Finding Life Hard?

Just doing a bit of blogging while counting down to the Wales Ireland game. I've had to change my fantasy first team AGAIN as Ryan Jones (my favourite and Wales captain) is injured and not playing. As I said before, judging by the number of players who were in my team who then got injured, I have the touch of death. Maybe I should have chosen Brian O'Driscoll (Ireland captain) and then he'd be out today. But I refuse out of principle to have in my team: I don't like him. I've read that he's very single-minded and he doesn't appear to have a sense of humour if an Irishman without a sense of humour isn't a contradiction in terms.
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Tonight we're off to a musical soiree!
A couple of months ago there was a charity auction and friends of ours bought 'a musical evening with light supper for eight', and we're invited. I feel very Elizabeth Bennett although Mrs Bennett is probably more me.
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I have yesterday's Thanks to write (I know what it is I just haven't got down to writing it yet) as well as today's (as yet undecided).
Oh yes, and I think it's a good job I've come home. Husband, Mr 'I don't like gin; I'm a malt whisky man', has taken to drinking gin and tonic in my absence. In cocktail glasses.
A worrisome turn of affairs.

I did forget my hairbrush.

Because GrandDaughter is still in a lying-back position in her pushchair, my running commentary on the 'ickle lambs and the woolly pony, the snowdrops and the silly car driver who should have slowed down is largely irrelevant to her.

So I focused on something she could see: the sky. A few little clouds wandered into her line of vision so we played 'See what you can see in the clouds'. I got quite excited as I could see an elephant. GrandDaughter looked skeptical until I explained that it was all because of perspective that his head looked so much bigger than his body.

I think she found it easier when we saw real catkins and I explained about spring and baby birds (who go tweet) and baby lambs (who go baa). I was about to tell her about a young man's fancy but thought better of it.

Today GrandDaughter and I were having a little cwtch on the sofa and, for what must have been 3 whole minutes, she stared intently at my face as if she were trying to memorise every detail.

It was a wonderfully precious moment and I am so thankful for it.

I missed Zac's last night as I was down here in Devon, and I do miss it. It's a very important part of my life.

It started off as 'pub in a church'. Sean and Lorraine, a local singer, used to run Sunday night gatherings in a Swansea pub, then a few years ago Exousia Trust, which was set up to support Sean in his ministry to bikers and the ragamuffins of society, was able to buy an old chapel, which now serves as the base. It's where we meet on Tuesday evenings for bible study (tribal gathering) and where coffee (and soup) bar happens on Thursday evenings for rough sleepers etc. A local charity working with the homeless also used the premises to provide breakfast each weekday morning.

Those are the regular events but lots of other things happen at Zac's Place too on an occasional basis like a health clinic, first aid classes for Big Issue sellers and music gigs.

But, although it serves a purpose, the building isn't Zac's as such. Zac's is so much more. It's a community of people, very different people, at different stages in their Christian life. Many view Zac's as their church; some have come from regular churches where they've been discouraged, cold-shouldered, told what to think or do or wear - or what not to. Or they've never been part of a church but are seeking something that they can't find anywhere else. Many are on the very edges of society.

It seems that everyone who comes to Zac's find the thing they are looking for, whatever that might be. Acceptance, understanding, tolerance, love. They won't find judgement or condemnation though, if they ask, they will hear truth.

Visitors have often said that there's just something that feels different and special about the place. It could be the atmosphere but I think it's the presence of God.

GrandDaughter has been poking out her tongue; her parents have been saying that I taught her.

Today Daughter's friend, another young mum, came to visit and she was impressed with the tongue-sticking-out. She said, that according to the book she'd been reading, it was an acquired skill.

So today GrandDaughter - who loves me again - and I have been working on raspberry-blowing and thumb-sucking (but don't tell her dad!)

I am very grateful for the new Severn Bridge. It cuts off even more of the journey from Wales to the West Country than the old Severn suspension bridge used to, and far more than the old drive all the way round through Gloucestershire. Not that I remember that. Any trips we made to the West Country when I was a child were made on the train - the smelly old steam train that went through the tunnel under the river. You had to make sure the windows were closed when you approached the tunnel else your compartment would be filled with smoke.

That's a photo I found on the internet: I'm in Devon and don't have access to my photos of the bridge. Not only am I grateful for the usefulness of the bridge, I appreciate it for its beauty. It's a truly lovely creation, with fabulous lines and colours. I am in awe of the design and engineering skills that went into its construction, not to mention the actual feat of building across fast-flowing tidal water.

And now I'm safely in Devon and GrandDaughter keeps crying at me! I am feeling very unlovely.

Husband said, 'You should have enough fuel to get to Daughter's. At least you should make it to the end of the motorway.'

I'd just come over the bridge and the first sign I saw said Exeter 71 miles; Minni said I had enough fuel to do 68. Don't panic!

Next sign said Exeter 64 miles; Minni was saying I could do 70. Hey, I'm making petrol again. (Yes, Husband, I know: diesel!)

By the next sign we'd evened out and both sign and Minni said 49 miles.

We were two junctions off leaving the motorway and within the space of 1 minute Minni's 'number of miles you can do' gauge dropped from 21 to 13. And as I was approaching the last but one junction we were back up to 19.

Now I knew it wasn't 19 miles to the next junction, where I'd leave and go straight to Tesco's petrol station, but the way Minni's gauge had been going, should I cut my losses and get off early and try and find another garage?

Should I? Should I? Shoul ... oops, too late.

Well, we made it to Tesco's with a few miles to spare but I'm never leaving home without filling up first again!

I was lying on the floor after circuit training, supposed to be relaxing, and all I could think of was what I should have said to someone this morning.
It's so annoying when that happens.
I'd been telling someone - let's call him Charlie - how I'd been struck by the simplicity and power of the early church (as I blogged last Wednesday), and saying how far we'd come from that ideal. I also mentioned how impressed I'd been by the fact that people were attracted by what they saw.
Charlie pointed out that those were different days and there was no social services and that the church is no longer the first port of call for those in distress. And that, if the church was being born now, it would look different. From that he somehow got on to these mega and very theatrical churches like Hillsong and Willow Creek, and how some churches are attractional when they should be incarnational.
And, as usual, I ended up thinking, 'Yes, you're right; I'm wrong.'
But now I want to say, 'Why? Why would it look different?' I mean obviously it would look different physically but the underlying basis, the caring and sharing, and the teaching of Christ are still the most important and the things that would attract. And that the early church didn't 'attract' in the way grand productions and flashy shows attract, but they attracted because they were incarnational. Because they were living a life that said Jesus.
So that's what I should have said.
I always used to think Charlie was very clever - and he is very good at articulating and arguing and debating - but I've realised that he's very well-read and gets most of his arguments from books. That's not necessarily a bad thing - but it's not original.
Right, so I got that out of my system. Husband said I should phone Charlie and tell him but he'd only come up with other arguments and I'd end up losing again. So I'll just settle for blogging.

I am grateful for my son-in-law.
He and Daughter have been together for about 12 years now, and married for 7 of those. He is devoted to Daughter and shows it. He is a hard worker who's doing well in his career, and he loves his own daughter to bits. He's a very hands-on dad and does his fair share of changing pooey nappies as well as cuddling.
He's very athletic and a keen cyclist. Back in 2008, on a wet and miserable day, he took part in L'Etape (the amateur stage of Le Tour de France). We went to France with them and the first sunny day after the event we drove along the same route, up, up, up, into the mountains to the Col de Tourmalet, so Son-in-law - and we - could see where he'd cycled and just what he'd achieved. Up in the clouds, we were impressed.
Son-in-law is willing to learn and open to advice - especially from his father-in-law about whisky and DIY! That's the only problem really: he's picking up his father-in-law's sense of humour. They say daughters choose men who are like their fathers ...

I'm grateful for this beautiful sunny spring Sunday morning.

Gosh, Saturday went without me noticing so, in retrospect, I'm grateful that George only got each of us up once in the night, and that the butter didn't make him poo all over the house.
(Look, I said, this gratitude list would be random!)

I started making a big Christmas-style cake this afternoon. I put all the fruit to soak in brandy - a bit more, okay, maybe twice as much, than it said in the recipe as 6 tablespoons didn't look enough - and then I put 1 pound of butter in a large mixing bowl with brown sugar. Then I left the bowl on the work surface while the butter softened.Which is where George came across it. Note how he's carefully licked out ALL the pound of butter and left the sugar ...
If he gets us up in the middle of the night he will be doubly unpopular.

the seat collapses under me.
I look in the mirror and think, 'What's the matter with my hair?' Then I realise it's not my hair; my hair looks fine. It's my face that has seen better days.
Yes, I'm having a fat, old and grumpy day.
Which is not the right day to go and buy a new toilet seat. Because I come back with one that is ... (I would put the photo here but Blogger doesn't let me move photos around any more - so see next post) black and SPARKLY!

On Monday evening we started a new circuit in Thrive (circuit training class). It was mostly okay except for one particular exercise.
For this you had to squat down - as someone once described it to me - 'as if you're doing a poo in the woods'. Then you had to leap straight into a star jump.
And we had to do this for 60 seconds. Go on, you try it.
As luck would have it, my regular partner wasn't there so I was paired with the woman who, in 2 weeks' time, is doing a 30-mile sponsored run. And she kept talking to me, which would have been okay if she hadn't been asking me questions and expecting answers.
Monday night is the - I was going to say 'easy' class but it's not so instead I'll say I also go to Thrive on Thursday, which is the 'advanced' class. This week I missed it as I was in Devon. Husband, who went, told me, 'It was hard.'
I am so very grateful I didn't go to Thursday Thrive this week and I won't be going next week either as I'm back in Devon.

HollyDog, Grand-Daughter and I went for an explore this afternoon. We decided we'd follow a lane and see where it went: it didn't go anywhere. Probably my own fault for choosing the way, at the crossroads, that wasn't marked as leading to anywhere.

In fact it did lead somewhere: to Flock Mill and Old Heazle's Farm, which in turn led to a quick rendition of Tom Pearce, Tom Pearce, lend me your grey mare, all along down along out along lea .... And Uncle Tom Cobley and all.

We didn't mind not getting anywhere as it was a beautiful sunny afternoon to wander the peaceful Devonshire country lanes. We saw little lambs, a fat pheasant strutting across a field and a hare.
'How do you know it's a hare?' HollyDog asked.
'Because it looks like one.'
'What's the difference between a hare and a rabbit?'
'I have no idea.'
HollyDog looked at me rather skeptically. 'That then puts your identification of the hoppity thing into doubt I believe.'
I shook my head, 'It's March!'

(I had to explain about March hares and I don't think she was convinced but as neither she nor GrandDaughter, who was asleep, saw it, I think I can say without fear of contradiction that it was a hare. So there.)

I'm writing this in Daughter's office. Their garden backs onto a churchyard and tonight is bell-ringing practice. I do love church bells.

And now I'm going downstairs to have a cup of tea and a cookie - yes, in spite of saying, 'If I never see another cookie again it will be too soon,' I made some for Daughter this afternoon.

I am very grateful for my peeler.

I've had the same style one for years - the sort with a bit of string wrapped round the handle. The original one had its string renewed so many time before it finally gave up the ghost. My father-in-law, after seeing me use it one time when they were visiting, kindly bought me a new super-whizzo peeler ... but I couldn't get to grips with it.

I finally found another one the same as my first love - although without the bit of string.

I am reminded how much I love my peeler after struggling with Daughter's.

It's the simple things that make life simple.

I got two marriage proposals last night on the strength of my cookies.
They only love me for my cooking ...

I am so glad I passed my driving test way back when. If I had to retake it today I dread to consider the result. Not because I'm a bad driver, you understand! But because today's test includes parallel parking.
I will drive for miles to find a space I can just pull into.
And if I hadn't passed my test I wouldn't be able to drive to Devon today!
Yay! I'm spending the next 3 days helping to look after Grand-Daughter while her mum does some copy-writing work. It's a hard task but someone has to do it ...
Yay! Yay! Yay!