Older

 

I woke around 3.15 pm yesterday afternoon, which was far too early.

I heard the tinkle of water and for a moment lay in bed with Dorothy’s fat face smiling at me.

I rolled over and looked at the floor to see Roger merrily peeing inside one of my work shoes.

Beyond caring I rolled back over and slept until after 4 pm when I had to get up. 

I’m not an elastic band any more

We are all getting older 

That little nugget of philosophy seeped into my head soon after when I was chatting to a villager with a poorly spouse. Dorothy as usual was playing up as my friend was shedding a tear of worry and remained a pain when she actually snapped the chewed bit off her lead in sheer boredom when unfortunately poorly Meirion showed up so wanting to share his exciting news of a forthcoming  cholecystectomy. 

Some like Animal Helper Pat and Mrs Trellis have a sort of eternal youth about them, but as they pass the cottage, battling wind and rain and energetic dogs , some others are now looking their age and are slowing up or looking more bowed or grey.

Village Elder Islwyn still wears his yellow workman’s gear around the village but isn’t seen with his spade in hand as much as he was, and Mr Poznan cannot be viewed stilling straight on the village green as often as he once was, sat with hands resting on the top of his stick like Gandalf the Wizard.

I was a slimmer brunette when when I came to Bwthyn y Llan .

Now I kind of waddle and have my father’s hair. 

I have blogged for over sixteen years now and I’m worrying that I could have heard the last from The Weaver of Grass who was with me at the start of my journey here as she has been at the start of many such journals.