Message for E.D. Grandad says that, when the time comes, he will treat you to a car like this.
Nice to be missed
Phone calls from Keith when I'm away go something like this:
"I got up this morning and sat here for an hour waiting for my cup of tea, before I remembered that you weren't here."
"I've just looked in the fridge and all that's in there is a big echo."
In case anyone gets the wrong idea, he is only joking, but it is quite nice to be missed...
"I got up this morning and sat here for an hour waiting for my cup of tea, before I remembered that you weren't here."
"I've just looked in the fridge and all that's in there is a big echo."
In case anyone gets the wrong idea, he is only joking, but it is quite nice to be missed...
I'm not here, I'm there
Today I'm not here - I'm there instead, which means, I'm not at home, I'm on a short visit to see Dad in Bristol. E.D. recently bought a wireless router for Dad so that he can use his laptop in the living room rather than having to be in the back room on the desktop all the time or have wires all over the floor. She bought it ... and left it here for me to sort out, which I am trying to do - honest!
The problem is that it's a wireless router, not a wireless modem router, which would have made things easier. Keith decided to sort it out remotely and we spent a couple of happy hours trying to set that up, but it was refusing to co-operate, so we have retired defeated for today.
Oh well, tomorrow is another day...
The problem is that it's a wireless router, not a wireless modem router, which would have made things easier. Keith decided to sort it out remotely and we spent a couple of happy hours trying to set that up, but it was refusing to co-operate, so we have retired defeated for today.
Oh well, tomorrow is another day...
Bollywood and Fairbourne
So what's the connection? I hear you ask. Patience and all will be revealed.
Keith and I decided to take advantage of the fact that, although not sunny or warm, it was nevertheless dry today and zoom off in the trusty Range Rover to the west coast. That's the beauty of Wales. Being fairly small and compact, it doesn't take long to get from east to west, and so off we went and, in the vain hope that some public spirited restaurateur would , by now, have taken over the sadly defunct Proper Gander in Tywyn (about which I have blogged before) that was our first port of call. It's still empty and still for sale, so we partially retraced our steps and set off for Fairbourne where we discovered that what had been a plain and simple cafe on Beach Road when we last visited, was now an Indian restaurant by the name of Cafe Indiana. Keith decided that he was game to try it, so in we went.
At the time we were there, we had the place to ourselves, but although it has only been open for four weeks, it apparently does a roaring trade on Saturdays and is well supported by the locals. The food was lovely, the service excellent and the owners very friendly and obliging.
Now, here's where it gets interesting. The husband of the owner appeared, asked us if we had enjoyed our meal etc and then we got talking. He told us that he and his family have relocated from London to Dolgellau in order to give their children a better quality of life and had chosen Fairbourne to open a restaurant in order to bring a new experience of Indian food to both locals and tourists. "Our idea is that we treat the customers as guests," he said, "so you eat what we eat."
"I'll mention this place on my blog," I said, not adding that this was scarcely likely to increase his customer base by any significant amount, but hey, the thought was there! At this, he disappeared to get us a business card.
"I'm sure I've seen him on television," said Keith, "talking about the restaurant trade in Dolgellau."
I looked somewhat sceptical but, on his return, we learned that our host was in fact Mayur Verma, also known in Bollywood circles as Raj, a Bollywood actor and television producer.
So, if you ever find yourself in Fairbourne, be sure to check out Cafe Indiana. You'll get a warm welcome and a good meal.
The crowning point of the day was that we then paid a brief visit to the beach and Keith was able to walk over the sand dunes and the pebbles onto the sand, which he hasn't been able to do for at least two years. Let's hope he's not in agony tomorrow.
Keith and I decided to take advantage of the fact that, although not sunny or warm, it was nevertheless dry today and zoom off in the trusty Range Rover to the west coast. That's the beauty of Wales. Being fairly small and compact, it doesn't take long to get from east to west, and so off we went and, in the vain hope that some public spirited restaurateur would , by now, have taken over the sadly defunct Proper Gander in Tywyn (about which I have blogged before) that was our first port of call. It's still empty and still for sale, so we partially retraced our steps and set off for Fairbourne where we discovered that what had been a plain and simple cafe on Beach Road when we last visited, was now an Indian restaurant by the name of Cafe Indiana. Keith decided that he was game to try it, so in we went.
At the time we were there, we had the place to ourselves, but although it has only been open for four weeks, it apparently does a roaring trade on Saturdays and is well supported by the locals. The food was lovely, the service excellent and the owners very friendly and obliging.
Now, here's where it gets interesting. The husband of the owner appeared, asked us if we had enjoyed our meal etc and then we got talking. He told us that he and his family have relocated from London to Dolgellau in order to give their children a better quality of life and had chosen Fairbourne to open a restaurant in order to bring a new experience of Indian food to both locals and tourists. "Our idea is that we treat the customers as guests," he said, "so you eat what we eat."
"I'll mention this place on my blog," I said, not adding that this was scarcely likely to increase his customer base by any significant amount, but hey, the thought was there! At this, he disappeared to get us a business card.
"I'm sure I've seen him on television," said Keith, "talking about the restaurant trade in Dolgellau."
I looked somewhat sceptical but, on his return, we learned that our host was in fact Mayur Verma, also known in Bollywood circles as Raj, a Bollywood actor and television producer.
So, if you ever find yourself in Fairbourne, be sure to check out Cafe Indiana. You'll get a warm welcome and a good meal.
The crowning point of the day was that we then paid a brief visit to the beach and Keith was able to walk over the sand dunes and the pebbles onto the sand, which he hasn't been able to do for at least two years. Let's hope he's not in agony tomorrow.
The age thing again
I was on my Gestalt course yesterday morning and very interesting it was too, the theme being psychopathology and how different mental health illnesses fit into the interruptions to contact on the cycle of experience. That isn't really relevant to this post but I just wanted to make it clear that we don't just sit around navel gazing, just in case you thought we did.
At one point, our tutor mentioned a student on one of her other courses who started his counselling training at the age of 62 and is now a very good counsellor. This is one of the things I like about the world of counselling; one's age is not seen as a barrier to training or practising as a counsellor so I was a little startled to hear V. refer to this gentleman as an 'old age pensioner.'
Apart from the fact that it now has an old-fashioned ring to it and conjures up visions of little old men and women with fluffy white hair shuffling around on zimmer frames or with walking sticks, I feel that I am uncomfortably close to the possibility of being classified as such (I have been invited to apply for my state pension, after all) and I just don't like it!
"Could you re-phrase that, please, V?" I asked. "Could he be called a senior citizen?"
"Well, if you like," she laughed, but he's a couple of years younger than me."
(This from a woman who still works full time, loves every minute and has more energy and enthusiasm than many people half her age.)
The rest of the group, being well aware of my hang-ups on the subject of age, tittered.
"Maybe you need some counselling," suggested one.
At one point, our tutor mentioned a student on one of her other courses who started his counselling training at the age of 62 and is now a very good counsellor. This is one of the things I like about the world of counselling; one's age is not seen as a barrier to training or practising as a counsellor so I was a little startled to hear V. refer to this gentleman as an 'old age pensioner.'
Apart from the fact that it now has an old-fashioned ring to it and conjures up visions of little old men and women with fluffy white hair shuffling around on zimmer frames or with walking sticks, I feel that I am uncomfortably close to the possibility of being classified as such (I have been invited to apply for my state pension, after all) and I just don't like it!
"Could you re-phrase that, please, V?" I asked. "Could he be called a senior citizen?"
"Well, if you like," she laughed, but he's a couple of years younger than me."
(This from a woman who still works full time, loves every minute and has more energy and enthusiasm than many people half her age.)
The rest of the group, being well aware of my hang-ups on the subject of age, tittered.
"Maybe you need some counselling," suggested one.
Lost your Decree Absolute?
Yes, although I am normally paranoid about keeping official papers safe and properly filed (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder - most teachers have it), I appear to have mislaid my decree absolute. I have practically torn the place apart looking for it but to no avail.
I received an invitation from the Pension Service to apply for my state pension last week. Apparently, you don't just get it any more, you have to apply for it and also consider whether you would like to delay applying for it, which presumably saves the government money as there is a greater likelihood of your sudden demise before you have chance to take advantage of it. Anyway, this isn't really a digression because one of the documents they require from divorced persons is the decree absolute.
However, further perusal revealed that it is possible to do the application over the phone so, I reasoned, if I do that, they won't want me to send them my decree absolute. Result!
Wrong. I did think I had got away with it, as my 15 minute telephone conversation drew to a close and the nice man told me that I would get an acknowledgement through the post that my application had been processed.
I got the letter and guess what? "Could you please send us your decree absolute" it said.
"B*******!" I said.
Having turned to the internet, I learned that I could send for a replacement for the princely sum of £65 plus VAT!!!! Not good.
However, I eventually discovered that, by contacting the court where it was originally issued, as long as I have the reference (I have) and the divorce was less than 5 years ago (it was), I can get a replacement for .....wait for it..... £5.
Now that's more like it!
I received an invitation from the Pension Service to apply for my state pension last week. Apparently, you don't just get it any more, you have to apply for it and also consider whether you would like to delay applying for it, which presumably saves the government money as there is a greater likelihood of your sudden demise before you have chance to take advantage of it. Anyway, this isn't really a digression because one of the documents they require from divorced persons is the decree absolute.
However, further perusal revealed that it is possible to do the application over the phone so, I reasoned, if I do that, they won't want me to send them my decree absolute. Result!
Wrong. I did think I had got away with it, as my 15 minute telephone conversation drew to a close and the nice man told me that I would get an acknowledgement through the post that my application had been processed.
I got the letter and guess what? "Could you please send us your decree absolute" it said.
"B*******!" I said.
Having turned to the internet, I learned that I could send for a replacement for the princely sum of £65 plus VAT!!!! Not good.
However, I eventually discovered that, by contacting the court where it was originally issued, as long as I have the reference (I have) and the divorce was less than 5 years ago (it was), I can get a replacement for .....wait for it..... £5.
Now that's more like it!
Walking in the morning
Feeling fairly energetic and awake early this morning, I thought my current fitness regime would probably benefit from a walk before it gets too hot and I get too bogged down with other things, so off I went at 6.30. It was, and still is, a beautiful late Spring morning, not a breath of wind stirring the leaves, a faint mist on the lake in the valley and birds singing joyously. The mallards were still snoozing, until I arrived 
on the scene, and then they started huffing and
puffing and generally complaining about being
woken up.
And then I saw this, which seems to be a Muscovy Duck. He was awake already, but wouldn't let me get too close, so the photo
(taken on my phone) is not very good.
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