A day of firsts

Bev, my lovely cleaner, didn't come this week because it was a bank holiday so I had to do some cleaning yesterday. That was a nasty shock to the system.

But today I'm going to do two things I've never done before.

I'm driving to Bristol to see my blogging friend, Shirl. (I've done that before.) Then I'm going to the pictures on my own! Fittingly on World Penguin Day, to see The Penguin Lessons. After that I'm going to a pub on my own! I'll be all aflutter. 

Finally I'll drive to the airport to pick up Younger Son and family from Italy. I've never done that before either so, strictly speaking, that's three things I've never done before. All on one day.

Husband said, "Have you got all the locations entered into google maps?"
"I've written them on a bit of paper."

The airport parking is quite complicated. Trying to work out the cheapest method has proved to be a challenge but I think I've got it sussed.

* * * * *

This morning I asked Husband if he would take the dishes out of the dishwasher.

He said, "I knew it! You're going to get me doing everything!"

It is literally the first thing I have asked him to do since having his op.

I'll let him off this time because he's anxious about me going off on my own today. I was fine yesterday but now he's made me nervous!

Ninja not me

Took the two oldest grandsons to Ninja Warrior this morning. Offended that the girl didn't even bother to ask if I were doing it too.

Paid for an hour but ended up there for two and half hours. The boys had fun - some of their friends turned up - and I got stuck into reading my book.

Then it was to McDonalds before I was going to take the boys home - but they wanted to come back to our house to hang out. I didn't find out until afterwards that GrandSon1 was supposed to go home to revise for his exams next week.

They also made some cookies, which tasted nice but a bit under-cooked. Also we should have spread them out more as they turned into one huge cookie. Also also I should have put parchment under them because they stuck to the tin. The boys like them though.

* * * * *

Last night thirteen - thirteen! - hardy perennials turned up for Zac's, once more under the portico of County Hall. Sam talked about the power of prayer and we prayed for the city. I especially prayed for protection for all the transgenders in the city in the light of the recent ruling.

It's over

Husband had his post-op check-up this morning. All is well and they don't want to see him for another year. 

So it's over. But it's not. Because he's still not back to full health, energy, or fitness levels, so there's still a limitation on what he can do. So it feels a bit anti-climactic. I feel we should be celebrating but he's not up to going out much.

Which is why, I think, I've been feeling a bit restless this afternoon. Last year was a horrible year healthwise for him and that's all over, so hooray. Don't get me wrong: I'm delighted the op went well and his recovery is proceeding apace. I guess there's just been all this internalised stress that needs an outlet.

So . . . you know you get a good idea and then when you've started to implement it you think, "Was this really a good idea?" 

Sorting out a kitchen cupboard was definitely a good idea but I was doubting it when I had taken everything out and wondering how it had all got in there in the first place.

But look at my cupboard now. A place for everything and everything in its place. For today anyway.

I also have a huge pile of things to go to the charity shop, as well as the pile that went in the rubbish/recycling bins.

In retrospect

Have just heard about the death of Pope Francis. He always seemed to be a decent man with principles and a godly life, who genuinely cared for the vulnerable.

And if people called him a commie and left-winger he must have been doing something right.

* * * * *

Family around for lunch today. Simple sausage, mash and baked beans. Or pizza. Or mash and gravy but no beans. Or vegetarian sausages. 

Followed by what was supposed to be Easter egg cheesecake. I saw a recipe on the internet, thought it looked simple, and gave it a go.

Trouble was, when I loosened and removed the tin everything slid gently out at the sides. It became Easter egg mess.

 

Still nice but very rich.

Last night we had a retro dinner. Husband had been reminiscing about his dad's go-to treat meal. He would cook steak diane with croquette potatoes and peas. To go fully retro I made us prawn cocktails for starters.

Husband's only complaint was that the croquettes were 'too posh'. I'd bought them in M&S instead of Birds Eye cheap and cheerful frozen variety.

Happy Easter!

Went to Sainsburys this morning and, judging by the number of cars in the car park, I thought the rapture had happened while I'd been in prison, and all the Sainsburys shoppers had been taken. I'd missed it by minutes.

The truth was slightly more mundane. The shop was closed for Easter Sunday.

I was back in prison this morning for the first time since September, when we believed Husband's operation would be happening any day, and I was concerned about some dubious hygiene in prison. It was great to be back, especially for Easter Sunday. 

There were thirty-six men in the chapel, the most I can remember except for a Christmas carol service. A few may have turned up having heard there would be chocolate but most were genuine. And seven of the guys were baptised! (Or christened in the Anglican fashion.)

It was all amazing.

On a different note, I see Pope Francis didn't meet with JD Vance but a cardinal stood in for him. There is much discussion on Twitter about this. In one post asking if people were proud of the Pope for this, there were some wonderful - as in unbelievable - responses. Along these lines:

Well, Francis is a Commie. JDV is not. Francis is only pretending to be Catholic while JDV sincerely practices his Faith. They have no common ground.

What can you say to people like this?

DO stop being cross

I started sorting out the attic this morning.

We need a new roof so it'll have to be emptied at some point, and as it's been used as a dumping ground by various children at different times, as well as being the final resting place of boxes of stuff from dead relatives that 'we'll sort out' one day, it's a bit of a tip.

Anyone sticking their head into the attic, after I spent a couple of hours up there, would think it's still a tip, but it's now an organised tip, with boxes labelled, 'to be sorted by Younger Son/Elder Son/anyone who wants it.'

I've kept all the cards we sent each other but decided to be ruthless and toss the bought ones, just keeping those made by the children. So, of course, I had to go through them all . . .

The figure on the right is, I believe, Younger Son, who was in his people without bodies stage. (Just in case anyone thinks it's anything else!)

An awful lot of the cards are of the 'Get well soon, Daddy' variety, reflecting how often he's been ill. Not a single 'Get well, Mummy' though.

And more wires, cables, plugs, sockets, and whatchamacallits than any family could reasonably use in a lifetime.

No more silence

Spurred on by my poem, this afternoon in a flurry of enthusiasm, I have written to my MP and to the PM on the subjects of arming Israel, disability cuts, and devolution of the Crown Estate. 

Time to take my bra off now. 

 

Amongst the crowds

I've been tossing this one around in my head since Tuesday. I hope I can be more like Boud and not be silent in future.

Amongst the crowds

I am but a character in a story, a story as ancient as days.

I am there amongst the crowds, my cheers the loudest of all.

Hosanna!

I am there, again, amongst the crowds, but now in fear my voice is silent.

Release! Crucify!

Once more amongst the crowds, this time watching as he in his frailty and humanness stumbles.

I go to turn away, but before I do his eyes seek me out.

I expect anger, hatred even, for my betrayal;

instead, through the blood and sweat, through the dirt and filth, in his eyes

I see love. He mouths a word, his body too wrecked to speak it aloud.

I repeat the word, mistrusting my understanding.

Justice.

He nods as he is crushed beneath his burden, 

and driven forward on his bloodied and bleeding knees.

No more silence.

I am here amongst the crowds, crying,

no more genocide.

I am here among the crowds finding my voice,

no more war.

I am here amongst the crowds and speaking 

against cruelty, poverty, injustice.

I am here among the crowds

because I must never be silent again.

Before America wakes up

I saw a post on Frumpy Professor's blog in which he mentioned trouble with the internet. Only a few moments ago I was thinking about the 'old days' when here in the UK it was wiser to get on the internet in the morning before America woke up! (Or was that just a story I was told?)

Anyway, it's Good Friday. I went to church this morning and I'm now completely out of sync with myself. I'm still in my 'smart' clothes, which means I can't do any physical work, it's pouring with rain, which means I can't work in the garden, and I'm thoroughly frustrated as per usual trying to work out how to get into my free trustee 365 account, and use the storage space there. Well, I can't even get on it as I've forgotten my password. It's undoubtedly written in one of my many notebooks, but which one?

I thought it was on a scrap of paper on my desk, but I've been through those with no joy. And I can't change it because I'm not the administrator.

I might cook, bake a cake. Oh, I don't know. Probably the best thing to do is get changed. Then I will feel more work-like. Possibly.

If Jesus had lived in Wales

Friday 

Got woken up at an ungodly hour by a kick in the ribs from a guard. “Time to get up, sunshine. Today’s the day.”

I was about to swear at him when I remembered who I was and sighed deeply instead.

“Do you want a priest to hear your confession?”

“Urh, no. I’m the son of God, remember?”

"So?"

"Well, a) I don't have any sins to confess, and b) I'm the son of God."

“Aright, aright, gotta ask. Now,” he pointed across the room. “Pick a cross, any cross.”

I walked over and inspected the range. I shook my head. “Where did you get these? Terrible quality.”

“As long as they’re cheap and strong enough to hold a body, that’s all they care about.”

I shook my head again. “That’s the trouble with people these days. No pride in their work. Next time go to Joseph and Sons, carpenters, in Nazareth.  Mention my name and you’ll get a good discount.”

“Just pick one, will you?”

I chose the one with the fewest rough edges. The last thing I wanted was splinters. I tested it out on my shoulder. “Phew,” I said, “that’s a bit heavy. Can you get the other end for me?”

“Would you like us to carry it for you too?”

“That would be good, yeah.”

The guard gave a nasty sneer. “Hear that, lads, he’d like us to carry his cross for him.”

The other guards burst out laughing and began poking me with their spears. I got the message.

The guards opened the doors and we looked out. 

“Aw no,” one of the thieves with whom I’d share my cell groaned. “It’s piddling down. We’ll get soaked.”

My guard laughed but in a way I was learning to identify as mean. 

“The road will be streaming with sheep and camel shit,” he said. “You know what that means, lads?”

I looked at the other two. They shrugged so I asked, dreading the answer, “What does it mean?”

“Chances are you’ll land face down in it!”

I sighed. So much for my hopes for a good Friday.