Rare Bit Blogging

This week’s theme was a trip to the greengrocers. We picked a fruit or vegetable to write about. I chose a kiwi fruit 🥝

Ode to a kiwi fruit 

Oh kiwi oh kiwi oh yes yes, mais oui. OUI! 

You’re green and you’re hairy, you look pretty scary 

Oh please let me in beneath your brown skin 

Exotic. Erotic? Delicious. Nutritious.

More vitamin C than there’s salt in the sea

You’re sweet and you’re soft, I hold you aloft 

I feel you. I peel you. I slice and I cut

I gobble you down cos you’re good for my gut.

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!

I’m typing this in my kitchen where I’m sat at a small table. My kitchen table might emerge from its safe hiding place in the shed this weekend. Tiling commences tomorrow. The joiner will not be involved! I’ve been recommended a tiler and so far he’s very helpful and communicative. Fingers crossed.

I look up and see glimpses of a real kitchen. The lighting makes the world of difference especially on dull dreary days (where’s the sun hiding?) and I was right to ask for 10 ceiling lights contrary to advice doled out by both the electrician and joiner. There are also lights under the cupboards above the worktops where I prepare my food so I don’t need my specs to chop 🤓 It’s a far cry from the plug in table lamps I used for years – the depressing dull glow from the energy saving ceiling bulbs was worse than having no light.

I was also right to choose tall units all the way to the top of the ceiling. I have so much storage space. I’ll keep you posted on my progress in keeping the work surfaces uncluttered. With a compact footstool I can reach the upper cupboards where I stash gear I don’t use very often.

The dishwasher is an absolute luxury. I don’t know how I’ve managed without one for so long.

The energy in my house has changed dramatically since the joiner’s last visit on Monday. He couldn’t wait to get to his next job. I’m so relieved he’s not here. I have pondered at great length about my misjudgment. It’s been a steeeeeeep learning curve. If I ask you to do some work for me, I will ask all manner of questions and I won’t care if I come across as awkward or demanding. And there’s no such thing as a stupid question.

I was told by the joiner and the kitchen shop that my boiler couldn’t be housed in a cupboard. My plumber came to pipe the gas hob and he asked why the boiler wasn’t in a cupboard. I told him what I’d been told. Of course you can put it in a cupboard, he said helpfully. I told my joiner who took me seriously when I told him that’s what my plumber said. He started umming and aahing and got his tape measure out, measured for 5-10 minutes before saying he’d look into it. I had asked more than once about a boiler cupboard, but then when a bloke says it’s doable… I believe that’s bare faced misogyny right there. It’s been unbelievable. This is one of way too many examples when I’ve been dismissed or made to feel like an idiot, most likely because I’m a woman. I actually challenged him about it. He just went off on a tangent. Classic.

I reckon it’ll take another 6 weeks to finish everything, but at least I can use most of the kitchen. This experience has done nothing to inspire my confidence in getting any more work done on my house. I’d love to renovate my living room but there’s too much at stake with my harps in there.

The past fortnight has been a kind of living hell and at times I’ve really felt I’m having a nervous breakdown. At the end of week 1 when the joiner left on Friday afternoon, I finally had time to assess after 4 non stop days of mayhem and confusion. The place was in chaos, a complete shambles. I stood in what used to be my kitchen and I took stock.

I did some research and tried to work out what the hell was happening. There’s a process when you’re fitting a kitchen. It’s what I expected when I booked him. RIP (!!) out the old kitchen. Plastering. Painting. Electrical and plumbing work. Fit units. He had started to fit units on some pretty dodgy looking walls. The electrician had put in some recessed sockets and filled around them over brand new drawers. Look:

I had offered the joiner dust sheets. He had some in his van he said. I haven’t seen a dust sheet to this day except the one I draped over my washing machine after cleaning the grit off.

I can go on about the errors that have been made but it’s pointless. I’ve had 4 heated discussions with him during which he blames everyone else (most especially me), he over explains, goes off on a tangent… Everything is a problem for him, an inconvenience. I just want the job finished and him out of my house. I booked him based on work he did a few years ago. It was only a small job and he was great. Not sure what’s happened.

It’s the first time I’ve chosen a new kitchen. I knew it wouldn’t be easy but this is another level of stress and anxiety. Over the weekend I woke in tears at 2am fretting about the mess he was making, about how he was hacking up my beautiful brand new kitchen, mercilessly butchering it into badly cut bits. I couldn’t find a way out, a solution.

It was too late to find anyone else so I reconciled myself with getting clear updates each morning and before he left.

He said he likes it when his customers go on holiday and let him get on with it. I’d love to go on a 4-6 week holiday but I’d have ended up with a kitchen with gloss doors 🤢

I’ve tried lots of tactics with him but nothing really works. I can’t get through to him. It’s his way or no way. I’ve had to remind him I’m the customer more than once. It’d be easy for me to blame myself but one really can’t tell how someone’s going to behave until they spend an extensive time in one’s home.

I’ve adopted a new routine. Practice in the morning then get out of the house and far from his horrible energy. This week I started choosing tiles, a ceiling light and new blinds. It helps. It keeps me focused on how it will look and feel. I’ve waited 12 years for this kitchen and I’m determined he’s not going to ruin it for me. By 4pm he’s gone and I can reclaim my space.

At the end of the day it’s just a kitchen!

In other news, look what my next door neighbour and I did yesterday: (after practice obviously 🖐🏻 🤚)

I’ve wanted to get a new kitchen for 12 years. I replaced the bathroom a year after I bought this house and that was pretty traumatic. Being without a WC for a fortnight was a test of resourcefulness and memories of that time remain.

I’ve hesitated about committing, but after an initial conversation with a joiner last September (yes, 9 months ago) and multiple visits to 2 kitchen showrooms, the units arrived at 8.30 on Tuesday morning. A small skip arrived soon after. The worktops arrived on Wednesday afternoon. Downstairs is pure chaos. It’s like my house has been turned upside down and shaken vigorously.

I started packing my seldom used kitchen gear up about a month ago and by 8am on Tuesday I had boxed and bagged up the last of my essentials and moved them upstairs.

The joiner started work last Wednesday, dropping the ceiling and putting up plasterboard. He started ripping the old kitchen out.

All I have left in the kitchen is my fridge freezer and washing machine.

He started assembling the units on Tuesday. He’s a great joiner and I have no doubt about his skill and workmanship. On Wednesday afternoon I commented that one of the side panels looked shiny.

He said yes, that’s the finish. So I said but that’s shiny, it’s gloss. He said no, that’s the finish, it’s what they call white. 🤨 Long story short, we checked the packaging and GLS WHITE is printed clear as day on all the boxes. My heart sank. I asked for matt white. After some discussion, we called it a day. He said he’d check his paperwork.

The wrong finish has been ordered. We’re back to square one. I’m living upstairs mainly, where I have a kettle, microwave and toaster. With no sink since Wednesday I’ve got my head around washing dishes in the bathroom. It’s weird but I’ll make it work. Thankfully it’s salad season and I’m pretty resourceful when it comes to food preparation and menu ideas. I’ve factored in one takeaway meal from my favourite place next Sunday when I get back from my wedding.

Everything takes twice as long and I can’t find things. Practice is really challenging with all the hammering and drilling, the banging and sawing. I’m grateful the joiner doesn’t listen to music while he works. Small mercies. He makes up for it in banter with the electrician who said his ears were ringing by close of business yesterday.

In the greater scheme of things, this is just a minor inconvenience, I have to remember that. I’m so relieved I’m not too busy this summer.

I walk a lot. I love stopping and looking at the sky. I love the calming serenity of blue sky

but clouds make it look more interesting:

The sky is humbling. The childlike sense of awe and wonderment I feel when I look up is magical. Looking up helps me feel more upbeat. It takes me out of myself and reminds me of the vastness and enormity of the world. Looking at the sky diminishes my problems so much so that I forget them every time I go out.

I’m a bigger fan of blue skies and sunshine but even being out under this

changes my outlook. I think being alone in open spaces is some of the best medicine available.

The sky changes every day, every minute, every second. Cloud contours are fascinating.

On the rare occasion I find myself in a city, I look up as much as possible

City streets and pavements are spat on, scattered with litter and dotted with spent chewing gum. Looking up is better, a reminder that the countryside isn’t so far away.

The architecture in towns and cities often goes unnoticed

but not if you keep an eye on the sky. We walk around town with furrowed brows or glued to phones so smart, they know us better than we know ourselves.

Quiet May is almost upon me. I had come to terms with having another slow month – the start date for my new kitchen is 6 May. Perfect timing except it’s now was 6 May. As of last night, due to unforeseen circumstances, it’s 27 May, just when business picks up again. I had mapped out my month but suddenly, all those plans have changed. I can’t quite get my foggy head around it yet. I have plenty of music requests to learn but no weddings as such. Perhaps a showcase. It’s disconcerting but I’ll be fine.

I didn’t want to get up this morning after last night’s disappointing news so I dozed until 730. I’ve a long list of domestic tasks to be getting on with. Practice is a given and it happens at least 5 days a week.

I checked my emails and got really excited about an email from the library – the books I requested 10 days ago had arrived! At 53, this is what floats my boat these days, 4 tomes of mainly lightweight easy to follow reading, plunging me into the enviably imaginative worlds of unfamiliar wordsmiths, losing my way amongst their carefully crafted sentences. Look:

Evenings are my weakness and I can so easily doomscroll for hours. An Instadip often leaves makes me feeling emptier than before. I don’t know why I find it so hard to allow myself to sit in my armchair with a book for an hour. It’s a lot better for me than social media. Trouble is I start dozing off after 20 minutes, and before I know it, I’ve lost an hour and some. That’s the main reason.

Despite the kitchen disappointment, I’ve had a good week. Highlights were the occasions I made people laugh, twice in my writing group 😁. The second time was this morning when I collected my books. I love it when I spontaneously alter people’s mood for the better just without trying, just by being myself. That makes me feel full.

Finally, while I was walking through Marsden, I noticed these stone pillars sticking up:

I’ve driven past so many times and never noticed them. There was a blue plaque nearby:

This week again, life was full of surprises.

I went for a longer walk yesterday (Easter Sunday) starting with West Nab, then down towards Wessenden Reservoir, up to Black Hill and finally home via Blackpool Bridge. It’s my first time this year taking this much loved route.

West Nab was peaceful. I only passed 3 people. I paused to soak up the expansive calm half way down:

It got really busy by Wessenden. The grass verges of the stony path were disgustingly dotted with dog poo. I know I’m being presumptuous but I think a lot of non locals walk along here. They clearly don’t care as much as we residents do. We’ve had a spate of moor fires already this year (as well as the swan with unhatched eggs that was killed a couple of weeks ago at Windybank res…) The ground was bone dry, the moorland grass like kindling. I warily eyed people from behind my sunglasses in case they looked suspicious or had disposable barbecues concealed in their backpacks. Nobody said hello.

I was relieved to get across the A635. It was much quieter. I tried to have a short coffee break by the stream but my plan got sidetracked by these beauties coming down quite a treacherous path straight towards me:

I haven’t seen cows up there before. Life’s full of surprises.

Onwards to Black Hill. It’s a tough last half mile and I had a few 10 second stops to catch my breath and take in the views:

I got to the trig point:

but a bloke was just clambering on top to have his photo taken. After offering directions to a pleasant good-humoured couple my age whose route had vanished from their phone and had been going uphill for 5 hours (!!), I went a bit further down and had a proper stop to savour my half hot cross bun (I’m still not a fan but it’s an Easter tradition) and the rest of my coffee. It was so peaceful:

and the sun felt hot. I lingered a while. I’m never ready to go home.

I forget my troubles and my daily worries. The scenery is spectacular. I rarely get lonely. My internal chatter was upbeat and positive – I was good company. A bird popped up out of nowhere and sang a beautiful warbling melody and there’s always a skylark, singing effortlessly forever and ever.

After dinner I watched Until I Kill You. Anna Maxwell Martin is one of my favourite actors and she’s brilliant in this. She won a BAFTA for her role. It was so emotive. Her character Delia falls hook, line and sinker for a serial killer. His traits reminded me of a narcissistic bullying ex I had the misfortune of getting together with a few years ago. It was a learning curve to say the least. His controlling coercive manipulative tactics were offset by an irresistible charm and pretend kindness which reeled me in for a while. The injustice of Delia Balmer’s cruel fate incensed me. It’s a true story. Not easy viewing but highly recommended.

It’s Good Friday. Today would have been Dad’s 94th birthday. I felt happy remembering him this morning. It’s a bittersweet joy tinged with sorrow and loss (his and mine), wondering how he would have liked to celebrate his birthday. The emptiness can feel amplified on days like today. Emotions are heightened. It can be an opportunity for healing if I allow the feelings to flow to the surface.

I’m relieved I have a wedding to help shift my focus from potentially maudlin what-ifs to joyous celebratory occasions. I think Dad would have loved hearing me play Bob Marley and the FooFighters. He wouldn’t care what I played so long as it was me enjoying myself. He would have backed my decision to gradually extricate myself from the world of orchestral playing despite the often painful yearning I have for that music. He would have conceded that it was no longer an atmosphere conducive to thriving, simply surviving. He would have been proud of my endeavours to build my own ultra micro business. I think he would always have encouraged me to be unashamedly myself.

I have a tendency to put Dad on a pedestal but he could be bloody annoying too. He could be pedantic and picky. We used to drive him mad leaving our shoes lying around, oblivious of the trip hazard. He had a limp from a stroke he had in his 30’s. His gait was laboured. He was very organised, a bit of a neat freak actually. He ran a tight ship.

It’s Easter weekend too, so quite possibly an emotional double whammy, but I love Easter with all its optimistic symbolism so you know what? I’m going to have a fun playful weekend and I’ll carry his lighthearted sensitive playfulness with me 🥳 but the picky pedant can have the weekend off thanks.

HAPPY EASTER