Monday, November 28, 2016

little posers

As all the family were gathered for the party on Saturday I grabbed the opportunity to book us in for a photo shoot with Rasa Mombeini on Sunday morning. She was highly recommended by a friend so I'm hoping for some good results. 

It was promising that she told me to push my head forward a little so I wouldn't have a double chin. A  small but significant detail I think.

GrandSon1 and GrandDaughter2 are absolute naturals at this posing lark. In fact GrandDaughter2 had to be dragged away at the end as she climbed back on the stool and wanted to pose some more.

Then, as we were in the area, we stopped at Verdi's for an ice cream lunch. Well, you've got to.

My intention to collapse in a heap on Sunday afternoon was stymied by a soulful look from George so he and I went for a solitary wander in the woods where with a sudden burst of energy George spotted a dog up ahead of us on the path and bounded off to greet him. It wasn't until he was quite close that he saw what I had already seen: it was one big dog. So big, in fact, that George only came up to his shoulders.

i dread to think what his food bill comes to.

Flashed at

Driving to Daughter's this morning I was tootling away on my imaginary trumpet to Mozart's Horn Concerto when there was a sudden flash in front of my eyes.

Was I hallucinating? Strange hallucination if it were. Was it lightning? With a clear blue sky it seemed unlikely. Leaving the only possible answer: the speed camera flashed at me.

I blame Mozart. I drive the road loads of times and I always slow down when the speed limit changes from 40 to 30. Really there should be a slow-down zone where a little bit of excess speed doesn't count. I think.

Well, I can't go on a speed awareness course before Christmas; I'm too busy.

But last week I scratched the front side of Mini reversing out of Uncle's underground car park. It is a very narrow turnround area and Husband has done it himself but it has set me thinking that maybe I should give up driving. Or definitely pay more attention.

Anyway, poopy, poopy, poopy.

And then it was off to Hogwart's

So, with the wedding done and dusted, it was time to move on to the next celebration: GrandDaughter's 7th birthday party. On the theme of Harry Potter.

Entrance was from Platform 9 and 3/4.
Dangerous wizard, Sirius Black, was on the loose.
  
And Professor Trelawney was there with her crystal ball.

Friday, November 25, 2016

The wedding of the year

A lovely day yesterday at the wedding of James and Heather at Corran Spa Hotel. Would have been better if the heating in our room had been working but we weren't in there that much.
And, as promised, the cake as made by my fair hands. The wedding was travel-themed.
And ... I wore high heels all day! At least from 2-7, which fortunately included a lot of sitting down although I was afraid to take them off in case I couldn't get them back on. And I only had one problem, that is if you don't count walking: we all had to go outside on the cobblestones for a photo and my heel got stuck between two stones so my foot moved and my shoe stayed behind.
That's my Vietnam dress; I don't think I've shown you before. It's the one I had made to measure in 24 hours in - oh, can't remember where exactly other than Vietnam. See? High heels.



Wednesday, November 23, 2016

Just call me Mary

I've spent the day making and decorating a wedding cake for a wedding tomorrow. When that's been and gone I'll post a photo here. It doesn't look quite as I imagined it ...

Other than that we delivered Granddaughter1's birthday presents. She's seven today. It doesn't feel like a minute since I was rushing down to Devon when her mum was in labour. And suddenly she seems very grown-up. 

I forgot to remind you what a brave girl I was in the hospital. Uncle was bleeding non-stop remember. Not a huge amount but he did keep on showing me the bits of blood-soaked tissue he had stuffed up his nose. When it came to the cauterisation I had no idea what to expect and feared the worst. Actually what I expected was that they would burn the inside of his nose which is what they sort of did I suppose only it was with silver nitrate rather than an open flame.

I distracted myself from a possible blood-induced panic/faint by mentally correcting all the grammar and punctuation on the notices on the wall. I had a biro on me and if it hadn't been for the fact that I abhor biro-corrected notices almost as much as the original error I'd have been pointing out that if the stationery hadn't been stationary it would have gone missing. If you see what I mean.

P.S. As in Mary Berry

Tuesday, November 22, 2016

Friday? Really?

My last post was as long ago as that? So much for my resolve to write each day ...

In my defence blah, blah, blah. Excuses.

Saturday we joined Elder Son and GrandSon1 in Cardiff for GS1's first rugby international. Not a completely traditional afternoon as I insisted on trying pies from the Pieminster shop rather than buy them (at exorbitant prices and not very good) in the stadium. I opted for  Heidi pie with squash, spinach and goats' cheese, which was a bit strong but otherwise tasty. And it came with mash and gravy!

GS1 and I both had our faces painted.
And from that point on the afternoon went downhill with a lacklustre performance from Wales against Japan. We won. Just. 33-30 thanks to a last minute drop goal. Next week we take on South Africa. I am not looking forward to what could be another thrashing.

Sunday - can't remember. Spent the morning playing games with GS1 before he went home then, oh, yes, I remember: I spent the rest of the day in A&E with Uncle.

His nose had been bleeding since midnight. Not pouring but a steady trickle and when he called and spoke to a doctor he was advised to go to A&E immediately. He's nearly 91 and is on warfarin, which thins the blood I think so they were a little concerned.

So at about 1.30 pm I set off to pick him up and take him to Morriston hospital on the other side of town. I finally got home again at 11.00 pm. Which is more than Uncle did as they insisted on keeping him in for the night.

2.15 pm Arrive at A&E.
Wait.
See Triage nurse.
Wait.
See doctor who wants him to see an ENT doctor.
Wait.
Told to go and wait elsewhere.
Get there and nurse says, 'You shouldn't be here; we haven't got room.' Then she sighs and says, 'Oh sit in the waiting room.'
Wait.
See doctor.
Wait.
Doctor does what he has to do.
Uncle fights against staying in but is persuaded by doctor and me that's in its his best interest because of his high INR levels - whatever they are.
10.40 pm I go home.
Monday 8.30 am Uncle phones to say he's ready to go home.

The staff were all very kind and, when dealing with Uncle, very efficient, but the waiting in between was ridiculous. Uncle used to be someone important in the NHS and I suspect he is going to write to someone who is now important suggesting ways of streamlining the system. One way might be to cut down the number of people who ask and write down the answers to the same questions.

So that was Sunday and half of Monday. Rest of day spent searching for birthday presents for GrandDaughter1 who is seven tomorrow. Followed by attendance at the opening night of the Zac's art exhibition in the Grand Theatre.

Today it's been looking after GrandDaughter2 day. Husband, who'd normally lend a hand, has been poorly and only able to sit in his chair and play Civilisation on his computer for the last three days. So tonight, when I should be in Zac's, I'm here writing this because I'm just too knackered.

Running on Lemsip.






Friday, November 18, 2016

Yet more flatulence

Going to bed last night I realised that not only was my face covered in glitter but I was a parrot short of a pair. Most annoying as they were my favourite earrings.

Hairdresser today where, in a posh fashionable clothes magazine, I saw an advert for flatulence filtering jeans. Would have thought that would be more appropriate in Saga or The Oldie mags. Surely young trendy women don't suffer with flatulence!

And this evening I discovered that the first chaplain was a Roman soldier named Martin. Martin?


Thursday, November 17, 2016

Love, happiness and creativity

I fear you could be bored with me talking about a) my birthday, b) how busy my life is, and c) well, that's probably it really, so, anyway I thought you might like this little picture.
I found it when I was looking for something else as is always the case. It was part of a calendar I had some years ago and I kept a few of the cartoons for ... some reason. Just as well I did as I now have something about which to write, which isn't one of the aforementioned boring topics.

I consider myself fortunate in having much beauty, love and happiness in my life and currently quite a lot of chocolate too, in the form of birthday Maltesers. 

I've just noticed a scrap of paper that is pinned on my noticeboard behind my desk - or is that in front of? I'm looking at it so it must be in front of. Maybe. It's possible to look at things and not see them though as I'm sure we all know. I don't know where this scrap of paper came from - and it's been there a long time as you can tell from the number of pinholes in it - but I need to take some of its advice. 


Wednesday, November 16, 2016

A disaster!

That's the only way to describe my leading of bible study last night.

I'd hadn't practised enough - Younger Son and Nuora took me out for a belated birthday ice cream in the afternoon when I should have been practising. (My toffee chip crunch sundae was delicious and I don't regret it for one minute.) And it shouldn't have mattered.

The parable of the sower is a familiar story and I knew what I wanted to say but somehow when I started I lost all confidence and ended up stuttering my way through it. On the bright side there were a few entertaining moments though.

Like when I asked what fruit God wanted us to produce and Jayne, our special lady, said, 'Apples. And pears.'
'Um, yes, but what fruit does he want us personally to produce?'
'Bananas. Grapes. Tangerines.'

I tried to rephrase my question again but it was too late: this was much too much fun and soon I was being inundated with fruity suggestions.

Monty, one of our revered leaders, has got into the habit of finding an excuse to give out sweets during the studies he leads. This unsurprisingly makes him very popular so I thought what I needed was a bit of sweet cred.

'A careful farmer would avoid spilling seed on the path or rocky areas,' I said, 'but God sows his seed willy nilly. (On reading that now I realise it could easily have been misconstrued.) He wants everyone to have a chance to get to know him.' Giving me the perfect excuse to throw sweeties out into the crowd. No humans were harmed in the act. (Although Marcus nearly got a Quality Street in the eye.)

Finally it was prayer time. I said a prayer and paused just before the end so I could think if there was anything else I wanted to say. And in that moment of peace, that special quiet time, one of our younger Zaccers let fly a string of noisy farts.

What else could I say then except Amen!