Out walking

After the miserable weather we had yesterday, when the clouds were hitting the ground and the rain was only a fingertip away, today is bright and sunny, so Paddy and I made the most of it and set off for our walk.  Off we went, up this road, along that one and round the corner  and we found ourselves here...

The little road we walked up was called Colliery Road, so I guess the clue is in the name.

This is what it looked like inside.

That's what I like about living here, you turn a corner and there you are in somewhere you have never been before. 

Five a day

The time had come for another 'Big Tidy Up of NASA' which generally happens every few weeks when I can't bear to look at the mess on Keith's computer desk any longer. This time it was resembling an extension of the shed, as usual so I delivered my ultimatum, along the lines of,

"If that stuff isn't moved by you by the end of tomorrow, it will be moved by me, to the bin."

And so it happened. Keith duly tidied up and displayed the results of his labours as soon as I came in.

"Look!" he said, "and I've even got one of my five a day!"

Evening of misery

Well, that's what it was for Paddy and, therefore, for us too. I hate this time of year more and more as the years go past. First we have Hallowe'en, with all its commercial exploitation and legalised begging - yes, I know that's a bit strong but that's how I feel! - and then of course, the fireworks, which are not restricted to one evening, which would be bearable, just. No, we have to have rehearsals every evening for about two weeks beforehand and, should you have thought, in your innocence, that the current financial situation would mean that people would choose not to waste their scarce resources in buying a load of explosives, you would have been sadly disappointed. Round here, it was like Beirut on a bad night and some idiot was even setting off bangers at lunch-time.

A convenient desert island not being available, I decided to try the medication route - for Paddy, not us. We just stuck to the wine. So, I bought some tablets for him and he started on them on Friday. Would you believe, it, I could swear they made him even worse! Keith and I sat with him all evening, unable to move, because if we did, he would launch himself at the window every time he heard a firework, and bearing in mind that dogs' hearing is more acute that humans', that was often.

By ten o'clock, we'd had enough and went to bed, as it seemed to be getting quieter, but no, that was when the second round started and carried on till nearly midnight, by which time, I was dangerously close to running out into the road in my dressing gown, finding the idiots responsible and shoving their fireworks in some very painful places.

Over-reacting? Moi?

This morning, the weather is beautiful and Paddy and I have been for a calm, peaceful, chilled-out walk ...

ready for the next lot tonight!

Learning Welsh

 Classes have been going for a month now, two hours a week and lots of bits of work on it in between. Each time we get to a new bit, I look at it and think, "I am never going to get my tongue round that lot, much less remember it!" but each time, I do.

But now, it's getting a little more complicated. Now we're getting to hear about mutations, about how certain words cause the initial letter of the word following it to change to something else - quite often too!

Nouns, it seems,  are even more sneaky - they have genders, just as in French, German, etc, but you can bet your life they won't be the same ones.

Today our tutor, Helen, just mentioned in passing that, for some unknown and unfathomable reason, 'table' is masculine in north Wales but feminine in the south.

Definitely an idiosyncratic language... and I'm really enjoying it.

Dw i wedi ymddeol ond dw i'n gweithio fel cynghores a dw i'n dysgu Cymraeg.

How about that, then?

Charles ? Perkins

Those of you who hang on my every word (OK, so no-one then) may recall my fruitless search for the birth certificate of my great grandfather, always known to me and to Dad as Charles Ernest Perkins and of his parents. Well, having discovered someone who is currently researching another member of the family, I have now been informed that, on his birth certificate, he is registered as Charles Frederick, which would explain why I couldn't find it! All the other details are exactly right, so it is definitely the same person.
To add to the confusion, however, his death certificate has him as Charles Ernest and, as his death was registered by his daughter, my grandmother, she too must have known him as Charles Ernest. On his marriage certificate, he is simply Charles. So it seems that he came into the world as Charles Frederick and departed as Charles Ernest.
As for his parents, by dint of many hours of dedicated research, I have discovered that Charles' father, John, may well have been married twice, having three children by his first wife and five, including Charles, by his second. Work continues on that. I have my nose to the ground and my magnifying glass to my eye...

FreeSat again

Keith is grief-stricken.

This is because we now have FreeSat, which is good because it gives us access to local Welsh news, as I said in a previous post and we can also now watch S4C, which I shall, of course, be watching avidly in a couple more weeks when I am fluent in welsh. (Oh, all-right then, in about twenty years, if you want to be pedantic about it!)

But, these advantages notwithstanding, Keith is still not a happy bunny. I, on the other hand, was utterly delighted when I made the discovery. What am I talking about? We can't get channel 12 on FreeSat!

Channel 12, as any male reader from these shores will know, is the boring one, the one which shows an unbelievably huge quantity of war programmes and then more war programmes. What is it with men? Why are they so obsessed with re-living life in the 1940's? Of course, Keith has other channels to choose from, where he can watch black and white war films, programmes about men running about expending inordinate amounts of energy making weird vehicles from scrap vehicles, programmes about men knocking down chimneys and building traction engines in their back gardens... the list is endless. But channel 12, the 'Yesterday' channel is his favourite.

So, to avoid his drowning in a pool of tears like Alice in Wonderland, we have now agreed that, with a few twists of the wrist, he can access channel 12 via the TV's own freeview, whenever he feels the urge...

which, of course, is far too often to suit my viewing habits!

A Mother's Story: Seeing Paul

A Mother's Story: Seeing Paul