Direction(less)

 Hello Lovelies! 

Everyone has been asking about my holiday or WHOLIDAY as I am calling it.  It was an amazing and overwhelming (but in the best possible way) experience. But with everyone who has asked about it I have started with the travel and navigation part instead of the holiday and I will tell you for why--I am DIRECTIONLESS. So, navigating on my own was a much much much bigger deal than for a normal person (whatever that means.) Everyone who enquired about my hols has remarked on this saying, "Yes, but how was the Doctor Who part of it?" Because no one seems to understand just how important of an achievement this was for me. So, dear reader, I am starting with the most important part. 

First you must understand this:

I have no sense of direction. Other people say that and what they mean is if they get a bit muddled it may take them a few minutes while they relook at the map to orient themselves and then they're back on the right course. This is not what we mean when we talk about me.

I have no spatial sense in the world. I struggle with left and right. I seem to have no memory of my surroundings even if it is a familiar place. It is like a blindness when it comes to moving through the world. A blindness that often leaves me in a state of sheer terror because I am lost. Not just lost, but LOST.

 I first remember this being an issue when in the 5th grade a friend who was coming over for a sleepover phoned and asked for directions to my house and I stood there stunned because I did not know directions to my house. I could only weakly suggest my house address, but I had no memory of how you got there. I recall in a panic quickly handing the phone over to my annoyed mother who rattled off a list of directions. How did she do that? I couldn't do that. My father kindly wrote me a list of things to say which I memorised so that I could be able to tell someone if they asked, but it had no meaning to me. 

 In case you are interested:

 Go down Jackson Street Extension and turn right onto Twin Bridges Road, turn right on Joe Hesni Boulevard and right again at the end and take the first left onto Stephen Circle. 

 This was a coping mechanism I developed, a mantra to chant to help me in familiar places that felt unfamiliar. I still do this every day, reciting the memorised directions from my work to my home. 

 And then once when we lived in England because the street I normally took was blocked off because of a gas leak I had to learn a second way to get home because all I could do was stand in the road and cry because I could not see a way to go around it because straight was the only way I knew.

 Things got worse for me from 6th grade through Louisiana College. Now I had to change classes and had to get places quickly. These were classes I went to every day and I still could not remember how to get there because the halls looked basically the same so there were no landmarks to grasp. I recall vividly the rising terror of standing at the top of the stairs at ASH not knowing which hallway should I take to get to Science. To the left or the right? One way led to English and one to Science, and even doing it every day I could not remember and just watched in panic until I saw a person in my class and followed them down the correct hall. And then there was finding my locker. How could I find it when they all looked alike? And which order did my combination go in? I could recall the numbers but by the time it took me to find my locker I was flustered, and the numbers swam in front of my eyes. 

 Most people never knew this about me. I was very good at "masking." I had seen the look of disbelief and annoyance on my mother's face who thought I was just playing up and had no sense as opposed to no sense of direction. 

 It got much much worse when I learned to drive.  I HATED driving. There was so much to remember, so many body parts to coordinate, the screaming pain like being tased in the tailbone after driving for more than 30 minutes (thank you broken coccyx). How could I also add navigation to the mix?

 I worked the same job for 4 summers. I worked for the Rapides Parish Library Summer Reading Programme.  I was required each week to drive to 2 different library branches a day. It was so stressful because none of it ever looked familiar. I don't mean that each summer I had to re-learn the way because I hadn't driven it in a year. No, I mean each week I had to re-learn because I hadn't driven it in a week.  I was always accompanied by a teenage student worker who had good directional sense.  I just remember speeding down a highway in tears because nothing looked familiar, and I didn't know where I was. Each summer the student worker acted like a SAT NAV and just told me where to turn. Smart ones pointed instead of saying "left" or "right" because I was very likely to go the wrong way. 

 I met the Amazing Spiderman in 1989. He was amazing in more ways than one.  He took that burden from me because he was good at navigation. Perhaps he was just normal and merely competent at it, but in my eyes he was a GENIUS. He was endlessly patient as my father had been.  Whenever we went to a restaurant where you had to go up the stairs and down corridors to get to the toilets not being able to find my way back was a regular occurrence. After 5 minutes he would just come to find me as I stood crying in a corridor, my heart squeezing with panic and shame.  When I desperately wanted to go to London to hear a lecture at Friend's House at the age of 40, he turned it into a board game with photographs of all the landmarks  I had to pass on my 10 minute walk. We played that game every night for weeks before I went so that I could have a mantra of landmarks to recite as I made the simple journey. He never shamed me for this lack of spatial ability. He only ever looked at me with love in his eyes. 

 We were together for 32 years before he died, and he was my North Star in more ways than one. While I have taken trips since he died, there was always someone to meet me on the other side and chauffer me around. And last year when my mother and granddaughter were killed in the car accident, a friend texted me at every airport to tell me my next departure gate. So then all I had to do was find the gate, which was difficult enough, but made less difficult by not having to locate and interpret giant electronic signs that keep changing while you are trying to read them before finding the correct departure gate.  That trip was not fun AT ALL and I had big ole snotty sobbing breakdowns in 3 airports from the stress of it. 

 When Spiderman died, I felt DIRECTIONLESS in more ways than one. Not only had I lost my trusty navigator, but my soulmate as well. I wondered would my directional issues ever allow me to continue on our adventures.  Then a few months ago I had a very clear dream where Spiderman told me I was ready. That I was to go to Weston-Super-Mare to see the Doctor Who exhibit at the museum. That he would guide me, and I was to bring a framed photo of him with me. And so, I booked it--another skill I have had to learn. Transportation and accommodation were also part of the things he did for me.

 I am surrounded by ANGELS. As soon as I started telling customers I was going on a trip, my first holiday since he died, I was surrounded by help.

 An older customer gave me his A-Z book of street maps of Weston-Super-Mare and helped me practice tracing the route from my hotel to the museum every time he came to the shop.

A younger customer showed me how to use GOOGLE MAPS on my phone and set it up for the walking directions.  He taught me that my body would be a large dot on the map and there would be a dotted line I was supposed to follow and so if I was not going the right direction I could see in real time that I was off track. Another customer (who is becoming a friend, hoorah!) showed me that if you do GOOGLE MAPS on a computer you can see street views and so I spent hours before I left practicing walking through the town and making a list of landmarks I would pass to know I was on the right track and landmarks that would help me know where to turn (turn right by Superdrug is much easier than turn right on Orchard Street. Also, why do so many streets not have a fecking street sign????) 

 And so, by the time I got there I knew where I was. I had a list of landmarks and so was much calmer and was able to enjoy myself. It was like a switch had flipped in my head. Suddenly I could see connections. I could see how this street connected to that street and remember it. Something I have NEVER been able to do before.

 

I was like a cartoon getting an idea and a light bulb appears over their head. It was like my whole brain was illuminated for the first time in my life. I even was able to look at GOOGLE MAPS and make the connection that the cinema (where I had practiced finding before the trip) was near the train station and so I was able to use my prior knowledge to get me to the cinema and then do a practice walk the day before I left to the station. I just went slowly, used the dots on GOOGLE MAPS to help me know I was going in the right direction and then emailed myself a list of landmarks to follow the next day. And it worked. it really worked.

 

I came home so excited because I now had coping mechanisms and some directional skills but mainly, I had CONFIDENCE. This has opened up a whole world of travel for me. Which is why I must talk about it first, before I tell you all about my grand adventure. 

 

Stay tuned tomorrow for the tale of SIX go on a WHOLIDAY. 

 

 

It Takes a Village...

...to raise a Spidergrrl.

Hello lovelies! What an adventure I have had. Anyone who has read my book The Wanting Comes in Waves will know that the last good thing the Amazing Spiderman did for me before he got sick and died was take me to get a mammogram in Pensarn. Well, it is that time again because it has been a little over two years.

This has thrown up lots of issues for me:

• Grief over the fact that I have to do it alone this time (and the memory of what came after the last time)
• Anxiety of all the related things that go with it like how to get there by bus (which bus do I have to get, where does it pick up? How much does it cost? How will i know where to get off?)
• Once I am there the worry that they will find something because many women in my family have had breast cancer
• Then the journey home: where does the bus pick you up to take you home because it is never the same place it dropped you off

The last time all I had to worry about was the actual worry that I might get a diagnosis of breast cancer because Spiderman found the bus times, got us on the bus, got me to the mobile unit in the Morrisons car park and got us on the right bus to come home. 

I just kept thinking, How can I do this alone? 

Several people said  Oh, you can walk to Morrisons! it takes about 15 minutes. it's easy! you just have to do things like:

go OVER a bridge

go UNDER an underpass

go THROUGH a tunnel

and then it just became a list of prepositions and that was even worse than trying to figure out the bus. I think these people have seriously underestimated just how lost I can get. The bus is stressful, but walking it blindly through Preposition Land is terrifying. maybe if i had  time to do a practice walk with a friend like Spiderman used to do with me, but not without having a go a few times before the actual day. I will take my chances with the bus. 

I know it seems silly. I am a grown-ass woman. I should be able to do this. But i really struggle with reading a bus timetable. How can I figure out what bus i need if the timetable looks like this? 

Seriously. It might as well be written in Chinese because I cannot make heads of tails of it. 

I have just been talking and talking to Spiderman asking for his help from beyond the grave to help me figure out how in the hell I can do this without him. 

And he came through. He sent me ALL THE ANGELS.  I mean, seriously. There were angels every step of the way. 

First, I had no idea what bus to catch. How do you find that out if you can't read the bus timetable? 

FIRST TWO ANGELS: My colleague Paul at work remembered that one of our regular customers Chas takes the bus that passes Morrisons. He emailed Chas for me and asked what bus he took. Chas confirmed that i need the X11. He told me where he catches the bus and it was outside my favourite YMCA charity shop. Chas came by the shop the next day and talked me through it in person as he knew i was anxious about transport issues. 

ANGEL NUMBER THREE: I now knew my bus number and where to catch the bus, but how would I know the bus times? My dear friend and neighbour Sian and I went out for a cuppa before work and I mentioned my predicament. She told me all about the TRAVELINE CYMRU app which lets you plug in where you are, where you want to go, and the time and date you are going and POW! it tells very clearly all the information you need and more! Isn't this so much easier to read???

So, today I had to completely rearrange my schedule. My Angel colleague Paul swapped shifts with me so i could get to my 3:20pm appointment. We also swapped book clubs. I did his book club today from 1-2pm and he will do mine next week on Tuesday night. 

After book club i changed into leggings and a t-shirt to make getting my boobs out a bit easier then I went down to the YMCA. I decided  I was in plenty of time to catch the 14:13 bus (2:13 to my American peeps) and I could just mooch around Morrisons supermarket for an hour as the bus ride was about ten minutes.   

There was still that worry about how will I know where to get off the bus. Several people said it would be OBVIOUS but they have not counted on how crap I am at spotting (or rather missing) landmarks.

Enter ANGEL NUMBER FOUR: The lovely Christine from book club which had disbanded a mere 10 minutes ago came over and said, "Oh are you taking this bus as well?" I confirmed I was. I explained that I was nervous about where to get off and she offered to DING the button for me at my stop. What a relief. And it really was a relief. I was staring with my X-Ray vision out the window looking for the obvious sign that said MORRISONS in big ole letters when i heard the bell go DING and Christine shout, "This is your stop!" I am eternally grateful as all I could see was this hugh-jass hedge so i would have never known it because i was looking in the wrong direction. 

ANGEL NUMBER FIVE: the bus driver. He was incredibly patient with me and told me where to pick up the bus on the way back. It involved crossing the very busy road and he told he me to use the crosswalk to get across. I hadn't even seen the crosswalk as i was too busy imagining myself as a real life FROGGER tried to hop across the road to the alligators on logs (well, the return bus shelter.)

I had an hour to potter around Morrisons so i found a few treats on special offer like this crazy delicious palm oil free chocolate spread. I bought two but after tasting it, wish i had bought the lot. YUM.

Then it was time for the ole mammogram which Spiderman described as a boob sandwich between two panes of glass. They let me in at 3:15pm for my 3:20 appointment. It took literally five minutes which included going over my details twice, taking off my bra, getting squished two different ways and getting dressed again. 

Before I went in I wished I had gone for a wee but when I came out i didn't need to go anymore so it must have been just nerves. 

I looked at the Traveline app and it looked like i would need to wait until 15:54 (3:54 for my American peeps) to return to Carmarthen so i went over to the crossing, pushed the button, stopped the cars and crossed over. I was resigned to wait for 30 minutes when lo-and-behold an X11 bus was trundling our way. The mammogram had happened so quickly I had managed to catch the 15:24 (3:24) back to town. And just like that I was back on familiar ground by 3:38. 

I am so insanely proud of myself for figuring it out without crying that I feel like I have climbed Mt Everest. It feels stupid because taking the bus should be a life skill, but it is not one I acquired because Spiderman was the great navigator. But now i know I can do it though I could not have done it without all the ANGELS. 

Thanks Best Beloved. 

Insom-nom-nom-nom-nom nia

 Hello Lovelies!

If you didn't see yesterday's post and the start of this series about my new year's motto of "Everything is Figureoutable" then click HERE

Looking at more ways I want my life to be better in 2023 has to start with EATING and SLEEPING. 

I am someone who really needs eight hours of sleep to function. Spiderman could get by with less and never seemed to show any signs of being cranky, but I sure do. 

My days back at LC were a blur of sugar highs and lows (Sugarpuff  Cereal Sandwiches, anyone?) and chronic exhaustion from rehearsals until midnight and then studying until the wee hours of the morning. I felt really ratty for five whole years because of too much crappy eating and not enough sleep. At times I was awful to be around, but Spiderman somehow saw through my RATTITUDE (another portmanteau word I love) and married me anyway.

Unfortunately,  my go-to activities when I am stressed are COMFORT EATING and DOOMSCROLLING. Though (to make myself sound like an old codger) they didn't have phones back in my day to waste time on. Now they do. The more depressed or anxious I am they more I eat sugary crap and stay up past my bedtime. Even when my body is screaming "For Frith's sake, just go to bed!" I am still lying on the sofa  in a state of panic shovelling food into my yawning gob scrolling through my phone without actually looking at anything while my bleary red eyes widen to hold themselves open from the fear that if I let them close I will fall asleep or a Weeping Angel will come and get me. 

Why has it been like this? When Spiderman died I found it very hard to be in bed by myself. It felt very empty and there was no comfort. Because sleeping with another warm body is comfort. We always slept touching. I was the little spoon and if he rolled over in the night our backs instinctively sought the other's warmth and so to sleep alone was cold in every sense of the word. In the early months after his death I avoided going to bed like a frenzied toddler who desperately needs a nap but instead runs around in a circle for three hours. I got a body pillow which did help a bit--it gave the sensation of someone else in our King Sized bed. But it wasn't him.

The other issue was I was buying and eating lots of junk food. Vegans have junk food too and I tried it all. And the problem with the junk food and getting overtired is that by the time I was so shattered I could not stay awake a moment longer then I felt I was too tired to wash my face or brush my teeth for fear of waking myself back up. I paid for that when my skin became dull and spotty and I got a cavity. 

I am lucky that on most days I don't have to be at work until mid-day. But this meant after dragging myself to bed at around 2 a.m. and then taking ages to actually fall asleep (thank you sugar) while having a mild panic attack that I was still awake at 3 a.m. that when my alarm went off I could not get up. I reached for my phone and would snooze in 15-30 minute intervals until I was in danger of being late for work. Then I would come home like a zombie and the house got out of control and there was never any time or energy to tidy (see yesterday's problem) This just couldn't go on.

So what did I do? I made myself get a sleep routine. I thought about what I needed--some calming voice to help direct me to relaxation and some soothing background noises. I tried various sounds and lots didn't work for me. White Noise was like nails on a chalkboard but the lower toned Brown Noise was just right. I found everything I needed on Spotify and made a playlist. 

Here is what I do every night:

10:00pm, no more phone or tablet. I go wash my face and brush my teeth. I wash the dishes so the kitchen will be clean when I wake up.

10:30pm, get into pyjamas and turn the overhead light off and only use the lamp to make me gradually get used to less light.

10:30pm to 11:30pm, read for pleasure. (This will bring me to the second thing on my list today--see below). 

11:30pm, rub a few drops of lavender oil into the soles of my feet--especially up between the big toe and adjacent toe) and put my socks back on 

11:35pm, set the alarm for 7:30am, plug in my phone, turn on the Sleep Playlist, turn off the light and go to sleep. 

I have done this now every night for one week and I cannot believe the difference in my energy. I wake up easily with the alarm and have time to do so many things before I go to work so that when I come home at the end of the day all of the "need to be dones" are complete and so I can concentrate on the "want to be dones."

2. READ

This seems crazy because I am such a bookworm, but the more depressed or anxious I am the less I read. I can't seem to focus, the words swim before my eyes, I can't remember what I read on the last paragraph and what should be lovely becomes horrible. The phone calls to me like a Siren calls to the sailor luring me into mindlessly scrolling because it means I don't have to engage my brain. I spent most of 2020 furious because I had all that time at home when I didn't have to go to work and I couldn't read anything without crying from frustration.

It has been AMAZING to read again. So far in one week I have read two and half books. And it is just making it part of my routine. Booking it in, if you'll excuse the pun. 

3. VEGAN/COOK ONCE EAT TWICE/FREEZE

Having more energy because I am sleeping better means I will make better food choices. Already I am craving less unhealthy stuff. As my old fridge/freezer died right before Christmas, I was forced to buy a new one. This involved a lot of "Everything is figureoutable" mantras because I had to choose a new appliance, order it online, schedule a delivery, move and clean out the old one so the new one could take its place. Now that I have a bigger, better, more beautiful (OK, this last one is less important but I love the fact that I chose a black appliance and all my photos of FAMILY and FRAMILY really pop) I am working hard to do meal prep in both the fridge and freezer to make my life a bit easier (see tomorrow's post) 

Are you struggling with unhealthy eating or poor sleep? If you are, then I hope this will help you. 

The Road To Hell

I had a nightmare the other  night.

A driving nightmare.

A driving at night, nightmare.

A driving at night on the road to hell, nightmare.

Where did this come from? Who knows. I haven't driven a car in over a decade. I have *never* driven a car in the UK.

I am not sure I even could drive here.

Everything is on the wrong side for me. They drive on the opposite (wrong!) side of the road.

Even the inside of the car is on the opposite (wrong again!) side for me.


I have always had issues with my left and right. When driving in the US I *always* wore a hair scrunchie on my left wrist so I could tell them apart quickly.

Imagine having to do that on the opposite side of everything?

Um....no thanks. I am sure the people are Britain are breathing a huge sigh of relief.

Plus even when I used to drive in the US, I never enjoyed it. I am NOT a petrol head. The reasons are this are two fold.

1) Driving always killed my back. When you are a shortie with a broken coccyx sitting in a bucket seat designed for a tall person without a broken tailbone--well....it ain't pretty. I was in agony every time we had to drive long distances. And pretty durn uncomfortable driving short distances.

2) I have no sense of direction. At all. Zero. Zip. I am the person who literally could not find my way out of a paper bag with a map and a torch.

So being in agony, trying to tell my left from my right and trying to read signs and navigate made for a very stressed, very tense little Spider.

So anyway,  this was my dream.

I was driving a car at night down a multi lane motorway somewhere in England. I know it was England because the signs were not bilingual as they are in Wales.

It was night, visibility was very poor. It had been raining. That in itself is a REALISTIC situation a person might find themselves in.

Then it got weird.

The exit signs were all in RIDDLES. Seriously! Spiderman had to try to spot them from far away, we had to decode the riddle, I would then attempt to maneuver the car across several lanes of busy traffic and then exit. We kept wishing he had a telescope so he could see them from further away to give us more time to decode them as some of them were quite tricky.

The only riddle I can actually remember was this one:
Seven chickens turn thrice widdershins. What am I?
Answer:



Seriously, they were all like that. And what's up with the use of the archaic word widdershins? I only knew it meant anti-clockwise from reading the book/watching the excellent miniseries Neverwhere by Neil Gaiman. Because that is how Richard Mayhew has to summon the Marquis De Carabas for the Lady Door.

the wonderful Patterson Joseph as the Marquis



So basically, I woke up in a cold sweat with my heart hammering away like an armed policeman.

Spiderman thought it was hysterical and said,
What do you get when you cross a spider with a fruitcake?
Answer: YOU

Later I was able to laugh about it. But more than anything, I am thankful to live in a nation, in a country, in a town that encourages and allows public transportation and walking.

Because if you have to stand on a street corner and surreptitiously check your left from your right or squint at buildings that may or may not be familiar to remember your way home then at least no wanker is beeping their horn at you or crashing into your tail end because you hesitated.

Southern Belles May Be Stronger Than You Think

Oh what a night.

Our lovely southern belle Brazilian white knee spider Blanche DuBois has been through the the wringer and has given us quite a fright.

It all started on Saturday. We had friends over for dinner and Blanche was just strutting her stuff and showing off for company. She was walking up and down (stopping occasionally to scratch her bum in an adorable way) and then she went to her water dish and had a big ole drink. She also was seen to be laying down a web mat and we thought, "Aha, she is preparing for a moult!"

Well yesterday at about 2:00 I observed her doing what we call "spider yoga" where the spider stretches their upper back (much like the cobra pose in yoga) to loosen their carapace. When a spider moults it does lots of stretches to make their carapace (back plate) pop off so they can easily pull out their new body from the old one--like pulling your arm out of a sleeve.

Here is where things went a bit pear shaped. A spider normally moults on its back. It is the best way to be able to loosen their carapace and then roll to the side to pull out of the old skin. At 4:30ish we noticed she had rolled awkwardly on her side no where near the web mat she had made.

We thought maybe she would roll from the awkward side pose to her back but she never did. This was potentially dangerous as legs under the bottom of her cannot flex enough to break the carapace. Normally a spider flips, does stretchy stretchy and then starts to pull out. The whole things can take several hours. But at this rate, in that position, she might struggle to get her carapace off at all and die.

We decided to skip Welsh class as she might need our help and I am so glad we did.

As she lay awkwardly on her side, at first her top legs were straight up in the air but as the hours passed they sank down limply and stayed there. At first we thought, "Great! She is finally moving her legs!" but then it seemed as if she had just let them collapse and curl up. Was it the death curl? By now she should be pumping her legs back and forth like pistons to pop off her carapace and she just wasn't.

Why had she not flipped to her back? Why had she not pumped her legs? Was she ill? Was she just too old and weak to flip all the way over? We inherited her 7 years ago and so she was around 12-13 years old. She had seemed fine on Saturday, unlike Lily Rose who looked frail in her old age, Blanche had looked robust. It was a puzzle.

Maybe she was too dry to split her old skin? So Spiderman added extra water to the tank to build up humidity and we moved the space heater closer to keep her warm. Spiderman dropped water from a pipette (dropper) on all her joints that we could reach  to try to lubricate them. She didn't react at all.

By midnight she had not moved at all and we thought she was dead. She seemed to be stuck in the moult--being greatly weakened and not able to push herself through it. Even if she did manage to get her carapace off if the joints were too dry she could lose multiple legs or tear her abdomen coming out and bleed to death.

She lay there awkwardly on her side half curled up and we thought she was dead. You can't tell. You can't check for breathing or a pulse because they don't function like that. It was agony.

We cried and did not know how to help her.  We talked about how and where we would bury her in the morning. We thought if she is not dead now, she will be soon. We felt helpless.

Exhausted, we climbed into bed and talked about all our favourite memories of her and then slept fitfully. This morning we woke and were both afraid to go and see. What if she had torn herself in half trying to get out? We went in and looked and she had done it. She had moulted. Her new body was still on its back --too weak to flip itself over. Her mouthparts were covered in bloody looking flux. She might have torn her oesophagus. She wasn't moving at all.

This was worse than last night. What if she had finally managed to moult only to die from the exhaustion of it? At first we thought she was missing 2 legs but it turned out she was just laying on them awkwardly.

Was she alive? Was she dead? We could not tell.  My throat felt sore from anxiety.

We waited. An hour later we noticed she had moved just a little bit. Was she alive? Then after another hour or so she had flipped herself back upright. She was alive.

But for how long? It was a very traumatic moult. We have never seen one like this. She might have internal damage. One of her legs looks a bit wonky so she might have some lameness.

All we know is she is a fighter. She is alive for now. We will continue to love her and treasure her no matter what, but this may be coming to the end of her life. Another moult will likely kill her.

I think it was so hard because we were there for it. Every excruciating step of the way. All of our other girls have "died in their sleep." We woke up and they were in the death curl. But to see one suffer and not be able to do anything to ease their suffering is heartbreaking. Her moult lasted over 10 hours. Most likely up to 15 hours. For her to be in pain and distress for that long must have been horrible.

Poor Blanche DuBois.  Do what you need to do, baby. If you need to slip away then we will miss you or gather your strength and live a bit more.

We love you darlin'.

That Darn Welsh eto (again)

I was discussing with my dear ole Mum via email about the confusing bits of learning to speak Welsh.  It is not as tricky as it first appears. It just looks different to our eyes because some of the alphabet is different (letters like dd and ll spring to mind) as well as grammatically sentence structure is *completely* different from English. 

In English if it is a regular verb you just add -ed.  If it is irregular you might change the whole word (as in go becomes went.) Thankfully there are only 5 irregular verbs in Cymraeg (cael--to get or to have, mynd--to go, gwneud--to do or to make, dod--to come and bod--to be). Here are the verb endings and pronoun for past tense: (remember verb first then subject so coginiais i says cooked I but means I cooked)
-ais i
-aist ti
-odd e/odd hi
-on ni
-och chi
-on nhw

 So the verb darllen meaning to read would look like this in the past tense:
Darllenais i
Darllenaist ti
Darllenodd e/ darllenodd hi
Darllenon ni
Darllenoch chi
Darllenon nhw

As I said before if a pronoun precedes a preposition then it has to conjugate. The preposition may also make the word that follows mutate!

Endings for prepositions with pronoun:
-a i
-at ti (or -ot ti in the case of wrth)
-o fe/-i hi
-on ni
-och chi
-yn nhw

So becso am means to worry about so to say Worry about me,  worry about you, worry about him/her etc looks like this--
Becso amdana i
Becso amdanat ti
Becso amdano fe/becso amdani hi
Becso amdanon ni
Becso amdanoch chi
Becso amdanyn nhw

In a sentence that might look like this:
They worry about her.
Maen nhw'n becso amdani hi.

The more I do it, the easier it gets on paper. It is still incredibly difficult to say and to hear. But I keep telling myself Paid becso, bydd hapus.  Don't worry, be happy!

A rubbish sort of Scooby Doo ghost

This is so embarrassing.

I scared myself the other night.

In my defence, it was late. Way past my bedtime. I was bleary-eyed with fatigue. I made my way to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth whilst Spiderman got into bed. I took off my glasses which rendered me virtually blind (I am 20/200 in one eye) and I started to massage olive oil onto my face and around my eyes to remove my makeup. This rendered me temporarily blurry. 

Then it happened.

I was bleary and blind and blurry when I turned on the hot tap. Then  I heard a noise.

It was like a rubbish ghost on Scooby Doo and it sounded like, “WhhhhoooOOOOOooo”

I thought it was Spiderman who had snuck in behind me and was trying to wind me up. So I whipped around to tell him to “Sod off” and even in my bleary/blind/blurry state I could see there was no one behind me.

It happened again. “WhhhhooooOOOOOOooooo.” This time louder and more convincing. Not Scooby Doo fake at all, but bone chillingly real. I whipped back around and caught sight of a person standing right behind me.

So I did what any normal freaked out person would do.

I let out a little scream. Then turned around to run away and promptly tripped over the bucket we use to wash clothes that was still in the bathroom.

Spiderman leapt out of bed and was calling to me “Are you ok?”  and it was only getting up from the floor that I realised that the spooky sound was somehow coming from the water pipes and had occurred when I had turned on the hot water.

As for the person standing behind me…..it was own reflection. But having been tired and without my spectacles and with olive oil around my eyes I hadn’t recognised myself.

Oh dear.

I finished washing my face and then had to sheepishly crawl into bed. I tried to tell Spiderman what had happened and how I had managed to get frightened of the hot water tap and myself but it was too silly to explain. I was laughing so hard I could not even make the “WhhooooOOOOoooo” noise properly.

Upon waking up it seemed even funnier. How could I have been so easily duped?

So you honour, I present my defence.

I was bleary, blind and blurry at the time.

Case dismissed.  

Be the change you wish to see in the world

Gandhi said that. It is a good quote. It is no use sitting around grumbling about the state of things if you don’t do something to change them.

 

But how do you do that?

 

Start where you are. Use what you have. Do what you can.--Arthur Ashe.

 

I like to spend New Year’s Day doing a little of all the things I hope to do in the year. Usually this involves some creative stuff (Yesterday I did some sewing and card making) and some music (I practiced three Welsh tunes on Tallulah the ukulele which prompted Spiderman to casually remark how good it was sounding which just made my heart bloom with joy).  I  cooked delicious food (we had roasted parsnips and carrots for lunch!) and we had black eyed peas with cornbread and kale in the evening for good luck and prosperity in the new year.  We read some books and watched some comedy in the evening as well.

 

Those where all things I did for myself, but what could I do for others?

 

How wonderful it is that nobody need wait a single moment before starting to improve the world.--Anne Frank.

 

I heard on New Year’s Eve about an annual event that made my blood run cold. Every year on New Year’s Day the Carmarthenshire Hunt MFHA (Masters of Foxhounds Association) ride their horses and hounds into town for a parade before going out to hunt. While the Hunting Act was introduced in 2004 which banned the hunting of wild mammals such as foxes, deer, hares and mink using dogs in England and Wales, it does not  cover the use of dogs in the process of flushing out wild mammals nor does not affect trail hunting where hounds are trained to follow an artificial scent (usually fox urine).  There is always a worry that the ban will be lifted. Our current Prime Minister David Cameron has said that if the conservatives get into power in the next election that the Hunting Act will be repealed.

 

Basically, there are many ways that they can still participate in blood sports while skirting within the boundaries of the law. Last year a pack of hounds chased a terrified fox onto a main road and tore the fox apart in front of a busload full of horrified commuters; the Carmarthenshire MFHA  deny any knowledge. There is some discussion that it is suspected that some fox hunters are breeding foxes and then releasing them, but there is no overt proof.

 

Even if the Carmarthenshire MFHA do not hunt foxes outright, they do still trail hunt with fox urine, rabbit hunt, rat hunt, hunt hares that have been shot and use dogs to flush birds of prey. While they are all legal, I do not consider them to be moral. They say on their website that they do the trail running to “keep the traditions and practices alive” which to that I say tradition does not make it right. Traditionally we have had slaves and women did not have the right to vote. These were traditions and practices we used to believe were good, but no longer do. Cruelty is NOT a sport.

 

When I heard on New Year’s Eve that this parade of cruelty was going to take place in my town and that the League Against Cruel Sports and West Wales Animal Aid would be there in protest I knew I had to go. God was calling to my heart and telling me this was what He was asking of me.

 

So I designed a poster and laminated it (for fear of Welsh rain) and prayed that it would be peaceful and that I could make a difference.

 

On New Year’s Day I went out to meet the other protestors. I had no idea what to expect. Mostly I listened. I heard all about ways that the hunt is declining and needs to hire hunters from other counties to boost their numbers for these parades. I learned to look for violations that we could report to the police. There was a man from the RSPCA there who observed the horses and hounds for signs of abuse or neglect ( a few years ago several of the hounds were seen to be mange-y looking and scabby and rib thin.).

 

Here is a link from the local paper to a photo gallery from the day showing both the hunters and the protesters. You can see me clearly in several shots due to my bright pink coat and grey hat. I am standing on the far left. http://www.carmarthenjournal.co.uk/pictures/PICTURES-View-photo-gallery-Carmarthenshire-Hunt/pictures-25793608-detail/pictures.html

 

The order of the day was that the horse riders would ride in on their horses wearing their red jackets after stopping off at local pubs for a drink. They arrive in Guildhall Square to cheering crowds before going out for a hunt. They arrived to great fanfare as we protestors who numbered around twenty stood on the steps. The horses and riders all crowded in front of us  and the hounds ran feely through the crowd and between the protestors. The horses were nervous and some riders could not control them and they skittered into each other. The dogs running between their legs did not help. Our worries that the riders had been drinking too much to safely “manage their vehicle” (if a horse counts as a vehicle) were confirmed when a woman bearing a tray of wine glasses was weaving in and out of the horses to offer the riders a tipple when a horse reared and knocked her over and the glasses all shattered on the pavement. We were upset as there was broken glass that could easily cut the tender feet of dogs or nearby children.  Can a horse get glass lodged in a hoof? I didn’t want to find out.  A policeman came and quickly swept the glass up. We shouted at them for using real glass around animals--a health and safety issue. They shouted at us saying “ You think we MEANT for that to happen?”

 

There was lots of shouting. We shouted BOOOOO when crowds were cheering. I did not want to hurl abuse, the Quaker in me would not let me. But I did shout SHAME! and CRUELTY IS NOT A SPORT! because I firmly believe that blood sports are wrong. Someone shouted “There are two arseholes on a horse, one on the horse and the other sitting  on top of the horse!” which made me laugh, but I did not want to name call. I wanted to pray for everyone.

 

The hunting of innocent animals for sport is cruel. The desire to harm another living being for fun is not fun for anyone. I think the saddest thing for me was that there were several really young children riders who were probably on their first hunt. Later in the day, when they made a kill, the blood of the innocent animal would be rubbed on their faces as initiation. Because it is tradition.

 

The riders trotted off and the protesters discussed ways they were going to report them for violations that we had photographed them doing (we also tried to film them doing something that we know to be illegal but we were continually blocked by their men who kept stepping in front of our cameras) and then wearily said, “See you next year.”

 

I don’t know if being there helped. I don’t know what impact it may have. But I know I needed to be there, to make a stand for something I feel is truly wrong. I know I will now actively pray for them, to soften their hearts, but also to keep my heart from hatred as well. Because hatred is a hot coal that burns you as you prepare to hurl it at someone else.

 

Do you want to know who you are? Don’t ask. Act! Action will delineate and define you.--Thomas Jefferson.       

 

So this year in 2015, I hope to act more to change the world for good. What will you do?

This is not a Wal-Mart in America, people!

I noticed the other day that there were signs for Black Friday sales here in Wales. Say what? Black Friday is the big sale day after Thanksgiving (a holiday we don’t even celebrate over here! Although I never could get my East Texas grandmother to believe it) where crazy people all rush into a store in a frenzied manner and then beat the crap out of each other for bargain merchandise.

I was so cross when I saw the sign that I began a full tilt rant that caused me to swerve into an oncoming old lady for which I had to apologise profusely. Apparently I cannot be indignant and walk in a straight line at the same time. Go figure.

But my worst fears were justified as news coverage today describes near riots in several shops all over the country. According to BBC News:

 

Greater Manchester Police appealed for calm after attending seven Tesco shops, at which three men were arrested and a woman was hit by a falling television.

The force said the issues were "totally predictable" and it was "disappointed" by shop security. Tesco said only a "small number" of stores were affected.

Police were called in places including Dundee, Glasgow, Cardiff and London.

Incidents included:

• About 200 shoppers refused to leave a store in Middleton "despite being told stock had all gone"
• Fights broke out between shoppers in Stretford, and a woman suffered "minor injuries" after being hit by a falling television. The store was closed at 00:36 GMT
• A man was arrested in Salford after he threatened to "smash a staff member's face in"
• In Wigan, officers were called to reports of "several hundred people trying to enter the store". Police added: "Two men were ejected before control was regained"
• There were reports of fighting in a store in Hattersley, where a man was arrested for a public order offence
• A man was arrested for assault at a store in Green End

Jamie Hook was buying food at Tesco in Stretford on Thursday night when he said "the screaming started".

"I looked at the massive crowd to see people climbing over shelves and displays, staff running for cover, fights breaking out, stock flying through air, people breaking through carrying televisions - and this was before the sale had even started," he said.

"The lady on the till I was at was in tears, terrified of it all, but she was under orders to close her till to go and help crowd control."

What is wrong with us? Why are we becoming more and more like our American counterparts? Not in the good ways, but finding the worst and most savage and destructive behaviours and thinking, “Hey! I’d like to be like that!”

We’ll all be carrying guns next.