I’m not one for souvenirs, but this delicate folding paper sculpture of the Sagrada Familia sort of grabbed my eye in Barcelona.
I’m looking at it now, as I sip a McCafe in the cool and quiet of the kitchen.
It’s 15 degrees and pleasant
And there’s no radio or bustle.
Which is what I want after Spain and a mad work day yesterday.
Today will be serene in comparison .
Tourists can spoil holidays, even if you dare to realise that you are a tourist too!
But despite my fellow travellers , I adored Barcelona. With its wide tree lined avenues contrasting so much with the gothic alleyways, and it’s history and grandness…I enjoyed the city so much.
Of course the Sagrada Familia was the highlight for me as when Jane and I walked though the door blinking away the harsh sunlight , we were literally overwhelmed by a brilliant cave of colour and a blast of fanfare from the huge cathedral organ.
I had a lump in my throat
And could literally only mutter “ wow!” as soaring pillars fashioned into the trunks of giant trees took my breath away.
Gaudi ‘s house Casa Batilò had the same effect on me as I was overwhelmed in tears by listening to the words of one of the Batilò’s daughters as she recalled her idyllic childhood in a home, so delicately designed, it almost hurt to experience it.
I’m feeling happy
Happier than I’ve probably felt in a few years and like a child may wish for when at a friend’s wonderful birthday party, I don’t want that feeling to end
Oh lord I’m totally buggered but happy …it was worth it.
Jane gave me a gift when I met her in Sheffield and it’s been with us to Manchester Airport then back to wales where she’s sat in my window seat enjoying the view over Trelawnyd’s fields
Barcelona has proved to be a bit of gem and it is a city that I would quite happily return to on my own if the need arose.
I’m sat with my third leisurely coffee. Jane is off walking the streets, and it’s still incredibly hot.
I feel very fortunate that that I finally got here given the flight cock ups of last year, but also lucky that in a few days time I’m off to London to see Nu and the National Opera.
Strike that, I’m not lucky, but I am fortunate
I’m fortunate that I’ve saved my overtime money and am able to do these nice things in Life.
Life feels so much better when you make the effort……
Gaudi’s house , Casa Batllò was a beautiful and humbling experience. At times through the audio guide I felt father emotional listening to the thoughts of the home by the Batllò’s daughter.
“ A house of colour and light “ she described it.
A mooch through the Mercado de la Boqueria The Gothic Quarter,,
Chocolate churros, mexican bomb patas, The Ramblas,
We were delayed a few hours at the airport but were refused to be stressed by it all.
Subsequently we travelled the train and metro at rush hour and found our delightful apartment out near El Putxet at Dusk. Jane has gone out to buy provisions
I’ve opened a beer
I think there’s a pretty school outside and a relaxing dinner is on the cards
Much criticism has been launched at the new version of Miss Saigon , all rather unfairly I think. Bloody hell I remember seeing it in 1989 when North Walian Jonathan Pryce played the engineer with silty eyed prosthetics and a Kung Foo accent.
I loved the Crucible’s version. Jessica Lee ‘s vocals matched Lea Selonga’s anyday and Joanna Ampil brought a different energy to the usual male role of The Engineer. She was fabulous as was Shane O’Riordan who played John.
It’s a flying visit this time, with only time to catch up with my friend Mike , watch Miss Saigon at the Crucible before driving back over the Pennines to Manchester airport and Barcelona
I love that Snake Pass is open and this afternoon stopped to catch up with this view which means that I’m almost home.
So hopefully it will make a few of you readers titter.
I was packing my small suitcase during a real downpour when I heard a sort of bang and some distant shouting and crying. I waited for a while but the sounds continued so I pushed through the wet honeysuckle over the front door and looked into the lane.
A sports bike was resting on its side by the field gate and a young man in Lycra and helmet stood in the street holding his side .
He looked dreadfully upset and was bleeding from his fingers. His bike had lost it’s grip on the corner
“I’ve scraped my side !” he cried and he looked around 18 going on ten with all his face screwed up
I showed him into the cottage and he limped into the bathroom to check his wounds .
I went through the first aid kit and dug out plasters for his hands
“I need a big dressing “ he wailed from the bathroom, all regressed and panicked
I went upstairs with a bottle of TCP to see a large five inch square scrape on his thigh and fashioned a square of clean cotton from an old pillowcase.
It looked like a scene from a cheap porno .
Him crying will it hurt?
Before me saying “ Im a nurse” as I cleaned the grit out of a nasty scrape with my pillowcase dipped in antiseptic.
He was a brave little soldier and we dressed his cuts with plasters before he sat down on the couch and sipped some sweet orange juice before getting back on his bike
“Me mum should be home when I get back” he said hopefully
My Last Official Flower Show ( as top bottle washer and dogsbody) was back in 2017.
I didnt realise then it was going to be my last show as organizer but it was the last one Auntie Gladys went to and indeed, some of you may recall that she opened the show with a speech worthy of anyone more used to public speaking.
Now if you look at the photo, you can see me hugging the winner of the cookery section.
I'm not usually that tactile with strangers but she was a special case that year.
The mum of a friend I used to work with on Intensive Care, she had suffered a devastating stroke that left her physically compromised, terribly fatigued and emotionally very low indeed and at a bit of a loss my friend had suggested she enter the show in several categories as way as some therapy.
what everyone didn't expect was that the lady in question worked so hard at her entries that she swept the board at judging time and it was amazing to see just how shocked and overjoyed she was at winning several classes outright.
There wasn't a dry eye in the house as the the word got around
and I think it was one of my favourite moments in running the show for a decade
Some like the ones I have with my friends of long standing are running more or less parallel
Others occasionally Veer away or in the case of one , Jane, intersect on a surreptitious level.
Many many moons ago Jane and I were an item. She is a free spirit and has an empathic and generous soul
And I came out shortly after we had split up.
I hurt her badly and I regret that hurt to this day.
But she , forgave me ( after planting a fully iced birthday cake in the centre of my new lawn) and eventually we became good friends again.
That seemed a lifetime ago.
Jane has a husband and two beautiful grown up daughters and lives in Sheffield
We speak regularly.
Last week she went on holiday to a tiny mountain house in the middle of the Andalusian mountains.
She went alone which took some balls, but she did it and FaceTimed me several times sharing the triumphs of that bucket list adventure.
We are both feeling our ages.
Next week the both of us are off to Barcelona another first since we were together a lifetime ago and I know it will be lovely.
Lockdown allowed us to share our worries and our dreams and thoughts about getting older, both have embarked on changes in work snd study late on in life.
Both feel we have lots of things undone, rather than unsaid
This afternoon I met an old friend for savoury pancakes at the Dutch Pancake House up in the sticks at The Water Gardens, Rowen Conwy. It’s a pretty place with lakes and ponds filled with ducks and an Enclosure of otters which was fun.
I got there early and explored a dilapidated church nearby.
Out for lunch in the country makes you feel as though you’ve been out for the full day .
When I got home I found my newest ( and poshest) Walking Dead T shirt had been delivered,a kind gift from Georgian Jackie D.
Thank you deArheart
Off to meet Hannah Blythyn who is a Welsh Politician and member of the Welsh Senedd ( The Welsh Government ) at the Memorial Hall with the other TCA members.
Getting her interest in the future of the hall could prove useful
A simple breakfast today, panini, vine tomatoes, olive oil and a sprinkling of salt and parmesan
Next week I’m off to Sheffield to see Miss Saigon then fly to Barcelona the day after.
This week, I’m trying to save money, but it’s not always easy to stay home.
Later I will go and watch the documentary In No Great Hurry at Colwyn Bay,which explores the work of photographer Saul Leiter., thats my treat for the week,
Yesterday afternoon I took part in an on line tutorial about creative writing which I booked and paid for last year and in one group discussion I was the only person present not to have ever written a love poem or a love letter of sorts.
This kind of upset me, as all of the 18 others on zoom had obviously done so
This morning I remembered something, hidden away in a recess, something I used to say to my husband when I all loved up, or when I looked at him in a certain way when he didn’t know he was being watched.
I would say the letters SRA to him.
And he would know where I was at.
SRA always stood for the words Sudden Rush Of Affection
My dyspraxia was worse than normal this morning. Now there are coffee grains all over the floor. A product of too loud a radio programme, feeling overwhelmed and hurrying.
I know I’m going to drop something when those stars are in line.
Usually a millisecond before it happens.
I’m sat quietly at the table Vernon Kay’s sweet Northern Chatter turned off and some quiet orchestral music on.
It’s the Portuguese Love Theme by Craig Armstrong
The gift of oak saplings made yesterday a nice day. The older I get these kindnesses mean so much more than they did when I was younger. Sure kindnesses are always nice when you are on the receiving end of them but when you are single , somehow they mean just that little bit more important and , well…….kind.
I posted on Facebook a blog about my plans to go to London soon recently and one of the replies was from my great niece Ellie who works in the capital asking to meet for coffee.
That touched me greatly.
Another text, this time from Affable Despot Jason , inviting me to his daughter’s 18th birthday party, the words, she really wants you to come, touched me greatly too as did Village Elder Ian’s recent offer to shrink my front garden gate to it will close properly.
Little kindnesses are of such importance
And so in a similar vein, I’m asking for some kindness from my “ troll” here on Going Gently. I’m asking for them to please stop provoking an argument out of nothing.
I’m big enough and ugly enough to cope with such comments but the drip drip nature of them, usually in the most innocuous of blog entries has become somewhat wearisome to say the least.
I’m also going to ask people not to react to any when and if they continue to arrive
After this personal request, I hope that will not be necessary.
My mother, for all of her faults, was a kind woman, all told.
I remember when I was around 10, we lived in a large detached house on the corner of a busy road. On the opposite corner was a veterinary practice, built on the back of a residential house. One day she had been watching a woman sat in a car outside for a while before she asked me to do her a favour . She had collected several roses from the garden and had wrapped silver paper around the stems and asked me to take them down to the lady in the car.
Being a shy child I refused , and being a shy adult she pushed herself to offer them to the woman in the car herself. When she returned, pink cheeked and sweaty, I asked her just why she had given roses to a stranger. And my mother said that the she had seen the woman take her elderly Labrador into the vets and had seen her return just with his lead.
The woman had been sobbing in her car, presumably after having the dog euthanised and my mother felt she had to do something to offset her pain, just a little.
It’s a big lesson to learn at 10
Not only that my mother was capable of such a small glowing act of kindness when she didn’t always act in a kind way at home.
But also that she was painfully shy and probably in need of such little kindnesses herself
