damp flannel on my face.)

The eggs were much nicer than they look in my photo.

Then it was off to Rough Edges for another clearance day. The shop looks almost reasonable now - at least you can walk down the aisles and around it safely - so next week we'll be starting on the Back Room. Those two words should be written in a horror film font.

This time my photo makes it look better than it is!

I would love to one day see it divided into a small repair area and a larger sitting relaxing area for the men who call in just for company. But that will depend on us getting a manager. A voluntary manager as we can't afford to pay anyone! And, of course, clearing everything out of it . . .

There is a log burner in the shop but the door was always open so it never really warmed up and yesterday was our coldest day so far this winter. By the time I got home I was chilled to the bone.

Then I went to Daughter's to childmind briefly as they attended a parents' evening, and then came home. 

Went to bed early.

Elvis in the chip shop

Apparently Princess Diana is alive and living in a monastery in France. I can't imagine what the monks think of that. Her friends stole her away because they didn't trust the Royal Family. 

One of our regulars in bible study told us that because he read it on the internet. He's a character, you might say. He's intelligent, and well read, but has all sorts of . . . um . . . let's say unusual beliefs, most of which he gets from a female prophet on the internet.

But he comes regularly to Zac's and everyone smiles and nods and sometimes, like last night, I'll say, "We'll have to agree to disagree on that." And he's not bothered. 

How did my study on peacemaking go? Well, at the end, two of the most vocal - we just need the Holy Spirit in us - almost came to blows because one was getting in the other's way. So they obviously took on board my every word. Hey ho.

My pizza was exceptionally good though.

This morning I went for a walk with Daughter and Louie. It was cold and windy but beautiful. I say 'walk'; it's more like a route march. Daughter does walk very quickly. A shock especially after my slow strolls with Husband.

Nothing stops Louie going in the sea.

Out with Henry

Thanks to your comments I've removed references to Kissinger in my study and replaced him with Mo Mowlam. Much more inspiring.

I used my new knife today for the first time - my birthday really is over - and it's sharp! I must have got too used to my old knives as I cut myself twice in five minutes this afternoon! Fortunately my nail not my flesh.

And these words are music to my ears: "Sorry, there won't be an exercise class next week."

I don't really hate it - I wouldn't go if I did - but it's nice to have a good excuse.

Life continues to be quite busy but I think, after this week, maybe, it'll ease off. (Who am I fooling? There may just be a brief respite, we'll see.)

Pizza for dinner tonight and here's the tomato sauce bubbling away nicely.

Made with tomatoes from the garden. Still!