A Book Review

Dear Diary,

Before I start my day, yes I know it's late, nearing eleven o' clock in fact, but it is Sunday and I do go to work on a Saturday.

I feel like blogging (getting a taste for the new site now!) and I did promise to tell you about my current reading matter, rather than just list a few favourite books at the side. I will also tell you in future blogs of any recommended titles which I come across in my travels, or hear about in the library.

I'm re-reading, with much pleasure, the book below which we are discussing at our next book group meeting in May.

I think you will like it.

This is part of a review I wrote for the library website.

Running for the Hills

by Horatio Clare

Our library's book group in Llanwrtyd occasionally has evenings on the theme of ‘What books are on our bedside table.‘ One of the books currently beside my bed has by chance been chosen by another member of our group as her main choice for us to read later in the year. Another borrower in the library who has also read it described it as the best book she has read for ages. For these reasons I would like to recommend it to you. It happens of course to also be of ‘Welsh interest’.

The title is Running for the Hills by Horatio Clare which coincidentally happens to be, like a previous choice of mine, another loving memoir written about a parent; this time the author is a son who is writing about both parents but focussing mainly on his mother.

It describes Clare’s childhood in the 1970’s as he grows up with his brother and their parents as incomers to Wales and their struggle to make a living on an isolated farm up a mountain. It is also a story about a marriage break-up and of the effect on the two children, but it is not a depressing book.

His parents are two very different people and one wonders whether their relationship would have survived even if they had not come to Wales. Clare writes movingly and honestly about his mother’s struggle, after the break-up, to carry on farming alone and there are also extracts from his mother’s journal which she kept at the time.

The book is well written, (the writing strangely enough seems to improve even more as the book goes on) and will appeal to a variety of readers, not only to people like myself who have been in a similar position and who did escape to the hills of Wales with a young family, but also to readers who have no interest in farming or the quest for the ’simple life’.

It is a serious book, not one of the more humorous ‘How I became a pig farmer in Wales’ type, of which there are probably far too many. It will appeal to locals and incomers alike in its portrayal of what life was really like for the first of the people from ‘Off’ who made a run for the hills of Wales in search of a better life.

Since I first wrote this review the book has been featured as Book of the Week on Radio 4 and was read very movingly by the author himself, Horatio Clare. I look forward to his next book.


(Horatio Clare has worked on Radio 4’s Front Row and Nightwaves and produced Radio 3's The Verb. Born in 1973, he has written for The Spectator, the New Statesman, the Guardian, and the Daily Telegraph).

The Poem and the Picture -- I'm getting there!

Write it on your heart...

Write it on your heart
that every day is the best day in the year.
He is rich who owns the day,
and no one owns the day
who allows it to be invaded with fret and anxiety.
Finish every day and be done with it.
You have done what you could.
Some blunders and absurdities, no doubt, crept in.
Forget them as soon as you can, tomorrow is a
new day;
begin it well and serenely,
with too high a spirit to be cumbered with your old nonsense.
This new day is too dear, with its hopes and invitations,
to waste a moment on the yesterdays...
~Ralph Waldo Emerson


All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well".
Dame Julian of Norwich


This too shall pass

First real blog on this site, still learning, taking it slowly....

(Eric Clapton and J J Cale keeping me company through the headphones).

*
The world breaks everyone but in the end people are stronger at the broken places.
Ernest Hemingway.

Much like bones really.



It is still only almost the end of April but when I wake before 6 am, the air is warm and as it comes gently through the open window I feel its warmth and smell its freshness. I am so lucky to live here and enjoy our wonderful air quality.

The pair of collared doves are still busy nestbuilding, it's a very slow process or are they just reinforcing an existing nest? Their home is in the fir tree outside my bedroom window, exactly at my eye level and I lay in bed watching them. I can't actually see the nest but I watch the dove as s/he goes in and out of the tree with pieces of twig, some short and some long. M says that doves' nests are constructed very simply of twigs and sticks. (He knows these things having enjoyed a country childhood). He also fears that the doves are making a new nest because they have been driven from another one on next door's land. I fear he may be right, the trees on their land are inhabited by quite a lot of magpies.

The housemartins are making a noise under the eaves but every year their numbers are reduced which is a bit of a worry.

Other birds are busy at their table. There is a big molehill at its foot, I suspect the moles are also attracted by the food supply!

While I am at work this morning M is going to do some strimming, avoiding the primroses and bluebells of course which are popping up all over the place.

I am probably waking early because my mind is troubled at the moment. You will know from the chat room, you purplecoo folk, that I have been attending court this week as a witness. Obviously I cannot go into details as the case is ongoing but it is the result of an attack on my son-in-law so you can imagine the stress our family is under. So I am finding it hard to count blessings even though it is exactly at times like these when one really needs to do so.

So, blessings today?

Support of friends, family and fellow bloggers.

My animals. They are always there for you aren't they? Words aren't necessary, they seem to know when you need comfort.

My bluebells which at last are showing themselves. The old ones which have spread and the new ones planted last autumn.

This glorious weather, the masses of blossom and the greening of the trees, later than most parts but happening here at last.

Welsh poppies too, coming into flower and promising to bloom all summer long.

Sleep which when it comes is a great stress-buster. The Irish swear by sleep, they see it as a cure-all for everything.



Kitty B's blog was so sad that it brought tears to my eyes and certainly put my fears into perspective.


*

The dogs have been getting restless in the early hours of the morning; I think they hear a creature outside. Sometimes there is a lot of bleating by the sheep and M is worried that there may be a fox around disturbing them. We have been getting up and letting the dogs out, they are like coiled springs at the door ready to go and chase whatever it is. But it could be just otters in the river or maybe badgers crossing our land.

The sun is starting to creep round the edge of my window. I won't go poetic on you as if you are a regular reader you will know the poem by now.

A warm sunny weekend is forecast with temperatures of 82 degrees.

*
Rant time.

I made a complaint in Morrisons supermarket yesterday about the thick plastic price labels which they attach to each bunch of their bananas. They tried to say it was because it makes it easier to zap the barcode at the checkout and easier too for customers to unhook the bunches from the display! I disapprove very strongly about the excessive use of packaging, especially the over-use of plastic. The onus now is being put on the consumer to recycle this unnecessary excess packaging rather than on the manufacturers, (or the retail outlets) who produce it in the first place. There are even proposals being considered to charge us for our rubbish or any 'misplacement' of recycling materials. I am actually alarmed at the amount of recycling I accumulate, especially as most of it is unnecessary packaging. For example I buy Schweppes tonic water in plastic bottles (why can't they be glass?) and every botle has a huge plastic spirit 'measure' stuck on it. Any househeold only needs one! Trouble is I have to buy Schweppes tonic as any other make tastes like white spirit. Don't get me started.... I think the Womens Institute are running a campaign about this very subject, I will look into it.

This is just a shortish, rather ranty (another new word) and oh so boring blog but I am just testing the water. Still hung over from the wine consumed at purplecoo celebrations, oh what fun we have now we have escaped to the other side!

I am going to stop now. I will post a poem later. And maybe some 'beautiful moments', I am collecting those as well as Blessings, Must-Haves and Stop Doings.

And I am going to try and post a pic!

Bye for now.
God Bless,
Caitx

Dear Diary,

At last I have safely gathered in all the blogs from the old place whose name we do not mention. They look much nicer here I think except for the fact that all the lines run into each other. Sorry about that.

I must also apologise for the fact that they are not in the correct date order and none of the photos made it across. I need some help with posting photos on the blogs here. Can anyone help?

This is my first real test blog. I hope the paragraphs come out OK from now on. Please bear with me. I am a blogspot virgin.

Caitx

Wednesday Feb 28 2007 21:53:23
By Cait
Dear Diary, February is almost over. Where did it go? There is so much I want to write about I really don’t know where to start. Perhaps I should begin by telling you about where I live and who else shares my beautiful environment. It is Wednesday which is one of my no-work days, ah the joy of being part-time. In theory I have four days a week to myself but inevitably life takes over with its myriad of commitments and even when I have a ’free day’ like today the hours fly by. Everyone says that time seems to be speeding up these days. I wonder if we ourselves slowed down maybe time would do the same? I applaud the movements that are springing up, the ‘slow food’ movement for example. I am lucky that each day in my life starts slowly and in much the same way. Every morning my white cat Molly, home from a night out on the hunt in Cat Paradise, mews gently at the bedroom door and then jumps up on my bed for a cuddle. It is cupboard love of course as she is really just telling me that she is wanting her breakfast bowl of Go-Cat. What puzzles me about my cat is how she stays so clean, whiter than white in fact and even in winter when everything about the place is grey, filthy and mud-coloured. While I am still in bed I enjoy looking out of the cottage window at the wildlife. There are so many species of birds, too numerous to mention them all here. Every morning ‘Sammy Squirrel’ comes along the Scots pine fir tree branches and makes his way down the trunk and across the grass to the bird table by the riverside. He likes hanging upside down and nibbling on the peanuts in the holder. Sometimes he brings his ‘wife’. We call him Sammy because Michael always told stories to our children when they were small about ‘Sammy Squirrel’ and he painted pictures to illustrate the stories. Now he does the very same for our three grandchildren. Last summer Sammy and his wife, who strangely has no name, had two babies and we enjoyed watching them all feeding and playing together. Just close by Sammy today are the two collared doves who also live in one of the two pine trees outside my window. They are pecking at some grain, which Michael has put out. I am hoping for the patter of tiny dove-feet later in the year, As always my regular visitor the dipper is on the riverbank. We are honoured to have a pair of dippers on our land, they nest every year and the species have been present at Glandulas for well over fifty years. They are rare birds and we are extremely lucky to be able to see them so closely as they parade on their regular vantage point to watch for fish. They are quite tame really; when we are in the garden they do not fly away and are not even disturbed by the dogs. Today one of them is fishing as usual, dipping and diving, spending time under the water and resurfacing some distance away. They nest under our bridge and the local wildlife trust visit to check on them every year. One year they disturbed the nest and the birds deserted; it broke my heart as we did not see them for a whole year. Thankfully they returned in the end and there was much rejoicing. As well as my cat and my husband Michael I share the cottage with Finn, a ten-year old honey coloured lurcher and Katy, a five-year-old black and white border collie. Finn is very loving and affectionate but, being a typical lurcher, he is very greedy. He also has healing powers and always knows if someone is unwell. Katy was a very nervous dog when we got her, I fear she may be inbred, but we have given her lots of tender loving care and she is much more confident now. She is an extremely beautiful specimen and Finn the male dog is very handsome with beautiful big eyes which any bitch would die for. Outside the cottage our small holding of land is shared with many beasts of the fields and woods and with many birds of the air. Also there is much life in the river Dulas that flows through the garden. * I have been reading the March issue of Country Living today, a lovely one it is too. We have had very strong winds again and heavy rain so my plans to do a bit of tidying up in the garden had to be abandoned. I had wanted to clean the greenhouse with vinegar and hot water and sort out my pots and seed trays. I feel stirrings of excitement as March comes along; it is the anticipation of the arrival of Spring (my favourite season) and Summer who is not far behind Her. Days ahead to spend in the garden planting and pottering, one of my favourite hobbies that is, pottering. I could have a degree in that subject I think. There are plans afoot of what to grow so soon I am going to sit down for some serious organisation of the vegetable garden. First of all I need to learn how to make some raised beds of a decent height so I can avoid any unnecessary bending. I will search the Country Living Website for starters. And so dear diary I will reluctantly sign off. I could go on, there is so much I want to share with you. I hope you have not been too bored by these ramblings, any feedback would be appreciated. Tomorrow I will write you a little piece about Llanwrtyd Wells and its community library where I have the best job in the world. I am actually paid to work there in my element, which is books. Through my window I have just seen a huge flock of the little Welsh starlings flying overhead in a beautiful geometric formation like a flypast display at an air show. Symbols of the writings on this site perhaps? Reaching out far and wide, up, up and away……….
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DEAR DIARY,
Great stuff.
Posted by Truthhurts
March 02, 2007 09:55 PM
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Country Matters
Monday Feb 26 2007 12:22:04
By Cait
Image too large to display
I am entering my blog for the competition. It is partly a nature diary but is also about humans as it describes the my life here in the country. My husband and our two children escaped from England to the beautiful hills of mid-Wales in 1990 and I have many joyous experiences to share. I do hope you will enjoy reading it. Otters at Play I live in a tiny stone cottage which nestles in a small valley amongst wild hills in a relatively undiscovered part of mid-Wales. I may not have the luxury of central heating, convenient shops or a local transport service but as far as I am concerned my home is paradise. Mine is an old blacksmith’s abode; his old tumbledown stone forge is across the road . One day I hope to be able to afford to restore it to its former glory. Part of my land is home to the river Dulas which forms a boundary between my garden and the field which I also own. The Dulas rises in the Cambrian mountains close to my home and is a tributary of the River Wye. The field is about five acres in size and is usually let out to a local farmer who happens also be my son-in-law. For a good part of the year he grazes his high quality Welsh sheep and lambs on my best quality grass. My cottage overlooks the river and the field and further beyond the field gate the land rises up to an ancient oakwood which has its roots in the foothills of the Welsh mountains. I am slowly creating a bit of a wildlife sanctuary here at Glandulas and I am very much heartened because day by day, season by season it is becoming almost like a nature reserve. Not a planned thing but somehow, like all the best things in life, if just allowed to grow, it has just evolved over the decade I have lived here. Things progressed very quickly after I took the advice of the RSPB and started feeding the birds all year round and not just in the winter season when food is very scarce. Every day in my garden there is something to look at and many an hour can be wasted just looking out of the window at the birds and other wildlife who come to visit. In the summer it really is idyllic and I have no wish to go anywhere else but am happy when I can just potter from dawn to dusk in the garden or sit on they grassy bank beside the river with a good book or pen and writing pad in my hand. On the hottest of summer days my young grandchildren will come to swim or play on the little beach which has been formed by the movement of the stones in the river’s autumn floods. I have started to record what I see on my small holding of land and to note which animals and birds visit. The list, ever-growing, has now developed into a diary which I hope may be of some interest to fellow lovers of nature and country life. I would like to be able to paint you perhaps a weekly picture of my life here but will start today and tell you of a true story of a very rare and magical event which happened in the autumn of last year. It was possibly the most wonderful wildlife occurrence I have experienced here at Glandulas, or anywhere come to that and it touched me deeply, so much so that I wrote a poem about it. This is a true story without need of sorcery or sortilege and it happened in my own garden in the middle of an Indian summer night last September. In the warmer months I position my big old brass bed right up close to the cottage’s open bedroom window which can be pulled inwards widely like a door. This I do so I can lay and listen to the noise of the river just below which is very soothing. I can also look out at the trees and, as I am on the same level as their branches, I feel as if I am sleeping up amongst the treetops. Real Enid Blyton stuff which you may recall, reminiscent of the Faraway Tree! Something must have woken me on this special occasion. It was the clearest of nights with a full moon and the sky was overcrowded with stars. The moon was shining on the river and its rippling waves were dancing in the moonshine. The heavens had woven for me a spell of silver. It was as if the stars and the full-on moon were partying and everyone in the galaxy was invited, both the beasts of the water and those humans who, although not nocturnal in their habit, were awakened. All were welcome. The reds and the golds of the autumn leaves were shown up bright and beautiful as, in laced lines of moonlight, Welsh wonder was being sown. The liquid world that lives within my beloved mountain stream had its own ring of bright water illuminated by a shining show of lights on the river accompanied by the heavy noise of splashing. It was as if the moon itself was dancing. I suddenly realised what the noises were as I made out in the river the shapes of the creatures who were partying to nature’s lightshow, lit by the heavens. They were otters, one of my favourite animals and there seemed to be several of them playing, ducking and diving. I counted them which was not too difficult to do in the moonlight. There were seven, a magical number for a magical night. I made out two adults and the rest must have been their cubs. The parents and their babes were cavorting amongst waves lit by the heavens and appeared to be chasing salmon or maybe catching eels. I wondered if it was a kind of teaching session for their little ones. I was witness to the secret lives of these otters as they moondanced on the waves of the sky-lit river. As I watched from my open bedroom window I felt as if I was a privileged lone spectator with a front row seat. In my vigil I was both transfixed and enchanted as I stayed motionless for what must have been over an hour. However, events like this which will probably only happen once in a lifetime are timeless in their essence, bewitched as I was by their nocturnal playtime made sparkling by its luminary light. After this event I made contact with Dr Fred Slater, a well known local naturalist who lives nearby, to tell him that the otters were around . He told me that otters are on the increase all over the UK now thanks to the work of wildlife trusts and naturalists but he himself still has never seen one and he added that to see one elusive otter in a lifetime is lucky, let alone seven! Since that special night I have heard the otters many times, they make several different noises and I have had fleeting glimpses of them on one or two occasions but I am hopefully awaiting their next big moonlight celebration and just hope I am invited back again! *********************************************** Dear Diary, Positivity - the theme for 2007. Day One Dear Diary, There is something called journal therapy (isn’t there a therapy applied to everything these days?) so I hope that the effects of writing to you will be noticeable and beneficial. The only diary I keep at the moment is a nature diary which I hope to turn into articles to submit for publication. It is one of those projects which I really must pursue. I kept a dream diary for a while, it certainly revealed my inner self though everything was clothed symbolically. I really must try and start one again. I am an unusual person amongst my friends in that I do not get the winter blues. I get the Christmas humbug blues though (can one say Christmas humbuggery?) as it represents everything I am against, consumerism and panic buying, waste, over-indulgence, the nasty face of capitalism. All in the name of Christianity. The Christians took over the pagan festival and now capitalism has taken over the Christian festival. Each year I say I will go away but prices are always so high, The grandchildren all want presents and I take care to give them good gifts however I feel that they do not appreciate things as they have so much given to them. I am sitting by the Rayburn cuddling the cat or is she cuddling me? She is purring loudly and I always wonder is this a voluntary or an involuntary action? I have lit some candles and I meditate to the flickering flame. A writer I really love is Sara Ban Breathnach, her books are about bringing simplicity, order, harmony, beauty and joy into our lives. I wanted to write a Gratitude Journal as she suggests in her books but decided just to list five blessings at the end of each day. I like to bookend my days, again an idea I picked up from her writings. So many bad things are happening in the world but also so many good things. I would like to be a Good News Reporter, it is what we all need to hear more of. Negative thoughts depress the immune system and I believe they are contagious. At the end of each entry in my diary I you will read the blessings of the day just gone. It is all part of my plan for the year which is to try and be positive, not to be a victim of circumstance but instead to be in control of my life. I will try to carry positive vibrations around me in the hope that they will raise the vibrations of others in my vicinity. So perhaps from today dear diary you can be a receptacle for all the things which call forth gratitude in my life. Day Two. Dear Diary, Christmas over, the relief is a good feeling. I seem to have been so busy with a myriad of commitments. I tried to avoid the build-up to Christmas but it was always looming and inescapable. The actual day was enjoyable. I won’t bore you with the details. Shall I instead concentrate on my thoughts and my reactions to events? Intuitions, inspirations, insights even, if I am lucky. Poetic meditations if I am luckier still. My blessings from this day? Communication by email and photographs sent to and fro in an instant, The Internet, what a wonderful resource it is, an information super-highway indeed. My regular visitors the birds in my garden. At the end of this day, sleep. Day Three Dear Diary, I love January. I am unique, though to be fair it is meant to be my lucky month as I am an Arian. My first child Verity was born in this month. I also love extremes of cold weather especially snow, rain and wind. Long bracing walks. I love winter trees, dark nights, log fires. I love snuggling, huddling and watching the firelight, losing myself in the flames. All safely gathered in. Hot foods, soups, stews, hot toddies. The only ‘blank slate’ month; it is like buying a new notebook to write in, it is always so pure and unspoiled, virginal and full of promise. Hibernation appeals too. I love to sleep and would relish going to bed at nightfall and rising at the break of day as they used to in the days before artificial lighting was invented. I feel this would be beneficial to people’s health and would save energy, our own as well as the Earth’s. I could go on but I am sure that you get the picture. So my blessing today is January and all things winter, there I’ve said it, strange as it may seem to you dear diary. Day Three. Dear Diary, I am a great believer in the influence of the planets. My New Years resolutions this year are coincidentally exactly what my online astrologer Jonathan Cainer predicts for me. He is as they say ‘spookily accurate’. I am to be proactive, turn all negatives into positives and become an instigator of solutions. The desire to change my consciousness will be overwhelming. He is right there. Blessings of the senses today. Beautiful views from my window. Warm showers. A beautiful voice on the radio. The aroma of a meal cooking on the stove and the anticipation of the pleasures of tastes to come. Day Four. Dear Diary, I did want this diary to be purely about positive things but I have been advised against this approach. However I am going to schedule joys ahead in my own personal 2007 diary and I am always going to have something to look forward to in the next hour, next day, next week, next month. Our writing group’s theme this month is ‘side effects’ which can be interpreted in any way. There is a belief that every action has a reaction and this is the way I am going to write on the subject. I am very interested in what is known as the ‘ripple’ effect. This year I have noticed that more and more people are wishing each other a happy new year and I have heard sincerity and a real hopefulness in each wish. I am doing the same and I am bestowing blessings, it really works. The only way we can change the world is to change ourselves. Blessings? Blessings and The ripple effect. The kindness of strangers. The innocence of children. Trust. Day Five. Dear Diary, This is not a run-of-the-mill day. As a result of very strong winds a pylon has come down near Crickhowell and there is a major power failure. I am the lone part-time branch librarian in a community library in Llanwrtyd Wells, the smallest town in the UK. The library is attached to the primary school and the community hall and I am advised by the head teacher that she has been informed the fault will take a very long time to repair. She is making plans to send all her children home and the parents are arriving in dribs and drabs to collect their offspring. The unlucky little children lined up in the hall are those whose parents cannot be reached. They look so forlorn and knowing them all I almost want to take them home with me. Back in the library an alarm keeps bleeping, the phone will not work. I take an executive decision to close the library as there is no heating and it is much too dark to work. I go home secretly pleased as it is a Thursday which is my late night at the library. I drive home stopping at the garage en route to pick up some essentials: bread, milk, soup etc. Arriving home I chat to my neighbour who is off to a funeral which is being held at a rural and very remote chapel. We agree that the atmosphere at the funeral will be even more dour than usual with no lighting and no power to work the organ. And all the while I am realising how fragile our so called civilised society is and how reliant we are on electricity for all the basic services. And how easy it would be to bring about a collapse of all our main services in a very short time. My new resolutions to once more grow my own vegetables and make my own bread seem evermore sensible and necessary. I vow to stock up with vegetable seeds, flour, candles etc. I have just read a wonderful book. ‘How to be Idle’ by Tom Hodgkinson which is written on these lines, (living as freely and independently as possible) and it encompasses my very own philosophy on life. I have also read his ‘How to be Free’ which is a good read too but I would recommend his ‘Idle’ book as being the more inspiring of the two. There are ideas floating around between Michael and myself and a couple of our friends from the writers’ group to start making our own real ale. My idea is to use our very own river water. We have a name in mind which is ‘Preacher’s Ale’ A preacher used to live next door in Glandulas House and his son has written a book called ‘The Preacher’s Son’. Quite exciting for we Glandulas folk as the front cover bears a photo of Glandulas house and our wee Glandulas cottage in the old days. It is now 3 pm but the light is fading fast. The cottage is womb-like and I feel drowsy and in need of a doze. One of the blessings I look forward to in retirement is a daily nap which I plan to take in the afternoons. There will be lots of ‘dailies’ to look forward to I think. A daily walk, a daily crossword, daily meditation and of course a daily drink just after six o clock in the evening! I must stop now dear diary, my bed is calling and I fear I am showing my age. My blessings today? A cosy armchair by our ancient Rayburn. Coal, the log burner, the company of my animals. Books, wind, rain, candles, An unexpected holiday. Day Six. Dear Diary, Another power cut. I happily and guiltlessly ignore the two mountains of washing and ironing and sweep up in the cottage by hand. I am in a polishing mood so I get out the beeswax and go round shining up all the wooden furniture. The smell is fantastic. This is how I change negatives to positives. Negatives No radio Cold upstairs No computer Difficult to see in the dark No showers Positives Candlelight Hidden dust No washing or ironing to do No TV, no noise Silence Then I go outside. I love this weather for it is not too cold just very, very windy and showery. I sweep up all the laburnum seeds as the concrete yard outside the cottage is covered in them. She is a very old tree and I think she is having a last ditch fling with a final surge at reproducing herself for I have never seen the massive amount of seeds in the garden in previous years. I unblock the three drain covers as there is always a real risk of flooding here. I wander round clearing up the mess left by the wind (and the dogs!). The river is very high and is roaring past under our little wooden bridge which leads to our field. This bridge can be a bit slippery so I don’t risk crossing it with the dogs. They will have to make do with running round the cottage garden. Invigorated now and with colour in my cheeks I retreat indoors. Physically I am suited to these ’Irish’ weather conditions. The wind and the rain feel like the spray off the Atlantic in what I call my spiritual home, the west of Ireland. I write by candlelight, it is not yet dark but Michael has lit one to read by. My white cat Molly lies on my lap and I try to write legibly without disturbing her too much. I am actually sitting in what she considers to be her place on her favourite seat by the Rayburn. I am so pleased that I have the rest of the day to devote to writing. Unfortunately Mslexia magazine has arrived but I have to be strong and put it to one side. It is funny how it is sometimes much more enjoyable to read about writing rather than actually doing it. The same thing applies to cookery and gardening books too. Blessings today. Hot chocolate Magazines Warm clothes Surprise visitors A letter in the post. Day Seven. Dear Diary, You know I have always had such a passion for the written word but just now when I really should be writing them I am yearning just to read. Perhaps, with the state of the world as it is you will forgive me and understand why I need to escape it. I am reading voraciously as they say, what a lovely word which really sounds like its meaning of gobbling up. I have several books on my bedside table. The next title for our book group is Elizabeth Bowen’s ‘Heat of the Day’ but I am reading every night before I go to sleep Michelle Hanson’s Living with Mother. She wrote a column for the Guardian about how she cared for her very aged mother up to her death. She writes with such humour about what could be a depressing subject. Just the thing for my new outlook on life in this brand New Year, 2007. I have a do-it-now regime as well. No more to-do lists all over the place. I am making jottings in my diary of things which really can’t be done this minute but if a thing can possibly be done or at least started, or steps taken to start it, then that is the plan. I am scheduling ahead in the diary for tasks that must be done in the future. Forgive me dear diary for I am sounding like one of those self-help life coaching gurus. I won’t use the word ‘window’ I promise. But so far it is working really well. I am also - and I hate this word and I am sure you do too but here it is anyway - de-cluttering. Again of course. Not for the first time but I am doing it again and with even more feeling! It certainly makes me feel good; when I finish I have a great sense of achievement and I recommend it to anyone who wants to de-stress. I live in a tiny cottage anyway so the less stuff I accumulate the better. I am doing the same thing at work in my little library and it works there as well. In this modern age we are bombarded with too much information which I don’t think our minds can cope with. This is why we feel the benefits of simplifying our lives in all areas. Less is definitely more. My blessings today? Help from others, my husband, my son and from a friend. Fleeting sunshine, so rare. The calm before the storm. Flowers in the house, geraniums and fuchsias, very un-wintry I know but lovely just the same. Day Eight. Dear Diary, The sun shone all day today. I wrapped up well and went and sat on a bench out by the river. I actually sunbathed with the dogs who lay at my feet also enjoying the unexpected warmth. The garden is behaving in a spring-like fashion, everything is budding and greening. I feel slightly uneasy. I saw my first snowdrops today, the right time but somehow they look out of place in amongst the spring foliage and warm temperatures. They are usually the first flower that cheers our cold wintry spirits in January’s dark and freezing days. The nights are cold however and I have abandoned my usual habit of going outside with the dogs last thing to look at the moon and the stars (and listen out for otters). I was thinking of cliches today while watching the river which flows ceaselessly past. The phrase ‘river of life’ came to mind, what a cliché. The world is full of cliché, I imagine all languages have them. Then I grew philosophical and wondered if everything can be reduced to a cliché and is our world just a cliché in the great scheme of things? The definition of cliché is a hackneyed literary phrase and the meaning of hackneyed is common or trite. A depressing thought maybe but it could be argued that our lives are being made common and trite. I will try not to bring politics into my meanderings dear diary. Blessings. Listening to my son singing his songs and playing his guitar. Watching my lurcher and collie race around our field, joyful and exuberant. Hearing my favourite song on the radio. Receiving a poem written by ten year old grand-daughter, here the joy is doubled because she shares my passion for poetry. Day Ten Dear Diary, I am starting to enjoy writing these pages! I like the freedom to write whatever comes to mind. This morning I visited the crab apple tree who dwells in the far side of our field. He is very old and wise. His aura is protective and fatherly, very soothing. I pause a while, as they say ‘pause a while and let an angel come in’ and as usual I say a few words of blessing and as I do so a robin appears in the branches. He flutters around a bit and then lands near me on a twig. He stays for a few minutes and then flies off to a nearby hedge. This felt significant, perhaps it is an angelic messenger to let me know that they do hear my blessings. May love prevail, let peace begin with me. May peace prevail, let love begin with me. There is a seat in our cottage I call the sleepy seat. Whoever sits in it soon feels drowsy. At first people comment on how relaxed they feel and how they love the little room which we call the snug. It is a tiny room with dark oak beams and a small window which looks out across the river to our field and an ancient oak woodland on a bank of a hill. At the moment of course the winter trees are bare. I love their honest beauty and think of Sylvia Plath’s poem which in turn reminds me again of my laburnum and her seeds. There is poetry in everything. Poetry is prayer. Sylvia Plath - Winter Trees The wet dawn inks are doing their blue dissolve. On their blotter of fog the trees Seem a botanical drawing -- Memories growing, ring on ring, A series of weddings. Knowing neither abortions nor bitchery, Truer than women, They seed so effortlessly! Tasting the winds, that are footless, Waist-deep in history -- Full of wings, otherworldliness. In this, they are Ledas. O mother of leaves and sweetness Who are these pietàs? The shadows of ringdoves chanting, but chasing nothing. Despite the sadness of Plath I find all seasons are magical. They are symbols of birth, growth, reproduction, age/decline death, rebirth. All make me convinced of the existence of an eternal life. The circle of life. Blessings today. Words. My1964 Concise Oxford dictionary. I have had it since schooldays and it contains words not known of today. Pute is an example. A favourite television programme on family history. Songs and poetry. Day Eleven. Dear Diary, After the days on days of rain there is surprising sunshine with gusty powerful winds again reaching speeds exceeding speed limits. I can no longer stand the detritus in the winter garden just outside the cottage door. A mass of sog, a brown mess, a death trap threatening to cause a foot to slip and a neck to break. Winter has blown and blown this year and I have swept and swept. Some say the wind will find small corners for nature’s wastage so it may rot away unimpeded to die a natural death and revitalize the earth. But the garden is sad, her energies seem blocked and the grassy area resembles a paddy field - my thoughts turn to the possibility of rice growing for one mad moment. So once again to clear our energies I take up the broom, not the besom which is what would have been used in the old days. I do own one but it hangs on the cottage wall by the back door. Daffodils and other bulbs are already on the rise and it is only January. My magnolia shrub is in bud as are many other shrubs but what should bring joy brings a feeling of unease, discomfort and worry about what is happening to our Earth. Again I have to quell such fears along with thoughts of George Bush, Tony Blair, Iraq and Afghanistan and their stimulation of terrorist acts. I worry about the future lives my children and grandchildren will have (sometimes I am glad I am getting on in years). Let me quickly turn to blessings of today. (I have gone strangely ‘vehicular‘) My trusty little car. Our local Heart of Wales railway line. Ferries to Ireland. Narrowboats, my dream is to own one. The Air Ambulance who have twice been my personal saviour. Day Twelve Dear Diary, I am by the Rayburn again ensconsed with Molly the cat on my lap. I am reading The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield, her first novel and a very good read. Elizabeth Jane Howard says that anyone who picks it up will not be able to put it down and that is how it is affecting me. I just have to keep on reading it. It tells a story of a biographer who is writing about a very famous writer and how she unfolds a story which has been kept hidden for a lifetime. I am drawn into the way the tale unfolds and in the writing process of the biographer. It is a novel of course but it makes me want to write my life story in a fictional form. As I meditate on forms and labels I ask myself do books have to be anything, why can’t I just write what I feel? The book is clearing my writer’s block and I cannot wait to get back to my own life story. I heard one of my favourite authors on Desert Island Discs today, Edna O Brien. What a treat for me. I just love her poetic, lyrical way of speaking and writing. She speaks as she writes. She spoke of mothers and daughters and of how she feels her dead mother has never left her and still looks over her shoulder. This I can identify with. And her love of Ireland of course in spite of her not living there for 40 years. Her first book The Country Girls was burned in Ireland. I also identify with her love of spirituality but not of the Catholic religion. Three of her chosen records I own myself. I am inspired to try reading Ulysses again. I am still obsessed with reading. The library is always very busy in January, it must be the weather and the seasonal blues which keeps people indoors cooching (Welsh term) up with a book. However I always think it is reading weather, summer or winter though I must admit the garden takes up a lot of time in the spring and summer months. Reading is easy but writer’s block still seems to be a problem. Blessings. Book reviews. Mslexia. Websites. Blogs. Radio 4. Day Thirteen. Dear Diary, I am awakened every morning by the Today programme on Radio 4. It is always bad news guaranteed to raise my blood pressure. I am a real Grumpy Old Woman I am afraid. The government likes to stir up fear on a daily basis but I won’t buy into it so after a brief period of ranting which gets my blood moving I am usually transformed into positive mode.. You can call me an inverse paranoid as I now look for the blessings in disguise and quite relish the challenge of turning every negative into a positive. But it gets my mind working as I start commenting on whatever is being discussed. So much is wrong with this country. Politicians. The country is run by accountants. Perhaps it would pay not to listen to the news. I only read a newspaper once a week, the Guardian on a Saturday. At book group tonight we discussed the book Diana: Death of a Goddess by David Cohen. The discussion was lively as always but this time quite divided between those who think Diana was murdered and those who don’t. I am in the former group. Last month we discussed The Treehouse but it was not popular with the other members. I suspected it would be more appealing to those who write or to artists. Our discussion turned to books and whether they can change your life. I was in the minority as I believe they can. No-one else agreed with me! Blessing. I thank God I live in Wales. Day Fourteen. Dear Diary, I am burning clove oil, it is warming and head clearing. Very soothing and has sorted out my feelings. Although I do not like the taste of cloves the aroma is wonderful. Just the thing on a damp, grey winter’s afternoon. It is said to be optimistic. Sometimes I boil up some orange or lemon rinds and add some cinnamon and cloves. That also reminds me of winter. I practised some distancing from today. Sometimes it is hard to find anything positive . The news should be renamed the bad news as there is never anything good or positive in it. I am losing myself in another really good novel. I do crosswords. I can also usually also lift my spirits with music and could not live without it. Sometimes a phone call or an email from someone far away, a TV programme, a good film or the proverbial long soak in a warm aromatherapy bath will do the trick. Even housework is therapeutic if done in the right frame of mind. Or a brisk walk, or some time in nature in these beautiful Welsh hills. I am blessed to live here. I have an almost physical need for retreat and delight in solitude so walking in the hills around my cottage is perfect for me. Mother nature is also mother nurse. I read in a book somewhere that we should try to say one meaningful thing every day, do one, teach one and learn one. A wonderful thing to meditate upon. Blessings from this day. The river and its varying moods. The moon The stars The seasons and the fall of light.
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Country Matters
What a magical experience with the Otters, how lucky!!
Posted by Truthhurts
March 02, 2007 09:56 PM
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Dear Diary, It’s a blue-sky day and there is a bright light in the sky - I believe it is the sun. (I warn you in advance, this is a long entry today but please forgive me as I am making up for yesterday when I didn’t blog at all. The site was so slow it was driving me to distraction and I had to give up. Please persevere and read on as there will be a question at the end). I am looking after my middle granddaughter Shauna who is nine years old. She is off school, just a little unwell and it is Mum’s day for college. I make her cosy on the best armchair with a big soft pillow and a duvet to snuggle up in and Granddad keeps her entertained while I do a few ‘must-be-dones’ around the cottage. I make her some of my special soya milk porridge, my regular breakfast dish to which I always add dried apricots or prunes, raisins, cinnamon and ground almonds. For Shauna I decorate the bowl of porridge with a good sized swirl of golden syrup in the shape of an ‘S’. It goes down well, for both of us. Before she arrived I had done my usual yoga routine, my ‘Prayers to the Sun’ or ‘Sun Salutations’ as others sometimes call them. I do these and a few other poses every morning timing myself with three records on Radio 2. Today it is a treat as Johnny Walker is standing in for Terry Wogan. Nothing against Terry you understand but I have a soft spot for Johnny and love his choice of music. I wonder if there are any closet Radio 2 listeners out there in Country Living land? In the summer I often do my yoga in the garden, no music then but closer to the sun. I have been thinking a lot about country living and what it really means; is it a state of mind or a kind of achievement statement/status symbol for some people? It is certainly an escape for a lot of folk who harness a desire to get closer to the earth and to nature. For artists and craftspeople it is usually a need for peace and quiet or a beauteous and inspirational environment. It is a fact that certain people, farmers for example, make their living from the countryside and obviously couldn’t do it anywhere else. I have come to understand that farming in particular is not like a 9-5 job, it really is a way of life. Having lived in the wilds of mid-Wales for nearly seventeen years now I feel I have been accepted and I really value the strong sense of community in this area. I will write more on this in future blogs. Shauna lives with the rest of the family on a hill farm not far from here in the Cambrian mountains. They farm sheep and cattle and are in the throes of lambing at the moment, it is the busiest and most exhausting time of their farming calendar. She updates me on their progress, the new births etc. and the tiddling lambs who have been paired up with ‘adoptive’ mothers who have been conned into thinking they are their own. They do not give their own lamb to the mother until they have put its smell onto the orphan/rejected lamb and then the new mum accepts it as her own, along with her natural lamb. She tells me Dad is very tired and is up and down all night long on lambing duty. There is help from the family in the daytime and at weekends. Two of my granddaughters really enjoy farming and are becoming quite proficient at it but the youngest, Emmie, who is five, is not so keen. Mid-morning Shauna and I take a walk. The white lungwort, always one of the first flowers to bloom, is in flower and the dwarf daffodils, the snowdrops and the crocus are peeping out of their little corners. Last autumn I planted further drifts of snowdrops and also bluebells. To save money I went in with some friends and we bought them in bulk. Shauna and I discuss our favourite flowers, hers are pansies, she is emphatic about that. I tell her that I prefer their original old fashioned name which is heartsease and that reputedly it has properties which can mend a broken heart. My own favourites are poppies, bluebells, foxgloves and lilies of the valley. I can’t decide on just one, a bit like books really I would find it impossible to restrict my choice of an all-time favourite to just one. My garden is pretty wild and blowsy most of the year. Hardy geraniums, poppies, welsh poppies and other perennials usually run riot. I get away with this by calling it a cottagey or a wildlife garden. The numbers of birds and other kinds of life have increased each year, probably because of my lack of organisation and neatness. We go across the bridge to the field with the dogs who race round madly. It is such a lovely day and I am sure the sunshine and fresh air will do Shauna good. Sleep, sunshine, fresh air, healthy food and exercise. All the best things I would say and all (mostly) free. They say the best things in life are free and I think they are right! We check out the caravan, somewhat abandoned in the winter, it lives downstream on the bank of the river well out of sight of the cottage. We use it in the warmer months for visitors to stay in or as an ‘escape’ to read, write or watch the wildlife. My son uses it to go and sing and play his guitar. I have great plans this year to re-vamp the really tatty interior, I haven’t yet done so since we bought it second hand a couple of years ago. I would really love an old Romany caravan, that is a dream of mine or a log cabin. A friend of Shauna’s, who is eight, says that when she grows up she wants to live in a hut and ride her horse all day. A girl after my own heart I’d say! After lunch I find a film on Sky for Shauna to watch. She likes all things arty and has spent time with Granddad drawing (they both like drawing) but now she is a bit tired. They watch Ice Age, Granddad gives it 8/10 and Shauna 8 and a half/10. I abstain as my concentration span was too short I am afraid. I catch up with a few more chores. I sometimes think my cottage should be called ‘The Spidery’. I am loth to kill spiders. I think I must have gypsy blood. One of their sayings is ‘If you want to live and thrive let a spider run alive.’ I know a family who live in a cottage near here called ‘Cobweb Cottage’ it would be most appropriate for here I feel. * Well I will sign off now, it is now evening, Shauna is safely home and I need to go and catch the Archers. Country life is a lot like the Archers in its storylines, quite uncannily so sometimes and I never miss a programme if I can help it. If I do there is always the omnibus on a Sunday morning. I have listened to it practically all my life and am about the same age as the programme! Growing up in London I always had a dream to live in the countryside and it is a dream that really did come true. A poem today by Katharine Tynan. I have been going on rather too long I fear. If you have got this far congratulations. THE GARDENER For Violet In the garden she hath found Herb of grace and fever-few; Woundwort there doth much abound, Heartsease too. Where she laid dead things away In the chilly earth, what stir! Whisper of Spring-time, green and gay, Comes to her. All Sweet-Nancies, daffodils, Talking in their beds below Of sweet vales and shining hills Whither they go. In the garden there's no grief; God walks there and He is kind, When the first dear crumpled leaf Shakes in the wind. There's no death now. Winter's done. All's given back. The dead again Walk with her in the wind and sun And the sweet rain. Heartsease in her garden plot, Ladders-to-Heaven scale the skies; While the dear forget-me-not Brightens her eyes. Katharine Tynan And blessings from today? Being a grandmother A day with Shauna. Seeing the world through her eyes. Sharing her love of farming and of flowers. A whole day’s sunshine. A computer-free day. A day for a change Not over-doing it. Postponement. And now the question. Yes or No will do. Did you enjoy?
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Dear Diary, Country Matters
Yes, I did!x
Posted by woozle1967
March 07, 2007 11:25 PM
Dear Diary, Country Matters
Morning Cait! I loved your blog so much. I am about to write my one for today and it will be short for a change as it is my daughter's birthday. Just thought I would quickly catch up with some of my faves first though and so glad I did as I am tired and a little out of sorts today. Yours has lifted my spirits and made me remember my blessings too. Thank you and have a lovely day x
Posted by pipany
March 08, 2007 09:22 AM
Dear Diary, Country Matters
First time I've seen your blog.but enjoyed it.Loved the "cobweb cottage",what a great name.Your favourite flowers are some of mine too.especially poppies and wild foxgloves.Of course the bluebells for their scent and colour,a sight we will have soon.
Posted by MILLY
March 08, 2007 07:27 PM
Dear Diary, Country Matters
So sympathise with the lambing stress. your garden sounds wonderful. I'm all for blowsey!
Posted by @themill
March 08, 2007 09:39 PM
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DEAR DIARY
Monday Mar :32:01
By Cait
Dear Diary, The river is high today, nearly touching the bottom of our little bridge. My first treat of the day as I look out of the bedroom window is the sight of some ducking and diving in the river, not the otters as they are pretty much nocturnal, but a large wild mallard duck. They are a rare sight just here which is why I call it a treat. Occasionally we will see a family of them swimming by or flying overhead, always a beautiful sight. I have thought of keeping some ducks but worry that they would just swim off somewhere else or the fox would get them. The latter problem could be solved if we made an island in the river but that is not easy in a fast flowing mountain stream. The heron though is a regular visitor, seen almost daily, either in the river or flying above it. He nests downstream not far from here in a quiet wooded spot by the river. In the summer a parent heron will often bring the young heron (anyone know what they are called?) to our piece of river and it is as if s/he is teaching the young one the art of fishing; fascinating to watch but very time-consuming as they stay motionless for ages. I have a wicker heron by the bridge which was a present from my daughter. It looks very ’real’ and one day an adult heron stalking in the river seemed transfixed by it, he stayed for ages eyeing it up and down. I wonder was it love at first sight? The pine tree by my window is always alive with bird life. The two collared doves are here feasting on the grain. The woodpecker is on the nuts and many other species of birds line up waiting their turn. And Sammy Squirrel joins them. Overhead the kites and buzzards are swooping, keeping well apart as they are not the best of friends; both are very territorial! We buy nuts and seed in bulk as it is more economical but the rate they disappear is amazing. Still the reward we get from watching the wildlife makes it worth every penny. * On my walk in our field with the dogs this morning I found some toad spawn (more excitement!) and couldn’t wait to get back to tell Michael. I love toads, there are one or two in my garden, one lives in my lily-of-the-valley bed. One often sits outside my back door on summer nights. I have lots of frogs in the garden too but I haven’t seen any of their spawn yet though, has anyone else seen any? I am going to try to get organised with my digital camera so I can take and post some up to date photos for you. It is too wet to do anything in the garden and a cold wind is blowing so I will get some chores done and look forward to the reward at the end which is reading some of the blogs. Wish I had time to read and comment on them all. I am writing a book at the moment, a personal memoir about adoption, so I have to get on with that later. My little car is in the garage in a village six miles away having a new handbrake. Luckily my daughter was able to bring her Dad back home from dropping it off this morning. We have no public transport and are totally reliant on the car. We have to drive a 20 mile round trip to reach a supermarket for example and a proper big town with a Tesco and a Marks and Spencers for example would mean a round trip of over 100 miles. But I am not complaining, I appreciate where I live and could not be happy anywhere else but in the countryside. When we first escaped to Wales we had a seven-acre smallholding not far from here. It had no electricity, its own water, no proper road, no house in sight and views to die for. We did the whole thing, had chickens, goats, ducks, grew vegetables etc and had lots of adventures. The children were nine and twelve and we wished we had moved to Wales even earlier. But although the position was idyllic the house had bad vibes, Michael was very keen to buy it but I never felt at home there. Our little cottage where we are now is a different story, everyone can feel its benevolent aura. We have a five acre field and also an old blacksmith’s forge across the road with its own little piece of land. Our cottage which I call ‘the bit on the end’ should really be called Ty’r Gof which is Welsh for ‘blacksmith’s cottage’. I call it ‘the bit on the end’ because it is attached to the ‘big house’ next door where our dear friends and neighbours live. We are lucky to have such good neighbours, they feel like family. There is a local history book just published called ‘The Preacher’s Son’ by Dewi Williams who grew up next door, he tells of his life growing up there in the ’big house’. * My three granddaughters had their primary school eisteddfodd last week and they all chose a favourite Spike Milligan poem to recite. I promised I would post one of my favourites by Spike for them so here it is. The Garden Fairy (a true story) I saw a little girl She was watching her father He was taking rocks from the garden And dumping them in the river Her mother called ‘What was Daddy doing?’ ‘He’s trying to make the garden lighter.’ So you are My Paddy’s daughter Like rising flame Upon the water I was like The bow string drawn And sped an arrow To distant dawn And from the moment Grew and grew From tiny seed To you - to you Like its coming through a dream Throwing pebbles in a stream I just stood with Jane my daughter Throwing pebbles in the water I never knew that I could find Such tranquillity of mind Seeming to find such joy In a simple childish ploy Long after I reach December I hope that I will still remember When that day as through a dream We threw pebbles in a stream * Just a few blessings from today. I am feeling better, my bug seems to have disappeared. A visit from my daughter and an introduction to a new song. A day off. The housework is finished. The woodburner which I am about to light. A free evening ahead to do as I please. Well I had better sign off now, I have been rambling on a bit. Bye for now, Caitx
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DEAR DIARY
Lovely as ever.x
Posted by woozle1967
March 05, 2007 08:16 PM
DEAR DIARY
Hi Cait - stumbled across your diary (never a blog!) for the first time today and what a treat. Glad to hear someone else does blessings - I finish each day with ten of my best of the day and think it helps put life in perspective. Am also a lover of clouds, of tartan and paisley and my husband (as ragrug so rightly says) is a real ale rambler for sure..... Sorry to hear you haven't been well. Oh, and Anam Cara is a real favourite too..... oh, oh, oh - sound like a kid who doesn't know what first to say!
Posted by exmoorjane
March 05, 2007 08:32 PM
DEAR DIARY
Oh, I've just come across your blog. It's lovely (and amazing how different all these blogs are). Really like that poem and your blessings bit added onto every entry!
Posted by MamaHen
March 05, 2007 11:14 PM
DEAR DIARY
Hi Cait, Thanks for your message - much in common - living in the Celtic west but different countries! My husband is from Anglesey and my Dad grew up in Denbighshire so we know North Wales quite well. Lists of books are good! Suzanne
Posted by suzannedavies
March 07, 2007 01:05 PM
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.

DEAR DIARY
Sunday Mar :15:53
By Cait
Dear Diary, I missed the eclipse! I was not feeling very well so I went to bed at 9 pm. The best laid plans and all that. Did anyone else get to see it? Sunday is my day off and I am still feeling lousy. I am trying to fight off a virus that is doing the rounds. The weather outside is wild, wet and windy so I have made myself warm and, dosed up with paracetamol I will endeavour to take things easy. Later I will indulge in a hot toddy of whisky, hot water, lemon and fine Welsh honey and maybe curl up on the sofa with a good novel. I would rather be writing though. There is a lovely gentle man, a beekeeper, who lives close by, I call him the ‘honey man‘. His honey has the most wonderfully mild flavour. I take a teaspoonful in my morning cup of tea in the weeks leading up to the hay fever season. The results have been amazing; that and also giving up dairy produce have almost cured the problem which had made summers a nightmare for most of my life. Apparently you have to eat the honey from bees which collect pollen from close to your home so your body can build up its immunity. So if there are any fellow sufferers out there who haven’t heard about it do give it a try. I read of another good idea today. As a self-confessed bibliophile I read a lot, you will have to forgive me as I am always quoting references from literature and from the Internet as well as I am a dedicated silver surfer and derive much pleasure and education from the net and also from Radio 4, did I tell you I am a fan of Radio 4? (Boy that was a too-long sentence). Anyway the good idea is this: instead of worrying about our ‘To-Do Lists’ why not have a ‘Things to Stop Doing’ list’. I would love to hear your suggestions. One has just come to mind for me and that is to stop watching Eastenders which has just gone beyond the bounds of credibility in its storylines. Worrying about all the things we feel we have to do only makes us ill, it is the body telling us to slow down, sometimes it will make us stop altogether. Being ill can be a sign that we are ignoring something in our nature which needs to be expressed. Look for Indian signs to guide you. Here is one of my own poems (soon to be put to music I hope by my son). Indian signs I feel like I am drowning in those cloud formations standing by the ocean, wallowing in sky. Are they tuning to me, those spirits I can now see while I dream away the hours? Soul-weary, but so slowly I am drawing down the powers, from the stars as they twinkle, from the planets as they shine. And I have seen those Indian signs Yes I have seen the slogan on the truck, my secret symbol of good luck I have seen those mystic movements of the sun, as I have watched its rise and set. I have seen the rainbow colours in the sky as I have watched its showery hues. They gave their wisdom on direction of my life, its ebb and flow, the way to go. And I have seen those Indian signs Yes I have seen the slogan on the truck, my secret symbol of good luck. Today’s blessings? Windchimes. Mine in the garden are playing madly for me in this weather. Cosy blankets to snuggle up in, one red one today for energy (very cheap from Ikea). Materials. I especially love paisley, tweeds, cottons, gingham, tartans, denim. Warm socks. Red shoes. And finally last for today but not least. Reading the blogs on this site. Very time-consuming but highly addictive. I love seeing into other people’s lives and sharing their experiences of country life. Do other people have a system for keeping track of people’s blogs or is it just a dipping in at random thing? As well as what we say, what we write has a ripple effect and I am sure that our words are helping each other. I can’t go without leaving you another poem. Moss I had never seen the colour green until the Long Mynd moss lay at my feet in a cold rain, burning; as if some temperamental goddess had turned out her jewel-box here, on this stubbled heath then set fire to the lot. And this was what was left: the just-cooling embers and coals still on their necklace-strings, curling like miniature constellations in a fern-and-heather heaven. Anna Wigley Tomorrow I will post a favourite poem by the dear Spike Milligan, God rest him. Bye for now, I am off to find the whisky bottle…. Cait.x
Recent Comments
DEAR DIARY
Batten down the hatches kiddo, and snuggle by that fire. You're right about sharing our words. It feels like a real community within these pages. We may live miles apart, but this highlights that the human race needs one another. We form communities by nature, be it through the net or physically. We have being doing it since time began when man formed the first settlements. It's natural and good for the soul. We really do need one another.x
Posted by woozle1967
March 04, 2007 01:35 PM
DEAR DIARY
Ditto Woozle.... Hope you soon feel better Cait warm wishes
Posted by ChickenLicken
March 04, 2007 02:16 PM
DEAR DIARY
I'm going to go and snuggle by my fire now too! To keep track of blogs I would simply go straight to Blog Authors or contributors or whtever it says and just pop in to visit your preferred blogs that way...?!
Posted by Truthhurts
March 04, 2007 05:18 PM
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DEAR DIARY
Saturday Mar :51:43
By Cait
DEAR DIARY, Thank you for your very kind comments, much appreciated. I am still a day behind! I have my librarian and bibliophile’s hat on and am writing on the subject of World Book Day which was yesterday. I wondered whether you would like to know the titles of just some of my favourite ‘country’ books. Here they are in no particular order, do let me know if you have also enjoyed any of them. Most, like me, are ancient but are still appreciated today by borrowers, especially those who are newcomers to the country life. Hovel in the Hills: An Account of the Simple Life, by Elizabeth West. Living in Rural Wales by Noragh Jones. Self-Sufficiency by John Seymour, the much acclaimed bible on this subject. The Magic Apple Tree: A Country Year by Susan Hill. Cider with Rosie by Laurie Lee. Lark Rise to Candleford by Flora Thompson. In a Quiet Land by John O’Donoghue. Anam Cara: Spiritual Wisdom from the Celtic World by John O’Donohue (two different authors). Twenty Years A-Growing by Maurice O’Sullivan Running for the Hills by Horatio Clare. How to be Free by Tom Hodgkinson. The last two are new but I recommend both highly. I would love to hear from other bloggers with their favourite titles. It would be nice to hear of any kind of book recommendations actually. I know there is another part of the site devoted to this subject but I feel at home in this one and I am sure there are other book lovers out there in the General section and poetry addicts too, please send me your special poems. I will sign off now. Do watch out for the lunar eclipse tonight, they say the moon is going to turn red! Blessings today? Books, books and more books. You can never have too many. My three beautiful grand-daughters (and their beautiful mother) who have just visited me. Saturday nights. Wine. The last two go together. Hugs, remember……….. a hug a day keeps depression away. And finally a poem by a favourite poet of mine, Sarah Teasdale. There Will Come Soft Rains There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground, And swallows circling with their shimmering sound; And frogs in the pools singing at night, And wild plum-trees in tremulous white. Robins will wear their feathery fire Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire; And not one will know of the war, not one Will care at last when it is done. Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree, If mankind perished utterly; And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn Would scarcely know that we were gone. Bye for now, Cait.
Recent Comments
DEAR DIARY
Lovely! Fave books - Cider With Rosie, Seymour, anything by The God That Is Bob Flowerdew and a wonderful, inspirational book by anna Pavord on Kitchen Gardening. Bliss!
Posted by pipany
March 03, 2007 05:18 PM
DEAR DIARY
Love Hovel in the Hills and the Magic Apple Tree too!
Posted by woozle1967
March 03, 2007 05:38 PM
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DEAR DIARY
Friday Mar :54:09
By Cait
St David’s Day news today and all things Welsh. Yes I know Dewi’s day was yesterday. I am sorry Dear Diary but I am a day behind (story of my life). Yesterday was my ‘long day’ at work and I was too tired to write to you sooner. Michael picked some bright daffodils from the garden yesterday morning, some in bud and some in flower and I took them to the library to place on the counter. That was my contribution to the day. The children from the school, Ysgol Dolafon, had dressed in Welsh costume and looked really nice when they had a group photo taken outside the library. It felt like a special day even though I am not Welsh. Several borrowers were wearing daffodils or red Welsh dragon brooches; the aura of the day was very Celtic and festive. As I am an Irish person (born in London but with dual nationality) I think of the Welsh people as my first cousins and feel very at home and comfortable in their country. And I am only a few hours away from the best country in the world after all….. Llanwrtyd Wells is a unique little town, the smallest in Britain and is set amongst the most breathtaking scenery in Powys in mid-Wales, home of the red kite. It is a popular place for tourists: walkers, bird watchers, pony trekkers, fishing enthusiasts, rallying folk, Welsh language and natural history students and the area is considered to be one of the best locations in Europe for mountain-bikers. There are rolling hills, mountain passes, gentle valleys, open pastures, thick forests, rushing rivers, streams and waterfalls. The inhabitants are special too and there is a really strong sense of community. Farming and tourism co-exist; locals, incomers and visitors all get along together in this friendly little town. There are good pubs and three excellent award-winning restaurants. The town is well known for hosting the yearly World Bog Snorkelling Championship and also the Man V. Horse competition. There are also many International walks, Real Ale Rambles, mountain bike competitions and real ale festivals. In just a few weeks time, the first weekend in April, there will be the (free to enter) annual Food Festival which is always very well-attended. I forgot to note my blessings in my previous two blogs so I had better make sure I put plenty down today. One of them will have to be Llanwrtyd, you have probably already guessed that I am a great fan of the place. Here are some more, are blessings truly never-ending? My animals who just ARE, they teach me so much about existence. Trees - Native Americans called them the ‘Standing People‘, I like that analogy. Imagination, Albert Einstein called it ‘the preview of life’s coming attractions’ I love this idea - practically everything around started off as an imagination at its beginning (‘I-magic’ after all). Apart from things in nature, no-one imagined them, or did they? I had better not get philosophical again, stop me now… Clouds. Did I tell you that one of my favourite pastimes is cloud watching? I love the sky, it is ever-changing and the home of dreamers, who look up at it and beyond…… * Can I finish off with a poem, forgive me if you don’t like poetry but it is my passion and I feel withdrawal symptoms if I haven’t read at least one every day. I will try to pick ones with a ‘country’ theme. I apologise as this first one is an Irish poem. I do have many favourite Welsh poems but for my first contribution I will print a well known one by W B Yeats. The Lake Isle of Innisfree I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree, And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made: Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee, And live alone in the bee-loud glade. And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow, Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings; There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow, And evening full of the linnet's wings. I will arise and go now, for always night and day I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore; While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey, I hear it in the deep heart's core. Bye for now….
Recent Comments
DEAR DIARY
How delightful. Lovely blog warm wishes
Posted by ChickenLicken
March 02, 2007 07:09 PM
DEAR DIARY
GREETINGS,fellow cloud watcher, i love the poem.and jane if you read this i'll see you and adrian on the real ale ramble....lovely blog xx
Posted by ragrug
March 02, 2007 07:44 PM
DEAR DIARY
Lovely poem and one I had to learn as a schoolgirl. Llanwrtyd Wells is a lovely place. Long may you be happy in that lovey country.
Posted by Mandy
March 02, 2007 08:03 PM
DEAR DIARY
I love the poem, what a beautiful blog...I look forward to reading more!
Posted by Truthhurts
March 02, 2007 09:53 PM
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Wednesday Mar 14 2007 12:50:29
By Cait
Dear Diary, Topsy turvy temperatures. After a weekend which felt like Spring I wake to fog and frost but there is a promise from Radio 4’s Today programme of sunshine to come. But now even the birds and Sammy Squirrel seem to be having a lie in as there are only a few blue tits and a robin to be seen on the riverbank bird table. It is cold in the cottage and as I have no work to go to today, it will take a hot shower, a big bowl of hot porridge and a hot yoga session to lure me from my cosy nest under the duvet. * I read a lovely blog by dear Woozle the other day about her magical encounter with an owl. It reminded me of a similar experience here at Glandulas, but this one involved a hedgehog. Before I tell you about the Hedgehog Experience I want to reveal another of my passions. It is connected you understand. If you have read all my blogs so far you will have gathered that I am prone to get passionate about things. One of them is recycling and especially all things compost; the saving, the making of the heap and the using of the wonderful end result which makes my plants grow very large. I think the whole process is magical and I am quite obsessive about it. I don’t let a scrap go to waste if you get me. Everything which can possibly be recycled is. I have been doing this long before it became ‘fashionable’. But I am pleased it is becoming a regular activity in lots more households now. Our local council has been very good in the recycling department, selling bins and educating people etc. as well as providing bags for plastic, metal and paper which are collected on a weekly basis. I have a stainless steel pedal bin in the kitchen for all the general compost stuff and my glass I take to the recycling centre (an alarming number of wine and Guinness bottles!). Textiles go to the textile bank. Dog and cat hair, M’s hair, beard trimmings or anything similar are put out in a prominent position in the garden and are collected by the birds at this time of year for nest building. I like to think of them all safe and cosy in a really snug home. Absolutely any paper or cardboard I put on the compost heap, it soon dampens in our Welsh rain and rots down. Newspaper is good too for lighting fires in the cottage, another passion of mine, I must have gypsy blood because I never fail to get one going. I also use kindling wood which is usually the driftwood I collect on our land, washed up by the river. What I call kindling wood the Welsh call morning wood, both nice expressions I think. I haven’t recommended a book to you for a while so here is one. It is ‘All About Compost’ by Pauline Pears, you could try and get it from your local library. Talking of books I recently gave you the wrong title of Fred Slater’s book on the natural history of Mid-Wales. It is called ‘The Nature of Central Wales’. Apologies for that. Anyway if you have read this far congratulations and thank you. You are about half way. You are probably wondering where the hedgehog comes in. Here comes my true story. One morning I was taking out the compost bucket, wearing my dressing gown and wellies, as you do. (My neighbour in the Big House is always in the garden in his dressing gown. They are equally eccentric I am pleased to say and as they feel just like family to us it doesn’t matter if they see me thus attired!). Anyway, just as I was about to tip the bucket onto the top of the heap I looked down and got the fright of my life. There was this creature lying there flat on its back, arms and legs akimbo but with an expression which was peaceful,; sheer abandonment is how I would describe it. Or died and gone to heaven. I recognised it as a hedgehog and when I had calmed down a bit but soon. and quite unlike me, had adopted the ‘startled helpless female’ mode I ran in to get M. I told him there was a dead hedgehog on the compost heap, (well I thought it was dead but I wasn’t sure). He came out with a towel while I hung back. He picked it up, wrapped it in the towel and found a cardboard box. He thought it was dead but wasn’t sure either. He took it over the road to the old blacksmith’s forge and put it in one of the rooms facing the road. Then he got an old dog bowl and put some food in it and then another bowl with some water and he left both beside the box. The hedgehog’s eyes were closed. We guessed it was dead. But then the penny dropped, the hedgehog had been feasting on the highly alcoholic leftovers from the fermentation of M’s home-made rice and raisin wine, one of his strongest brews, which he had flung on the compost heap! Had we killed him? Would he survive? Two days passed, we checked on him every day, each time there were no signs of life but on the third day he had disappeared. He must have slept it off! The one and only hangover of his life I hope. He was last seen making his way up the road leaving a trail of aspirin bottles behind him and singing ‘There’s an old Mill by the Stream’ No I am only joking… It is interesting to note that the very old fashioned method of poaching pheasants still used today (?) is to feed wild pheasants with raisins soaked in brandy which makes them so inebriated that hours later, after dark, they are easily ‘collected’. Help, I feel a book title coming on……..I am sure you all know it…. Danny, the Champion of the World, by the dear Roald Dahl of course, God rest him. We dread to think how many drunken birds or other creatures there were that day. Just hope it was a good party. Blessings? Eight today. Hedgehogs. Compost. Home made wine. Washing machines - mine is working away for me as I write. Local honey made by a neighbour. Lovely neighbour, lovely honey. Warmer weather. Roald Dahl’s books, enjoyed by me with my children and now by my grandchildren. I promised to tell you about the Book Club so I may post another blog later in the day to make up for the days I have missed previously. Time to get up now. Carpe diem and all that. Before I do I can’t leave you without the poem by one of my very favourite poets. Benjamin Zephaniah, Luv Song I am in luv wid a hedgehog I've never felt this way before I have luv fe dis hedgehog An everyday I luv her more an more, She lives by de shed Where weeds and roses bed An I just want de world to know She makes me glow. I am in luv wid a hedgehog She's making me hair stand on edge, So in luv wid dis hedgehog An her friends Who all live in de hedge She visits me late An eats off Danny's plate But Danny's a cool tabby cat He leaves it at dat. I am in luv wid a hedgehog, She's gone away so I must wait But I do miss my hedgehog Everytime she goes to hibernate.  Bye for now, Caitx
Recent Comments
Dear Diary (Country Matters)
Lovely, as ever Cait! Love the term 'morning wood'. Think I will use it from now on. x
Posted by pipany
March 14, 2007 01:06 PM
Dear Diary (Country Matters)
I must have a go at making compost, have just bought some from the local shop...I feed my peelings to the horses, but still must be able to make the stuff.
Posted by Posie Rosie
March 14, 2007 02:45 PM
Dear Diary (Country Matters)
I have been able to catch up with your blog tonight because my husband is going to be late and the children are all tucked up in their own beds. I love the way you write and so like to read your blog in peace and quiet. I laughed to think of the drunk hedgehog and I loved reading Dahl not as a child I didn't know him but when I was teaching and now to my own children. We love Georges Marvellous Medicine and have read it loads of times. The eczema has been hard until you experience it you don't realise how hard it is, thankyou. I will be back at another quiet time.
Posted by Anna Karenin
March 14, 2007 08:55 PM
Dear Diary (Country Matters)
Cairt, I Loved* the story of the tipsy hedgehog. Made me laugh outloud. thanks for it. Eden.
Posted by EdenEising
March 14, 2007 08:59 PM
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Dear Diary (Country Matters)
Tuesday Mar 13 2007 13:38:09
By Cait
Dear Diary, Just a quickie. I am sorry that I forgot to post my blessings yesterday. That is the problem with everyday life, it is so easy to forget to count our blessings. Another cliche but a true one. Here they are, five as usual. A proper full length blog will come much later in the day. I have to go to work soon. (Work is the curse of the drinking classes). Blessings. Our book group which met last night (more on that another time). Blogs, (I especially enjoyed the Famous Five one last night). Rainbows on the cottage wall reflected by the crystals hanging in my window. The promise of bluebells. Dreams and memories. Bye for now, will write soon, Happy Days to you all, Cait.
Recent Comments
Dear Diary (Country Matters)
Bless you too Cait... beautiful bluebells... warm wishes
Posted by ChickenLicken
March 13, 2007 02:05 PM
Dear Diary (Country Matters)
Bluebells! One of my (many faves). Davey gave me a hundred bulbs to plant in readiness for little Isabella who was born in May last year. I so love your blogs, Cait x
Posted by pipany
March 13, 2007 02:11 PM
Dear Diary (Country Matters)
Your photos are so beautiful, loved the blessings, thank you for sharing them.
Posted by Posie Rosie
March 13, 2007 02:33 PM
Dear Diary (Country Matters)
Yes, it is good to count our blessings, I liked yours! I'm looking forward to the bluebells too, we have them in vaste numbers in the wood behind us, beautiful. Thanks for your email address, i will keep it safe and write to you direct if I may sometimes , I'm feeling Ok and have so many wonderful people giving support, but it is overwhelming at times. God Bless you.
Posted by inthemud
March 13, 2007 03:07 PM
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Dear Diary (Country Matters)
Monday Mar 12 2007 13:13:31
By Cait
Dear Diary, Sunday is here again, I have missed you; long time no see. I open the window and listen to the birdsong, it always varies yet it is always miraculous. (Which reminds me, a couple of borrowers said they thought they saw a snow bunting on the river bridge in Llanwrtyd and I mean to look it up in my wonderful Readers Digest bird book). And I have a question. Are the birds in your locality feeding any young? The robins and some blue tits in my garden seem to be flying off with food in their beaks, seemingly going off to feed their babies. It seems awfully early in the year to do this. I think the sun is going to emerge from the clouds and hunger beckons so I get out of bed and my Sunday ritual begins. No yoga, porridge or vitamin pill palava for me today. It is bacon, egg and tomato and maybe even fried bread as well with lashings of hot tea and the Archers for company. Then a few unavoidable indoor chores will be done alongside Desert Island Discs, (Andy Kershaw today). Our neighbours are away so M is caring for their ducks and chicken. We kept chicken for many years so he has plenty of experience. M is retired and gets called upon by a few of the neighbours who count on his services to look after stock etc when they go away. I call him the ‘Poultry Man of Glandulas’. I didn’t get around to writing yesterday (Saturday). Work in the morning, the library was very busy…… and then there were the two rugby matches to watch in the afternoon. Bottles of Guinness lined up. My team (Ireland) won but it was very close, either team could have been victors really. As the commentator said, Ireland won, but any joy at their success was like ‘drinking flat champagne.’ Wales didn’t impress either and lost (just) thanks to a lousy referee, so all in all not the greatest of celebratory afternoons. I feel like being lazy but the weather looks like being clement and I may be able to get out in the garden. I still haven’t tidied up after the ravages of winter let alone cleared the greenhouse, made the raised beds, started sowing etc. I have borrowed a selection of books from the library on growing fruit and veg. In containers of all shapes and sizes, that appeals to me. Has anyone any experience of that? M, always up before me, has filled the bird nut holders and the table is full of the usual different species. I didn’t get around to writing anything on Saturday night as I was too busy reading other people‘s writing. It’s been said before I know but the blogs are so addictive and I too love dipping in and out of people’s lives. We have a lovely little community going here. Living in the country as we do we do enjoy being part of a real-life community but now thanks to Country Living we have a virtual one as well. The magazine has helped to bring like-minded people together (and tested our patience at the speed of the site at the same time!). I can’t wait for the April issue of the magazine by the way. I have spent (wasted?) a lot of time in Blogland lately catching up on all the entries. I am trying not to miss any real gems but the site is so slow; it is driving me round the bend. As someone put it (Del?) you can go and make a cup of tea and come back in the time it takes for a page to come up. I guess it is because it is so busy? I don’t know as I am not an expert on servers or site management. But I know a young man who is. One of my borrowers at the library, a young teenager who is a whiz at these things. He is always my first port of call if I have a computer question. He is he oldest of six children from a lovely family who, like me, are incomers from West Sussex, or as the locals say ’from ’Off’. I was impressed when on the very day they moved in to Llanwrtyd all the children came to join the library in the evening. Fellow bibliophiles, they had their priorities right as far as I am concerned. I will call this young man John (isn’t it hard thinking up pseudonyms, you want them to suit the person but they never do, do they?). John and another borrower who I shall call Ruth and myself applied for a heritage lottery grant recently and were successful. We have set up a local history website ‘Hanes Llanwrtyd’. There’s a plug. I will tell you more about that at another time. Talking of Llanwrtyd I mentioned it earlier but the Llanwrtyd Gourmet Food & Drink Festival is being held on the Easter Weekend 7th and 8th April. If you are a foodie you will enjoy the showcase of the best local Welsh foods. Or if you have never been to Llanwrtyd Wells you will also enjoy; put the date in your diary. Entry is FREE. The Heart of Wales railway are putting on special trains. * I’ve long thought of writing a book or keeping a journal purely about my days in the library. I could write about the many varying characters who are my borrowers and how I have come to love them all, there’s not one I dislike. I am pleased to be able to help them in whatever way I can. The library’s link to the primary school is such a joy for me and an asset to the children and the community as well. We also get lots of visitors from all over the UK and abroad as Llanwrtyd is a popular tourist destination. Saturdays in the library are always special, there seems to be an even more relaxed atmosphere. As well as visitors you get your regular members who come every Saturday, they combine it with their shopping in town. You also get teenagers, parents with children, children without parents, old folk, middle-aged (lots of those) and some lonely people who enjoy meeting others as well as borrowing reading matter. I am pleased to see that new borrowers are joining all the time and issue numbers continue to go up. People from differing backgrounds get thrown together and it is interesting to watch them as they do actually find common ground. As book recommendations are exchanged the ice is broken. Laughter and goodwill are always in the air. Political discussions seem to always take place on a Saturday. I don’t know why it is but it always seems to be the ‘Let’s Put The World To Rights Day’. The computers are always well-used too by people of all ages. Any librarian will tell you that nowadays libraries are not just about borrowing books. Inevitably one gets drawn in emotionally too as one shares with the trauma in other people’s lives. I was a nurse in a past life and I must say that experience has come in handy on many an occasion when I have had to fight back the tears on hearing others’ bad news. But this is what a small rural community’s life is all about, caring for each other and feeling each other’s pain as well as their joy. I don’t belong to any religion but I always remember the lines from one of my favourite poets, William Blake. On Another's Sorrow Can I see another's woe, And not be in sorrow too? Can I see another's grief, And not seek for kind relief? Can I see a falling tear, And not feel my sorrow's share? Can a father see his child Weep, nor be with sorrow filled? Can a mother sit and hear An infant groan, an infant fear? No, no! never can it be! Never, never can it be! And can He who smiles on all Hear the wren with sorrows small, Hear the small bird's grief and care, Hear the woes that infants bear -- And not sit beside the next, Pouring pity in their breast, And not sit the cradle near, Weeping tear on infant's tear? And not sit both night and day, Wiping all our tears away? Oh no! never can it be! Never, never can it be! He doth give his joy to all: He becomes an infant small, He becomes a man of woe, He doth feel the sorrow too. Think not thou canst sigh a sigh, And thy Maker is not by: Think not thou canst weep a tear, And thy Maker is not year. Oh He gives to us his joy, That our grief He may destroy: Till our grief is fled an gone He doth sit by us and moan. William Blake That feeling of community is developing within these blogs and, forget any competitive element; for that aspect alone they have been a success. Well that is enough about sad things. Maybe later we will go and visit our daughter and family and see some joyous new young life (as well as the latest newborn lambs!). The family will be exhausted but I am sure they will appreciate al little break for a cuppa and a wee exchange of gossip. And there will be one or two comments on the Welsh rugby result I am sure from my son in law, who is an expert and an ex-player himself. And some comments on the referee! Bye for now, Caitx
Recent Comments
Dear Diary (Country Matters)
Very poignant Cait. Glad I managed to find yours in all the blogland ether soup.xx
Posted by woozle1967
March 12, 2007 02:35 PM
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DEAR DIARY, COUNTRY MATTERS
Friday Mar :24:48
By Cait
Dear Diary, Sorry it’s another extended one as I missed writing to you yesterday. I had a long and very busy day at work. Today is a day off and a day just to myself. Michael is going up to North Wales with our son-in-law to deliver some willows. Our daughter Verity will be in charge of the lambing shed. I am feeling tired as usual, mornings are not my favourite time of day and I am always reluctant to get out of bed. I am a night owl. Every morning Michael brings me a huge mug of tea and I drink it while looking out of the bedroom window. Today there is only Sammy Squirrel on the bird nuts and for a short while no other bird or creature in sight which is most unusual. But Molly my cat is here as usual, snuggling up to tell me it’s her breakfast time. Speaking of wildlife I wrote about local author Dr Fred Slater in an earlier blog but neglected to mention his book which I can recommend to anyone interested in the wildlife of this area. It is called ‘The Natural History of Mid-Wales’. I will try and recommend a book to you in each blog, (can’t help it I am a bibliophile and also a librarian!). A food shopping trip is unavoidable today. The fridge and freezer are both well nigh empty. Where I live we have no big superstores but we have a choice of a few small market towns to visit, some of which have average sized supermarkets. Today I feel it is a toss up between Brecon and Llandovery. I can’t complain; both routes to these town will take me through spectacular scenery, over mountains and through mountain passes. To reach Brecon I travel over the Epynt range, now MOD owned as it was compulsorily purchased from local farmers many years ago. Very sad. But the road is still beautiful, the views are amazing and sheep still graze despite the presence of the army. If I go to Llandovery I travel over the Sugar Loaf on a busier but just as beautiful road which lies close to the gem of a railway, the Heart of Wales line. I say the road is busier, but, sparsely populated as it is, Powys roads are never busy. I believe we only have one or two sets of traffic lights in the whole county though that may be just a rural myth. It certainly seems like it. It is quite common to go on a journey and not see another car, especially late at night, in the early hours of the morning or out of the tourist season. I drove my son to Hereford recently in the very early hours of the morning and we didn’t see another vehicle until we reached Hereford (a journey of over fifty miles!). There is no time for procrastination. I have to get up and start another day. More tea and porridge. Johnny Walker on the radio. All is right with the world. (I wish). Tea and porridge, two of my must-haves. Let’s start another list. We already have ‘blessings’ and ‘stop-doings‘, why don’t we have ‘must-haves’? I would love to hear yours. They could be attainable or wildly unattainable, like dreams. Help, I feel a cliché moment coming on - you’ve got to have a dream, if you don’t have a dream, how you gonna have a dream come true? Apologies for that, I am getting carried away again……… * I am back from my shopping trip. I couldn’t decide between Brecon and Llandovery so I tossed a coin. (I feel sure by reading my blogs you have picked up that I am pretty eccentric eh?) Well Llandovery won the toss. The sun shone and only occasionally did the hail or rain clouds come sweeping across. But it brought fantastic rainbows! Llandovery was busy with people as it was a Friday but I just made a quick foray into Somerfields, spent a small fortune and came back home. Sounds easy if you say it quick. I vow the food will last us a month but it never does. I always come home feeling really pleased to be able to fill the fridge and the freezer, thinking we will have plenty to keep us going for days on end but it seems to disappear like lightning. But there are two grown men in the house. I wish I could shop like they do in France. I love their freash and colourful food markets. WHY can’t we have the same? The French take food so very seriously and will not tolerate rubbish. I hate relying on supermarkets and would prefer to buy local, fresh and organic produce. Their way of life appeals to me as well. Michael, who has French blood, would love to live in the south of France but it would be far too hot for me. I would wilt in the heat although their way of life appeals to me as does their cheap wine! I live with my husband and our son but, strange as it is, I am the only football and rugby fan in the house. I have stocked up with beer as it is rugby tomorrow afternoon, something to look forward to after a hard morning’s work in the library. My team (Ireland) are playing Scotland at Murrayfield but of course I shall also be supporting Wales against Italy though I don’t think they (Wales) have a hope in hell. * Before I go here’s today’s poem. (Author unknown), This one’s for Elaine.  God's Rainbow " The falling rain dissolves into mist And the thunder begins to die As the sporadic lightning fades An arch of colour pours from the sky. Rainbows appear after mighty storms When things look their worst Just when the sky is darkest grey, Out of Heaven does a rainbow burst. God first sent the rainbow to Noah As a sign that His word is true The rainbow's eternal message Still speaks to me and you. The rainbow is a sign of God's promise That He will guide us through any storm That He will ease all our troubles, No matter what their form. When you feel battered by life's storms And you are filled with doubt and dismay Just remember God's rainbow is coming, For blessing, you have only to pray." Blessings today. Rainbows. Traffic free roads. A full larder (I don’t actually have a larder but you get the gist). An overdraft. The welcome home at the door from my two dogs and one cat. My son who is at home unpacks all the shopping and helps me put it away. Last but not least I had a special treat: Time alone in the car to sing and to dream. ‘If you don’t have a dream‘……. Bye for now, Caitx
Recent Comments
DEAR DIARY, COUNTRY MATTERS
Hi cait. Good choice, Llandovery. I went to school there. Where do you live in relation to it? My parents live in LLangadog and for them shopping is a toss-up between Llandovery, Llandeilo or a bit further to Carmarthen. Jules
Posted by julieeirios
March 09, 2007 09:42 PM
DEAR DIARY, COUNTRY MATTERS
Great blog and wonderful poem. Thanks for sharing it.x
Posted by woozle1967
March 09, 2007 09:50 PM
DEAR DIARY, COUNTRY MATTERS
I think it is pot luck when it comes to finding good blogs.I am glad I have now found yours they are unique.
Posted by Anna Karenin
March 10, 2007 11:03 PM
DEAR DIARY, COUNTRY MATTERS
Couldn't agree more with the above comments! Love the rainbow pic too.
Posted by Truthhurts
March 12, 2007 09:50 AM