A Mother's Story: August 28th
The Mold Cape
Yesterday, I went to see the Mold Cape as it's on display at present in Wrexham Museum, something which doesn't happen often as its usual home is the British Museum, London.
Three thousand, seven hundred years old, the thinking now is that it was made for a woman. Of course!
Having lived most of my life in the suburbs of cities, it is very refreshing to have facilities near to hand these days. So, the hospital and dentist are within walking distance, should I wish to walk there, as is the town itself, although a bit further away, and yet, turn the other way and we are within a hop, skip and jump of Snowdonia and are surrounded by green fields and countryside.
So I do appreciate the fact that the museum, albeit fairly small, is so close and accessible - and entry is free! What more could one ask for?
Three thousand, seven hundred years old, the thinking now is that it was made for a woman. Of course!
Having lived most of my life in the suburbs of cities, it is very refreshing to have facilities near to hand these days. So, the hospital and dentist are within walking distance, should I wish to walk there, as is the town itself, although a bit further away, and yet, turn the other way and we are within a hop, skip and jump of Snowdonia and are surrounded by green fields and countryside.
So I do appreciate the fact that the museum, albeit fairly small, is so close and accessible - and entry is free! What more could one ask for?
A conversation to cringe at
Overheard in a shop this morning, this exchange between two young shop assistants - and with apologies to my Canadian friend Dale:
Girl 1: Look, there's a foreign coin here - a cent. American is it?
Girl 2: Nah, it's from Canada.
Girl 1: Oh, how do you know that, then?
Girl 2: Look, it says Canada on it.
Girl 1: Canada. So where's that? It's America, isn't it?
Girl 2: (uncertainly) No, I don't think so... it's somewhere over there.
Girl 1: But it's not abroad, is it? It's not foreign like?
Girl 2: Well, I think it is...
Girl 1: But it's British, though, isn't it?
(Girl 1's reply was inaudible, as was my gasp of disbelief!)
Girl 1: Look, there's a foreign coin here - a cent. American is it?
Girl 2: Nah, it's from Canada.
Girl 1: Oh, how do you know that, then?
Girl 2: Look, it says Canada on it.
Girl 1: Canada. So where's that? It's America, isn't it?
Girl 2: (uncertainly) No, I don't think so... it's somewhere over there.
Girl 1: But it's not abroad, is it? It's not foreign like?
Girl 2: Well, I think it is...
Girl 1: But it's British, though, isn't it?
(Girl 1's reply was inaudible, as was my gasp of disbelief!)
Arholiad Cymraeg
Keep up the fight!
I have just been reading this article on an Irish rural act of defiance. There are quite a few peat boglands in Ireland where turf is cut and used as fuel, as it has been for centuries, but now, of course, we are in the 21st century and such activities are regarded as being bad for the environment.
I am not arguing the pros or cons for this, but what lifted my heart when I read this article was the fact that, somewhere in Ireland, the 'little people' (no pun intended) are standing up to the powers that be, and all the better for it being the EU.
Excellent, I thought. Bring it on! There should be more of it. The EU interferes far too much in our daily lives, often with negative consequences and these peat farmers are making it clear that they want to reclaim the right to do what they have always done with their own land.
I am not arguing the pros or cons for this, but what lifted my heart when I read this article was the fact that, somewhere in Ireland, the 'little people' (no pun intended) are standing up to the powers that be, and all the better for it being the EU.
Excellent, I thought. Bring it on! There should be more of it. The EU interferes far too much in our daily lives, often with negative consequences and these peat farmers are making it clear that they want to reclaim the right to do what they have always done with their own land.
"They think it's all about money and that they can buy us off. They can't. This is about our rights to use our land as we wish," says parliamentarian Luke Flanagan.
Whatever the rights and wrongs of turf cutting, I am right behind their fight against the ever-intrusive powers of the EU.
Travelling
Today, I braved the heat to head south to Bristol to see Dad and bring him back to north Wales for a week or so. Hopefully, we'll be doing that tomorrow. Meanwhile, Elder Daughter and Husband have bravely, or maybe foolhardily, set off for Cornwall. They will no doubt be accompanied by millions of families, whose children have been released from school for the next six weeks, so rather them than me.
Elsewhere, Younger Daughter, who has also been released from school, along with all her pupils, will tomorrow be zipping off from Newcastle to Liverpool.
The best bit will be that we will get to meet up with Younger Daughter on Monday or Wednesday (she hasn't decided yet) for lunch and Elder Daughter and Husband will be staying with us on Friday, having done a detour on the way home from Cornwall to Sheffield.
Let's hope the heat and humidity are a little more bearable by then!
Monday morning
Monday morning and Jake, who had seemed under the weather since the previous evening, showed himself to be definitely on the ill side. In the early morning he had been sick and was doing the sick doggie things like licking his lips, panting and generally flopping about like a rag doll.
So once again, the help of health professionals needed to be sought and the experience was a little different to Sunday's.
8.30am a phone call to the vet's, answered immediately, produced an appointment to see the vet at 9.10am.
9.08am Jake and I are sitting in the comfortable, spacious waiting room, having been 'checked in' as soon as we arrived. There are three receptionist/clerical staff visible at the desk, all gainfully employed.
9.11am we are ushered into an air-conditioned consulting room by a very nice vet, who proceeds to examine Jake and listen to my account of what has happened so far.
Jake is given an anti-biotic injection and we are asked to wait in the waiting room while the vet prepares the rest of his treatment.
By 9.40am we have his medication, full instructions on how to administer it, have paid the bill and are on our way home.
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