How to learn Welsh

 o flaen = in front of (there's an f in front and flaen)

o dan = under (there's a d in under too, and if you say it in a deep voice that helps remember)

ar ben  = on top of (like Ben Nevis)

tu ôl i = behind (because, why wouldn't it be?)

Choosing your battles

"He's only little but he's feisty."

Feisty? He's just run halfway across the beach to attack Louie. I think he's a bit more than feisty.

That's what I thought. What I said was, "That's okay." Fortunately Louie gave as good as he got. I had a long stick and tried to separate them but Feisty wasn't having any of it. And, for Husband's benefit, I will stress that I kept my distance even when poking my stick in. I know better than to get between fighting dogs.

Seriously, how could anyone pick a fight with this cutie?

Is it about girth?

I saw the Leap Year thing on google and just for an instant - the very tiniest of instants - I thought, "Does everywhere in the world have Leap Year then?"

I blame the cupboard in Zac's. 

I leaned over to wipe the wall - my cooking gets everywhere - and banged my head on it when I stood up. To be more accurate I banged my glasses, which were on my head. And that's why I think they hurt my nose now. 

Meanwhile in Duolingo Welsh Owen and his parsnips seem to be falling out. First he argued with them and now he has destroyed them. I hope he gets his act sorted out soon. The Welsh rugby team eats his parsnips and we can't have the boys going hungry.

 

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Losing it

Looking for a link to the podcast serialisation of my first novel I noticed that, according to the side column of my blog, I have produced two podcasts.

The other one is called Everyday Life and is a collection of short talks about 'family, topical news, and Jesus.'

I clicked on the link and began to listen to one. 

I have absolutely NO recollection of recording these. This is slightly worrying. Not a single bell is ringing. I can't even remember where the talks came from . . .   no, wait, there's a tiny tinkle, it's coming back to me now. They're the radio talks I did. 

Oh phew, that's a relief. I'm not as doolally twp as I feared.

And here's the talk I did after we'd lost George.

Where tupperware goes to die

Thank you for all your lovely comments on my photo. (Of course I posted it to get compliments!) And it's good to know lots of us feel the same. Good but also sad. 

Now tell me, is there a land where tupperware escapes to to live a merry life away from the everyday drudge of carrying food? Or do aliens not have it on their planet so they come here in the night and steal ours? But if that's the case they must have different uses for it - as art maybe to decorate their walls or for baby aliens to use as sledges - because they never take matching sets.

A few of Zac's boxes

The only box big enough for the lentils didn't have a lid. And that's another thing: why don't they have standard sizes for tupperware boxes so, whatever the brand, lids fit? Every one of those boxes you can see is a slightly different size. Literally millimetres difference, but just enough to need its own special lid.

Rant over. Here are some flowers from our walk in Clyne Gardens yesterday.

Do you need a wee?

When I am about to go out I ask myself, "Do you need a wee?" The answer is, "No," but the damage is done. I can no more go out without visiting the toilet than I can leave five Maltesers in a box.

* * * * *

Planning a blog tour for my next book I need an author photo. I feel it's cheating a bit to use one of my old ones. (Very old ones.) So I ask Husband to come and take a photo of me with freshly-washed hair, posing. 

He takes several. I look at them and hate them all. My nose looks big. (It is but I don't want that to show.) My eyelids are wrinkled, and my fringe is too long. I do the one thing I can: I cut my fringe. 

We take Toby for a walk and I get Husband to take more photos of me in the hope that natural light is kinder. It is. I still have wrinkles and a big nose but they're not so obvious. I tell myself it's the quality of my writing I want to be and should be judged on. Then I panic about that.

Why am I so prone to self-doubt and low self-esteem? I am convinced it is more of a woman thing although I know many women who are happy in their skins, and comfortable acknowledging their abilities. (Okay, I know two, or maybe three.)

Perhaps when I am grown-up it will be different.

* * * * *

Just realised it's a Leap Year so we get an extra day! Think we should do something special to celebrate. How are you going to use your extra day?

You could make this place beautiful

Please! Don't ever do this! 

I find it really hard to work backwards to find out how old a person should be or even if they were born at that time. I'm currently trying to slot in a woman who should be older than one character but not so old as to be alive at the same time as another, and how old her grand-daughter might be. It sounds simple but it's not, trust me.

Saw this on Twitter too.

Is the world at least 50% terrible? I don't think so. I hang on to my faith that most people are good. In recent years that faith has taken a bit of a beating so maybe it's the last lines I should be concentrating on.

"You could make this place beautiful."

The only angry zen in south Wales

Preparing dinner in the kitchen I could hear the boys fighting in the lounge. I went in to suggest they watch television instead only to find Husband was the instigator and main combatant. I left them to it.

Elder Son had a good weekend away hiking up Cader Idris. I've borrowed some of his photos to show you.

At the top, Elder Son on right with best friend.

* * * * *

It seems the only angry Zen yoga teacher in the world is teaching classes in Mumbles.

My Monday exercise class happens in a small community centre. Two halls with an entrance foyer and kitchen etc. We are in the larger hall, and Elaine, the teacher, has rented it for years and years. After Christmas a new yoga class began in the other hall.

The problems began when we opened the main door so we could get some air into our class. The yoga teacher came out of her hall - door to that closed by the way - and shut the main door saying her pupils were getting cold.

Okay, fair enough, a bit of give and take is fine. But she didn't leave it at that. Since then she's had a go at the two women who are sort of on the door outside our hall for the class, as well as shouting at Elaine. And the man who caretakes. Not just once but several times, being really nasty.

Thankfully now she has moved her class to a different location but during our class today she appeared in the foyer and began taking photos of us. We are all going to be scanning social media for anything derogatory. 

I just checked her Facebook page - nothing about our class - and she is all zen and peace-loving on it, giving no impression of the viciousness of which she is capable.

* * * * *

My cleaner is here now so I'm going to go and tidy the kitchen before she gets there! Then I have the workshop on writing a bid to apply for funding. 

Five boys

Been a busy weekend. Elder Son has been away so I've been helping Daughter-in-law with the boys who lead busy lives.

Yesterday morning I had GrandSon1 so I had the bright idea of inviting GrandSon2 along as well. I had to go to Mumbles so took them with me, gave them money and left them in a rather nice cafe to order waffles. I said I'd meet them later. 

Worried the whole time I was in the library and then shopping but, of course, they were fine, although possibly over-sugared, having used the left-over money to buy sweets - and charity daffodils.

This morning it was Grandson1's turn to be away, at a hockey tournament in Cardiff, so I had GrandSon3 this time, and again invited GrandSon2. We played games and had a walk in the rain followed by lunch at Five Guys, not Five Boys as I kept calling it. Very good chips.

In between having children around we watched rugby. Two games, two losses. First Wales lost to Ireland (expected but not quite the thrashing I'd anticipated), then England lost to Scotland. So not a good day for this household but probably slightly better for me than Husband. 

Ireland is the best team in Europe currently while Wales is rebuilding, with a young team, who battled well, and showed promise. So there's hope for the future.

Now this coming week, unusually for me, I have a lot of appointments. An online workshop on fund-raising, a meeting with Social Services about the child I've been involved with since birth (his not mine), a visit to same child, and a hospital appointment for Husband to get results of his ear biopsy.

I shall need lots of tea to get through all that. (I was going to say chocolate but I'm trying to cut down. That said I may be driven to it.)

A post for us all

 

Jemima Fawr

On this day in 1797 French soldiers landed at Fishguard in west Wales. On arrival they saw so many troops on the overlooking hillsides that they believed their army to be outnumbered and surrendered.

The thing was that there weren't any British troops in the area. What they saw were the women of the town in their traditional dress of red cloak and tall black hat. The women were led by Jemima Nicholas, a cobbler, who, legend has it, rounded up twelve French soldiers - admittedly drunk - singlehandedly with her pitchfork, and took them as prisoners.

Jemima became known as Jemima Fawr (Jemima the Great).

Ryan Davies was a popular comedian in Wales back in the 70s. Here's his take on the story.

Welsh mams never change.

The post I shouldn't write

I feel fat, my hair's a mess, and I'm cross with myself because I've wasted an hour flicking through Facebook videos. I'm writing one book and trying to publish and promote another and I'm wondering why as my sales numbers never get out of two figures. And I shouldn't be writing this post because it's depressing.

Now, it's okay because I know this mood will dissipate soon. I've made a hair appointment and I'm about to start work on the book side. So all that will help. Indeed, writing it down helps me - though it may bore readers - as it spurs me into action, and reminds me of previous occasions I've felt like this.

And I've just had an email telling me Eligible, the book I ordered on Boud's recommendation, is ready for me at the library. As is The Trial by Robert Rinder. Can't remember who recommended that but I must have seen good reviews somewhere.

And I can almost translate the Welsh version of the email from 'y llyfrgell'.

Also last night my first attempt at Chicken Parmigiana was successful.

New resolution

I must stop writing notes on scraps of paper.

I either lose the paper or find it months later and wonder what it's about. That said my notes for last night's study were so disorganised I didn't even know what the things I'd written meant. As a result I had no choice but to be relaxed about the whole evening because I knew I'd have to wing it. And I was the 'only lady in the village'. (Cue jokes from Zac's regulars about what lady.)

But back to scrap notes. When I ordered the food for the week I made a rough menu plan. Today I find I have chicken breasts in the fridge but can't remember what I was going to do with them. When I eventually find the piece of paper it's not helpful; it simply says: chicken x 2.

Also spent ages looking for some emails before I remembered I'd made a special folder in my Inbox for them.

Dead lion?

Tate & Lyle are rebranding their golden syrup, and presumably black treacle which is the same. They are dropping, and I quote, "the image of a dead lion being swarmed by bees."

I had to run to the pantry to check, and, yes, sure enough, on the tin there is a lion, and a swarm of bees. I'd never even noticed the lion, let alone the fact it was dead and covered in bees. I am stunned.

The logo also quotes the bible: out of the strong came forth sweetness.

Instead of a dead lion the new logo features a lion head and a single bee but drops the quote for fear it could exclude customers.

The original logo holds the world record for oldest unchanged brand packaging having come into existence in, and remaining the same since, 1888. 

Meanwhile Prince William has called for an end to fighting in the Middle East as soon as possible. So that's alright then.

And, yes, I am supposed to be prepping for this evening but I'm taking a little break.

Thank you not

When you have a headache the last thing you need is to have to struggle to get the paracetamol out of the blister pack.

Sainsburys have changed their packaging and it's impossible to break the silver bit just by popping the pill out. You need something sharp to pierce it but by the time you resort to that you've already broken or crumbled the tablet inside. It's enough to give you a headache. And I am writing to Sainsburys to tell them so!*

* * * * *

Found out yesterday evening that Stu, who was supposed to be leading Zac's tonight is ill. No-one else can do it so guess what? Yep, I'm leading it. Which would be okay except I'm taking GrandSon2 out as promised today so not a huge amount of time to prepare.

Stu had planned to do a review of the first three chapters of Hebrews so I'll do that and think of an activity that can be done in small groups. That will take up some time - I mean, will be very helpful for us to learn from - and apparently people like small groups. People other than me that is. But if I'm leading rather than in a small group I'll be okay.

* Big firms do not make it easy to contact them.

A belated Valentine

One of the songs we use in exercise class always makes me think of Husband. He's not very romantic, not one for grand gestures - although there are three memorable ones - tells me he thought about buying flowers for me (but didn't), and certainly has never written me love letter or poem!

But this song is what he's about.

The smile on your face lets me know that you need me
There's a truth in your eyes saying you'll never leave me
The touch of your hand says you'll catch me wherever I fall
You say it best, when you say nothing at all

Pobbling

Pobbling. That's a good word, isn't it? meaning to walk to Pobbles. Elder Son asked if I was Pobbles-ing and I cut it down to pobbling. Currently watching Upstart Crow on iplayer and Shakespeare, as well as creating new words and phrases, likes to lay claim to others as well. But he's not having this one. This is mine. ©

Anyway a beautiful day after a very wet weekend and some big breakers. 

You can't tell very well from these photos because the tide was coming in and the water was shallow for a long way out so I wasn't close. But if you look carefully - you might need a magnifying glass - you can a surfer in each photo. 

And here's a sandy-nosed dog.

I'm a prisoner of the . . .

My sense of smell is vague at best and my hearing is getting worse, but physically, apart from a shoulder injury that doesn't count because it will get better, the only thing I have to complain about is two dodgy knuckles. 

In my head I'm calling it arthritis but maybe I've just been doing too much pointing. I can understand the right one feeling over-worked as I'm mainly a one-finger typist but the left should be better but is worse.

I am very grateful this is all I have to complain about I assure you. 

* * * * *

Some time ago I noticed a lot of my blog traffic was coming from Russia. My assumption was that the KGB couldn't believe anyone would write such regular nonsense unless it were a secret code, so had employed a team of boffins to decipher it. Now I have a new follower on Twitter: a woman from Interpol.

If I suddenly stop blogging please raise the alarm. Either the KGB or Interpol will have taken me prisoner.

Carnival

I was a little late setting off for prison this morning so I suppose it was no surprise that as I parked the car I realised I'd forgotten ID. 

In the close to twenty years I've been going in I've only forgotten maybe once before. It was too late to go home and get it so I resigned myself to being turned away.

I went in, the officer asked my name, patted me down, and took me over to the chapel, me thanking God under my breath as we went.

Other members of the team were already in and said they'd been asked for identification before anything, so something or someone was on my side.

A good service too, for the First Sunday in Lent. The chaplain is a vicar so we followed a service sheet, and she spoke well about temptation. 

And I learned something I never knew. The chaplain was explaining that strict Catholics used to give up meat and dairy products for Lent, "which is where the word carnival comes from: carnevale with carne meaning meat and vale meaning goodbye in Latin."

Finding poetry

Daughter and GrandDaughter2 had some fun this morning making poetry out of the New Scientist magazine.

This is one they did together:

And this is one done by GrandDaughter2:

Pretty pink birds

These glorious flamingos 
Aren't always
Animals
They settle in shallow water. During such journeys they 
Take
Off 
Each
Of them creates shapes.

Before the coffee gets cold

I should have lived in the Middle Ages or whenever it was that they had horsehair shirts and self-flagellation. At least then, presumably, it would have been for a set period. As it is my mental self-flagellation goes on and on.

Anyway I went to Mumbles this morning to get a birthday card for GrandSon2 who is twelve tomorrow. While there I popped in some clothes shop, just to see. And saw everything was very expensive. So went to a charity shop instead. 

Didn't get any clothes but did come out with four books. 

In my defence only two are for me. One is for Daughter and one is for GrandSon3. I also picked up two library books I'd ordered., and I've ordered number three in the Before the Coffee Gets Cold series. I finished book two last night. They are very lovely, written in what I think of as a naive style - if such a thing exists for books. And lots of Japanese names beginning with K! (They are translated from Japanese.)

The style takes a bit of getting used to. A bit like The No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency; I was unsure at first but grew to love those too.

Everything's falling down

"One of the best sandbox MMOs in existence." It was an advert on my computer. I wrote it down because it demonstrates how out of touch I am with all things tech. I have no idea what is being advertised.

* * * * *

In Zac's this morning someone jokingly said we were going to have volunteer assessments, mark people out of ten. One volunteer said, "You wouldn't dare give me less than ten!" then paused, then added, "Except Liz would probably give me three."

I didn't realise my face was so easy to read. Must do better.

* * * * *

My first trustee meeting this afternoon. We need to raise an awful lot of money to get the building into a sustainable state - or to stop it falling down. Anyone want to sponsor a toilet? A sink? How about a pack of toilet rolls?

* * * * *

Speaking of falling down it seems that the school attended by GrandDaughter1 and GrandSons 1 and 2 is not reopening next Monday after this week's half-term holiday while they investigate subsidence. 

Also falling down badly we have the Conservative Party. Yesterday's two by-elections took large Tory majorities and turned them into Labour victories. Something to celebrate at least.

And I've just taken the first step to being an active Labour Party member: I've cast my vote for the next leader of the party. I feel quite responsible.

* * * * *

One of the weekly newsletters I've started receiving is from Austin Kleon, and this week he talks about commonplace books. I've never heard of them so followed a few links and now I want to keep one!

In his he records quotes he particularly likes. 

Random Lenten Jottings

This year Valentine's Day coincides with the first day of Lent, the countdown to Easter. So this is my offering. 

I am planning to do Random Lenten Jottings for the Zac's Facebook page rather than give anything up, which when I've done that in the past hasn't been for spiritual reasons anyway.

Last night's Zac's was different, and I think I must have been distracted by the thought of Husband's hospital appointment this morning, because I didn't follow it properly. Either that or I'm just a bit thick. Yes, okay, it's a close thing. Probably a bit of both.

Husband had been a little worried so I was too but he was fine. Doesn't have to go back now until 1st March to see doctor.

* * * * *

I've just finished reading My Brilliant Friend by Elena Ferrante, the first book in a highly acclaimed series. I don't know what I thought about it. Perhaps I am thick. It was interesting and a little odd, there was a lot of accepted violence and awakenings, but I'm not sure it's "an unconditional masterpiece." Maybe I need to read the rest of the series.

Have you read it?

A little Superb Owl

#SuperbOwl

Quite a successful day today. (It's not often you hear me say that!)

I did a little marketing for my previously-published books and podcast. Or did I? Definitely for the books but did I stop midway doing the podcast promo? Must check.

Written a bit on my work-in-progress. Again mostly copied from previous version but with a few extras.

And I've successfully uploaded my latest novel to the self-publishing site and it's all ready for me to press publish. Except I'm not happy with the first paragraph so need to change that. I've also booked a blog tour for this novel. I think I will do a quiet launch beforehand as I've left it so late to book that the blog tour won't be until late April. 

Then again, it might take me that long to come up with an opening paragraph I like.

In Zac's tonight but not leading, didn't have to make cake, and not in charge of opening up. A cushy evening. 

Wah, it's Lent tomorrow. Had plans for weekly/daily thoughts, and /or giving up chocolate and cake, but I'm not mentally prepared. I need to psyche myself up for something as major as that.

Will go and think about it - or possibly watch an episode of Call the Midwife.

She shoots, she scores!

In the wheelbarrow. Which would have been good had we been playing Throw the Ball in the Wheelbarrow. But we were playing table tennis.

GrandDaughter2 was with us for the day. We played a memory game (we drew), made fairy potions, played darts (she scored more than me), played table tennis (equally bad), had lunch in McDonald's, did crystal art (need good eyesight), and played more table tennis.

Our fairy potions

Sitting in the back of the car GrandDaughter2 giggled. "I farted," she said. "Can you smell it?"

"No." 

Sometimes having a really bad sense of smell is useful.

* * * * *

Today is a quiet day. We have cakes that need to be used in Zac's so I don't even have to cook. So I can concentrate on writing. 

I've noticed my podcast (me reading my first novel, This Time Next Year) is getting a few more listeners - and for more than just the first episode. I feel a good marketer/promoter would build on this but I have no idea how to. So researching that is one thing on my list.

Getting my novel ready for self-publishing and again thinking about promoting is also on my list. It turns out just writing a novel, publishing it, and mentioning it a few times on social media doesn't drive sales. 

I have stalled a bit on work-in-progress as I couldn't work out how to get where I wanted to without a terrific stretch of the imagination (for the readers that is). But I think Uncle Bill may be the way forward. If that's his name. So, that's on my list too.

The question is: where to start?

Ooh, it's 11 o'clock. Time for a cup of tea. Maybe that will inspire me.

(And that's why everything takes me so long.)

Waaaaaah!

Instant frustration.

My good idea was to remove all page numbers and start again. 

Click Remove Page Numbers. Nothing happens. 

Go to Footer Section, manually delete number 1. 

Return to Insert Page Number. 

Page numbers 2 onwards appear but nothing on page 1.

Wonder if page 1 really needs a number? Could start a new trend. Beginning on page 2.

Have managed to remove all page numbers. Now to start again.

Helped by a youtube tutorial I've done it. I think I love Kevin Stratvert. ( I tried using Microsoft's instructions and failed miserably.) Although even with his brilliant video I had to keep stopping and starting and redoing, and trying again. And a lot of, "Wait, stop! What did you say?"

It's a good job I don't drink. I'd have been hitting the bottle long ago.

Any friend of convolvulus . . .

is an enemy of mine.

Sorry, daisies, you had to go. 

In my brief gardening stint I dug up the remaining daisies around the roses. I like the daisies, they're very pretty, but they're also widespread in their growing habits, providing a perfect hiding place for convolvulus creepers to wind their way in and up and around my roses.  So they had to go. Not that the roses showed any gratitude as they grabbed and stabbed me.

I did some pruning too. Hope and pray the roses survive my attentions. I did plant some lavender in between them because apparently they get on well.

I showed off my daffs in the last post. Here are my long-necked, sad-looking crocuses.

I talk a lot to myself when gardening. Out loud.

Now please send me positive vibes. I'm going to try and number the pages in my would-be book again.

Too low to hang

After church this morning I joined everyone for their regular tea and biscuits in the church hall. Interesting conversation with two gentlemen about rugby that somehow led us on to nuclear war via Boris Johnson and tall man's old physics teacher who flew Lancaster bombers. I was delighted to discover that the tall elderly man thinks just like me. Always nice when you don't have to censor what subjects you can talk about. As we were contemplating a nuclear winter I said, "And on that cheerful note, I'd better be off," to which the one tall man said, "Yes, I'm off to hang myself in the garage."

He hurried to reassure us that the garage was too low for him to hang himself. I'm not sure I'm totally reassured by a comment that suggests he'd checked.

Now trying to decide whether to do a little gardening. It is dry - briefly - and according to the email from the roses people it's time to get pruning. 

My daffs have flowered! They have perked up again after being battered by the week's rains.

Oh and when I came home from church I had to look up psalm 102, which was read this morning. I was convinced Monty, the pastor, had said, "My balls are glowing like burning embers."

Knowing Monty he might have said that but it's actually bones.

As expected

Wales lost - but only just. That said, it wasn't the most exciting of games.

Private Peaceful was very sad. But it was a good play, with excellent performances from the main characters. At one point they had the stage set to look like trenches and the soldiers had to go out from the trenches (and get shot) or crawl along through the mud and smoke. 

My grandfather was in the first World War and I grew up knowing he'd had a bullet go straight through him, fortunately missing his vital organs, but as a child it's not something you think about, how that might have happened or what it would have been like.

Grampie was just Grampie, sitting in the corner, in his quiet world - he was quite deaf by then - smoking, and listening to the radio next to him. Seeing the stage last night and suddenly picturing him as a young man going over the top and being shot, and living in the appalling conditions in the trenches, was quite a revelation.

He's long dead now, 'a forgotten hero of a forgotten war.' (And the Band Played Waltzing Matilda, by Eric Bogle)

Happy Chinese New Year!

On the BBC website they asked, "Which Chinese zodiac animal are you?" Of course I had to check their chart and I discovered I am a Dragon. This is what it said. (It was in the children's section so it mentions 2012 as the most recent date.)

I have often thought that my mother lied about my birthday because I'm a Scorpio, and I've never found a Scorpio description that sounds like me! Now I think she must have lied about the year as well! It's all been a huge conspiracy to make me think I'm older than I am. (Of course.) If anything I'm more like The Dog, which would make me seven years younger than I am. Which means I'm a mere child still.

Growing up

Yesterday was Daughter's birthday so everyone came round here at tea-time for pizza and birthday cake. And to sing happy birthday and give presents.

Chocolate cheesecake made by GrandDaughter1!

Daughter wanted some little pottery houses so assuming they'd be easy to find in Mumbles I left it until the last minute - and I couldn't find any. At least none that weren't tea-light holders or plant pots. So she had unrequested presents instead. 

* * * * *

Today I am sitting here awaiting the arrival of one or two grandchildren so Daughter and Son-in-law can go out on their own for a while. GrandDaughter1 is old enough to stay home on her own now and sometimes GrandSon1 stays with her to play on his computer rather than come to Granny's. They are all growing up. Sigh.

Yesterday I took my bag of baby bedding to the Baby Bank in the Mosque opposite Zac's. As I handed it over it was very difficult to let go. I had to turn and hurry away before I grabbed it back. Sigh.

And I will be doing more sighing this afternoon I suspect when Wales play England in Twickenham, England rugby's home ground. 

But after that I'm off to the theatre with Daughter-in-law and Grandson1 to see Private Peaceful by Michael Morpurgo. It's set in the first world war, revolves around a young soldier, and sounds quite harrowing.

 * * * * *

The sun is shining today, an unusual occurrence for us recently. So I think GrandDaughter2 and I will go out somewhere for fresh air and exercise. And possibly ice cream or cake or you know, something yummy.

Just a quick post

To say I hate self-publishing. I hate agents who reject me. I hate publishing companies who reject me. I hate everything that causes me to turn to self-publishing. I hate it when you can't do a simple thing so you look it up, do as the instructions say, and find you've done what you wanted (make page numbering start with 1 on page 3) but have now lost all the other page numbers.

Just when you think you've solved it!

(Obviously I don't hate any of it really. I'm just really really fed up, mostly with myself because I can't remember from one experience to the next how I did it last time and have to go through all the agony again. And you'd think it would be simple and is really but then as I'm going through the process the file gets given different dot thingies at the end and I can't remember what each one is, and have I mentioned I hate it?)

Have put back date of publication again. (Have I put it back or moved it forward? A bit like if this is my forearm then is that my back-arm?)

Oh dear, I'm rambling. Time to stop and call GrandDaughter3 to sing happy birthday.

On the rebound

I'd hope to walk a dog today but the weather is absolutely dreadful so, on the spur of the moment, I attended a rebound class.

There were about 12 of us in the class including one man whom I was convinced was Mark Drakeford, currently Wales' First Minister in the Senedd. (It wasn't. I asked him afterwards.) All middle-aged or older so I knew I'd fit in.

What was it like? It was okay. Harder than I'd anticipated - partly because of co-ordination, or rather lack of, and fear of flying off the trampoline (though we had support handles at the front we could grab onto if we needed.) My calves began burning after the first two exercises and I was just getting into it when the class ended. It was only half an hour, which I hadn't realised. So, at £8, quite expensive for 30 minutes.

Next week I'm hoping to try out a flexercise class. My mornings are quite busy so my choice of classes is rather restricted. I've noticed they also have dancercise classes in Mumbles so I'll investigate those too. I need some more exercise in my week and my plans to find routines to do at home never amount to anything. I need a set time and a class to make me work. Yes, I could go to the gym with Husband but a class is more fun.

* * * * *

My Welsh-born Italian baby is five today, and it's carnival time so in her school they have a day of treats and fun, and she'll be wearing one of her many princess dresses. Here she is from our holiday in Italy last September.

Happy birthday, Gorgeous Girl! 

Bobby Charlton, a gorilla, and three monkeys

A didn't turn up, B turned out to be my nemesis, C left in a strop before the study began, and Bobby Charlton, a gorilla, and three monkeys all made an appearance.

So that was bible study.

When we got to the three monkeys my patience, which had been tested, was beginning to wear thin, and I'm afraid it might have showed but not to the person it was aimed at. Still got a way to go in self-control.

Apparently the very idea of me as an angry woman is funny. My suggestion that I could be ferocious made everyone laugh, and I had to admit it's one of the few sins I'm not good at.

The study was okay but not brilliant because I'd tried to cover so much 'just in case' that my focus was probably a bit lost. But it's done and I can relax for a few weeks now.

Cake went down well though.

Cake did you say?

So, for light relief, I ended up making ginger and banana cakes for Zac's tonight. Any leftover will go on to be in lunches later on in the week.

I don't know if the ginger is meant to be sunk in the middle but let's say it is.

Listened to Dr Finlay's Casebook and Mrs Miniver while cooking. I never liked Dr Finlay when he was on television but am enjoying the radio series. I've not read Mrs Miniver but apparently the success of her weekly articles in the Times, I believe, is what led to the film starring Greer Garson. (That's an unusual name, Greer.) It's a completely different life in Mrs Miniver's world. A life of boarding school, and teas laid out ready for you when you return home after a hard day's shopping.

But's that a distraction. What I was going to write about - I have finished my bible study prep and I'm just going to have to read from my notes because I don't have time to memorise it all - was cake.

An about-to-be-bride wrote on Twitter about her intention to make her own cake, and how she's changed her mind now she's practised.

I made the wedding cakes for both Daughter and Elder Son.

I made Daughter's and then a local cake decorator iced it. Daughter wanted a fairly simple design with roughish edging and fresh flowers.

I made and decorated Elder Son's, again a simple design. (Though on reflection I should have flung fewer petals over it.)

But I sympathised with the bride-to-be this morning because, as well as the traditional fruit cake, Daughter wanted a carrot cake for people who didn't like fruit cake. Including her.

So I made the cake and that was fine. I planned to frost it the evening before the wedding - and that was where it all went wrong.

For some reason I could not get the cream cheese frosting to the right consistency. You'd think it would be simple but it was either too thick, too thin, too sweet, too lemony. At 11 pm I gave up and poured runny icing over the cake. The next morning I sent it to the venue with the instructions it was to be kept in the kitchen, and cut up and served only as required. It was not to be put on display.

The morning of the wedding I also had to pop into town to buy a handbag to use. You can rely on me to be well-organised.

From A to banana

Still working on bible study for tonight. I am consulting all sorts of references - most of which say the same thing. I'm also digging deeper so I'm prepared for arguments. 

I have prepared almost another study in my attempt to pre-empt A, which is why it's taking me so long. On the other hand, it might prove interesting for everyone. If A is there and decides to tell us why we're wrong, it could be a long evening; if A isn't there, we'll end early and have cake and tea. Speaking of which, I'll take a break now to make the cake.

I was going to make ginger but noticed I have two elderly bananas so will make banana cake instead.

And we finally had our cawl and dumplings last night.