Finding Life Hard?

The idea for this cake - the rear end of a bike speeding off - looked good in my head. Never mind: I'm only dropping it off at Zac's as I won't be staying.
We're off to Ibiza in the morning. Leaving Cardiff airport at 6.30 means we have to get up at 2.30. So it'll be early bed for us tonight.
We've been to the library to stock up on holiday reading material and George is installed in the kennels (much to his disapproval). We're doing half board at the hotel; that's something we've never done before preferring bed and breakfast or self-catering, but by the time we booked our holiday that was the only option available. (Note to self: must not eat too much just because we've paid for it and it's there.)
I've also stocked up on Lemsip Max and paracetamol as I'm battling a cough/cold/throat infection. What I need is a holiday.

A good granny can always bring her GrandDaughter into the conversation.
For example:'Have you been on holiday this year?''Well, we go to Devon at least once a month to see GrandDaughter. She's 9 months old now and ...'
Or:'Have you seen the film XXX?''Yes, I think we saw it on dvd in Devon when we were visiting GrandDaughter. She's growing so fast and ...'
Or:
'What's the weather going to do today?''It's not going to be as sunny - in my heart - as when GrandDaughter was here.'
What do you mean 'obsessed'?

The sitcom Open All Hours featured Ronnie Barker as a corner-shopkeeper. His was an old-fashioned sort of shop with a display outside and, at the end of each episode, he was seen putting stuff away as he reflected on the day. I'm not sure if he always said, 'It's been a funny old day,' or whether he said it once and it's stuck in my mind, but I associate him with that phrase.
So, anyway, it's been a funny old week.
It's certainly been a busy week or 10 days, beginning with our trip to Taunton last weekend for the family party. At the buffet lunch on Sunday a film was running on the television. It was a collection of bits and pieces, largely featuring the wedding of the couple celebrating their 50th anniversary. It had been taken by an amateur with a cine camera - rare in those days! - and had been spliced together and put on dvd by super-whizzo technology.
As well as the wedding shots there were clips from holidays, including some of me as a 10-year-old. At one point the camera focused on my mum. Just on her face and it stayed there for maybe 20 seconds. I hadn't been expecting it and to suddenly see her face animated and smiling and alive was a shock. Strangely, it was probably the clearest image in the whole film.
To come face to face with the woman I knew as my mother but didn't really know was just the start.
I'd expected a cousin of mine, whose mother had attended the wedding originally (and that was one of the ways they picked their guests for this weekend: if they'd been at the wedding they, or their descendants, were invited) to be there and as she wasn't I asked the host if she'd been invited. 'No, I haven't seen her for ages.' I mulled this over and came to the conclusion that I'd been invited, not just because of my mother but because I was actually wanted there. That's sounds pathetic and silly but I've spent a lifetime believing I'm the mistake, the one who's tagged on, the one who gets invited because of obligation. For someone to invite me because they might actually like me ...
On Tuesday at Zac's the bible study was led by Reverend Doctor John Smith, founder of God's Squad (Christian motor cyclists), and over from Australia for the 15th anniversary celebrations of the UK chapter.
His presence had been announced and bikers and others turned up from all over the country to hear him. So it wasn't your average Tuesday night (as if there is such a thing). But he did carry on with study of the book of Acts in a talk that touched many people. His message was really quite simple: God is near us; he loves us; and we're on a journey.
Afterwards Blossum introduced me and John Smith moved his hands as if to shake mine, but as I went to respond he drew me to him in a bear hug, and held me safely for a long moment. Some things feel right.

The next two days I attended the arts seminar that he was leading at Zac's with musicians and visual artists. The Wednesday night I came home thoroughly depressed: I was with a group of people who were all more articulate, more intelligent, more artistic, more spiritual - more everything - than I. I felt like a sore thumb. I don't cope well with a group of people I don't know. I went to bed and tossed and turned until morning came.
Oddly enough, and I'm not sure how, my focus had changed by the morning. I resolved to go along and take some of my writing to read. I shared 2 pieces about Zac's, one prose and one a blog post. They went down okay and John's keynote talk, which was the main point of the seminar, was encouraging. Basically, go and use your talents to help others. I think - I hope - I already do this with prison, so it was an affirmation of that work.
So, all in all, it's been a funny old week, and I suspect ripples generated by it will be around for a while. I need time to think so it's a good job we're going on holiday on Wednesday. (Yes, again.) We're off to Ibiza to party. No, not really. We are going to Ibiza but to the quieter side where Younger Son and Girlfriend are based at the dive school.
So now I suppose I should start packing ...

GrandDaughter, George and Holly all hoping that Husband will drop some of his croissant.

We've had a lovely Bank Holiday weekend. Elder Son and Daughter-in-law came down from London and Daughter, Son-in-law and GrandDaughter came up from Devon. And Saturday afternoon her parents trusted us to take GrandDaughter out in the pram on our own! (Yes, she's a bit big for the pram now but I was determined to use it.)
We had a lovely stroll along the prom, just as far as Ripples ice cream parlour.

Minnie Mini is very clever!
I've told you about some of her clever tricks before but I've discovered a new one.
If I get in the car on my own, the radio comes on; if there are two of us in the car, it doesn't.
It works out that, if you're on your own, you must want music to keep you company, but if you've a passenger their lively conversation will keep you entertained. At least that's my theory.
(Husband doesn't believe me and thinks it depends on whether the radio was on when you last drove the car, but it doesn't.)

Husband and I were nestled together in bed when Husband burped three times in quick succession. 'Isn't it so romantic?' he said.'You see,' I said, 'this is where you're going wrong. Flowers and chocolates are romantic. Writing poetry is romantic. Burping in your loved one's ear isn't.''But flowers and chocolates are boring.'
I wonder if it's too late to change him. I'd be willing to take part exchange.

George and I have just been blackberrying. I've been going blackberrying ever since I was a wee girl so you'd think I'd know that shorts and thin-soled trainers didn't make good clothes for foraging in brambles. You'd think.
I say George and I were blackberrying but George wasn't a lot of help. Especially not after I made the mistake of giving him a blackberry to eat. 'You mean I can eat those black things? Mmm, and they taste good too.' It became a battle after that to get to the fat juicy ones before he did.

This is what I've been doing today. Making, from left, chilli, butternut squash soup, rhubarb cake, apple cake and brownies.We've 2 days of arts workshop tomorrow and Thursday at Zac's, led by Rev John Smith, Australian founder of God's Squad. He's over here to help celebrate the 15th anniversary of the UK chapter and as well as doing stuff like speaking at Greenbelt, the big Christian arts festival this weekend, he's leading the bible study tonight. Should be groovy.

That's what you have to do if you want to increase your metabolic rate. And eat more. Or at least, eat more often little quantities of healthy food.
Teacher in slimming class did explain why; it's all to do with dietary thermogenics. But for some reason I struggle to make sense of metabolic rate so I just pay attention to what I have to do not why.
Little things like walking around while making a phone call can all help to increase your metabolic rate and thus the speed at which you can use calories and I put that into practice this afternoon.
I was making brownies and had to beat the eggs and sugar together for 10 minutes so, accompanied by Tom Jones, I strutted my stuff around my mixing bowl. If you want my body and you think I'm sexy makes very good beating music. Honky Tonk Woman is pretty good too.
It's a good job the hedge outside the kitchen window has grown again.

At one point during Sunday's lunch, this little darling - the 11-week-old not her 6'8" daddy - was serenaded by a choir of Welsh women singing Calon Lan (Pure heart). She seemed to enjoy it. Well, she slept right through it so it can't have disturbed her much. (Actually it sounded really good.)

This morning, as part of the weekend entertainment, a guided walk around historic Taunton had been organised for those interested. It's a fascinating old town with Saxon and Norman roots. Did you know, by the way, that anything ending with sex is Saxon?
This, the old library, is much later, and was funded by a generous donation from renowned philanthropist, Andrew Carnegie. It's now part of a pub chain, however, over the door you can still see the Taunton coat of arms.Except ... it should have been removed as it breaks the rules of heraldry. That is an imperial crown and, on a coat of arms, there should be nothing above an imperial crown. Other sorts of crowns and it's okay, and in most cases where this crest appeared they changed the crown but they seem to have missed this one. Ssssh, don't tell!

After the walk we went to the home of my cousin and his wife where their children had prepared a fabulous buffet lunch.
My diet has totally gone to pot this weekend ...
But we've had a lovely time and are very grateful to our generous hosts.

We didn't camp. Husband denied asking me about the sleeping bag. In fact he looked at me blankly - not that unusual an occurrence - and accused me of dreaming things.
So, anyway, this is the 4 star Castle Hotel in Taunton and very posh it is too. That's wisteria covering the front façade and apparently it's 160 years old. It must look glorious when it's in full blue bloom.
And look at our enormous bed! (How sad am I taking a photo of a bed?!)
And here's me in my posh frock, complete with fetching tan marks. At this point I'm still securely pinned in; later in the evening I had to keep my fluffy shrug on as my pins bent under the strain of too much good food.

I am in the shower when I hear Husband call to me, 'What sleeping bag do you want?'
And I'm thinking: the hotel we're staying in - where the party is being held - is four star; surely I don't need a sleeping bag.
But then I wonder if Husband is living up to his retirement mantra - we must save money - and has cancelled the hotel booking in favour of camping. And I recall that he has left the inflatable mattress and pump, which he found in the attic, on the bedroom floor.
He's out walking George now. I shall quiz him when he gets back. And if he has planned a 'surprise' for me, Cousin's golden wedding party could turn into our divorce party.
P.S. And, seriously, I need to be pinned into my dress if I am to avoid an embarrassing moment.

Phew, that was a bit heavy for me. Now something a bit lighter.
The UK chapter of the God Squad is celebrating its 15th anniversary this year and this weekend lots of people are gathering in a field somewhere to party. On Tuesday in Zac's Una said to me, 'You should come, Liz.'
Yeah, I'm a biker chick. Apart from the biker bit. And the chick bit.
And I've definitely done with camping in muddy fields in the pouring rain.
Anyway, we're going to 'a bit of a do'. My second cousin and his wife are celebrating their golden wedding anniversary and have invited friends and the original guests from their wedding - or if they're dead the next in line - to an evening at a smart hotel in Taunton. My mum went so I'm invited, and it's a dinner jacket and posh frock affair.
Last weekend I dug out the strapless - not topless, strapless is the word I must remember to use - top and long skirt that I wore to one of Husband's work dos and tried them on. The skirt was a snug fit but the top was loose. Never in my life, at least not since having babies, can I be said to have been lacking in the bosom department so this came as a bit of a shock.
I'm going to have to remember to keep still and not jig around too much.

On the PM programme on Radio 4 tonight they played a clip from an advert running in the States opposing the building of a mosque at Ground Zero. The advert was funded by a Republican group.
I'm not sure about the wisdom of building a mosque on the site. Far better to have a park and memorial ground I would have thought but I'm not American and don't have the right to interfere. But what I am sure is wrong is the wording of the advertisement. I don't remember the exact phrasing but basically it said 'They want to build a monument to celebrate the murder of thousands of Americans.' It was the repeated use of the word 'they' that astounded me. They?
In the way I've written that quote, you could think it was a specific 'they' being spoken of, but the general usage of the word throughout the clip was far more obviously aimed at Muslims in general. The suggestion was that they, the whole of the Muslim world, are evil. They, the whole of the Muslim world, are the enemy of freedom and democracy.
It wasn't that long ago that America had legalised segregation; could it happen again?

Sort of. Elder Son wrote the original music for this track.

Kof ft Wiley & Chelcee Grimes - 'Fire It Up' from MTV - The Wrap Up on Vimeo.