Many Tears

After cooking in Zac's this morning I decided to take a run (in the car) out to a nearby dogs' home (Many Tears). We sometimes get given quilts or blankets* that we can't use, sleeping bags being the preferred option, so I'd messaged the home and asked if they could use them for the dogs. They said yes so I loaded up and headed out. 

How I managed to come home without a dog I don't know. Well, apart from the obvious that they do house calls and interview you first to make sure you're suitable. I was almost in tears. So many of the dogs there were used just for breeding and then they're dumped. They're not house-trained or used to human company as they are kept in sheds. I don't know why it's not illegal.

* * * * *

Having a cleaner I am now looking at things around the house with her eyes. The state of my tea cosy would keep a super-clean person awake at night. So I treated myself to a new one!

The best laid plans

The plan was to get to Zac's early and calm.

I set off late (I was dilly-dallying) drove down the road, remembered I'd forgotten Alexa - if you recall I very cleverly set up a play-list for the evening - did a u-turn and rushed back home. Sprinted into the kitchen, unplugged Alexa, called to Husband that I'd come back for her, Husband said, "Alexa won't work there will she?"
Stopped in my tracks. "Won't she?"
"She needs the internet."
"But I've downloaded a playlist so can't she just play that? Zac's has the internet anyway, I'm going."

Arrived at Zac's late and stressed.

Plugged Alexa in, asked her to play the playlist. "I need the internet," or words to that effect.
Stu who was making tea said, "Use your app."
I looked at him vaguely. "I don't have an app."
"Well, download it from the app store."

Ten minutes later having struggled to find my phone number because I didn't know my Amazon password it sends an email to me. I could access my emails but it would take another ten minutes and we don't have that time. 

"Blow it. I'll play a song on my phone."

The idea was to play some music while the guys drew or wrote something inspired by the words anchor, hope, promise. I wasn't sure how they'd respond but most took part enthusiastically. I'm planning to create a collage to hang on the wall at Zac's so I'll show you that when it's done. 

Meanwhile enjoy some delicious blueberry muffins.

To do or what to do

The to-do list I wrote myself this morning. 

The plan was that I should continue working on prepping for study tonight and then take a break and do my to-dos.

Pay Bev (cleaner) Tick.

Swansea bookshop (a lovely lady has created a website for Swansea authors to advertise their books and she'd agreed I could send her links to mine, so that was what I had to do.) Tick.

Rwanda write to MP (our MP, whom I have contacted before about the government's atrocious plan to send refugees to Rwanda, and who was in full agreement with my views, failed to vote in last night's crucial final vote, and I wanted to know why.) Tick.

Shingles jab (second one to be booked). Tick.

? (I had something else on the list when I was thinking about it upstairs but when I came down it had disappeared into the abyss of my brain.) No tick.

The 9am scribbled next to the ? refers to my appointment not the ?

Now to bake cake for this evening and think of something to do with frozen chicken thighs for dinner.

Second review

 

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More reasons to get a dog

1. When you're walking in the woods and you come across a woman apparently talking to her dog, that's normal. However if the woman is dogless and alone but still talking, more concerning.

 I'm leading Zac's tonight. In the past I used to take George into the woods to practise. I don't know why but it was my favourite place to rehearse. Now I have to use the lounge and it's not so good. I need a dog to accompany me and stop me looking like a woman who's lost her carer.

2. I'm the heaviest I've been for years. I need a dog to walk. I could walk on my own but I don't have the motivation. I borrow dogs but they don't love me as much. I need a dog to improve my fitness and weight.

3. When I eat too much it brings me down and when I'm down I eat too much. A dog and fresh air and nature are known to lift the mood, increase happy hormone production. I need a dog to improve my mental health.

And speaking of dogs, on Pobbles yesterday with Toby, Daughter and Louie, we spotted a dogfish. At first we thought it was dead but it was quite happy and alive, just left behind in a pool. It was a very low tide but it was turning and the pool would soon be covered again.

Soon be there.

No piercings please, we're Christian

Another lovely walk today sticking to the paths this time. Discovered a new signpost near the old brick works.

You can still see the remains of the old brick path in places throughout the woods. There was a quarry, an arsenic mine, and coal mines in the woods in the past, as well as the brick works.

Loads of lovely wild garlic beds. I understand you're supposed to gather the leaves before the flowers come out if you want to make pesto though.

Came home and planted my new rambling rose, still in a pot because the wall won't be ready for it for some time. And then I sat in the sun and read. The first time this year. 

* * * * *

No daytime television watching for me today then. I've watched a few series of The Pilgrimage now while I've been under the weather. (Seven pilgrims undertake a traditional pilgrimage to find God or themselves or whatever they're looking for. Each series has an Anglican, a Roman Catholic, a Muslim and a Jew, practising or nominal in each case. Overall the Muslims come over best. All the pilgrims are lovely and on the whole very respectful of and generous to the others.

In the last series a born-again Christian featured. He used to be in a boy band - Boyzone maybe - and is called Shane or Wayne or something. He was very serious about his faith and wouldn't accept a blessing from a Roman catholic. Their pilgrimage ended at the site in Fatima where the Virgin Mary was said to have appeared to three young children, in time for a huge candle-lit vigil, a big thing in Catholic circles. The day they were supposed to join this vigil he went home leaving them a note, saying he couldn't take part in something worshipping Mary or Fatima or any saint. I understand his view but felt he'd let down the pilgrims with whom he was travelling. 

They'd spent over two weeks on the road together, learning and getting to know each other, appreciating other faiths and supporting each other. And he must have known that was where the pilgrimage would end so why sign up for it? 

The one I'm in the middle of at the moment is a trip across North Wales, in beautiful scenery and bright sunshine so far! There's a reality star who was Eton-educated and at one point we had the lapsed Muslim explaining to him that Jesus and, indeed the saints whose tombs they were visiting, were real people, not from a story. (I know Stu will disagree with that!) The Eton boy was stunned. "That makes all the difference," he said. 

As one of the other pilgrims said, "What school did you say you went to?"

And while we're on the school Christianity subject, something on Debra's blog reminded me of something that still makes me mad twenty-five years later.

A group of mums used to have a school prayer group and we were sometimes invited into the school to pray with Christian teachers. On one occasion we took a team of young people with us. They were spending a year with a church, learning, volunteering, teaching, talking about Jesus to anyone who'd listen. 

We suggested to the teachers that this group could go into the school and lead an assembly. Show the pupils that Christians weren't all old fuddy duddies.

The Head of Religious Studies said, "No. He has long hair, and he has an earring. What kind of example would they be setting if we let them stand on the stage in front of our children?"

This is wrong in so many ways and left me silent but spitting. Anyway, here are the memes Debra posted that set me off.

.Precisely.

Bog crawling

Elder Son and family have gone to Butlins for the weekend for a football tournament, so we have house guests in the form of Toby Dog and Stella Cat.

I took Toby for a walk this afternoon, intending it to be a short walk over the tip but I got distracted and ended up walking by the river. I said, "We'll walk until we reach the first swamp." (Swamp being a place where the path has been washed away and replaced by a bog.)

Then, of course, we reach our first swamp and I say, "We can manage this, Toby." 

By the time we reach our fifth - impossible - swamp it's too late to say, "Go back now," and instead I say, "This must be the last one." 

It wasn't. But I got across it without sinking up to my knees, and by relying on things you don't want to have to rely on. Like the branch that broke off in my hand. 

I squeaked a lot but only actually screamed once when I thought I was headed for the miry pit. 

It was worth it though. 

I feel better for it though I may be suffering later! I put my vest on to go out and I realised my granny would say that's why I have a cold. Taking off your vest, putting it back on, taking it off again. No good will come of it. But may is well and truly out.

And when I got home Stella appeared to remind me that before I left I said, "I'll feed you when we get back, Stella."

Iron Men

Stu said, "If you're feeling at all under the weather don't come in on Friday. We can manage." (To Zac's for food service.)

Well, since you mention it . . . so I'm having a day off, a week off in fact as I've not done any of my regular routines. I'm not too bad, mostly just tired, and a bit snuffly. But as I don't think I've been ill since April 2023 that's not bad.

* * * * *

I keep getting clips for Marvel films on my social media and they look funny - and have good-looking stars - so I decided I'd like to watch them. Asked Younger Son where to begin and he pointed me to two chrologoogiacl lists. (Good grief, I was trying to type chronological there without looking at the screen.)

Turns out there are something like thirty-two Marvel films! We started last night with Iron Man, the first one to be made (2008) rather than the first one history time wise (WW2). 

I enjoyed it while Husband said it was okay. "But," he said, "I didn't bother watching the earlier films either that you watched with the boys when I was working away."
I frowned. "What earlier films?"
"The original Iron Man. And Iron Man 2."
"I don't remember those. Who was in them?"
"I don't know. You watched them."
"I don't think I did."
"Yes, you did."

I googled it. There were no earlier Iron Man films. 

We often have these arguments usually over what I'm supposed to have watched without him.

* * * * *

I've just finished True Grit by Charles Portis. Great book. I can hear the voice so clearly. It's narrated by Mattie Ross, a fourteen-year-old. We should all bring our daughters up to be like Mattie Ross.

I'm sure I must have seen True Grit with John Wayne but I don't remember it. I definitely haven't watched the remake. 

* * * * *

Looking for a photo of Iron Man I was reminded of the book by Ted Hughes. Now that I have read.

DANGER!

 

It's the final count-down!

My next post will be my book launch!

It's more low key this time - not that it was ever high key (? is there such a thing?) - and if I told you what I am thinking you'd think I was depressed but it's not depression so much as resignation. 

To be a successful self-published author you need determination (x), perseverance (x), new ideas (x), confidence (x), to not worry about being boring or repetitive (x), self-belief (x), you get the picture.

I am happy to have finished a book, published it, and have it on my shelf. Anything else is a bonus.

It might be because I'm still a bit under the weather. Maybe I'll have more enthusiasm next week. Maybe this book will be like GrandSon1's football team. Last night they won their first game of the season. Yes, I know it's a bit late but they're building their team, and their coaches are nice, and don't swear and abuse players, unlike some in the league. And GrandSon1 scored a great goal.

The amazing thing about figs

This morning Husband said, "The fig tree has lots of fruit on it, but it's strange: I've never seen any flowers."
"How can it produce fruit if it doesn't have flowers?"
He shrugged. "I don't know."

So, while waiting for a radio programme to start so I can the ironing I thought I'd check it out. 

This is what I learned: figs aren't fruit but inverted flowers. Multiple flowers bloom inside the pod that matures into the fruit we eat. How amazing is that? (You probably already knew.)

So how is it pollinated?

By a fig wasp. The fig and the fig wasp have a symbiotic relationship. They can't live without each other, it's called mutualism. 

Now pay attention because it gets complicated. The female wasp buries into the male fig and lays its larva. She's basically digging her own grave because the space is so narrow her wings break off and she can't get out. Male baby wasps don't have wings because their job is to mate with the baby girl wasps (their sisters) and dig a tunnel for them to get out. The female wasps fly out taking pollen with them.

Now if a female wasp buries into a female fig she loses her wings but can't reproduce because there isn't enough room. So she just dies but has deposited the pollen giving us the fruit. 

Apparently we only eat female figs so if you bite into a fig and it's a bit crunchy it could be the remains of a wasp! (Most of it is broken down into protein by an enzyme in the fig.)

I am amazed once again by the things I don't know.

My brain made me do it

For some strange reason, lying in bed this morning, trying to have a lie-in, my brain began thinking about boys I knew in university. I think it might have been triggered by the dug-up ship in Suffolk mentioned in the previous post. And my brain said, "You might as well get up and write it out of me. You know I'm not going to let you sleep until you do." So.

A couple of years after uni

As a teenager my innate shyness was compounded by my mum's over-protectiveness, making me fearful of males generally. I went to an all girls' school but while the other girls were already enjoying their first relationships I was sitting at home watching television, and dreaming of what it must be like. I never went out and my first real involvement with boys didn't happen until university.

The trouble was, the boys I liked - the ones everyone liked - were way out of my range. The ones who liked me were, well, the others. I know this because they all confided in my friend, Julia. 

There was Nelson. He was in the Royal Navy and smelled. "It's a glandular problem," was the general consensus. Then there was Doug, Mr Beige Man, unintentionally the class fool. There was Phil, who drank too much and embarrassed himself and me. Then there was Dave, a mature student and widower, who lived in east England and was building his own boat. (See the vague connection with The Dig?)

The boy I did like I soon frightened off with my intensity of feeling. I was desperate, come on.

The big problem, of course, was me. I was immature and inexperienced. I didn't know how to deal with boys or emotions so I ran away, or ignored or avoided people. Looking back I realise they were all perfectly nice boys and had I not been so scared/superior/embarrassed I could have handled things differently and better. Made good friends with them at least. 

Have I improved since then? I don't know. I still have a tendency to run away or hide from people if I don't know how to deal with them. It's probably too late to worry about it now though. 

"Is that okay, Brain? Can I stop now?"

Digging up the past

First thing this morning I get a request for urgent prayer for Louie dog currently seeing the vet. He'd eaten Nurofen. Louie not the vet that is.

An hour of induced vomiting later, and by mid-afternoon he's full of beans but he has to stay in doggie hospital overnight. I'd like to say, "That will teach him," but it won't.

I'm still snuffly so after recording my book launch I spent a couple of hours watching The Pilgrimage on BBC iplayer. A group of celebrities of different or no faith follow a recognised pilgrim path. The ones I'm watching are taking St Columba's trail. It's interesting seeing people react and relate to others when spending weeks in close proximity. I think things are about to kick off in the next episode.

I wouldn't have thought a novel about an archaeological dig would be my cup of tea but it was fascinating and at times exciting. Would they discover treasure? Had the tomb already been raided? Would everything be washed away before they can preserve it? 

There were lots of relationship issues as well, of course, the wealthy old widow of the manor and her surprisingly young son, the local experts versus the Top Dogs, the young bride of an elderly professor and a visiting cameraman. 

The book is based on the real dig that took place in Suffolk just as the second world war was about to begin. A huge burial ship was uncovered at the 'most famous archaeological dig in Britain in modern times,' and treasures uncovered that caused archaeologists to reconsider their description of the period as the Dark Ages.

There's a film made in 2021 by the same name.