What a decade

We're nearly half way through this year already and I find it a little worrying that each year seems to pass more quickly than the last; one of the effects of getting older, I suppose. Whereas at one time, my years were divided into three parts, following the pattern of the academic year, now I tend to look only a week or two ahead as I book in my clients for their next appointments.
But yesterday, I fell to thinking about the events in my life over the last ten years and I was quite surprised at all that has happened. Since New Year 2000 was rung in:

• I have become a grandmother three times over, although I only have access to one of my grandchildren for reasons that I still don't understand.
• My mother died, after a long time in poor health but I am glad that, as a family, we were able to keep her at home until the end.
• My two daughters graduated and began their careers, one as a doctor and one as a teacher.
• My marriage ended and I set up home on my own, which was strange after so many years.
• I continued to become more disillusioned with the world of teaching, stepping down from my position as deputy head of a primary school and eventually leaving full time teaching for a few years of supply teaching.
• I retired from teaching, having stuck it out until a few months before my official retirement age.
• I became interested in counselling and embarked on four years of training before qualifying as an integrative humanistic counsellor.
• I met Keith and moved to North Wales, where we set up home together. That was the high point.
• I lost my elder son when he took his life last year - most definitely the lowest point.

I always see myself as living a quiet, uneventful life, but looking at the list above, I seem to have done a lot of living over the last ten years, some good, some not so good and some devastating but life goes on.
It's probably just as well that we can't see into the future though!

Football fever

I don't always follow the news and current affairs that closely, but I have the feeling that, somewhere, some time recently, I have heard mention of the World Cup. It only seems like five minutes since the last one, but, hey, life's too short to quibble. Anyway, it occurred to me that there are going to be more than a few wives, partners and girlfriends out there who will spend the next few weeks tiptoeing around, providing constant supplies of food and beverages and being deprived of any choice whatsoever on daily TV viewing. In addition, they will be expected to rally round, offering consolation and copious boxes of tissues when the results are bad and, most importantly, refrain from saying, "Well, it's only a bunch of idiots kicking a bladder of wind around a field, darling!"
Now all this emotional support is bound to take its toll, so I thought it would be a good business opportunity for me to offer counselling to all football widows for the duration. No, really, it's the least I can do!
However, offering bereavement counselling for the fans in the unthinkable event that England will lose ...
No, sorry, that's a step too far.
Well, I'd have to care, you see!

Car washing

I no longer go to Sainsbury's to do my main shop each week. I got tired of being pressurised by over-zealous assistants to use the self-scan tills (I consider that I do quite enough by actually having to go up and down the aisles to collect what I want, without having to scan it all as well!), and of having to beg under-zealous assistants at the tills to help me pack. (Don't they realise that it moves the queue along because the people behind are not having to wait for me to finish packing after I have paid?) I do still (dimly) remember being able to go into shops and be served by a friendly, smiley assistant so this 'take it or leave it' approach seems less than impressive, but enough about that. One of the other things recently introduced by Sainsbury's is a band of roving car-washers who accost anyone who parks there to offer a car-wash service while they are doing their shopping. I believe there are mixed reactions to this but, for all who are not keen on the service, I have a solution.
Since I have taken to drawing up on the car park in my Mitsubishi Pajero, not a small car by any stretch of the imagination, I have noticed  that, far from flocking over to persuade me to let them wash my car for a fiver, the car-washers are suddenly conspicuous by their absence, looking frantically around for another car, any normal sized car. After all, who wants the extra square footage if they can find a nice little mini?
Problem solved!

Anniversary

Yesterday was the sixth anniversary of this blog. Over the past few evenings, I have been looking back over some of my past posts, particularly those written whilst on holiday in France. One of them was this one about our very brief foray into Spain, promping a text message from Hugh. A few tears were shed as I read this unexpected reminder of him but that's how it is. Every now and then something will happen, be said or  be shown on television that gives me a sharp reminder, in addition to the ever present memory running constantly in the background of my brain, of course.
This morning was also a brief jog down Memory Lane. In the field next to the one where Paddy and I were walking are some horses and today there were two beautiful white ones, unfortunately not close enough to be photographed, but they immediately reminded me of White Horses.






I don't remember the TV series but I loved the music and had the 45rpm record. At the time, I was at college, so seeing the horses in the field momentarily transported me back to those carefree days of student life, and particularly all the revision for exams which used to fill the bulk of our hours at this time of year! Maybe not so carefree then...

A grand day out

Well, today we set off to avoid any crowds that might be hurtling along the roads and made our way into the countryside around here, Minera Mountain, Horseshoe Pass, Llangollen outskirts, World's End and Glyn Ceriog, not necessarily in that order, you understand.

Keith is anxious to get into the holiday spirit and was determined to try out our little camping grill to make sure it still works. Given his head, he would have cooked a full meal out there in the wilds, but I managed to persuade him that, as the weather forecast was not the best, it might be better to revise his grandiose schemes, so he settled with bringing the wherewithall to make a cup of tea for us when we stopped. This happened to be between Glyn Ceriog and Llangollen,up  in the hills with only half a dozen sheep for company and freezing cold to boot, so I was quite pleased when the kettle had finally boiled and we were able to fight off the imminent signs of frostbite with a mug of tea. (Exaggeration? Only slight.)

Anyway, Keith was happy and Dad was happy a little later on when we arrived at Glyndyfrdwy to see a steam train chugging its way to Carrog on the Llangollen line. 

He was even happier when we pursued it to Carrog and he was able to talk to the engine driver, who promised him a ride on the footplate next time he visits.

Three against one

In the battle of the sexes, three against one is just plain unfair.
Dad is staying with us for a week and he and Keith get on very well together. Dad and Paddy get on really well too and Paddy is not slow to take advantage of  the fact that Dad doesn't always know the 'house rules' like no getting to sit on the sofa until invited and then not before seven in the evening.
So, this evening, I have been banished to the dining room with my laptop and Last fm because Keith and Dad were hogging the TV and watching a programme about Dunkirk and Paddy was hogging my place on the sofa.
I am expecting them all to break out in a Welsh version of The Young Ones any minute!
OK, maybe not...

Bank Holiday

Today I set off at 7am for Bristol, the plan being to bring Dad back tomorrow for a week with us. Normally, I would never in a million years venture forth on the first day of a bank holiday, but the date was determined by the fact that my sister and family, who live in Bristol,  are all going on holiday and she didn't want Dad to be on his own. The whole journey was undertaken with lights and windscreen wipers on for the whole journey, through swathes of traffic, most of which was towing caravans and with the added delight of severe jams from junction 13 southwards on the M5. So a journey which should have taken just over three hours actually took four and a quarter.
My only consolation was the knowledge that sister would suffer even more protracted traffic holdups further south as she was travelling to Cornwall. Only joking! (Well, sort of...)
Anyway, suddenly, the sun has appeared and the rainclouds have disappeared - for now, anyway.
Great stuff!