The Careless Troll

I just responded to a comment saying we're in typical November weather when I realised it's the last day of November! 

It's gone both slowly and quickly. As has the year. And, indeed, days of late. I'm not sure what I've been doing but time seems to disappear.

And my brain seems to have disappeared as well. Incapable of coming up with an idea for this post!

One brief book review, well, not review but comment. I've recently finished a book. It's based on a true story and it should be a marvellous book, but it's not. It's written as very much tell not show. Not quite, then she did this, and then she did that, but not far off it. Yet it had great reviews. A contender for Historical Book of the Year whenever it was published.

Ah well, perhaps it's me. I've never thought much of Hilary Mantel's style either - though we have enjoyed the television production of Wolf Hall and its sequel.

* * * * *

On our walk the other day we noticed a strange phenomenon. 

The stream goes under the bridge cleanly.

But the pool the other side is bright green.

It doesn't look natural. Maybe a paint spillage. A troll living under there accidentally tipped the in of paint he was using to freshen up his hovel?

Vibrators anyone?

Zac's is the beneficiary of some foods that the foodbank can't use including crushed crisps and smashed chocolate. Just as I was leaving, after I'd picked up a load of stuff, the donor shouted after me, "Do you want some vibrators and condoms?"

Kind as the offer was I said no.

Apparently someone had put them in a donation box at the local supermarket.

* * * * *

Husband and I took a short walk along the beach today. The sea was so blue it looked like summer.

But the sun was very low in the sky even at 3.30 pm.

Of course we had to try to get the three-legged pose. 

Not a chance with our balance and lack of co-ordination!

Writing group

It was fab! In spite of me getting there a bit late as I'd offered to pick someone up and I had an argument with sat nav over which way to go. We both got it wrong. Both she got it wronger than me!

There were eight of us there altogether although one had to leave early and another had to come late. We had great fun, lots of laughing, memories, and contributions. So exciting.

As a writing exercise to get us going I asked everyone to write about their childhood bedroom. Our pieces were all very different but each reminded one or more of us about things from our childhood. Like cold bedrooms, listening to Radio Luxembourg in bed, our books and toys.

Then we wrote about Christmas. Again lots of different ideas and styles. Mostly first drafts though some were good enough as they are.

And we ate brownies.

* * * * *

I messaged the surgery this morning to ask about a repeat prescription for my nail infection. In response the doctor has said she has left a sample bottle in reception for me to collect nail clippings. My nail is so pathetic and bitten down it will take me a month to collect bits!

Oh, and I had an email from my MP in regard to my comments on the Assisted Dying Bill. It was a very non-committal reply.

Oops, I did it again

Monday

This morning a woman asked me if it were a skort I was wearing. "Yes," I said, flicking up the side so she could see my undershorts.

On reflection perhaps I shouldn't have done that in the middle of M&S.

But she was very impressed. "Do you play golf?" she asked.
I snorted, "No, I've just been to exercise class."

Tuesday

I was so busy whisking sugar and eggs while pondering John Lennon lyrics that I forgot the butter and sugar melting - burning - on the hob. Quick trip to the shops to get more chocolate ensued.

So, John Lennon. I was ready to say that he'd got it wrong, that life isn't what happens when you're busy doing other things. Then I checked the lyrics and what he actually sang was, "Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans. And that's true.

Any plans we might have made for birthday celebrations this autumn went awry, and Christmas looks like going the same way. No hospital news yet.

And though the quote is widely attributed to John Lennon it wasn't original. Most accept that it was first written by Allen Saunders in 1957

* * * * *

It's our first church writing group this afternoon. I am quite excited. I've made brownies. I must remember to tell everyone who reads out their work that there is a standard introduction they must use: My brain isn't working properly. I don't know what this is like really. I need to think some more. It's probably terrible. The dog ate my homework.

When I ran a church writing group before these are the excuses everyone would bring, even though they'd written wonderful stuff. 

And I've just checked the brownies I made specially for writing group and they're all fally-aparty! 

I think it's because they're still warm If I take some from around the edges I might get enough.

The bits that have fallen off are yummy anyway.

Memorable?

After church this morning I was introduced to someone's brother. Apparently he used to like my writings in The Bay. He said, "I still remember what you said when you spoke in Pantygwydr Cafe Church."
"Gosh, that was a long time ago!"
"You said when you get overwhelmed with the enormity of God and space you bring it back to Jesus, God incarnate, the walking, talking human. I remembered that as it spoke to me."

I've just done a blog search and found out it was eleven years ago that I did that talk. And he still remembers it. That was really lovely. 

Sadly I didn't catch his name nor do I know his sister's name but we do have the same dress.

* * * * *

As expected Wales lost yesterday 12-45 to the South Africans. Which might not sound good but when you're expecting a score against you to be in the 80s or more, it was quite acceptable. Also the Welsh team played their socks off, never giving up heart. They just weren't good enough.

2024 is the first year since 1935 that the Welsh rugby team has gone all year without winning a game. Bad days but we do have some promising youngsters. I was pleased to see on Twitter that just about everyone had nothing but praise for the team; most pointed the finger at the Welsh Rugby Union and their lack of investment in local teams and the groundroots. Safe to say it's going to take a long time to change the situation.

* * * * *

As there were still some trees that needed painting, and I had a large tin of paint, I brought two more home. 

First sides, first coat.

* * * * *

I decided to watch a film yesterday afternoon. I was halfway through it when I thought, "This is familiar!"

I definitely remember the second half. Maybe I walked in halfway through last time. I enjoyed it again anyway.

Chick, chick, chick, chick, chicken ... pox

Storm Bert arrived today. It's milder but wet and windy.

It's also GrandDaughter1's 15th birthday. We were supposed to be having cake and presents here this afternoon but GrandDaughter2 (her little sister) has gone down with chickenpox. So that's another birthday that's gone awry because of illness. I've told her we'll have a special treat when this is all over. 

Son-in-law (their dad) thinks he may have shingles too. There's been a lot of debate over whether someone with shingles can pass on chickenpox, or how likely it is to get chickenpox twice, and lots of other related questions. 

I am fairly sure I've had chickenpox twice. I definitely had it when my children were small and they all had it, and I've always believed that I had it as a child. I am from the era when mums - or grans in my case - deliberately sent their children to play with an affected child to get it out of the way. 

I also had shingles when on holiday in west Wales a few years ago. And this year I had my shingles vaccination as did Husband. So we should be okay. I hugged Granddaughter2 the day before she became ill but hoping and praying for the best.

So, this afternoon I've finished wrapping all the Christmas presents I already have, and I began writing Christmas cards. (I'm not posting them until December though.) This year I am only sending cards to people I want to and people I am obliged to. People on Facebook I will greet there. Until cards start arriving and I will panic and send more. (No!)

Later on this afternoon Wales play world champions, South Africa, at rugby. Following the horrors of last week I think an unfortunate but strangely convenient attack of chickenpox should fell the whole Welsh team so the game can be cancelled. As a meme asked on Twitter: Where will you be watching the Wales game? From behind the sofa.

* * * * *

I keep seeing Facebook reels about 'losing that fat belly'. They usually say you just need these three exercises for twenty days and you'll be toned. I look, sometimes I even make note of the exercises; I probably need to do them as well though.

Miele for me

Husband: Do you want the washing machine to talk to you?

Me: No!

Husband: Do you want it connected to Alexa?

Me: You mean you can play music on the washing machine? (You can't.)

Husband: You can tell it to start when you're not there.

Under what conditions would I want to start a washing machine when I'm not there? When I'm driving down the motorway and suddenly remember I put a load in - but didn't press Start?

I just want a machine to wash my clothes. It's doing that now so I'm happy.

A bit concerned that there's talk of explosions in the manual, but did like this warning.

If heaven's so great

Following my comment about being opposed to the assisted Dying Bill Stu asked, "If heaven's so great why do you want to stop people going there?"

The same reason I don't want to go there: it's not time. My concern is that elderly people will feel obliged. They won't want to be a nuisance. And I  have no doubt that there would be some unscrupulous children who would put the pressure on. 

And I do understand some people in dreadful pain or incapacitated will genuinely want to choose their own time, but many experts say this bill is being rushed through, and needs more thought, and that palliative care in this country needs investment. It shouldn't have to rely so much on charities.

When my uncle died he was ready. He said several times he wanted to die. He had lost his mobility and freedom, and for a man who drove to Italy for Younger Son's wedding only a few years earlier, this was a big deal. 

He did his last confession - or whatever it is the Catholics do with the priest before they die - and gave up. He was bed-ridden at the end, unconscious and incontinent. As I sat with him at night I prayed with all my heart that God would take him peacefully and quickly so he could have his wish.

He was fortunate in that he wasn't like that for too long, only a few days; maybe if it had been prolonged I would have a better understanding. If I had had power of attorney for health would I have been able to make the decision to end his life? Certainly not for the time he was like that, but if it had been longer, would I, could I? 

I can't imagine it, but if the doctors advised it then I guess I would have. I pray I never have to make that decision.

A slightly different situation. I remember, many years ago, being in the car following another car that had the bumper sticker, 'If abortion had been legal then would you be here.'

I like to think I would but my unmarried mother's life would have been much easier if I hadn't been born. As I say, I think she would have said no to abortion, but who knows what pressure would have been put on her as I'm sure it still is sometimes on young women. 

Uncle and his friend, Margaret, at Younger Son's wedding in 2012

For Boud

 Saw this on Twitter. From Joy @jollytoadstool

"Last winter was the forgotten tea dye project dyeing wool with teas found undrunk & unwanted in cupboards & caddies - the botanical brews yielded a beautiful array of natural colours, worked into crochet squares & stitched into a comforting blanket that graces beds this winter..."

For Boud, but also because it's very lovely.

Maths and me

Now this is complicated so concentrate!

I went shopping this morning. One shop had a pre-Black Friday sale with 25% off everything. I picked up one item at £40. So that's £10 discount, that's good. Then another item at £70. So that's £7 off, that's not so good.

I left. But something was bothering me: how was there less money off a more expensive item? I was puzzling over this as I walked into another shop, when the answer came to me. "That's it!" I exclaimed causing a look of surprise from the shop assistant. "It's okay; I've just worked out why my maths was wrong."

It should have been £4 off the £40 item, that made sense. I breathed a sigh of relief to have worked it out.

But there was still a niggle.

Then I realised. If it were 25% discount then I was right first time with the £10 off the £40 but wrong in saying it was only £7 off the £70. It should have been, oh, about £20.

It's a wonder I ever buy anything. And no surprise that I give myself headaches. And I have A-level maths.

* * * * *

My M&S account card isn't working so I tried to investigate. Of course you need your password for that. I entered what I am sure is the right password and it said no. I tried the Change Your Password option. It said, I've sent you an email. No, it hadn't. Still hasn't. 

I tried the online chat for help. They apologised for sending my parcel to the wrong address. (?) The only other alternative is to phone. 

Oh I hate phoning people. They ask questions or they can't understand me or I can't understand them.

I wonder if I could get a card in Husband's name . . .

Will go and take some paracetamol now.

All glitz

Our new washing-machine was arriving this morning. I was still in my dressing-gown when I saw a truck pull into our road.

"This could be our machine," I shouted. "We should have blocked the other end of the road in case he sees the steps and drives away!" Saying that I looked out of the window again and the truck was gone.

He came back. But his mate hadn't turned up for work so he was on his own. Fearing Husband would do something stupid, like help him, I kept running up and down stairs and peering out of windows to see what was going on.

The delivery man had the sort of build that says, 'Heart Attack Waiting'. I imagined them both dropping down in the back yard and me becoming known as 'The woman who killed two men just because she wanted a washing machine'.

As anticipated Husband did help but they're both alive to tell the tale. Husband has even installed the machine, nearly, so all is well. 

And I went to Daughter's to pick up the washing she had done for me and came back with a glitter tattoo, courtesy of GrandDaughter2.

Fanning into flame

Our new washing machine arrives tomorrow. Husband just went out to the shed to tidy it a bit before the exchange happens, he pressed the start button and it started!

Too little, too late, washing machine!

* * * * *

Inspired by words from Paul's letter to Timothy to fan into flame the gifts we are given, I suggested to the church leaders that a writing group might be good. They were very enthusiastic and I was given the chance to do a sales pitch on Sunday morning. 

Nine people signed up! Whoopee!

That was the easy bit. Now I'm trying to find a day and time to meet that will suit everyone - or as many as possible anyway. This is the hard bit.

Also been asked for a sofa and double bed for an asylum seeker. Put out an appeal on facebook earlier today and have been given a sofa already. Now just have to arrange transport.

* * * * *

On 29th November parliament debates the Assisted Dying Bill. very little time is being allowed for the debate, which I've seen loads of doctors disagreeing with. Better to first invest in good palliative care they suggest. 

I have written to my MP to give my view. (Opposed.)

It's a tricky subject, not a simple one at all. And I do understand why some people want it.

* * * * *

On that cheery note, I'm also leading Zac's tonight. Chapter 3 of Hosea. A short little chapter, just five verses, and quite positive in the midst of a rather grim book.

Really need a jolly picture now to brighten this up.

A tray of date flapjacks to go with me tonight.

* * * * *

Just had to go out and shout at Husband for moving the washing machine on his own. Honestly, I can't leave him a minute.

And I almost forgot: it seems most of the country had snow last night. Some schools in Wales have closed. We had heavy pouring rain.

Fairies and films

I wrote 4,600 words over the course of eleven days but then I thought, "Why? Why am I adding extra stress to my life?" So I've stopped doing MyNoWriMo for now. I'd thought we might be shielding now so it would have worked but as it is, who knows when we'll have to retreat from the world to prepare Husband for his big op. But that's okay. I'm happy to have written just those few thousand.

Other things. I was supposed to be in prison yesterday but given the dubious hygiene habits of some of the inmates I thought it better to cancel. Sitting in amongst the men, watching them stick their hands down the front of their trousers knowing you're going to be shaking that hand in a bit . . .

I went to church instead and wore my other new dress, my fairy dress.

FIDDLE! You know my nose isn't very good at smelling but it was picking up a strange odour. I ignored it for a while - to my cost. My steamer pan hadn't just boiled dry; it had burned dry. 

Back later.

My fairy dress.

I think I prefer the style of the other one but they're both comfy to wear.

And I finished my Christmas tree. It doesn't look as good as it did in my head.

Oh yes and I wrapped all the Christmas presents I have bought so far while watching an old Julie Andrews film. The name escapes me but it was based on a Noel Coward play, about a Lord who wants to marry a film star, who turns out to be the long-lost sister of the girl employed as his mother's lady's maid. Easy to watch while wrapping even though I need my seeing glasses for wrapping and my long distance glasses for television.

As for rugby, I'd rather not talk about it if you don't mind. Suffice to say Wales went down to a record defeat against Australia. Again, it was that very brief window of hope that caught me out.

It's only lasted 18 years

After months of occasional non-starting our washing machine has finally given up and refused to start altogether. I phoned an appliance repair man and asked if they could get spare parts for an 18-year-old machine. He said he'd check and call me back in 20 minutes.

He didn't call back so I guess they can't. So we're looking at new machines. That's the royal 'we'; it's actually Husband who's consulting Which Best Buys and comparing prices and machines. 

Elder Son came round on Wednesday evening to move the tumble dryer that normally sits on top of the washer. He'd got it out of the shed* and was standing there holding it asking me where it was going to go. "Um, I don't know. Hang on."

I tried to help but probably was more of a hindrance. He's in his early forties but it's still a shock that he's a fully-grown, strong man who can do these things by himself. As Husband could before Heart. 

* * * * *

Rugby's Autumn International Series has started. Last week Wales played Fiji. Wales is in the process of rebuilding and struggling so I wasn't expecting a win but then they began well and took the lead. It looked as if they could surprise us.

Then Fiji won. Deservedly.

As I've said before, that's the trouble with being a Welsh supporter: it's the hope that finishes you off.

* * * * *

Driving to meet Vivien on Thursday I was behind a car with the number plate A15 PEE. It made me chuckle.

But not take a photo!

* We keep the washing machine and tumble dryer in the outhouse next to the back door.

Painting trees

The church I've been going to - Monty's church* - has a display of trees in its garden over Christmas. Little wooden trees that needed sprucing up. I offered to do one.

Me going to the shop for paint expecting to pay about £6 for a small tin. 
"How much?!"
£18!!!

This afternoon, rather than sit around limply wondering what to do, I decided I'd paint the tree. First of all I pulled off the tinsel and removed the staples. The bottom branch was a bit wobbly so I went to the shed, got a nail, and hammered it in.

Well, this is easy I thought. Then I noticed the nail had gone skewiff. I couldn't get it out and it was doing the job required anyway so I just painted over it.

Now if Husband had been there he would have insisted on rubbing the tree down first, then finding a headless nail, and then making sure it went in neatly. Fortunately he was cooking dinner.

The paint isn't quite the colour I was intending - I'd planned a darker tree - but it will do. I am adding a snowy layer and sparkly bits so no-one will notice the colour or the nail, will they?

*I suppose I've been going there long enough to call it church without the 'Monty's'.

And we're still getting tasty figs from our tree in the garden.

Royals and rugby

Today is the birthday of King Charles. I remember that because it's two days after mine and it was also the birthday of Donna, my best friend in infant school. Even if I hadn't known I would have been reminded by the many posts on social media.

To celebrate his birthday today King Charles is opening two new food hubs. Food hubs attempt to bridge the gap between food waste and food hunger. For a donation you can take away a bag of fresh food that would otherwise be thrown away. It's not a food bank and its aim is good so, unlike the Tory politicians who viewed the opening of a food bank as a great photo op, the King's outing today isn't all bad. 

That said the fact remains that there are 14,000,000 living in poverty in the UK. And a recent investigation by a television programme and the Sunday Times revealed that both the King and Prince William are receiving huge amounts of rent from charities, schools, and hospitals. For example, because their lifeboat has to be launched and brought in across a beach in Cornwall the RNLI has to pay rent to the Duke of Cornwall (William).

Still on the royal theme you may or may not have heard that a report on abuse in the Church of England published recently was very critical of those in authority who were aware of it and did nothing. As a result the Archbishop of Canterbury was forced to resign. Now, according to the rag, the Daily Mail, it's all because the Archbishop was friends with Harry and Meghan and that clouded his judgement. No, I don't follow that logic either.

On a lighter note, the autumn rugby internationals have started. The rights have been sold to a network so most games aren't viewable unless you subscribe. You used to be able to get a day ticket but now you have to pay lots of money for two years or something silly, so we're not watching the England games. the Welsh games however are being shown on S4C, the landline Welsh channel, but all the commentary was in Welsh. However when there were penalties it was written (in little letters) at the top of the screen what it was for. 

I was thrilled when I could tell Husband that the penalty was given for, "Dim yn gyrru'n syth," Meaning not driving straight. Of course I don't know what that means exactly in rugby speak but I think it was to do with the scrum or a maul or a big huddle on the floor.

* * * * *

Second birthday ice cream today, this time at Verdi's courtesy of my friend, Vivien.

Magnets and marinas

As Husband can't go to the gym at the moment we're trying to take daily short flat walks. Today's took us along the Swansea foreshore and marina development. It was so sunny and warm, and quite justified my shorts-wearing.

Just before we went Husband took a phone call from his consultant. It seems he needs a by-pass as well as a valve replacement. Still feeling a bit shaken by that. Doctor said he would try to get him in as soon as possible, whatever that means.

We're sort of shielding now, well, not really. But because various members of the family were or have been ill they didn't come round yesterday for my birthday. At the moment I'm hoping we can get together at the weekend but, once again, everything is up in the air.

Husband always like to surprise me with his presents. The unusual one this year is a game with magnetic stones.

The stones are divided between players and you take it in turns to put one down within the circle. If your stone attracts another you have to pick them both up. The winner is the first one to get rid of all his stones. As you can see we have the circle at its biggest. It's still quite challenging. I am pretty sure I know which grandchild will be first to work out which way the stones pull or push. Me, I have no idea, but anything with magnets is good fun.

What did you do today?

A lovely lazy day today as befits my birthday!

Chocolate and hazelnut croissant for breakfast in bed, followed by lazing around, followed by a very short walk and a North Pole in Fortes.

This afternoon I've watched Ticket to Paradise with George Clooney and Julia Roberts, and now Husband is cooking dinner for us, so all in all, a lovely day.

Remembrance

 Our local postbox topper for Armistice Day.

I don't know of anyone in my family who died in either of the great wars. My grandfather took a bullet that went straight through his chest and he survived, but other than that I don't recall anyone speaking of a lost family member. My grandfather would have been in the trenches and having read about them in Birdsong I struggle to see how anyone came out alive.

Several of my great-uncles served in the forces in the second world war - Uncle Horace was an engineer on the planes that would become the DamBusters - and my mum was in the WAAF and spent time in Egypt. 

On my little day out last week I saw this lovely bench in Coity.

And in Cowbridge each lamp/signpost was decorated with a large poppy bearing the names and details of young men who had lost their lives in war.

The raven and the pendulum

Most days I try to do the Connections puzzle in the NY Times. For those unfamiliar with it, there is a grid of sixteen words and the aim is to connect them in four groups of four. Sometimes the connection is easy, other times it's impossible, certainly for a non-fan of American sports.

So yesterday one of the words was Raven. I instantly thought Poe. Then I found Pendulum and Usher so was certain the link was Poe; I just needed to find the fourth word. But none of the other words had any connection I could find. 

Turns out Raven was an American football team and pendulum something that swings. It's not often I am too literary.

* * * * *

On my trip to Cowbridge the other day I was sitting at traffic lights behind a car with this number plate.

I quickly took a photo because I thought it was such a great number plate. I made the mistake of putting it on Facebook where I was accosted. "It's illegal." "You can't use your phone when you're driving!"

Admittedly two of the commenters were anti-vax, which probably skewed their view, but, honestly. 

I won't do it again. 

And other things

A misty murky sort of day for our walk on Mumbles Hill this afternoon. On clear days you can see across the bay and up the valleys to the hills beyond. Not so today. Quite chilly too. Probably not one of my better ideas to wear shorts. 

The weather seems to have become colder recently, unsurprisingly as we're in November. I distracted myself from the cold by collecting the different colours of autumn.

Still a wide range from black through brown, orange, yellow, red, and green. Sloe, blackberries, gorse, fern, and other things.

* * * * *

I am still saddened by the Christian Right's support of that man, telling people that if they supported the un-Christian Democrats they would burn in hell. So much wrong in that sentence.

I am a Christian. I believe that abortion is sometimes necessary. I believe love is to be celebrated. I don't know where I stand on euthanasia. I have questions and doubts about all sorts of things but I know Jesus told us to love our neighbours, whoever or whatever they are*. It seems so simple. Why can't it be?

* Admittedly if I lived in 1601 Pennsylvania Avenue I might find that difficult come January. 

Iolo and his opium

So Husband phoned the consultant's secretary yesterday to let them know he'd had the angiogram. The secretary said the operation was likely to be in the New Year unless he fancied going in over Christmas.

I think we'd both been assuming that once the angiogram was done the op would follow soon after so it was deflating to hear this. For the last two months we've been living in a state of waiting, putting off plans, refusing to commit, and - I was going to say not living but that's not strictly true.

I have kept saying I shall be glad when this year is over and we can begin again: it's been a rubbish year for Husband with his cancerous ear and pneumonia and heart problems. I'd thought - hoped - he would be back on the road to full health by January.

But who knows? Perhaps the doctor will over-ride his secretary and move Husband up the list. We'll see.

Now let me tell you about Iolo Morganwg (1747-1826).

I'd never heard of him until I read a poster in Cowbridge on Wednesday yet he's an important character in Welsh history. Iolo Morganwg is his bardic name; his real name was Edward Williams. It was he who was responsible for the creation of the Gorsedd of the Bards, a druidic order, in 1792.

The Gorsedd continues to this day as an association of poets, writers, artists and musicians, as well as others, who have made an important contribution to the Welsh language and culture. 

As well as poet, hymn-writer, and historian, Iolo was an abolitionist and refused to sell sugar produced on slave-owning plantations in the West Indies, in his grocer's shop in Cowbridge. He also refused to let slave traders to subscribe to his books.

You'll notice Literary and Historical Forger under his name! He forged many of his manuscripts and ancient documents and they were accepted as true. But he invented them all!

Also notice Opium Eater. When in Debtors' Prison he began using laudanum for pain relief. 

To Laudanum
Thou faithful friend in all my grief,
In thy soft arms I find relief;
In thee forget my woes:
Unfeeling waste my wintry day
And pass with thee the night away,
Reclin'd in sweet repose

Dinosaurs and dosas

At the circus the other week I complimented a woman on her fossil trousers. I looked them up when I got home and discovered Popsy Clothing. I fell in love with lots of their designs so checked them out on Trustpilot. Excellent rating but then so did what turned out to be a dodgy jumper company.

But I liked them so much I took a chance and ordered two dresses. They arrived yesterday and I love them. One has a fairy design and the other I wore out for a meal with Zac's Kitchen Crew last night.

Do you like my dinosaurs? Every woman should have a dinosaur dress in their wardrobe.

The meal was a celebration of four years' work in the kitchen as well as a chance to look ahead to the new plans we have. We went to a Sri Lankan restaurant I'd never been to before. Its menu was very different so, naturally, I had to try some typical Sri Lankan dishes.

For starters I had a mini masala dosa. A dosa is a crepe made from ground rice and lentils, with sambar, a lentil based vegetable stew cooked with a tamarind broth, and served with chutneys. In this case it had a spiced mashed potato filling. The filling was nice but I wasn't too impressed with the papery pancake.

But I loved my main course, which was a chicken Kothu (meaning chopped bread), a Sri Lankan dish made from veechu roti (a type of Sri Lankan roti) made with vegetables, egg and various spices.

One of the others and I both asked for milder versions of the dishes but the sauce was still quite spicy. The kothu was delicious. 

An accidental tourist

Husband had to be at the hospital at 8.30 this morning and as it's a distance away we set off at 7.30 expecting to be caught in rush hour traffic. We had a clear run and were at the hospital by 8, where a cheery porter showed us in, promised me he'd look after Husband, and then showed me his name badge: David Hartrey. (Heart, arteries, angiogram? He thought it was appropriate.)

My plan was to go to Cowbridge, a small market town about 8 miles away, to while away the time until 2.00 pm when I could pick him up. Miss GPS said, "Keep left," which I did before realising what she meant was, "Go straight ahead." But as I was in Coity I thought I might as well visit the castle.

Trouble is, when you've been up for hours you forget that the rest of the world is running late and the castle was not yet open.

Coity Castle seen through the railings.

"Please do a U-turn."

Back on route finally arrived at Cowbridge. Parking is free, always a good thing. First things first and I wandered the high street in search of a tea-shop. I consulted two dog-walking ladies passing by and they recommended the Penny Farthing.

If you're having a cup of tea you have to have a toasted teacake; it's the law. I felt like a proper grown-up going into a cafe on my own.

A quick tour of the charity shops followed coming away with two jigsaws, and then on my way to the Physic Garden I followed a path down a little alley to a vintage retro market. Such a delight. More than that, so many things from my childhood. Like the Beatles first album (selling for £60), Disney Wade Whimsies - I had some from the Lady and the Tramp collection - a mangle just like my granny had, and a newly-upholstered two hundred-year-old seat. It would look wonderful in our hall. (Husband doesn't agree.)

So I finally made it to the Physic garden. It's a formal garden with an array of medicinal plants and herbs, all native to this country before the eighteenth century.

Behind the garden you can see the old grammar school. At one time the garden was a vegetable plot for the school, now it's a peaceful oasis, not at its best in November but very well tended (by volunteers) and what I especially liked is that every plant has an identifying label.

Even the humble dandelion had its place in the Dye Bed, or as I can't help but read it, the Dai Bed, named after the lazy good-for-nothing who would have lived in Llareggub if he'd ever had the oomph to go and live there.

There were just a few splashes of colour in the garden.

I still had time to pass and it wasn't really the day to sit and ponder in the garden so I headed back to the car - free car park, did I mention? - and dithered over what to do next. Decided Llantwit Major sounded interesting and it was by the sea so I'd go there.

It wasn't by the sea and apart from nearly getting caught up in a funeral cortege it wasn't interesting either. So found my way back to the Outlet Centre close to the hospital. Nothing is cheaper there! So bought a panini, drove back to the hospital and sat in the car park and listened to the radio.

Husband meanwhile had messaged to say he'd had the angiogram but had to stay to recover for a couple of hours.

When I'd eaten my panini and more importantly the radio programme I was listening to had finished I went and joined him. And wouldn't you know it? Then he decides to start bleeding.

It was quite a ferocious flow and I had to leave the room and get some fresh air. I am not good with blood. It took them several attempts to get the angiogram in and up his artery, and in the end they did it through his groin but he is left with holes everywhere.

We're home now and he is not allowed to do anything with either arm for 48 hours. I took him a cup of tea. He said, "It's very heavy."

"Don't push it, dear!"

Now it's just about waiting to hear from the consultant about what else if anything needs doing, as well as the valve that is, and when the operation will be. So we're back to waiting but we're one step - and a big one at that - down.

A dark day

Almost more depressing than the election of that man as President is the fact he was propelled there with the help of the Christian right. Such a black day for the world but especially for all those decent Americans who did their utmost to stop this happening.

I was lulled into an obviously false sense of security because all my blogging, Facebook, Twitter friends (or people I follow) are sane, decent human beings, and all the posts I was getting showed huge turnouts of women and new voters and lifelong Republican voters all putting their mark for Kamala Harris.

Enough.

Last Christmas

Lovely to get together with my friend, Tina, yesterday afternoon. She'd worked it out: we haven't seen each other for over nine years! She'd bought me this lovely orchid.

Called into a garden centre on the way home to find it full - FULL - of Christmas decorations, and playing Christmas music. Left quickly.

Walked with Daughter and dogs this morning. A misty murky one but stayed dry if you don't count the sea mist on the beach - which we didn't.

Toby likes to chew sticks. It's no wonder I always take him home with a bleeding mouth.

GrandDaughter2 carved most of this herself.

Yesterday I managed 460 words on MyNoWriMo. Today I am deleting 92 of those as irrelevant to the plot. Still progress.

Having a senior morning

Monday morning is exercise class so I set out all the things I need to take: water, money, keys, glasses. Then I go upstairs to get ready. I go in the shower, begin to wash, realise it's Monday and I shower after exercise. Especially important today as I'm meeting a friend later. I haven't seen her for a long time and I don't want her to recoil at my odour. 

Dress, drive to exercise class, get out of car, realise I've left my money - in a neatly labelled and dated envelope - at home. 

My friend lives on the other side of town in an unfamiliar to me area. The way today is going I could set off and never be seen again.

* * * * *

Under Milk Wood was very good. Swansea Little Theatre is an amateur company but with some very talented actors. Dylan Thomas himself was a member of Swansea Little Theatre in his time, and appeared in various productions.

Yesterday was a quiet day. Church in the morning, followed by Welsh practice, writing, and cooking a roast chicken dinner. 

* * * * *

I have never felt so invested in the result of the US election. That a man like that could be standing for President is unbelievable enough; that the polls - allegedly - say it's a close race, even more so. That he is considered the 'Christian' choice just finishes me.

I apologise to my American friends for those Christians who support a man who mimics fellatio on a stage in front of hundreds. (That's the just latest thing that needs an apology. Listing them all would take all day.)

Upgrade still NOT in progress

However my old Outlook is fixed. It took Husband less than twenty minutes. 

I don't know what to say.

* * * * *

Determined to keep up with MyNoWriMo I have written 55 words on my manuscript. 

Oh this is a depressing day.

Still, Outlook is fixed so I can access emails, and I'm going to see Under Milk Wood tonight with Daughter and Daughter-in-law, so not all bad.

Upgrade NOT in progress

I planned a lie-in this morning but my brain said, "What about this? And what about that?" So I got up, made a list, and began working through it.

One thing on my list was fix email. I've not been able to receive or send any since Thursday. 

My first port of call would normally be Husband but I am trying to be a self-sufficient woman (ha ha ha) so decided I could sort it out myself. I began by referring to the other source of all knowledge, Google. Here I learned many others had had the same problem I was having. Only theirs happened fourteen years ago.

So I called Microsoft Support. 

I don't know if I can bear to tell you how long I spent talking to them and then trying to fix things. And that's before I start grumbling about passwords. Suffice to say I still can't send or receive emails.

The conclusion of our chat was: "We no longer provide support. Try this instead."

So I did and they wanted my password. I couldn't remember my password so had to reset it, which meant remembering a different password, and by the time I'd found that and gone back, I'd forgotten what I was trying to do in the first place, or which one of the many open tabs I needed.

Currently trying to update to new Outlook. They want my password. I have given it to them. I know it's right because I just changed it. It's not working. They say, "You may need an App Password." I google what an App Password is. You have to go to your provider to get one. I go to BT - assuming that's the provider they mean as by now it could be the milkman for all I know - and discover BT doesn't give out App Passwords. "Your BT password should work" they say. 

But it doesn't!

I can't face chatting to an awfully polite but not very helpful IT Support again. I told them they'd solved my problem last time because they were so polite I felt obliged to. 

MyNoWriMo

Well, it's November and I've done the bulk of my Christmas shopping so I am pleased. I also bought Christmas cards before I remembered that I wasn't planning on sending many this year. And as I was writing this sentence I also recalled that I am supposed to be doing MyNoWriMo (i.e. writing some words in my novel each day.) Well not 'supposed to be', but I'd thought about it. So I should start that today. 

But first I'll take off my bra.

Later

I managed 260 words and that's better than nothing.