April Showers?

Crumbs, the weather has been odd today. We sat in the conservatory this morning and ate our breakfast there. Kim had cleared it out of the winter clutter and 'dumping ground' stuff, cleaned all the windows and it is back to being a nice place on a sunny morning.

The morning wasn't that warm (my laptop widget told me it was 8 Celsius) and we have let the rayburn go out as it was making the place too hot (though we shall light it for our weekend visitor, who isn't well padded like us) and sitting with the kitchen door open was a tad chilly around the knees. We decanted into the conservatory and it was warm and toasty with the sun streaming in.

I call it a conservatory. It was sold to us by the estate agents as an orangery; how pretentious is that? It's only a lean-to style thing slapped against the back of the house, and though we do have two baby orange trees, my idea of an orangery requires many more square feet! Still, it's a lovely sunny garden room and we can sit and watch the birds and listen to the bees humming.

Sounds like a nice day, doesn't it? Ten minutes after coming upstairs to the office and sitting down to work, there were very decent sized hail stones bouncing off the roof and taking their time to melt. Not quite what I would have had in mind for April showers, but it's never boring here in Shepton!

Feeling Sick

No, not ill physically or suffering from the lurgy, but feeling sick because I'm all knotted up emotionally inside. You'll remember earlier posts about a friend who was having rather a bad time, she really had been through the mill and as luck would have it, our feckless Pole moved out of the little house at just the time when she needed somewhere to move into to start a new life. Since then, Kim and I have been going flat out to get the place sorted; we even delayed paying the vicar for our wedding (looming in September) so that we could get the house into a good state and ready to move into, with fresh decoration and new carpets.

All seemed to be going well until nearly three weeks ago, when I got a brief email saying that my friend was going to disappear for a few days as her husband had turned up at the house but that she would be back by the weekend, a matter of four or five days. Since then, there has been a deafening silence. No emails, no replies to my email enquiries to ask if she is safe and well. I only have a mobile number for her and she said that she was handing that to the Police as she had been receiving abusive texts and calls, so though I tried the number, there was no reply. I have become increasingly worried - to the point where I have had to do something.

Today I tried calling the local Police constabulary to find that the number just rang and rang, so I resorted to an email to the Inspector. Thank goodness, he must have been sitting at his machine as I have just had a reply that, although he is off work today, he will be getting an officer to check up on my friend. I have to say that I'm impressed with the response. I thought I would feel relieved... but I just feel sick.

Assuming my friend hasn't had a bout of amnesia or been abducted by aliens, the two most likely outcomes are either that she can't be bothered to be in contact with me, so isn't taking calls or responding to email, or, the worst possible scenario, that something has happened to her so that she can't be in contact. If it is the former, though it would be hurtful, I would feel a great sense of relief, but can't until I know she is safe; if it is the latter, it is not a good outcome. So, here I am, sitting hoping that nothing bad has happened and also hoping that I had not misjudged our friendship, but hoping that I have as it's the best possible scenario that I can think of. So, I feel a bit sick.

If you are reading this, please spare a thought or prayer for my friend that she is safe and well. The Police have said they will hopefully be able to let me know what's happening tonight.

Me Time

After a few weeks of feeling rough, and though not really going through the mill, feeling like I have, I finally did some things that made me feel great. I dug out my pad of instructions for making hand sewn books, I extracted the wonderful Nepalese hand made paper in all different weights and textures that I had brought back from Hay-on-Wye, plonked myself on the floor of my room and got making. I remembered that it is a friend's birthday at the end of the month and rather than sending something impersonal, I thought I would make a book especially for them. Then the mania set in....

After making the pages, I decided I'd have a go, without any idea how, to make a full cover, with spine and cover it in some black, napped fabric I have. Great so far. Then I turned into the glue monster! It was like being five again and getting all sticky in art class at school, quite glorious. Well, the cover is made, and didn't turn out too badly at all, though I've decided it won't go with the softness of the pages I made, but that's fine, as I have some heavy gauge textured paper with flower petals set into it that will make the perfect cover.

The closure for the book will be either a soft leather thong or a length of heavy velvet from my workbox, and I decided to trim the ends with silver and amethyst beads. This required me to get out my silversmithing box, which has been long neglected. Oh, what a joy - rediscovering all the tools, findings and bits and bobs packed away set me off on other creative courses. By the end of the day, the carpet couldn't be seen for all the mess I had made, there was glue in places it shouldn't have been and I felt more content and relaxed than I have for a very long time.

So, I needed the reminder that sometimes I need to be a sticky, creative child. I hope I don't let it go too long before the next session with tools, glue, paper and all sorts of other creative delights. I have had to put them away for the moment as I'm being creative in a different way; working on an eCommerce site for someone who creates and sells hand made candles. It's quite a challenge as it's getting to grips with a new technology platform, and it's rather like discovering the world before maps were thought of. It is wonderfully powerful and I'm confident it will blow her socks off when she sees it, but the user interface was not designed to be easy or intuitive and I'm having to write a user manual! Still, it's coming along nicely and it won't be too long before it will be ready to launch... just another thousand or so images to re-sample... sigh.

East Wind

When the wind blows from the East,
expect the new and set the feast.

The East wind is blowing and I feel a sense of expectation rising within me... don't know why, but something is stirring and it feels rather exciting. Maybe a long talk with my dear friend Shepherdess helped - it somehow 'cleared the pipes' for something new to come in. Now, I shall just have to strap myself in and look forward to the ride!

Medicine, my way

So, I have some sort of lurgy and I ache all over and my lymphatic system is working overtime. The latest GP to join the medical practice I use has decided I must have something from his agenda wrong with me, rather than a simple bug or virus, so the time has come to take my health back into my own hands.

Happily, as I was roaming in Ilminster this morning, not that there's that much of it to roam, I saw a familiar and friendly face amongst the Thursday morning market stalls. A smiley man, so smiley he looks like he's wearing an elastic band, of Persian origin, who runs a stall filled with all sorts of wonderful culinary delights. How could I resist? Here was deliciousness and health all rolled into one.

I treated myself to big, luscious cranberries, candied ginger, roasted corn (it's like snack food but healthier), raw garlic cloves in chilli (Kim is away so I can eat them to my heart's content and not worry about kissing anyone!) and all sorts of other wonders. For less healthful but utterly scrumptious treats, I also got a bag of honey cashew nuts.

Today, there will be no vampires flying in Shepton; with the amount of garlic I ingested at lunch time, I doubt any will fly in the whole of south Somerset! I was very good and only had a small handful of the honey cashews, but lots of the health giving stuff, a good amble around town and lots of fresh air. Now, I have filled myself up with healthy things, blood purifiers and bug busters, so I'm expecting to feel like tigger again soon.

I renounce allopathic medicine - it'a always about how ill or bad you are, never how well you are. They like to measure and monitor, tell you how badly you are doing against their norms, how bits are failing or not meeting their targets. It seems such a negative approach. If my lymphatic system is in uproar, it means that there is someting in my system that needs to be cleared out - and if my system is doing that, well done my system. Better to give the body natural aids to help it fight than to stick needles in it to be able to label it "ok". Bring on the herbs because being used as a pincushion won't make me better.

I must be getting better, this is the second rant I've had in two days and that's a sure sign of recovery!

On The Crass Stupidity of Our Government

Ok, before you start reading, I have to warn you that I am in full rant mode.

I don't know whether it's because I'm getting older and wiser (I hope) or older and less respectful of people and institutions unless they earn my respect, but I am utterly gobsmacked at the sheer, crass stupidity of the British Government and some of the completely fuckwitted legislation they introduce. In this instance, money laundering legislation for businesses...

Some years ago, money laundering legislation was introduced that impacted on house buyers - you had to prove where your money came from and who you were. It was clumsy, clunky and no deterrent to any criminal with half a brain, but I could see the point of it - it gave government all sorts of information about us great unwashed that would have taken more effort to get otherwise.

Recently, money laundering legislation has been introduced to the business sector and now, if you want to open a bank account you have to go through all sorts of interesting hoops. If you want to open an account as a limited company, you have to provide all sorts of proofs of who and what you are, including proof of address, and the banks are forced to get share allocations and all sorts of other information that means it can take up to three months to get a bank account open.

Where is the sense in that? Instead of encouraging businesses to grow and prosper, the idiots in power are doing everything they can, and more than most of us would have dreamt of in our worst nightmares, to hinder and impede business growth. The big question is, do they really think that the new legislation is going to stop any serious crime? Of course it won't. Any self respecting criminal or gang will be laughing up their own sleeves and the only parties effected are the small entrepreneur who is trying to make an honest living and run a company.

Never mind the bloody credit crunch - Gordon and his cronies are successfully scuppering the economy without any help from the sub-prime market collapse.

Today, after three months (no, I'm not exaggerating), I got my bank account opened. I think it only happened because, having got hold of the account number, I transferred money in and it rather forced the issue. I'd complain about the banks, but for once, it isn't entirely their fault. They could give their customers better information, such as a list of the documents they need to produce, but on the whole, this entire shambolic mess is driven by the clowns in Downing Street.

Herb Talk at Dillington

Oh what a treat! Imagine the luscious location of Dillington House, a sunny day and a talk given by a Medical Herbalist with a walk around the grounds of Dillington and you have a perfect day.

Our tutor for the day was Shelly Staple, who practises Medical Herbalism in the Taunton area and who regularly gives talks to help broaden people's understanding of her gentle art. We started the morning by putting a brew of comfrey leaves and oil to warm and infuse, while we traced the history of herbalism and medicine. I was very impressed to see that the knowledge of the wise woman has been moved into such a good position by the National Institute of Medical Herbalists; these days the training, which can take up to four years, is heavily biassed towards diagnostics and the Institute is recognised and regulated. So, we have an ancient art brough happily into the modern world, though there are only about 600 qualified Medical Herbalists in the country, which is surprisingly low.

After our morning coffee break, amply supplied as always by the Dillington kitchen, we took a walk in the grounds of Dillington House while Shelly pointed out native herbs and explained their properties and uses. Stupidly, I had forgotten to take my camera so that I could capture all the species she showed us, but I was armed with a hard-backed book and took notes as much as I could. We learned about comfrey, sage, thuja, hellebore (not to be used!), herb robert, nettles, berberis, burdock, dandelion, mallow, dock, ground ivy, hemlock (another one to avoid as it's poisonous), celandine, willow, elder, lilly of the valley, hawthorn, mistletoe and oak. Not bad for a short amble about the grounds and all before lunch!

After a rather good feast, including a splendid trifle (can't you tell I love pudding?!) we went back to the classroom and spent the afternoon making a salve, an cream and by the time 4 p.m. rolled around, we were all clutching a bottle of comfrey and sage oil, a pot of salve and a jar of cream and every single face was beaming with delight.

I have always enjoyed Dillington days, but this one must rank as one of the very best I have been to; the only pity is that there isn't a three day residential course to follow it that would allow the keen student, and that was just about the entire room of delegates, to spend longer and look at plants in greater depth. This was Shelly's first talk at Dillington and I know it was over-subscribed and had a waiting list, so I can only hope that there will be more talks and residential courses by her in the future.

This talk was on the Wednesday and on Thursday Kim announced that he had got an allotment - guess what I'll be growing? Yup, I shall have space for all the bigger herbs that just won't fit in my tiny patch and that's going to be such a treat. Better still, I think I shall be visiting the redoubtable Mrs. Staple as she inspired great confidence and clearly has a passion for her subject... just as soon as I get over whatever is making my limbs feel like jelly at the moment!

Toads, Allotments and Bugs

Last weekend we decided to tidy up the garden a bit. Actually, it was more that a friend had visited and I realised just how much I had neglected the poor patch! There is a corner where the bags of coal get stacked and sadly, some untidy male had taken to leaving the empty coal bags in the corner and then heaping full ones on top. It had to be sorted, so I started dragging bags of coal out of the corner and then began to pile up the empty sacks, ready to take to the recycling centre.

The aforementioned untidy male came out and did the usual manly thing of "taking over" a moment before the job was finished and as he lifted the last sack, he let out a croak (honest) and immediately started to put the sacks back from whence I had taken them. "What are you doing, for goodness sakes?" I snarled as the snow flurries increased and my patience took a hike. "No, no, we have to cover it!" gibbered my male. Eventually, he composed himself enough to explain that as he lifted the last sack, a greenish brown face with a very groggy expression looked up at him and he realised that he had uncovered a hibernating toad.

Poor Mr Toad! On the one day it snowed in Somerset, we had to go and uncover him from his cosy toad hole. Hopefully Kim covered the toad up quickly enough that he didn't get too cold as we would both love to think that he will live in our little garden and eat all the slugs and snails in the warmer months. Fingers crossed. The only disappointing thing was that I didn't actually get to see the toad. Ah well.

This bout of gardening and my insistence on watching Gardeners World on a Friday evening has been rubbing off on Kim. Formerly a man who couldn't tell a rose from a raspberry, he's become quite interested in the garden and despite digging up lots of my flowers from the front path thinking they were weeds, he's a keen student. With this in mind, he happened to mention to Blue, our local Sherif and village worthy, that he'd love to have an allotment. Blue, being the main man around here, happens to be in charge of allotments and was happy to offer either a full or half allotment to my beloved, there and then.

Ok, so here we are, the new Monty Don and his trusty side-kick, the Shepton Witch, with all the gardening prowess of a jug of agent orange. I'm dying to see the allotment so we can decide if we can manage a full plot - but I'm not up to going yet as I have some strange bug raging through my system. Every lymph node in my body is swollen and doing battle with some invading bug and I'm as weak as a kitten. Typing this has sapped me. Still, once I am recovered, I shall go at it with great enthusiasm as I want to grow herbs. I went to a wonderful Herb Talk on Wednesday at Dillington House and I shall write about that as soon as my arms (and the rest of me) stop aching!

Sunshine

What happened to Spring? One minute I'm thinking of raiding the local garden centre for plants and things to make my little patch of wilderness lovely and the next the snow is swirling out of the sky. After a couple of very cold nights, where I have started to feel achy and very old, the sun shone this morning. I had to go to a client this morning and on a whim took the convertible instead of the comfortable old BMW - what a wheeze! I put the lid down, zipped up my fleece and donned baseball cap - just to keep my hair attached to my head - and set off. What fun. I was the only loony on the roads with their lid down, but the sun got stronger and stronger, the air smelled good and I had a really good time. Talk about blow the cobwebs away - and the sun kindly stayed out until about one minute away from home, which made putting the lid back up all the more satisfying and now the big clouds are rolling over, but my face still feels warm and my heart light.

Trying Day

It never ceases to amaze me how short lived the effects of any situation or event can be. I don't know if it's just me who operates like this, or whether others experience the same feeling of being a yo-yo when it comes to how one feels, but it's a bit tiresome. It was only a week ago that I got to the point where I had realised that things weren't right and decided to deal with them. Making that decision made me feel amazingly light-hearted and energised and full of beans. Suddenly, I was walking well and feeling really positive; I decided to face things head on, talk out the things that were troubling me and make a start on getting my life into some sort of order that made me feel as if I am mistress of my own destiny, or at least the captain of my own ship.

Last week feels like a lifetime ago. Since then, TGW has been to visit and we went off to a splendid lecture by Prof. Ronald Hutton on the Pagans of the Ancient British Isles, which was fascinating and well delivered. Then Kim and I went off to the lovely Hill House for a couple of days and I was feeling so positive that I managed to walk around Hay-On-Wye all day and it seemed that was confirmation that things were getting better and that I had made a start. Then I came home. I had an appointment with Dr Pain, my very amusing Osteopath on Thursday and came out feeling... ok. I got back to the house to a client sending snappy emails because they thought they could get something for nothing and when they found they couldn't (because I wasn't as stupid as they had hoped) they tried to pick holes, unsuccessfully, in my work. Then it was an evening of working out money, or rather the lack of it, and what we could and couldn't afford to do in terms of sorting out the house and before you could say "Not a bloody lot!" I was all locked up and limping like I'd lost my zimmer-frame again.

Today, Kim was supposed to be working in London and I had made plans or the day that included a bit of 'me time' as well as work. He wasn't well and stayed at home instead. It was really odd as it totally threw me. I had expected to get certain things done before I had to leave the house and instead there was the usual desultory conversations and I ended up being late and not taking half the things with me that I needed to take. I have realised that I'm feeling claustrophobic after what is now a full week of total immersion and no time apart from each other except for visits to the bathroom, my trip to the Osteopath and my trip out today. Is this normal? How do people who have retired cope? I feel almost churlish mentioning this, but I can't see how it's healthy for people to be on top of each other so much. Trouble is, there is no option - it's not like I have an external place to go to work, where I can lock myself away, hence I had decided that I would rather give up the idea of working for myself and get a job as an employee than continue as I am. It's not just that though. Today I cracked and asked for some quiet time - just being left alone in my room to do things but all I can hear is "Ho, hum", puffing and huffing and other noises designed to make sure that I'm aware of another presence. I'd put headphones on and blow my brains out with loud rock music if I didn't have such a tension headache!

The question is, how do I get through this? We have another nine and a half days in this situation before he's off in London working and I'm managing the interaction very poorly. I could consume sufficient alcohol to blot out my evenings and make my days so hang-over filled that I'd have something more pressing to think about, but it doesn't seem like a smart solution. I could go out, but the walking bit isn't an option and sitting in a car watching the grockles go by has all the allure of macraméing one's own belly button fluff. There's no way I can inflict myself upon friends as I shall just be such a droning old bore that they'd start avoiding me, so I'm left with the dilemma of: what do I do to make this situation better? I'm a bit stuck really and while it's happening, my confidence and feeling that I'm making my life better slips away from me.

I thought we had talked things through and that I had made some progress in expressing how hemmed-in and frustrated I feel, but it's as if the conversation never happened. Everything is same old, same old. It's not that I had much expectation of things being radically different, but somehow I had hoped that by taking things in hand and talking about them, it would break the feeling of inertia, inaction and lassitude that fills the house, but it hasn't. Maybe it's all just in my head and I need a shrink or some anti-depressants. All I know is that I'm back to sitting with my head in my hands and crying without any sort of provocation; that can't be right.

My friend, Shepherdess, tells me that I am a "different person" when I am on my own; by this she means when I am independent and living on my own, not having an isolated moment from time to time. I can't quite elicit from her what's different, but I know it to be true and I rather like the person I can be - someone who is capable and does things for themselves because they know it's the easiest way to get things done. I like the person who used to have a social life and friends who would enjoy popping around for a coffee without the negotiation that seems to happen these days. What I see in the mirror lately fills me with disappointment. I'm capable of so much more, and yet I can't drag it out of myself these days. Maybe I do need a good boot up the bum.

A Herefordshire Retreat

Where do I start to tell you about a few days away that were so uplifting that I feel like I have had a week’s holiday, at least? Well, the logical place it to thank TGW for mentioning The Hill House which is a lovely place tucked away in Herefordshire.

Kim had been working long stretches and after all the worry I have had of late, it was with a deep sigh of relief that we set off for a short break on Monday morning. We went up the M5 after I had suffered a sleepless night worrying about … just about everything, and when 5.30 a.m. came, I was close to cancelling. Suffice to say that I was dragged into the car and though I forgot my cossie (for the hot tub) I managed to get everything else in the bag.

Check in isn’t until 4 p.m., so we took a trip to Monmouth and had a wander around the shops and little lanes in the town; it seems a very pleasant place with delightful shops and a very nice café at the top of the hill, though I never did find the shop I was looking for, The Sentient Heart, ah well. At 4.30 p.m. we set off for the hotel and discovered that Kim’s satnav, which he thinks is great and I’m not so sure of, didn’t think the hotel existed; frantic phone call to hear a cheery voice at the other end with sensible directions, phew!

For anyone who had not been to Ross-On-Wye before, don’t do it unless you want to experience the results of planners and highways agencies on hallucinogenic drugs and with a serious sense of unkindness. The town don’t work for cars or humans and at best can be described as a one way system spiralling (literally) out of control. We got through it and came out the other side hoping the hotel wasn’t too close to the town; we needn’t have worried.

The Hill House is up the side of a steep hill (the name wasn’t a give-away, of course) and approached by a long, single-track drive that is lined with yew trees and the drop from the drive is dizzying and a bit scary. We checked in to find ourselves in a great big room with a four poster style bed, a private balcony (even though you’d have had to be a husky dog to want to sit out in the weather that day) and an extra upstairs room! I had looked at the website when I booked and thought “oh, that looks a decent size” but they had completely forgotten to mention that the suite has an upstairs with a double bed (and another single) tucked under a velux so you can watch the stars wheeling by – what a treat!

This was our first trip to Herefordshire and we decided we would book a meal in the evening at The Hill House so that we could have a quiet lazy evening an what a treat it turned out to be. The hotel is run by Duncan and Alex; Duncan is the meat cook and Alex will cook veggie meals for the non meat eaters as that’s her thing. The fare was simple but utterly delicious! We had chicken, and I would just love to wrest the recipe from Duncan as we were both completely bowled over. The portions were Olympic sized (I would suspect the chicken had been on steroids if I didn’t know it was organic and free range!) and as our waistbands gently groaned, Duncan appeared with the pudding menu. Made up of local ice cream made by Just Rachel a local producer who has gone back to old recipes to make natural and scrumptious deserts. Oh, what to choose - the Damson and Sloe Gin ice cream, the Crème Brulee ice cream…? In the end, Duncan put some of each in my dish and I was a blissed out puppy. “Tonight can’t get any better” thought I, until he appeared with a cheese board that would have gourmets the world over drooling. I don’t know what Kim had, but he was grinning like an idiot, so it was probably as good as the Caerphilly that I had from a local producer. Duncan splashed some “Druid Fluid” into glasses to accompany the cheeses and it was as nice as any port I’ve had in a while. Druid Fluid is properly known as Elderflower and Blackberry fortified wine, produced by St Anne’s Vineyard at Oxenhall near Newent. Oh boy, this stuff is silky, delicious and just a bit potent! After dinner we retired to the bar, a room sutffed with comfortable sofas, a fireplace and hosts who don’t understand the word stingy. I may have floated up the wide wooden staircase later on that evening, though it’s just as likely that Kim had to throw me over his shoulder in fireman’s lift style as all I remember is hitting a marshmallow soft bed and feeling a bit miffed that it was more comfortable that our outrageously expensive mattress!

Uploaded with plasq's Skitch, but never mind that, it's the big, fluffy marshmallow of a bed!

The next morning would surpass the night before, though I wasn’t to know it until we reached the breakfast room. Feeling a touch delicate (nothing to do with my unfamiliarity with alcohol you understand) we decided to set aside the cereal bowls when we saw the breakfast plates arriving on our neighbour’s table. They were bloody huge! Two sausages, two rashers of thick bacon, two eggs, toast, heaps of mushrooms, bubble and squeak (honestly! And it’s gorgeous) and black pudding if you want it. That was followed by a pile of toast and home made raspberry jam (better than my own I don’t mind admitting) and a large pot of tea just for me. The net result of this breakfeast (no, I didn’t mis-spell it) is that you don’t feel bloated, but you don’t feel hungry until after 6 p.m. either (and all this in the insane price of £35 per night p.p.)!

Tuesday was spent meandering around Hay-On-Wye looking at books and succumbing to temptation, including a set of three Arthur Rackham prints of Siegfried slaying the dragon at very modest prices. We had intended to travel into Hereford for our dinner on Tuesday night but as we were both quite tired and the lovely Duncan wasn’t available to cook that evening, we decided to head down the hill to The Mill Race for our supper. Another delightful surprise awaited as the food there was very good though the bill was much larger than the modest £15 per head for supper at Hill House (and only £10 for a very nice red).

Uploaded with plasq's Skitch and this was sitting on top of a shelf with red wine as well as the standard tea bags and coffee!

Neither of us had the energy to try out the rather groovy blue-lit sauna in the basement or the hot tub, where I had originally thought to watch the stars and sip champagne, but it gives us a very good excuse (like we need one) to go back to Hill House again very soon. It wasn’t just the food that was a delight; the walls were lined with books (I have one on loan and they are just so delightful and trusting that I shall send it back), there is a cinema room if that’s your thing and the whole rambling old house has such a warm and welcoming atmosphere that the tension and cares seep out of you in a trice. It’s not the four star, plasticized type of hotel that we normally end up in when we’re working. The furniture doesn’t match, but it’s made of real wood; There’s soap in the room, but it’s made of frankincense and honey, not sodium laureth sulphate; the shower was badly positioned, but given the choice of that or the likes of the Hilton or Novotel (fondly known in our household as the Novohell), I’d be in Hill House every time. That’s just reminded me, we’re supposed to be making our next booking, so I had better nag Kim now to sort it out!!!