I’m in Wales looking after mum while my sister, brother in law and the boys are enjoying a well earned holiday in Turkey. It’s a full time job looking after mum. You wouldn’t think an 88 year old woman could be such hard work. I don’t feel comfortable leaving her alone for long. Her falls have become more frequent and she’s very frail. She does however have a huge appetite, which is a relief. She doesn’t have an appetite for life anymore though and who could blame her? I suspect she’s in quite a lot of discomfort and perhaps some pain and I’m certain the negative thoughts are on a continuous loop.
It’s day 3. I’ve asked her every day if she wants to do anything or if she’ll come for some air. She’s got a wheelchair now but I don’t think she’s used it yet. It’s parked in the garage, waiting, wheels poised still wrapped in their protective plastic packaging, ready for action and adventure – maybe a couple of hours at the seaside and a Mr Whippy or a trip to the shops. She doesn’t seem interested though so I won’t force the issue, but I’ll offer it up every day. I think we’d have fun.
I went for a walk at midday down to the stream and felt my mood lift after 10 minutes. I feel very unsettled here and it’s hard to get any focus. I need to practice and maintain some sort of routine so I’ve bought quite a lot of stuff and it’s all over the place – nothing’s where it should be. I packed my weights of course and it was arms and shoulders this morning. Did I feel like doing them? Probably not but I’m even more determined to stay strong after seeing how mum’s ageing. It’s legs tomorrow 😮💨 but my reward will be a walk in some picturesque scenery.
Picturesque scenery
I’d walk for miles every day given half a chance. I feel slightly frustrated since Snowdon’s right there, a mere hour away. I asked earlier what time’s best for me to go out – the underlying message being what time are you most likely to fall?!! I have no idea how I’d react if she did but I’d rather be here. I purposely didn’t pack any serious walking gear to avoid the temptation of a longer walk, but the urge is there and it’s strong.
I’m so used to just thinking for myself that it can feel restrictive being responsible for another person, especially an elderly mother. There’s always something to do, even more so than when I’m at mine. Plants to water, bins to put out, animals to feed. I can’t switch off. I can’t at mine either mind you. I haven’t turned the telly on yet. I’d rather be outside. That’s my switch off zone.
I wish mum could see the magnificent hills, feel the lush grass under her feet, watch the sleepy cows grazing half heartedly in the sweltering midday sun, feel the refreshing coolness of the flowing stream water through her fanned (arthritic) fingers. Mother knows best, although she’d definitely benefit from exposure to a few rays of sunshine.
I go to her room and her head is bowed in contemplation. The osteoporosis makes her look like a table top. She went back to bed this morning. She said she still felt tired. I didn’t question it. She had a nap late yesterday afternoon while I was getting dinner ready. 5 minutes before I plated, I knocked but she was fast asleep. She stirred briefly and asked if it was time to go to work. Gulp.
It might be selfish of me but it’s made me think even more about how I want to go. If I had a choice, it’d be by heart attack halfway down Snowdon. Please 🙏
It absolutely blooming categorically definitely wouldn’t be death by cow stampede, which almost happened during my walk on Friday evening. I crossed a field on a well trodden footpath and halfway, a herd of cows took an interest in me. I walked on as calmly as I could. With a third of the field remaining, they somewhat disconcertingly gathered speed. I walked faster. So did the cows. I broke into a trot. They did too! I legged it towards the gate as fast as I could and got there by the skin of my teeth.
I was treated to dinner at Sheeps and Leeks in Caernarfon at the beginning of August. I had no expectations when I saw the quirky shop front hidden away in one of the city’s side streets. Pink neon lighting gave the exterior a slightly sleazy glow. A curious collection of small plants was growing on the window ledge inside the restaurant.
Pink hazePink plants
The kitchen is as open as the atmosphere – the vibe was busy but relaxed amongst the stacked stainless steel pots and pans. It was as though we’d walked into a friend’s kitchen. We were greeted with warm smiles by the team before they got their heads down again to prepare an incredibly intricate collection of culinary delights.
Simple elements – don’t be fooled, it was anything but!
I’d never experienced a tasting menu before. I’ve got some catching up to do and this was the ideal introduction. It’s the perfect concept. Sampling such a vast array of tastes and textures was sensational. Each dish had been lovingly conceived and every element was plated with great care and attention.
Fish du jour – beautiful bass notes
I don’t eat cheese but I was told the doughnut was very good. My first dish was an all-in-one-go steel spoonful of luxurious lamb. It was like experiencing food for the very first time. I let it melt in my mouth. My tastebuds danced to the tune of the flavours that developed on my tongue. I could have cried it was so good. Amuse my bouche it most certainly did.
Emotional
Next up was the stand out dish for me – soup! Let’s be honest here, it’s often a dull dish which gets overlooked. Not so at Sheeps and Leeks. I didn’t get a photo – I was too busy enjoying it. The intensity of the flavours was incredible. An unexpected sphere of herby liquid was concealed at the bottom of the bowl. It brought it to life. The focaccia was crusty, light and full of flavour.
The maître d’ was a friendly modest man possessed by a passion for every single plate with which we were presented. His detailed explanations of each dish added another dimension to the simple menu. I’m still in awe of how he retained all the information about each course as well as the wine list.
The decor at Sheeps and Leeks is unapologetically quirky but without an ounce of pretence. The brick effect wallpaper gave a retro feel to the small dining room (20 covers) and photos of chefs and culinary paraphernalia adorned the wallpaper.
Back to the food. The fish was as fresh as the August weather outside (15 degrees), as were its accompanying crab and cucumber salads. The beautifully presented pork cheek melted divinely. Crumbs of crackling were crumbled on top and the meat rested on a pillow of silky smooth aubergine.
More than the sum of its parts – pork, peas and cabbage never looked, or tasted, this good
Every component ingredient worked in harmony together. It was a tour de force of culinary balance.
Spoons
Two desserts you say? Now that’s my idea of heaven! I actually loved the zingy palate cleansing yogurt pre dessert more than the star of the show, which was also excellent. I’d never have thought that 4 such simple ingredients as rhubarb, strawberry, yoghurt and mint could sing together so harmoniously. Wow. No photo again for obvious reasons, but here’s the main dessert to give you an idea:
Work of art
We had delicious decaf coffee which tasted just like the real thing and petit fours to complete our experience.
One of the best things about Sheeps and Leeks is its lack of airs and graces. It genuinely is all about the food. Although it was high end dining, it was a homely relaxed experience. Brick wallpaper and soft lighting does that. I’ll definitely be going back. Meanwhile I’m on the forage for tasting menus here in Yorkshire…
My happy face in my happy place – fine food landPink lily – a souvenir of joyous times
At last! I’m away in the morning and it seems like morning will never come! It’s been the longest day and I got shit loads done – did an 8.5 mile trot in the warmth but left later than planned due to technical issues. My phone’s playing up (look at that for timing – 48 hours before I go up to deepest darkest rural Northumberland with a slightly decrepit car) and I pressed reset last night in a vain attempt to resolve the issue, which prompted a whole host of new issues and it took me a while to put everything back in place as best as I could this morning. Most important was linking my watch to my phone so I could log my miles and see my stats. Meltdown!!! I did it though so kudos Rare Bit. Off I went on my trot:
A budding beginning
After a quick temperature check in my back yard I decided it was bloody cold so took way too many layers which I promptly peeled off after half a mile. It was the kind of weather you could stay out in all day. I didn’t have all day but a long list of to dos and I made a hasty retreat after 4 miles. I always worry about getting up the last steep section but I don’t know why. I always manage it. I might run out of water and get heatstroke after twisting an ankle. I didn’t. I’m also struggling a bit with my new shoes, they’re about half a size too small and my toes bang uncomfortably against the front on my favourite descents. This is the downside to buying online I suppose. Despite some discomfort and mild cramp, it was difficult not to dawdle and I tried calling mam as an excuse to stay out longer. No signal. Blast it.
Location location – no signal but wanted mam to close her eyes and hear the stream
I threw the dirty laundry in the wash and got on with the biggest task – mowing the lawn, AKA making hay while the sun shone. It took about 30 minutes longer than planned as I weeded too but it looks better and any burglars will at least see I take care of my garden. I pegged the laundry on the line and had a 30 minute rest on the sofa before resuming my activities.
What next? Food prep obviously after a quick shower. Maybe they don’t have food in Northumberland? Of course they do, and they definitely have fish and chips, Mr Whippy and hot fresh sausage rolls, but I had some leftovers to cook and a few basics to take to my self catering cottage. I’m keen to keep to my new healthy eating routine while I’m on holiday – this morning I’d lost a few ounces and that felt so positive! I’m so excited about going away but the run up to leaving is always a quasi ridiculous farce worthy of a scene in a sitcom. Instead of relaxing I find a million things to do and you know what? I haven’t even packed! But that won’t take long. I’m taking my yoga mat and some basic equipment as well as candles and bath salts. Yes! There’s a bathtub and the weather forecast is so poor I might spend most of my time in it!
I played for a wedding yesterday a couple of hours away. I’m often asked why I leave so early and yesterday was further proof to justify my near neurosis. The motorway was shut for 4 junctions and the diversion added a palpitant 30 miles to my trip. I was still on time so neuroses have their uses. Maybe it was the warm weather. Maybe the venue? Or perhaps the fact that I have so much to look forward to and be grateful for but I had the best time playing I’ve had in years, quite literally. I was just in the zone. No inner critic (she was probably knackered from all the ranting at the motorway symbols 🔼⏺️🔽◀️⁉️⁉️⁉️) and I didn’t question my ability or ineptitude or need to reassure myself with reminders of my years of training and experience. It’s a great feeling that. I’d forgotten and I know I can’t chase it. It’s there or it isn’t.
And it was.
A pinker shade of white and carefree in the hills for a couple of hours Playtime. I can just imagine dragging this down to the stream – what fun that would be!
Last Wednesday saw my last shift at the local convenience shop where I’ve been working part time for over 3 years. Little did I know that what started as an interim job to support my harp business would become a lifesaver during the unexpected (understatement!) pandemic. I thought I’d be there 6 months max. Music can be a solitary career and one of the best aspects of working in food retail is human contact. There’s no better feeling than cheering someone up with a simple “good morning, how are you?” when they entered the shop on a gloomy Monday and, when the work got tough, I made that my aim. It occasionally got me in trouble as I wasn’t as efficient and I wasn’t paid to chit chat, but I couldn’t help myself. From my experience, people will always remember great customer service – I believed it would encourage them to come back for more, spend more time and money in the shop. Some customers were clearly in a hurry and in no mood for conversation so I tailored my service accordingly. I learnt a huge amount during my time there, mainly how to read people and how never to take things personally. The job helped me overcome my introversion and shyness and in many ways, as soon as I put on my burgundy and orange uniform, I stepped into character, a faster moving quicker thinking lighter brighter funnier version of me. It was knackering but I always worked a better shift with an attitude of gratitude.
I noticed I lost some of my imagination and my sense of humour since I turned 50 and I was less cheerful and happy go lucky. Life’s events were starting to get to me and I couldn’t face reading the news or keeping up with current affairs. It started to affect my performance and I became less tolerant and more impatient.
It became clear during the past 4 months that I was going to have to make a decision as things started to open up again and the enquiries for background music and harp lessons thickened. Mum wasn’t well before Christmas and her health is deteriorating as befits an 86 year old woman, so I wanted the freedom to be able to go to Wales at the drop of a hat if I was needed to support my busy sister.
It’s Monday and a week ago I was more than half way through an 8 hour shift. Everything happened so fast! Management had been extremely accommodating of my attempts to try and balance my life. I requested a sabbatical and then my circumstances changed again so I handed in my resignation. There’s the added complication of steering my way through the menopause. My experience is that it affects my mood and food along with plenty of brain fog. I have hot anger, a murderous rage which boils up uncontrollably at a breathtaking rate that took me by surprise and made me quite concerned. I’ve been taking HRT for about 5 months and I haven’t really felt any benefit. Having more time to myself now will allow me to have greater awareness and more space to manage my mood swings.
As for food, well, there must be a phenomenon around this. Being surrounded by groceries but unable to eat any became almost unbearable. Despite my best intentions there were times I couldn’t help but snatch a brown paper bag of cookies in passing the bakery section, putting it in my basket beside the yellow stickered bag of spinach and pack of courgettes after my shift, a “treat”, a “reward” for the mental torture I’d endured for the past 8 hours. I’d be fine until midday, then every pre-packed triangle sandwich became the object of my desire. I’d have eaten cheese I was so hungry, and I’d just had my break and my oats, fruit AND coffee. I had an apple and a banana in my bag but they were of no interest. I needed sugar and carbs and lots of them, and fast!
Back in the safety of my car I’d have one cookie, then another and another until the entire pack was gone in the space of 2 minutes. Did I enjoy it? I didn’t consider evaluating. It was all about pushing my feelings of frustration down.
Half a stone heavier (I can really feel this when I run), I learnt that addiction to music is a damn sight better for me than food and having resumed my practice routine yesterday, I wake up with my head full of notes again and ideas for fingerings which would improve the quality of the music. My shoulders have dropped about 10cm and today my technique is in fine working order. My students pop up into my head too, and I find myself thinking of ways I could help them with their musical challenges. I’m able to reply to enquiries quickly and draft contracts as soon as I need them. I like this fresh start, I like it a lot.
Tonight I’m going to Pilates class, I haven’t been since lockdown started. I couldn’t face going back out after a 7-15 shift in the winter months but I know how important it is to me not to self isolate now and to be around people on a regular basis. Who knows, I might join a running club and if I’m too slow, perhaps I’ll set up a speed hiking group.
Last night, I booked myself a holiday. This is a great big massive deal for me. I’ve only really stayed in chain hotels for work purposes, promising myself that I’d return to the area one day to spend some quality time. So at the end of the month I’m off to the North East for 4 nights to celebrate my new found freedom. I found a little cottage in an idyllic rural location with plenty of long hilly walks. The sea is about an hour away so I’ll spend a day there exploring Bamburgh, Alnwick, the Farne Islands, Boulmer and Craster, and I’ll drive back home along the coast, stopping in places I’ve always wanted to visit. Watch this space for some holiday blogging… And I’m already planning my foreign foray!
Day 14 – A Walk in the Snow Makes my skin glow I feel nervous at first – Will it get worse? Will I get stuck in a drift? Too much snow to shift? Does ice lie beneath? I grit my teeth I put on my warm hat And that is that.
Once I’m out There is nowt Can stop me From feeling giddy It’s all white It’s alright Don’t fight Snow’s delight
Snow’s amazing At transforming Even a mild Mannered man to a child- like state of play No more grey Clouds today May they stay away For ever and a day
For a long time it seemed to me that life was about to begin – real life but there was always some obstacle in the way, something to be gotten through first, some unfinished business, time still to be served, a debt to be paid. At last it dawned on me that these obstacles were my life. This perspective has helped me to see there is no way to happiness. Happiness is the way. So treasure every moment you have and remember that time waits for no one.
Souza
Eira has played a significant role in my musical and personal journey since we first met when she became professor of harp at the RNCM in 1992. I was in my 3rd year when she arrived fresh from her studies in the USA. She made such a strong impression on me with her crystal clear imaginative ideas on the shape she wanted the harp department to take. She was artistic director of two International Harpweeks which took place while I was a student. Both events were exceptional and exciting. It was a big deal to have the spotlight on the harp and that it was happening up North. I was studying with Frank Sternefeld at the time and I learnt so much from Eira. She initiated the RNCM harp ensemble and our smaller quartet, Fir Chlis with Mary Ann Kennedy, Manon Llwyd and Kathryn Rees. We had some amazing adventures and we went on tour in Wales – we were even on Welsh TV!
Fast forward some 14 years – I reconnected with Eira during a difficult time in my life and I asked to go and play for her. Off I went with my harp to her studio in Stockport for a consultation lesson. After an extremely encouraging but realistic lesson, she suggested I come to the RNCM to complete a masters degree. I said yes. She thought I was kidding. Thanks to her support, I enrolled at the RNCM as a mature student in 2007 and I was able to dedicate all my energy to the harp and music after a rocky period during which I came close to giving it all up.
FAITH
When you walk to the edge of all the light you have And take that first step into the darkness of the unknown You must believe that one of two things will happen:
There will be something solid for you to stand upon, Or, you will be taught how to fly.
Patrick Overton 1975
I looked forward to my weekly lessons with eager anticipation. Being held accountable was priceless. I was highly motivated and I dedicated countless hours to improving myself as a musician and harpist. We listened and talked a lot and Eira inspired me with her artistic ideas and her faith in my skill as a musician. I studied reams of repertoire and had some exquisite experiences playing solo works and chamber music as well as preparing orchestral parts. Harp class was a very steep learning curve about constructive feedback. Some tough hands were dealt around discipline, and my musical ideas were challenged persistently which led to my growth. She encouraged me to be myself and to express myself with my harp but always at the service of the music.
Eira cares for each of her students – she is empathic and compassionate whilst maintaining a healthy sense of detachment. She was there to congratulate us when we achieved the desired result and to console us when we didn’t. She continues to mentor students beyond the RNCM years and even though we don’t talk as often these days, when we do we pick up as though we’d spoken yesterday.
Happy faces – surrounded by some of my harp colleagues
I enjoyed a vast array of extremely enriching orchestral opportunities at college. Orchestral playing was my true love and Manchester was the perfect base to reinforce that passion. A year long course became 2 years when I realised I wasn’t ready to perform a final recital yet. I was enjoying life in Manchester again, allowing myself to be steeped in that melting pot of music, culture and the arts. I also relished being surrounded by a sisterhood of harpists half my age – they were so energetic and supportive, and their carefree enthusiasm was contagious!
The collage Eira made for me as a leaving gift. A montage of 30 years of musical memories
I was fortunate to work alongside Eira on several occasions, in particular with the Hallé when they performed works involving multiple harps. Performing operas from Wagner’s Ring Cycle under the baton of Sir Mark Elder were pinch-me moments. They were truly awesome experiences where I could observe and learn, and enjoy complete immersion in music. Eira is a consummate professional with great integrity, and her love and respect for music is immense and steadfast. She shares this with her students with open hearted generosity.
It was always a delight to work with Eira’s students and working with Helen MacLeod (1980-2018) was no exception. A true professional, and a wonderful harpist and human being.
“Success is how high you bounce when you hit bottom”
George Patton
Student life wasn’t always rosy and chicken sandwiches became an institution. When times became too tough, it was reassuring to know I could contact Eira and soon be on her sofa with a glass of wine and a freshly prepared plate of comforting sandwiches lovingly made by Steve. I swear they were the culinary equivalent of a homely hearty hug. No matter what challenge I was facing, whether it was musical or personal, our dialogues never failed to appease my agitated emotions.
An unforgettable rehearsal of Stravinsky’s Firebird with the Hallé in the presence of the Queen
Eira’s prowess as a teacher is exceptional and she is held in high regard throughout the UK and internationally. Her ability to adapt to each student is a rare gift. Her knowledge of the repertoire seems limitless and her head was, and still is, constantly brimming with new ideas for her latest compositions and creative projects. Her ability to construct cohesive programmes for recitals, exams, auditions and performances is extraordinary, demonstrating her deep understanding of the performer and the works to be studied.
While I tutored at the Early Music Shop, I worked alongside 2 of Eira’s graduates, Louise Thomson and Alice Kirwan, and we invited Eira to act as artistic director for 2 Camac harp weekends which we organised in Saltaire. She tirelessly shared her love and enthusiasm for the harp and it’s no surprise that she’s in high demand as a guest tutor. Experiencing her deliver tuition with such clarity to a large group of absolute beginners was a memorable sight. Most of them had never seen a harp before let alone play one and I’m not sure they even read music! Most impressive of all was that the participants went away with radiant smiles and a sense of achievement, inspired to continue their journey with our fascinating instrument.
Watching Eira teach is a lesson in itself. Stagecraft is another one of her fortés and you’d never guess she was shy!
I can’t write about Eira without mentioning Steve. Steve is her rock. He’s her husband, personal chef, chauffeur, barista, recording engineer, technical support, sommelier, librarian, travelling companion, the list goes on. Steve is a placid, dependable, calm character who balances out Eira’s creative nature. They work so well together. They’re a dream team, a marriage made in heaven, possibly quite literally!
All packed up and raring to go and make music!
Teaching comes with its own challenges. Eira rarely left us high and dry and after class we would often congregate in the refectory to ease out of teacher/student mode while relaxing with a well earned drink. “STEEEEEEEEEVE”!!! we exclaimed joyously upon his arrival. Following this enthusiastic outburst came a chorus of giggles that resounded through the huge space as he approached his giddy welcoming committee cautiously. He arrived to whisk Eira safely to her next destination. Her sense of relief was tangible. Another long teaching day was nearly done. The atmosphere changed as she became more relaxed, safe in the knowledge that it was nearly time to head home to recharge her batteries and enjoy some quiet time.
Have harp, will travel
Eira is blessed with an inexhaustible sense of curiosity and her musical journey has taken her to a myriad of exciting destinations across the world. She has a particular affinity with Greece and all things Greek. She has taught several Greek harpists, many of whom have thriving careers. An accomplished chamber musician, she loves working with her Greek flautist Anna Mari Rosa and Eira has even learnt Greek. Eira has never lost her sense of curiosity and she’s always keen to learn new skills. Filakia Eira!
Emotional
Inspirational
Resilient
Artistic
Soon after my arrival at the RNCM Eira gave me my Happy Box. Inside was a small book of quotations called The Real Meaning of Success and a small tortoise made of stone. Eira is a fervent advocate of slow practice and she often reminded us of Aesop’s Fable about the tortoise and the hare – the tortoise always wins in the end. I filled my Happy Box during my 2 years at the RNCM and many of those happy memories involve Eira. She gives so generously to her students, inspiring us to be the best version of ourselves as musicians and human beings.
Eira always encouraged me to embrace the journey. I’m so excited to find out what Eira does next on her journey.
Eira – thank you so much for all you have taught me and shared with me over the years. From the Heart – Rhian
I just got back from a 36 hour flying visit to Wales for a family funeral. To say that a funeral is an emotionally charged occasion is an understatement. Myriad memories of the deceased are relived. A panoply of tales are told with a twinkle in the storyteller’s eye.
My Aunt was a character and a half, and then some. She shone very brightly. She was totally bonkers. Nice bonkers of course. The cars lining the leafy b-roads leading to the crossroads where the tiny chapel is situated told the tale of her popularity. She was a much loved woman.
Clever! Did I mention the chapel was rural?
There weren’t enough pews for everyone. Her friends and acquaintances overflowed into the vestry, where the funeral tea was served afterwards.
On our way up, I pleaded for a pitstop at the bakery in town as I desperately needed a little something to keep me going before the funeral. My family went ahead without me as I wolfed down my scalding hot crispy savoury snack in the car. It was a significant improvement on the mass produced slightly anaemic sausage roll I got at the services the day before, but that filled a gap. My hunger meant I had to go into the small intimate chapel on my own. My worst nightmare! There was no room for me until my considerate cousins cosied up. I breathed a sigh of relief as I nestled in.
It was quite a long service and a loving tribute to our Annie. A storm was forecast, rendering the chapel airless and stuffy. After the vicar greeted us, the service started with the singing of one of my favourite hymns, Calon Lân. The organist played beautifully for almost an hour as we congregated in the chapel. The singing was heartfelt and most definitely Welsh. There’s always a welcome in the hillsides. Music was a focal point and the service was brought to its close with a recording of a simple stunning male and female duo featuring some chromatic harmonisation that was very easy on the ear.
The wake was very busy and smalltalk was difficult with a crescendo of voices clamouring to find out the latest news. Tea always tastes exceptionally good at funerals, the piping hot brew served up from giant teapots soothing the souls of those who’d come to pay their last respects. Buttered bara brith and icing sugar dusted sponge cakes sweetened our sorrows and offered a metaphoric hug to mourners.
Mam was a bit subdued. Quite a few of her friends have passed away recently. She told me about one friend who had fallen, struck her head and died immediately. What a blessing, I thought to myself. If I had a choice, I’d like to go like that. No long debilitating agonising illness that robs me of any remaining dignity please. I’d like to be healthy and mobile with as many of my marbles as possible.
I got a bit upset just before I drove back. I didn’t see my eldest nephew at all and saw too little of the twins who had their own social agendas to attend to rather than mess about with their daft flaky aunt. It’s tough spending snippets of time with family to return home where I feel rather rootless at the moment. I have this feeling of stripping back the layers and being so very exposed and vulnerable as my defences are taken away one by one. Music, my safe hiding place, is less available to me at the moment and although I find some solace in writing and spending time safe in my nest up here in the attic, it doesn’t provide the same emotional and artistic nourishment that live performance does.
Eye spy. We had a nice chat
On Sunday I visited close friends on my way to Wales. Tea was brewed just as I arrived and we went to the local award winning chippy for a Sunday special of cod, chips and mushy peas with a side of order of battered gherkins. Wow, how good were they?! Tart and vinegary and just the right texture. Who’d have thought? Small tubs of ice cream were on special offer and although they weren’t nearly as nice as the ice cream we had in Sardinia, dark chocolate won. I rein it in but I’d fight over ice cream. Sundae spoons were drawn after noon.
Wanting to spend as much time engaged with other humans as I could, I was dismayed to be overcome by postprandial fatigue. My consolation was that it was the kind of situation where I could whip off my boots, dangle my feet over the end of the sofa, put my sunglasses on and comfortably go into a deep coma for half an hour. Never mind FOMO, it would have been rude not to!
There was a cracking golden red yolky sunset when I left town this evening and as I drove up towards home, it was into mist, but that summery sort of mist that brings with it good weather. Lord knows, we need it. I swapped this afternoon’s shift with one of my colleagues so I could attend the funeral, so I’ve got a double whammy 8 hour shift on Wednesday. Sunshine wouldn’t half sugar coat those hours. It is what it is, and I wouldn’t have it any other way!
I love/hate funerals. They’re a poignant excuse for a family get together. “Why don’t we meet more often?” were words I heard again and again at the wake.
Rare Bit Blogging 