Life’s all about timing isn’t it? I really didn’t want to go away with my new kitchen so near to (yet so far from) being finished. I’m ever so glad I did. July is unusually quiet so I booked a small cottage in North Wales, about 15 minutes from my sister’s place. I haven’t seen them since December.

Every time I go back, part of me expects to go to the house where I grew up, or the house where Mum lived before she moved in with my sister. I still secretly hope my nephews will be in primary school, all sweetness, innocence and light, with a healthy dash of sugar and spice. Going back “home” never really feels like a holiday since much of it is familiar.

It took me quite some time to switch off and let go of the challenges I’d faced during the previous weeks. The accommodation I found was small and quite basic but it had a hot tub which I’d never experienced. The rural setting looked perfect for my needs. It was just far enough off the beaten track to feel like a retreat, yet within easy driving distance of 2 towns. The gardens were glorious. I felt the tension melt away on the first morning, sipping my coffee at the small table outside, gazing up at the trees swaying in the light breeze.

It took me couple of evenings to pluck up the courage to don the dry robe (provided) and switch on the giant bathtub. I disrobed and tentatively stepped into the hot bubbling water. The jets felt amazing, gently pummelling my knotted muscles into submission. I overheated a bit but soon recovered, glugging thirstily on my water bottle.

The garden was brimming with wildlife. At dusk, a juvenile badger would appear, circling around and snuffling out the peanuts my host had scattered on the lawn. A highlight was watching its frenetic antics from the tub.

I saw my first ever kingfisher. Gosh it was fast, and loud.

I explored the area and found a really good walk near Ysceifiog. There was a small nature reserve and a lake. I never knew!

On day 3 I got a message from Menna, my friend from youth orchestra days, and we’ve been friends since. She’s also a harpist and she now lives in California. She was visiting her family and asked if I’d like to join for a walk up Moel Famau, the mother hill of the Clwydian Range. They’d landed that morning, then straight up a hill. Hardcore. I jumped at the chance to see her with the added bonus of a walk too.

We added Moel Fenlli on at the end. I think I might start Moel bagging.

It was great to see her and I’m definitely going over next year.

It was good to catch up with my sister and her family, although we’re both still a bit griefy. On my last day we went to choose a gravestone for Mam. I mostly remained silent. What is there to say? The showroom (?!!) was hot and stuffy and the astroturf felt odd underfoot and looked peculiar in the small room with its range of headstones. When Dad died I was living in South Africa so visiting the graveyard wasn’t an option that was regularly available. A polished stone doesn’t hold much meaning for me. Beautiful sunsets and a sense of awe and wonderment at nature offered far more consolation. So did alcohol but that’s an old story.

We left the gravestone place and my sister needed to pick up some stuff in town. It was hot and I was drowsy. Neither of us had eaten. When we got back to hers we had an argument and both retreated for a couple of hours. Grief plays out in strange ways. We’re alright now. It was a misunderstanding.

I needed some coastal energy and I went to a beach I walked last December. It was quite different in the warmth of summer. Gratuitous photo dump:

Never a dull moment. It reminded me of when we went on primary school day trips to Rhos on Sea in summer, exploring rock pools and learning about nature at the coast.

Time evaporates when I’m away and I hadn’t been to my favourite, Moel Arthur. I indulged in a cheeky little sunset on my final evening:

and the following morning I squeezed in an early walk back up with Menna before checking out:

I came back exhausted but refreshed and I’ve had 3 really good days with renewed vigour and enthusiasm for the harp and teaching.

Here’s hoping the next blog post will be called Kitchen Bliss. Get away!