Holidays

This is the Jubilee Pool in Penzance which sadly was shut when we got there. But I couldn't resist taking some pictures.

Absence due to a holiday in Penzance which was much needed, though I could have done with another week to be honest. The first weekend two close friends came down with me and we made the most of that glorious hot weather, swimming at Marazion, walking over to Lamorna from Mousehole and attending various pubs.

They left on the Sunday night and my mum arrived on the Monday morning. We were invited to our cousins for supper on the Monday night, had a lovely day together on Tuesday and I put her on the train on Tuesday afternoon. Wednesday morning my dear friend Viv and her dog Titch arrived and the rest of the week was a lot of fun. Which isn’t to say that the first part wasn’t, she says hastily. But Viv is very easy.

It was lovely having a few days to unwind, walk the dogs, potter about Penzance and have someone to cook for – though Viv’s lovely partner Paul bought us wine and a takeaway the first night. We did several walks for Cornwall Today, got lost (as we always do) and laughed a lot (as we always do).

In amongst all of this, I discovered that a close friend of mine was feeling really low. Then another whose husband is ill so she is feeling really low. Then to top it all, another close mate had a suspected heart attack.

But the first friend is coming out of his period of reclusion and talking again, my friend’s husband is improving and my third friend has had loads of tests and they can’t find anything wrong.

Phew. But you can see why I wanted another week’s holiday.

In the meantime, I was sent this wonderful caption this morning. “Before you diagnose yourself with depression or low self-esteem make sure you are not, in fact, just surrounded by arseholes.”

Had to send it to Friend #1. Thank God he hasn’t lost his sense of humour.

Another Wave

Last Saturday I finally got round to inviting several friends round who I’d been wanting to get together all year. So it was arranged that everyone would bring something to eat as well as wine so all I had to do was make two cottage pies and move the tables and chairs around before they arrived.

Darling Pip would always get in a fluster before we had people for a meal. I would be banned from the kitchen - “get out Pop. Go and lay the table,” while he created dish after dish of wonderful food with the aid of a few glasses of wine. Or whatever he was currently drinking. Our visitors always had a great time, were very well fed and watered and reeled off into the night at some late stage.

This time it was much more laid back. I'd done everything by late morning so I could relax in the afternoon – just as well as I get exhausted spells and this was one of them.

I wore The Dress – which has been christened twice now, and much admired by everyone. It’s also very comfortable, warmer than I’d thought and one of those dresses you put on and feel really good in. The first christening was at a brilliant gig in Falmouth where a friend’s partner tipped Tribute down my left boob. But no matter. It gave me something to sip at while I waited at the bar.

Pip would have loved the dress, and would have approved of the evening (though not the fact that other people brought food). But we all had a lovely time, everyone helped me clear and wash up, so there was very little to do the next day. But oh, how I missed him. Sitting next to me round the table. Sharing the evening. And the post mortem, lying in bed the next morning having a cuddle.

Mollie and I sat on my steps the next morning in the sunshine with a cup of tea, looking out to sea. Where he is and is not. And I wondered about life. How you can so easily take people for granted, and suddenly they’re gone.

This time last year we were about to go on holiday. Shortly after that he became very ill, a month at home and then the last two months of his life in hospital. So I'm aware that the rest of this year is going to be tough. Full of memories I would rather not have. But as Pip once said, “life is about how you deal with setbacks, Pop, not successes.”

This is one setback that I hadn’t envisaged happening so soon. But I do believe that life throws things at you and you have to deal with them. Somehow. One of my ways is by writing down my journey.

So thank you for reading and thank you for your support. You make all the difference.

Holiday Time

As of next Monday I am taking a holiday. One that is overdue by a month, so it will be very welcome. Molls and I are off to Devon to meet my dear friend Av and go walking on Dartmoor and in the South Hams. (Cue here for torrential downpours over the next week.)

We will be staying with my mum who’s not had the best of health recently so we can take her out and about a bit as well which will be lovely. Av is reeling with shock as over the past few months I have started to take an interest in my appearance. After 15 years of living with darling Pip who said “I think you look wonderful whatever you wear,” I have realised that frequently I don’t so it’s fun taking an interest in clothes again – in a limited way.

A friend, having seen our wedding pictures, asked why I wore glasses when I used to wear contact lenses. “Those glasses suit you, but you don’t make the most of your looks,” he said. I was furious but it made me think. I asked mum what she thought about me going back to contact lenses. “Oh definitely,” she said.

I sat and thought. And as I needed an eye test anyway, went along. I now have soft lenses and I hate to say it, but I feel very different. They do suit me.

In amongst our stomping over Dartmoor, I have asked Av to come shopping with me. It will be charity shops or somewhere cheap but she has excellent taste in what suits whom, and I’m really looking forward to our Spree.

Pip has settled into a good space. He is nearby when I need him but comes everywhere with me, which I think is as it should be. I miss him – of course I do – but I have had to adapt – fast – to life without him. I am becoming a different person and life is full of Firsts. Driving up to Devon by myself will be another first, but I know I will feel a huge sense of achievement having done it.

I am also learning how to deal with the many practical problems that arise and am extremely fortunate in having three very trusty and protective men I can call upon for help. Given the circumstances, I think I am very lucky.

See you all in a couple of weeks.

Unexpectedly Happy Days

I had the most amazing week – Regent Cottage is lovely with a wonderful secret garden, and going somewhere on our own (me and molls) with no former associations was just what I needed. I felt happy and secure there and fine on my own – in fact relished the time I had to myself.

I missed Pip, of course: we had been to Penzance on many occasions, but it felt fine to be there without him. Partly what made the week so good, I realised, was that I wasn't constantly worrying about him. Whether his cough was bad, was he OK on his own, should I hurry back to be with him. Did he want to go for a drink, had he got a video to watch, enough to read etc. Was he feeling down, was he too tired? What did I need to do? Going away made me realise how much of a strain the whole of the last year was - not just the last few months.

For once all I had to do was look after myself and that made life so much easier. Freer. I bumped into all sorts of people I knew – all to do with writing – including Peter, who's organising the Penzance Literary Festival which he's asked me to take part in again. I met another journalist who belongs to the same journo forum as me. I visited the wonderful Book Cafe in St Just and got talking to more writerly, book loving types who were fascinated to hear that I write walks.

Viv and Titch came and we did three wonderful and very long walks, getting lost along the way. At one point we met this red haired sprightly fellow who was also pounding the coastal footpath – we'd bumped into him the previous day but he seemed to have shed his girlfriend and gained two walking sticks.

“How come he's so sprightly?” said Viv as he whizzed up and down the granite strewn path.

“He doesn't have two dogs, three guide books, a map, a tape recorder and a camera,” I muttered. As Viv has just had a Significant Birthday, I didn't add that he was also 30 years younger.....

So the week was productive, exhausting and fun. Coming home was tricky, suddenly hit by an avalanche of emotions that crashed over me like the waves at Land's End. And since then I am beset by sudden plunges of grief that hurtle me down like a tombstoner. But that's bound to happen. I take a deep breath and swim underwater. Go with it, don't fight it. It passes and I reach dry land again.

When I went to pick up Bussie from the vets they said, “You can't have him back! We love him!”

Needless to say, His Lordship has been horribly spoilt but has become very affectionate and has taken to sleeping on the bed as well as Mollie. So there I am squashed somewhere in the middle: a Flowerpot Sandwich. I was wondering about getting a smaller bed now, but have decided it's just as well we have a King Size bed......

Cheers!

(This is Himself, Not Entirely Sober, which befits the ending of this post.)

There is better news this week, I'm glad to say, after The Week From Hell.

Poor Bussie (large black and white moggie, sole male resident of Flowerpot House) had to have a second operation to stitch him up following a bad cat fight. He's been in the vet hospital for a week now but hope he can come home soon although Molls and I are away in a few days – my dear brother in law will be looking after Bussie though. I am trying not to think about The Bill which has reached £200 and add on that another week of vet hospital fees plus food and flea stuff etc......

But I have two bits of good news: I have got a commission to interview Bill Bryson in June. And I have just been to have a meeting about a possible project with Cornwall & Devon Media.

The third thing is that Molls and I are going on holiday on Saturday. While I know I need the break, I am a little apprehensive about how I will manage. Here, at home, Pip is all around me. Where will he be in Penzance?

But I have deliberately chosen a cottage we've never been to before and it sounds ideal. It has a garden, parking for two cars and is close to the sea front. Near the pub where we went last time we stayed there. It is round the corner from a friend of mine and from our dear cousins.

So I have a support network in Penzance which is good to know, and a very good friend is coming to stay, as is my mum for a few nights.

And I do have this very strong feeling that Pip is with me. It's nothing as clear cut as walking along beside me, but he is around – on the outskirts of my emotionally peripheral vision. I can neither see him nor touch him but he is definitely there. A friend who came to stay the other weekend commented on it, unprovoked, so it's not just me.

Life is full of Firsts right now - the first time I do things without him. Now it's going on holiday. Bill Bryson. First trip to London in years.

So Molls and I will go to Penzance and Pip will come with us. He will even come walking, which he would never do normally. But I think I will take a photo of him with me just in case.

A few (good) things are happening, and as Helen Keller said, “When one door of happiness closes, another opens: but often we look so long at the closed door that we do not see the one that has been opened for us.”

I can hear Pip rejoicing at my good news. “Come on Flowerpot,” he will say opening a bottle. “Push the boat out!”

Post Holiday Melt Down

This is one of my favourite walks near Fowey - on the coastal footpath leading towards Gribben. Every time I do it my heart leaps.

I'd forgotten just how difficult it is to settle back into work after a good holiday. And it was fabulous. We had a great weekend with friends when we arrived, which included a trip in the blow up boat (named Inflated Ego) up to Golant, via Cannabis Creek.

Deb and I walked back, exploring Cannabis Creek on the way back – you could see why it was so named (when the Sawmills Studios were first in operation), and Himself did a wonderful job on the catering front.

Altogether we had fabulous weather, and a few days to ourselves, when we had a boat trip up the river to Lerryn, again in amazing weather. Molls and I did a new walk every day, walked miles and then on the Wednesday two more friends came for more walks and general hilarity.

As Himself's breathing isn't too good, hills are difficult (and Fowey is built on a very steep one). Luckily, he found he could walk into town then get the town bus back free courtesy of his bus pass, which gave him quite a thrill. He and John sloped off to the pub just like two schoolboys playing truant, and both were able to come back free on the bus, glowing with alcoholic naughtiness.

We left last Friday and it gave me a real wrench to drive off the Bodinnick Ferry and leave Fowey behind. God knows what I was in my past life but I certainly lived in Fowey.

And now it's back to work. It's chucking it down with rain and, having just transcribed an interview from the way home, I feel I need a lie down. But I have signed Himself up for a photography course and he has to go in today to meet the tutor. The reasoning behind this is that a) I hope he will enjoy it and give him an interest (he takes very good pictures already) and b) I don't have time to go, so he can pass his learnings on to me. DAMN - just had a phone call to say the government have cut the OAP discount so he won't be able to do it. What a shame.

So life returns to normal, whatever that is. Himself is painting the bathroom – for the third time in as many weeks – don't ask. I've told him that I am DEFINITELY having a shower tomorrow, come hell or high water. So don't come and see us till then.

Ralph McTell (2) and hols

Mr FP took this picture at the weekend, sitting outside the Ferryboat at Helford. Now sadly not much of a pub but a lovely spot to sit and watch the world go by.
We're off to Fowey for a week shortly. Brother in law is house sitting the dear, fearsome Thug so he will be well tended to. And now back that interview....

Ralph McTell takes up a lot of room, not because he's tall and solid, but because he is full of the passion, the sensitivity and the ideas that flow into his music.

I particularly liked his description of waiting to go on stage at a gig. The lights go down, “and then you walk the longest walk in the world,” he said.

What impressed me about Ralph was his modesty, his quiet sense of humour, and the fact that he makes friends very easily – because he really cares about people. “My level of involvement with people is quite high – every concert I go to, I know so many of them by name and there's a lot of them,” he said.

Ralph's music appeals to so many people because he writes about things we can all relate to – loneliness being one. “If someone you love has gone out of your life, there will always be that gap there,” he said. “Loneliness is probably one of the biggest fears we have. It's hinted at in other songs but not so graphically or as simply as in Streets of London.”

We covered a lot of ground, from sharing notes on giving up smoking, to how the music business has changed since the '60s. But it was his philosophy on life that I liked. “Give people hope,” he said, “you've got to keep hope alive, Jesse Jackson said. Not retire into a cotton wool drug-induced stupor. Try and do the best you can. I think it's criminal to waste time when there are so many people that didn't have these opportunities.

Not to do things to the best of your ability is a waste of your time and probably those around you: those to whom you can have an affect upon. So do it the best you can. If you go at things half cock you can expect to fail, but if you fail when you've done your best then that's OK. It might sound Victorian but I think it's a worthwhile thing.”

What a good role model. Thanks, Ralph. And here's to his tour starting next month.

www.ralphmctell.co.uk

Affairs of the Heart - a 4 CD compilation of Ralph’s love songs with introduction by Rory McGrath
Somewhere Down the Road - pre-order from www.ralphmctell.co.uk
Ralph is performing at Hall for Cornwall on Wednesday 10th November 2010.

The Jewel in the Crown

We're now back from holiday and there's nothing like going away on holiday to really appreciate Home.

Don't get me wrong - we had a great time. The cottage was lovely, and had a very good range cooker that Himself fell in love with, and made great use of (so we were all happy) and a back yard for Mollie so she was happy. My mum came for half the week, various friends dropped in, we had cousins for supper, and a very good pub within a few minutes walk. Perfick, as Pa Larkin would say.

The weather could have been better, but there was one day that really stood out for me. Our cousins had told me about a Bronze Age settlement called Carn Euny – from there you can walk over to Chapel Carn Brea, one of the highest spots in Cornwall. I did this walk on the one really good day we had where the sky was dark blue and I could see for miles.

Himself looked at the map and said “you just go up to Carn Euny and go left,” as if I was in the middle of a town.

I grunted, he said he'd meet me at Chapel car park, and we both departed in opposite directions, Mollie scampering behind me. Well, suffice it to say that as I'd figured, it wasn't as simple as Just Turning Left. I found Carn Euny and that was an incredible sight – but from then on it got tricky. I looked at the map but the green lines indicating Public Footpath didn't bear any resemblance to the paths in front of me. So I retraced my steps and started again.

Then I found another map which seemed to indicate I was going in roughly the right direction, so I continued. After I'd been walking for about 40 minutes (Himself had reckoned the entire walk would be 30 mins), my phone rang. “Where are you?” he said in his I'm-not-worried-just-enquiring-voice.

“I've no idea,” I said. “I figure if I don't find you I'll retrace my steps.”

Silence. “Where's the sun?”

“On my left.”

Another pause. “You should be walking into it, Pop.”

We left it that I'd continue for another ten minutes and if I was still lost then, I'd go back.

But then I came to the top of the hill and the path curved into the sun. I took a deep breath and there was Cornwall laid out before me in all her glory. Scilly glimmered in the distance, Long Ships lighthouse stood proudly in the sea before me, a small airplane took off from Lands End runway, and I took a deep breath, breathing in that exhilarating air, and realised how lucky I was to be there, at that time, with the wind whipping my hair, the sun beating down on me – and Mollie wondering if I was whooping because I'd really flipped.

Looking round, there was such a dizzying sense of height and depth and space. And here, in an area that hasn't been overly farmed, and apart from the monstrosity that is Lands End, hasn't been mucked around by tourism, it's possible to see a glimpse of the real, rough Cornwall. The land as it was in the Bronze Age. An earthy, raw feeling that is simply very, very ancient and basic and simple.

And that glimpse – that for me was the real jewel in my holiday crown.

Many thanks to Debs who kindly passed this "Your Blog is Fabulous!" Award which stands for: Integrity. Commitment to Excellence. Stubbornly Optimistic.

THE RULES:
List five current obsessions:

Well – I'm scratching my head here because I'm trying to send everything to my editor before I go away tomorrow, remember to pack what I need for the funeral in Devon on Friday, and also thinking about what we'll need to take with us when we go on holiday on Saturday. Oh, and because I'll be doing a couple of interviews while we're away, I need to take notebooks, walk books and tape recorder. Plus list of questions for interviewees, spare batteries for recorder – all that sort of stuff.

So these obsessions might be a little distracted. Please help yourself to this award and meme - you deserve it!

In no particular order -

1.Writing. Thinking about writing or writing does, I realise, take up a lot of my life. Not that I'm complaining, but it does. I need it in order to breathe, to function. When I'm upset or confused I write something down to make sense of it. When I'm happy I write about it. In fact, here I am now rabbiting on about it. So yes, that is definitely an obsession.

2.My family and friends – my immediate family is Himself, Bussie the cat and Mollie the dog. I love them more than I can say. And I know you're not supposed to let dogs sleep on your bed, but I do sleep so much better with that hot little body squashed against mine..... As for my friends - where would I be without you all? Thanks for everything. Darn – this is sounding more and more like an Oscar acceptance speech.

3.Cruelty to animals – don't get me started....... just light the touch paper and STAND BACK!!

4.Himself would tell you about my over-sensitivity (frequently concerning how other people are feeling) which causes a lot of agonising. I'm currently thinking of a poor friend who has just borrowed my cat box to take her cat to the vet for The Last Trip.....

5.Walks – I spend a lot of time walking with Molls. As from 1st October the dog ban is lifted so we can go on the beaches – hooray! They are always a good place to think and explore thoughts. I have learnt a lot about friends on walks – it's a good way to share concerns and sort the world out.

6.Enjoyment. I am a firm believer in enjoying the small things of life, not the expensive ones (can't afford those). A good book, flowers on my desk, a nice bottle of wine, a piece of home made flapjack, a weepy movie, sitting in the sun with Molls.

See? Life can be fun on very little money! (Just realised that's six but never mind - you have one for luck.)

I will be back in a couple of weeks – have a good time everyone. It's bound to rain now I've mentioned the H word....

Holidays and Bowen Therapy

Next week we're off on holiday. I say that rather grandly – in fact we've booked a campsite for Sunday night in Padstow (so you can guarantee what the weather's going to do) and then head on up to Devon to see friends, my mum and generally have a very cheap time away.

Not having been away for ages, I feel in need of a break. Away from the computer, and recharge my batteries which are feeling a bit flat. If my sleep pattern is disrupted I know something's up, though this isn't helped by Bussie stanking into the bedroom at about 5 every morning (just as I'm trying to get back to sleep having been awake for a while). He patrols the bed like a country landlord, dripping wet fur in my face (this morning), then hissing at the dog who had just crept up for a comforting cuddle. After about half an hour of this, Himself grunts and gets up to feed them both then we have peace until it's time to get up, around 7. I'm all in favour of turfing Bussie off the bed but Himself is horrified, says, 'you can't do THAT.'

Why not? Anyone know of a cat whisperer?

But talking of matters animal, I interviewed a lady who has four jobs. She runs a surf school for women (and children) in Newquay, she is also a sports therapist, a complementary therapist and a lecturer at Truro College. She practises Bowen Therapy on dogs which can be used to help dogs in pain, with degenerative illnesses, very nervous animals, those with skin allergies or hip or knee problems – in fact, all kinds of problems.

For those of you unsure about this, she is very highly qualified and only works alongside her vet. (Having talked to my own vet about it, she was very unsure, so I need to convince her too.)

What we weren't prepared for was her dog - Douglas, a massive black Newfoundland like a cross between a horse and a black bear. You can imagine little Moll's face....

Off now – back in ten days or so. Just to be on the safe side I am packing waterproof trousers, swimsuit and a mobile library....

The Mini-Break

When Mollie was nearly a year old, we decided to treat ourselves to a well earned break. I found a reasonably priced dog friendly B&B and one Saturday we arrived at a beautifully restored granite Victorian house just off the sea front and about ten minutes walk from Penzance town centre.

Later we had a leisurely walk along the sea front to a dog friendly pub, found a window seat and tucked into vast platefuls of whitebait that didn’t seem to go down no matter how much we ate. After a few glasses of wine we had an amble back to our bed and breakfast and decided to settle down for an early night.

Mollie, who’d been very good up until then, decided she didn’t like people banging doors and making noise down the corridor and barked, loudly, to tell them so. Every time she did so, I flinched, and this continued for the next hour until everyone was in bed. By this time Mollie was so unnerved by her surroundings that she wouldn’t settle unless I dangled one arm out of bed to stroke her at regular intervals.

At around five in the morning, when we’d probably accumulated two hours sleep between us, I stumbled off to the bathroom and my feet hit a wet spot. I dimly remembered Mollie scratching at the bedroom door earlier and now realised the significance of this. Tiptoeing round the room, I found a roll of kitchen paper and proceeded to blot up as much as I could, while wondering what the to do. Make a run for it? Own up?

When the sun came up and I could see properly, I attacked the stain feeling like the victim of some fairy tale, destined to spend my life scrubbing at an ever growing mark on a previously spotless carpet. Then I espied a hairdryer slotted into a rack by the basin. A gift from the gods! So I set about blow drying the carpet.

By the time Himself returned from walking a much happier dog, the carpet was cooked to perfection. I was hot and flustered and jumped in the shower wondering whether to Come Clean to the owners. On the other hand, they might present us with a bill for carpet cleaners. Even worse, a new carpet.

We put Mollie in the car and waited with baited breath for our breakfast. At any time I was expecting a hand on the shoulder. An “excuse me, but what happened to your carpet?”

Being good at bluffing, Himself soon got chatting to the new owners who revealed that they’d recently bought the place and evidently spent a considerable amount of time and money refurbishing it. I could feel the blood draining from my face as I sipped my tea. The appetite that I’d built up over the sleepless night disappeared along with my blood, and I tried not to look at the scrambled egg sitting before me. The imaginary bill for our stay grew and I fixed a smile on my face, wondering when we could leave the room.

Husband’s appetite wasn’t affected, and after a Full English we hurried upstairs to clean teeth and inspect the carpet. The sun was streaming in the room and from a certain angle it was impossible to see what had occurred in the small hours. Even so, we took no chances.

“I’ve got the bags,” Himself hissed. “Come on, let’s go.”

And we ran.

That was the last time we ever had a mini-break. Shame. I could do with one now, and it was such a lovely place.

Symbolism

This is what I hope Moll and I will be doing all next week. Playing and relaxing and having FUN.

But first of all, I have had an unwanted visitor who I feared was coming away with us tomorrow.

She was irksome, painful, and like a greedy fledgeling, ate and ate, growing larger and redder as the days went by. Antibiotics were prescribed – the first lot disagreed with me, so we tried another lot.

By yesterday afternoon my visitor was huge, throbbing and it was difficult to talk.
Then, as I met a friend last night, we started talking about our worst fears. I cried. As you do. She hugged me, proved what a wonderful friend she is and I cried some more.

I got back, had supper with Himself and we talked about love and cuddles and what they mean, how important they are.

“Like an internal memo,” said Himself. “We can use them to express how we feel just with actions.”

I hugged that thought to me (and actually didn’t cry) and later, as I brushed my teeth, I felt something in my mouth burst. I won’t go into the gory details, but I started trembling and laughing with relief and wonder.

My abscess had burst.

This morning my poor battered gum is almost flat and my relief is as great as the sunshine streaming through the windows.

And on that note I will bid you au revoir – we are off tomorrow for a week. A week away from work, computers and everything else. It will no doubt rain but what the hell?

PS I have just read Elizabeth Berg's latest blog (see link on side bar, links don't seem to be working) and she says, "All people need is recipes, and to be love and be loved. And dogs."

Being somewhat of a philistine when it comes to food, I would omit the recipes but wholeheartedly endorse the rest of it. What do you think?

The Great Escape

Today I have a streaming nose, watery eyes and a throat that feels full of cut glass. To say nothing of my brain which has been reduced to scrambled eggs. What is it about colds that make us all feel the absolute pits? So to distract myself, I’m thinking Escapism.

It started at the weekend when Himself and I had a coffee down at Mylor Harbour before taking Mollie for a walk. Actually, he had a glass of wine and I had a coffee and he didn’t walk Moll, I did. But while we were imbibing, I saw a postcard ad for renting VW camper vans.

For some time I’ve been hankering after a holiday, to no avail. 1) We can’t afford it, 2) There is Moll to think about and we don’t want to put her in kennels and 3) If we could afford it, I don’t like hotels or B&Bs. 4) We can’t agree on the kind of holiday we’d like so we end up not going.

But this website – Campers in Cornwall made my heart leap in anticipation. Well, it gave a bit of a flutter, because I don’t expect we’ll actually get anywhere with this idea – but I can hope.

I don’t propose that we go anywhere far in a campervan, but we could explore, we could sleep in it, we could cook in it and we could take Moll. It would be like being back on the boat, except for the obvious absence of water.

It’s not cheap but what is nowadays? I got enough money for my birthday to pay for a weekend which would be all we’d need. So – go on, have a look. See what you think.
I can just see us trundling along the open roads, parking up for a picnic and a swim.

Of course there is the slight problem of how to convince Himself of this wondrous idea. Any ideas greatly appreciated.

Songs on the Brain

This morning I woke up singing Leaving On a Jet Plane.

For those of you under a certain age you probably won’t remember this gem, which was written by John Denver in 1967 (a fact I had to look up on Wikipedia – you can see how bad my memory is).

Quite why this particular tune decided to drag me into consciousness at six am on this particular Friday I have no idea. I didn’t hear it on the radio or television yesterday, and I hadn’t been talking about John Denver (in fact I could have sworn it was by someone else) but we are going to see my mother this weekend. This involves a car journey though, not a plane, and we most definitely are coming back on Sunday.

But a dear mate of mine is flying off to Egypt on Sunday for a much deserved week off. So Carole, I will think of you sunning yourselves on that beach, raising a weary arm to get yet another cocktail, while some of us slave over a hot computer, or walk the dog in the dank greyness of a February afternoon.

(Actually, I’m quite content and having to sit still for more than five minutes would cause me serious grief, as she well knows. But I wouldn’t mind a bit of hot weather and swimming.)

So Leaving on a Jet Plane is for you, Carole, and have a good one.

The day before I had songs from Pajama Game on my brain. I couldn’t make it to rehearsals, but the songs just popped up, to remind me, anyhow.

What was the last song you had on your brain?

Success! Or mostly...

The Fountain Inn at Mevagissey was a great success. They not only take dogs but gave us a room with a private patio so Mollie could go out and have a wee (and even better, I didn't have to get dressed and take her out in the pouring rain at 6am after her breakfast).
The pub is the oldest pub in Mevagissey - the father of all pubs, apparently, and found down a tiny alley not far from the harbour. Mind you, nowhere's far from the harbour. We were greeted by a large tabby cat who swore volubly at Mollie and hissed until she retreated. Realising that she was on foreign turf, Moll behaved herself, but the cat - who turned out to be called Badger - was most miffed at having to share his kingdom with a mere dog. I had to scoop Mollie up in order to get past Badger and up to our room, and Badger evidently told his mates, because in a few minutes two other cats had come to have a look. They didn't think much of the scruffy dog ("the hair - just look at it! Doesn't it ever brush? Or wash. My dear, how disgusting") and doubtless disappeared to stick pins in effigies of small dogs.
Husband had been complaining of feeling bilious but after a few drinks, his steak seemed to go down well and my stir fried prawns were delicious. We explored the village later, had a wander round the harbour and Moll had a dash along the beach, then we went to another pub for a nightcap. Unfortunately they were just about to start the karaoke which Himself can't stand, so we downed drinks and went back to the Fountain and watched the end of the programme on Daphne du Maurier (very disappointing) before crashing out. Mollie gave a few brief barks but apart from that we all slept right through.
This morning things went downhill. The bright evening was replaced by torrential rain, so bad that Ten Tors had to be cancelled. Then Pip's stomach decided to make it quite clear that yesterday's food had been a mistake. He felt very wobbly indeed but luckily we made it home so that he could dash to the bathroom. He's now sitting underneath the duvet watching The Alamo with a large bottle of water (not his usual tipple), hasn't even mentioned alcohol, and even said he might not eat tonight, so the poor thing must be feeling poorly.
As most of my clothes were wet from walking Moll this morning (it only took ten minutes to get soaked) and needed washing, I shoved them all in the washing machine. Later the sun made a brief appearance so I hung the washing out, returned inside - and realised that I'd trodden dog poo all through the flat.
Disasters aside, it was lovely to get away for a night in such a friendly Proper Pub that is also cat and dog friendly. We'll definitely go back there again.