Go west, young man!

So he did; Keith I mean. And Paddy and I went with him.
Keith had a job to do on a car in Benllech, over on Anglesey and as the day promised to be fine and dry and Benllech is by the sea, I rashly accepted his invitation to go with him, the idea being that the job would not take very long and then we could go for a walk/cycle in the area.
Wrong!

The job took for ever, although thankfully, was eventually completed successfully. Paddy and I took ourselves off for a walk by the sea for an hour, expecting that, when we got back, the job would be finished, but it wasn't and, by the time it was, it was time to head home,
Still, at least it wasn't raining and even today, when it is, it's not as bad as in Newport.

View from our front window

Something we said?



New hobby

Here, chez Jennyta, the latest hobby is weather-watching. Not that it is a very new hobby for me, though. For years in my other life as a teacher, and especially as deputy head, when it was my job to decide if the weather was too bad for the children to go out to play at lunch-time, (no contest of course, unless there was a raging hurricane outside!) I have hung on to every word of the weather forecaster on TV,  morning, and evening, the farming forecast on Radio 4 early on Sunday morning - you name it, I listened to it. As a result, the dinner ladies (sorry, lunch-time assistants) at my school soon became similarly addicted and often recounted tales of puzzled husbands asking why on earth they had suddenly become fascinated by the weather when they had never shown any interest before.
However, that's by the by. These days, Keith and I are keeping a close eye for caravan-related purposes. We compare different forecasts and discuss in great detail which one to believe and finally make our decision. Are we likely to have a reasonable weekend in the wilds of Wales or could we end up marooned in a soggy field overlooking a grey sea and even greyer skies?
Last weekend, we believed the forecast and didn't go but, as we have  all discovered over the last two years, weather forecasting in the UK has been conspicuous by its inaccuracy, and so it proved last weekend. This weekend, the forecast is for sunny weather this afternoon and tomorrow, lasting into Sunday. So now we have another dilemma.
Should be believe that the forecast is accurate and take the plunge or is 'sunny weather during the weekend' really code for hail, thunder, floods and hurricanes? Decisions, decisions!
It's a serious business, this caravan-holidaying.

Weather forecasts

We could have gone away in the caravan this weekend. In fact, when we came back from our last trip a fortnight ago, we agreed that we would try and get away again this weekend. So what stopped us?
Probably the weather forecast which, during the week, unfolded a picture of wind and rain all weekend.
"Plans for the weekend? Don't even bother," said the local weathergirl on Thursday.
So, we decided to be sensible and stay at home, smug in the knowledge that we were not about to be drowned at sea or blown over the nearest cliff.
And that would have been that, except for the fact that the BBC weather forecasters these days seem to be congenitally unable to get the damn forecasts right!
So, had we been able to see into the future, 'Don't bother going anywhere' would have translated as 'Wall to wall sunshine and a light breeze' which is what we had yesterday and today and probably will again tomorrow.
Infuriating!

Knight in shining armour

Well, there I was, after the journey home from Bristol, relaxing and blog-surfing when Keith suddenly stiffened and peered under the coffee table, which has a bottom shelf so is not easy to look under.
"Just go outside," he said, "Hurry up, there's - er - something under the table."
Needing no further urging, I took myself off into the hall to await further information and Paddy slid off the sofa and took himself off to his cushion (No help at all, that dog!).
There was a few moments of scuffling and moving of furniture before Keith emerged triumphant, tightly crushed tissue in hand.
"I take it that was a spider?" I said.
"Yes, a big one too," was the reply.
Having ascertained several times that he really had killed the monster, I gingerly sat down again and then got up and sprayed the whole of the ground floor with  'SpiderStop'. That should keep the wretched creatures out for a few days.
Meanwhile Keith was awaiting congratulations and expressions of admiration at the calm, efficient way he had conducted the whole episode.  A real kight in shining armour!

TV adverts

I don't really take much notice of adverts on TV. As far as I'm concerned, they are an annoying interruption to the programme I am watching, but this one which was shown tonight is one of those which is a little more memorable than most.
I am just hoping that, when I show it to Paddy, it might give him a few ideas on how he can make himself useful round the house.
Not holding my breath, though.

In Bristol

This weekend I will be mainly in Bristol, visiting Dad, so no gallivanting in the caravan this time. But, thinking back to last weekend's jaunt, I am reminded of an interesting little episode that I watched (being unashamedly nosy, of course) while I was sitting outside soaking a few rays (or whatever the phrase is) on the Sunday.
I heard a woman's voice, with a south Wales accent, effusively thanking someone and, on closer inspection, it seemed that she was thanking one of our male 'neighbours' who was ringing Tom, the site owner, on his mobile because the newly-arrived, forty-something lady in question apparently couldn't find her pitch, which was surprising really as they are all clearly marked.
Scene two:
Woman (henceforth to be called 'Pinkie' as she was wearing a pink top) and her pal in a leopardskin-print top (so we'll call her Leopard) went back to their car and Pinkie got in and pulled back onto the path and then went back and forth over the same few yards in a vain attempt to back into her spot.
By now, Tom had arrived and gallantly offered to back in for her, which was eagerly accepted with much giggling and simpering. As she was hovering around the car, another man had mysteriously appeared and retreated very reluctantly with numerous offers of help and 'If you need anything, you know where I am.'
At the same time, another woman's voice was heard (perhaps the wife of this man) saying, "You do need to learn to do it yourself, you know."
"Oh I can do it, I've done it hundreds of times," said Pinkie, "Just not this time."
Which seemed a little hard to believe as I watched the two of them struggling to lower the stabilisers by winding the brace the wrong way and searching vainly for the electric cable before plugging it in with great difficulty. How hard can it be? I hear you asking yourself. Yes, indeed!