A load of bullocks.......in knitwear?

It's been so long since my last post and so much has changed since then, not least the amount of weight I've put on. In fact I'm considering changing the blog to 'Sweetness and not so l
Light'

Today Philip and I went to the Cardigan show, no we have not spent the day looking at knitted garments. We have been to the agricultural show in Cardigan, where we now live. Although some of the exhibits in the sheep and goat sections were wonderfully woolley. The Angoras were magnificent.

We spoke to a lady from the West Wales goat Society, who quite frankly really got my goat when she implied that pygmy goats are not 'real' goats. She did however, give us the contact details of a local lady who keeps pygmy goats. So hopefully when we are ready to have kids we can use the local breeder. I just read that last sentence back and realised it didn't sound good. What I mean is that when we are ready to buy our goats we can get them locally instead of having to go all the way back to Shrewsbury. (Phew, think I got out of that one ok.)

Zak, our little dog behaved impeccably around the livestock and we even managed to sit and watch some of the horse shows. My favourites were the miniatures and the Shires, polished and plaited to within an inch of their lives.

The local produce tent was full of leeks..........and carrots and beans. How do they manage to grow vegetables that look as if they've never seen dirt of any kind? There were onions the size of footballs....enough to feed a family of four for a week.

I had a good look round the local crafts tent, did I buy the handcarved wooden spoons or the beautifully stitched cushion covers? the locally crafted jewellery or the marvellous marquetry pictures? No, I emerged with two plastic carrier bags full of booze! It was all made from locally grown fruits though.

Returning to the cattle pens, Philip and I giggled about the size of the bulls' testicles. A little childish I admit, but they could not be ignored. Although Philip thought this capricorn had the best set of gemini of the day.

All in all we had a very enjoyable day. On our return home we opened a bottle of delicious gooseberry wine and I sat back and soaked up the sun. Until Philip, who cannot sit still for more than five minutes, decided to remove the window frame from the outside toilet. With a sledgehammer! I wouldn't mind but it's not more than six feet from where I was snoozing. Ah well, bless him. Not so much MC Hammer more WC Sledgehammer.

And so, to end a rather pleasant day, a barbecue and a few bevvies I think. Tomorrow, we really should do some work. I keep forgetting we're not on holiday.

Ah well, life's tough down here in Cardigan.

Natalie Rose

They say time is a great healer, yet the pain still cuts as deep today as it did twenty nine years ago today. Every moment of that terrible day is etched on my heart. I thought my life would end. But it didn't, and whilst today is a sad day, I will try not to dwell on the sad memories.



I will celebrate her short, sweet life. I will remember her soft,warm skin on mine. Her beautiful baby scent. The way she looked straight into my eyes with her own big brown eyes whilst feeding.



I will remember the overwhelming love she evoked in me. The joy she gave me and the sense of being complete for the first time in my life.



This day twenty nine years ago was the worse day of my life, but those preceding sixteen weeks were some of the best days of my life. I will always be sad that those days came to such a sad and sudden end, but I will always feel so very lucky to have known my beautiful baby girl.



Natalie Rose, still missed, still loved.

Two years ago I embarked on a journey which opened my eyes to the wonders of life. A new relationship with a beautiful man ( yes a man can be described as beautiful) with a passion for the miracles of nature, all things edible ( and believe me, with Philip, most things are edible!) and talking about himself and his life experiences.



I discovered a childlike joy in everything. We walked in forests, on beaches, round lakes, through fields, up hills and down dales. I learned about wildlife, flora and forna alike. We picked wild mushrooms and wood sorell. I learned to tell the difference between the tracks made by a fox, a deer or a rabbit, to recognise birds and their song.



We would often lay on our backs and look up at the sky discussing clouds by day and stars by night.



I remember one particular wonderful day when I discovered rock pools on the beach, I was completely mesmerised by the abundance of life within. Little limpets, mussels, jelly fish and the most amazing sea urchins in all the colours of the rainbow!



Yesterday I realised that I had lost the art of "seeing". I have been unwell for some time now and fallen into the trap of becoming overwhelmed by life's problems. This last week has been particularly difficult and I just about hit rock bottom. Not a nice experience but, I believe a necessary one. I have been in a dark place, there seemed to be no light to look towards. I now know that there was light but I had given up looking for it. I had lay down defeated.



Thankfully, with help and support and the knowledge that I have people who love me, I have found a light to follow. There are the stirrings of a new beginning within me. All life is nothing short of a miracle and my life is precious. I am so lucky to have the opportunity to witness the wonders in our world. I just forgot for a while.

Rolypoly Robin

In these cold and snowy days it is very hard for the little birds in our gardens to find food. We always take great pleasure in feeding and watching quite an array of different kinds of feathered friends. We have seen Blue tits, Coal tits, Greenfinches, and Goldfinches. Collared doves and pigeons. Dunnocks and House sparrows, Starlings, Blackbirds and a little Wren. Then of course there is the sweet little Robin.

The cheeky little chappy with the bright red breast, pictured on the top of a milk bottle on a Christmas card. In fact we have discovered that this sweet little chap is maybe quite not so sweet. Having made birdcake with fat and fruit and nuts, we placed them on the feeders along with some streaky bacon. We sat back to watch the birds feed. On the fence sat a Dunnock and a Collared Dove. The little Dunnock is a nervous little bird who spends a long time checking that the coast is clear before hopping onto the feeding tray to fill his tiny tummy.As soon as he lands on the tray he is " bombed" by Mr. Redbreast, who then returns to his perch on the other side of the garden.
The Dove, a much bigger bird flutters over to the tray only to recieve the same treatment. It seems that size doesn't matter to the Robin. He will not allow any other bird to feed at "his" table. He will not share.

We will endeavour to keep our feathered guests fed through the winter, and hopefully the Dove and the little Dunnock can manage to find Mr. Redbreast napping and fill their little tummies in peace.

Good days, bad days.

Today was a good day. I walked round Durham City with Philip. Had lunch in a very pictuesque pub garden and strolled along the riverside in the summer rain.

I remembered all the good things in my life and am thankful for them all.

Tomorrow may be different..... but tomorrow is another day.

Fight the good fight

At times like this I yearn for a quiet place where I can be alone and hide away from the world. In my mind my wardrobe has a corner way, way back where no-one can see into. I long to crawl into that space and just sit. Safe, warm and hidden. Where I can just fade away and not have to fight any more.

Sometimes life is such hard work and I just don't have the energy to go on. Well meaning people will say " what do you have to be depressed about? You have a nice life" And I do. I am not alone or old and infirm. I am not homeless. I am not unloved.

I am one in four (if you believe the official statistics..... I believe it is more like one in two) of people who will suffer some sort of mental health problem in their lifetime. I was diagnosed as having bipolar disorder, what used to be called Manic depression. This may be a controversial thing for me to say but I feel shortchanged because I only get the severe depression and not the manic highs. I'm sorry if that offends anyone, but after watching tv documentaries about people with manic depression I get the impression that the "up" episodes can be envigorating. I have heard manic depressives say that the manic episodes are the only time they feel alive. That is not true for me, when I am not really down I do have a good life.

I know this blackness will pass, it always does. As long as I don't allow myself to shut myself away and become reclusive. I am lucky to have many supportive and empathetic people in my life and am truly grateful for their love and support. I have many resources on which I can draw, if only I can get some motivation. I wish you could buy it at Tesco! I try to surround myself with positive distractions and ride out the bad times.

In good times I am grateful for the down episodes, because without the downs I might not recognise how good the good times are.

Writing this has helped me and I hope it might let others know that they are not alone in suffering. I send positive wishes and thoughts to anyone who is suffering right now.

Shoot that damn dog!

Does anyone want a dog? I certainly don't want it, but it seems to follow me around. I thought I had got rid of it but it keeps finding me. I'm talking about the big black dog that is depression. I really thought I had it sorted but for some reason it keeps rearing it's nasty little head to bite me.