Got the moves

This week I’ve realised you can live with only four pairs of shoes and ten items of clothing and you can survive without a fridge freezer and even without a bed (woes of old narrow curvy stairs and metal large double bed bases!).

I’m almost at my new home. Almost! Inbetween I have a temporary base in Llangollen.  So my move is 75% there and I can’t quite believe I’ve done it. This is the first time, bar some traveling, that I’ve ever lived in a town!!! I walk around and say to myself.. ooo there’s a florist and a hairdressers and a restaurant and a book shop and a cafe… like I’ve never been here before!!

It was a wrench leaving my lovely village but I’ve so many friends and family that I’ll be a happy frequent visitor. 

I’ve started my new morning’s walking along the beautiful singing  river Dee, spotting herons to the backdrop of the steam train or walks along the canal taking in the colourful boats that are homes calmly bobbing on the water.

Coincidentally it’s International Eisteddfod week and I was lucky to peek through on my early walk into the colouful field yet to be opened to the crowds.
Nearby I spotted this quote by Dylan Thomas and was quite blown away by it to be honest.

“Are you surprised that people can still dance and sing in a world on it’s head? The only surprising thing about miracles, however small, is that they sometimes happen”

Now more than ever it feels that we have to concentrate on what brings us together than what drives us apart. Singing and dancing might not heal the world entirely but it’s a good place to start. 

I find out through reading on my walk that the Eisteddod was brought about in 1947 for post ‘war weary’ people. To bring international communities together in one small town and show the ‘Welsh way’ .. that those communities can not only live side by side but they can also sing and dance and laugh and love.

Llangollen. We’re off to a good start.

Hope you’ve had a good week too.

Happy Sunday xx

A day

This week has been a roller coaster. 

A level results day meant I found myself on a warm Thursday morning finishing my walk at 7am with Tes. Pooch runs through the gates of the church and bears left.   She knows her way to where I sometimes sit to hold the silver teddy bear inscribed with a T as I chat briefly to the open air.

Tears involuntarily appear but are kept at bay all day.  I couldn’t help but feel hard done by, deprived. Today I felt sorry for myself.  

With that I genuinely was excited for all her friends who were starting new journeys.  But I wanted her to be on that journey too. As I said. Today I felt sorry for me. 

A person can change all of that though.  It was an exchange of messages that day that also simply said …call over if you like. I declined saying I planned to spend the evening under a blanket.

However at about 9 I decided to wander over and found myself at a mini gathering of family and friends. We sat out, giggled a lot and of course consumed a few vinos. Children played. Adults laughed naughtily. Presents were opened. Dark chocolate brownies were consumed.   

Like that, one person changed my day. 

It made me think how we can change a persons day. We can even change a persons life. 

On the radio this week I heard about a guy who had been hospitalised for 5 years with huge mental health problems.  His life has completely recovered. What changed him? Understanding.  Listening. Believing.  Compassion. Love.

I reflected on my week and wondered had  I had made a positive change to someone’s day this week? 

I did catch a large spider for a receptionist that was about to faint!! I also made mum a filled burrito and we sat in the sunshine with a large pot of tea. Hopefully I made the new person at work feel comfortable and I’m trying to be a listening ear to a friend in need. 

The great thing about trying to make life a bit better for someone else, as cheesy as it sounds, is how much better we feel about ourselves. 

I can change someone’s day. You can change someone’s day. Imagine the world we could live in!!

Happy Sunday everyone X 

Village life

I’ve written about this quite a bit lately. Community. Being local. Being part of something. I think it’s the answer to so much of the sadness and problems currently facing our world. Simplistic, I know.

I’m also aware how lucky I am to live in this beautiful green village where the church stands proudly bearing over us.
A quick preamble to the following narrative about an hour in my life this week, I feel it’s right to say I am not continually  living an idyllic life of pink roses, aprons and home made bread. My week is full of hurdles like everyone else. For the luxury of living where I do I get up at six am to walk my pooch because I travel 2 hrs to work and back. I’m tired most days and you’ll see me often scraping some film from a plastic tub because I haven’t had time to cook something ‘proper’.
But… The following is my morning routine most days and I think it perfectly captures this rural life that I fell in love with very slowly over the last 40ish years.

The socket by my bed isn’t working and I haven’t had time to get the electrician out.  Therefore when the alarm clock goes off I spy it through one tired heavy eye while quickly understanding that as it’s plugged in ‘over there’ I’m actually going to have to get up to press snooze.

Three snoozes later I’m up. I take a look at the weather and though I see it ever day I look at the hills and trees taking up most of my bleary look and inside I think wow. It’s beautiful.
I brush my teeth in my small colourful bathroom and find some light blue walking socks. Pooch starts to get very excited recognising this familiar routine. I put on my boots and pink weatherproof jacket while deciding which route to take. I end up taking the wrong one. We wander up the empty lanes apart from the sounds of the birds and cross over a field using the public footpath. Unfortunately a large black cow also has decided to share this path with me. We make eye contact and I don’t fancy my chances so I take a slight detour to the nearby fence. I throw pooch over and the attempt the barbed wire fence myself. Barbed wire 1. My old jeans O.
We carry on over a small bridge and I stop to look at the river which is rather noisy as it’s just started to rain. Hood up we carry on past the farmhouse where the brown and white spaniel stares as usual prowling, tail up with a protective snarl and the woman in the house smiles from the open door while reassuring said pooch. A man closes a gate and waves as he goes off to work. I see him often but I don’t know him.

A farmer on his quad bike races past and shouts hello as we make the final bend towards home. It’s only 7 but the shop is open and I hear customers chatting inside and the local farmer is delivering bottles of milk. Yes, bottles! A man I know parks his car after picking up his morning paper. I tell him his right brake light isn’t working. He doubts me so gets in while I stand and look. Yes I say. He thanks me.
I’m wondering about breakfast and whether I fancy the usual muesli with added cranberries, cashews and raisins when I pass the tiny egg shed. It’s a recent addition to the village. A duck blue cupboard full of fresh eggs, quail eggs and teacups with pretty fuchsia plants. There’s  no shopkeeper. Just an honesty box. Despite having no money I take a box of eggs and pay the £1.30 later as I drive to work.
When I get home I feed the hungry pooch and also the noisy birds who have also quickly got used to my morning routine. They shout until I’ve filled their feeder with colourful food  Breakfast is delicious as two very yellow yolks adorn my plate. I sit in my tiny conservatory and…..well I’m writing this! As I eat and drink perfumed earl grey tea, I watch the birds dance around their new seeds and in the background I hear sheep, the faint rumble of a tractor and the breeze sweeping through the trees.

And that’s all.
Rural life. What’s not to love?
Happy Sunday everyone X X X

Dare to dream

What else is there to write about today other than WALES?!

For so many reasons. I’m always proud to be Welsh.  Yes I’m proud because the footie team beat the Belgium team to go through. Yes I’m proud of our fans.  Yes I cry as I hear the national anthem sweep through the stands.

I’m proud though mostly of our attitude.  Of the attitude of the team. Of the attitude of the manager.  It’s Welsh.  It’s so so Welsh.  Here for each other. Not one person trying to get the limelight.  Holding hands.  An ability to merge and mix with those on the ‘opposing sides’.  The confidence to say when you’re wrong.  The strength to stand and be proud when everything goes right.  The humility to admit you’ve made a mistake.  The passion to invoke pride in millions of people.  Not just Welsh people.

Where does this come from?

A dream.  The dream.  Belief in the dream.

When asked what he does to this team, Coleman replies simply…..  I dare to dream.  He implores youngsters to take this on.  To dream.  If you don’t dream, then what have you got?

This is what I am left with this weekend. The passion and the belief of dreams.  Because we can all have them.

After the legendary game on Friday night I woke up listening to the seagulls play.  With a bit of a heavy head I find myself on a beach scattered lightly with people and dogs.  It’s sparse and beautiful.

Windsurfers crash against the breeze.

Women and men jog bare foot in the sand against the horizon.

Dogs run excitedly into the froth and swell of the sea.

The sun has won its battle against the snow coloured clouds and with the breeze scatters patterns along the sand.

There’s a moment when I stop and I devour it.

I stop and dream.

Do you ever stop and dream?

I stopped and I decided to spin around on the sand, taking in the sound of the natural crashing waves and the heat of the sun shining heavily on my face.  It felt silly.  It felt amazing.

I couldn’t be happier to be born anywhere in the world than Wales.  We’re unique.  We’re a team.  And we dare to dream.


Happy Sunday (night) everyone x x x









The tribe

This week has been a roller coaster.  We’re in. Then we’re out. We’re part of a larger community and then all of a sudden we’re not.

Community. What is it?

Politics aside. This is the week that the cars of Welsh fans continue to be adorned by the red dragon standing proudly fighting the elements.  Where the sound of a crowd singing the Welsh anthem made men weep into their pints of real ale and commentators choking on their words.

I decided to go along to the pub to watch the game this week.  I was meeting a friend later on but otherwise off I toddled on my own.  This is the first point I realise that my village is special.  That my village knows what community is. I can walk into a pub on my own and not really think anything of it.  I don’t think that happens often, particularly, dare I say it, as a woman.  Many women would still find it difficult to walk in on their own into a pub.  I’m not entirely sure why that is.  We haven’t been used to it perhaps.  We’re more used to being in a group.  Men are used to going out on their own.  Whatever it is, I do feel a little brave for walking in.

The pub has a room at the back where I can hear rumblings already and the large projected TV screen lights up the far corner.  Ordering my drink at the bar I sidle into the room.  It’s full of men.  There isn’t one woman in the room!  There’s a few jokes about ‘no swearing gentleman’ as I take a heavy stool and sit next to some of the locals.  It’s not long before they’ve accepted me into their gang and we’re suddenly discussing tactics and making  predictions .

The atmosphere was tense.  I gasp at every near miss and this is making my new friends nervous! One tells me that although he is the biggest and most faithful Welsh fan that exists he whispers he was actually born in England.  In 1941 he says the nearest Welsh hospital was full of ‘army people’ so his mum was forced over the border much to his disgruntlement and also to the pleasure of his fellow pensioners who make gentle jibes.

During half time I take a look around this room and all I can describe what I see is a tribe, a village tribe.  The elders sitting down at the front, chatting and laughing together.  The younger men and some older boys standing up at the back.  Laughing now and again at the jokes of their elders and also chatting amongst themselves.  More women have now arrived too and everyone grabs a pew and chats to whoever they happen to sit by. There’s such a huge sense of community as generations stand side by side, laughing, joking, enjoying their Welsh team.

That’s how a community should be isn’t it.  I fear that is what many places have lost.  I fear this is what we’re losing on a world wide scale.

Looking after others.

Camaraderie and respect.

A real sense of belonging.

Security and protection.

A shelter from what can sometimes feel a complex world.

So that’s my blog for this Sunday – a proud one of not only my community (though I do think it is special) but of the many mirrored communities that we have in Wales, one model of life I think we should hold on to, cherish, love and treasure.

There’s nothing quite like belonging.

Happy Sunday x x x


Living the dream?

I’m writing this on Friday at 12.21. I have to write while I’m waiting.   I’m waiting to go to Trystans funeral at 1pm. I woke up thinking about it and inevitably about Tes. My mind wanders and worries about everything I possibly can and then I got up.

I open the dark brown curtains of my bedroom. I’m surprised by all the mist hiding the stone bridge and the tops of the cottages. It’s going to be a beautiful day I thought to myself. Of course it is.

I wanted to find a quote for some reason. To sum up these feelings inside. The feeling of love, life and loss. Also the feelings of hope.

There has to be hope.

I finally come across one.

Live your dream, don’t dream your life.

I thought it encapsulated what I knew of Trystans very well. He seemed to be living the life he had dreamed of.

I then left the house early and walked in what had now turned into beautiful sunshine. Lolly took our usual turn to the left as we got to the top of the hill but today I carried on. I wanted to be somewhere new. I wanted to feel.  To see.  To hear. New things.  I think I also wanted my mind filled with the enormous quiet empty peaceful space. There was no sound bar the quiet rumbling of a tractor in the distance. I stop to gaze at the beautiful view of the rural emerald countryside.  It’s magnificent.

As I keep walking I thought about the quote and gave myself a bit of a talking to. Are you living your dreams Dwysan? I asked myself! No. Not all of them. And with that I made a few decisions in my head. Some big. Some small. I’ll keep you posted!

I must leave now and say goodbye to a friend. A young man who lived his life.

Let’s all live our life.




Constructing time

It’s hard to know where to start this week.

The week where we still struggled to know how to behave on the anniversary of Tes’s death. Do you do the washing? Should you go out? Is it OK to do anything normal? There’s no guide book for that.

Also we lost two famousness’s that I’d grown up with. Victoria Wood and Prince.  Like many, Victoria was one of the first ‘funny” women I’d seen on TV and she was Northern and ‘normal’.   I’m sure she gave many women confidence to be themselves. I saw Prince live, twice.  The tiny purple pop star was the best performer I’ve ever seen. His passion for what he did oozed.

So, in addition to far too much death it’s also been a week of health worries, changing my mind about something important, final moments, moving a million boxes,  and being grateful to the kindness of strangers. I’ve had wonderful compassion from friends and family and I’ve been (I hope) a firm shoulder to cry on for a friend.  I’ve also been a bit cross. At one point raising my voice to say.. I don’t want any flowers today.  What I meant was I didn’t want there to be an anniversary in the first place for the need of flowers.

In all of this I had a brief ‘why me” moment.  Why me? Why us? Why you?

To beat this moment of self pity in the chaotic week I sought fresh air and played ball with the dogs in the expansive empty field across the road. After a while I took my jacket off and although there was a slight chill from the breeze the sun pounded on my face as I lay on the ground.  Both dogs cuddled into me. One to the side and the little one crawled under my bent knees.  I closed my eyes turning my face towards the warmth and experienced the change of colours that seeped through my eyelids as I breathed in some peace, quiet, stillness.  A brief but much needed interlude of meditative time.

It’s important to take time out and re charge even if it’s for a few brief minutes.  I remember as I lay there the words of Prince. Time is a mind construct.  It’s not real.

We are often bound by time but maybe sometimes we need to get hold of it, step away and make that time ours now and again.

Happy Sunday everyone xxx