notes on psalms to go to sleep to

i learned along time ago that psalms are the most helpful thing in the night for restoring hope and crow-barring you open to the idea of believing in god in the middle of it all
after a wonderful, peaceful treat of an evening (i got taken to room for a late supper with two of my favourite people..its my favourite place..and i ate what i think is the best thing they make...you can't argue with a night like that, can you...?!) i arrived home, yawned my way through -today in parliament- my nightly radio four ritual, and then turned, as i have so many times before, to the 70's psalms. the last couple of weeks' bout of not sleeping has somehow not involved me remembering the 70's psalms' previous success at helping me to regain some sort of internal balance, and thereby enabling sleep...how i could have forgotten about them, i'm not sure...thanks to a helpful textual reminder or two throughout the evening, though, i found myself once more at this...
(its a different version than i would normally prefer, but in the heap of books that lives by my bed, the message was the only good book available..)

pslam 77..

1 I yell out to my God, I yell with all my might, I yell at the top of my lungs. He listens. 2-6 I found myself in trouble and went looking for my Lord; my life was an open wound that wouldn't heal. When friends said, "Everything will turn out all right," I didn't believe a word they said. I remember God—and shake my head. I bow my head—then wring my hands. I'm awake all night—not a wink of sleep; I can't even say what's bothering me. I go over the days one by one, I ponder the years gone by. I strum my lute all through the night, wondering how to get my life together. 7-10 Will the Lord walk off and leave us for good? Will he never smile again? Is his love worn threadbare? Has his salvation promise burned out? Has God forgotten his manners? Has he angrily stalked off and left us? "Just my luck," I said. "The High God goes out of business just the moment I need him." 11-12 Once again I'll go over what God has done, lay out on the table the ancient wonders; I'll ponder all the things you've accomplished, and give a long, loving look at your acts. 13-15 O God! Your way is holy! No god is great like God! You're the God who makes things happen; you showed everyone what you can do— You pulled your people out of the worst kind of trouble, rescued the children of Jacob and Joseph. 16-19 Ocean saw you in action, God, saw you and trembled with fear; Deep Ocean was scared to death. Clouds belched buckets of rain, Sky exploded with thunder, your arrows flashing this way and that. From Whirlwind came your thundering voice, Lightning exposed the world, Earth reeled and rocked. You strode right through Ocean, walked straight through roaring Ocean, but nobody saw you come or go. 20 Hidden in the hands of Moses and Aaron, You led your people like a flock of sheep.

a well-earned break..

for you, dear readers, from my blogslack..
you may not actually want such a break, you may well have given up reading this page long ago in my absence, but here i am, to break the silence (again!)

for my beleaguered body, from nicotine..
at the start of this year i realised that once june arrived, it would bring with it a solemn mark of ten-years-since i started smoking. i have now stopped smoking. and yes i will believe you when you say you have heard it before. you have. but such as it is, i quit.

for jesus, from the bad press he too often gets from me on these pages
i love him. he did and spoke and made some wonderful things in me and for me this weekend. and has brought this last year's season of gloom to an abrupt and welcome end, as only he can. i remembered the merits of pushing in and persisting in asking, and all that's subsequent joy...i relived that feeling - long missing in my life- of knowing that jesus is right there. right there...amazing..

for me, from work, for a week
it started here and moved to swansea and thence to gloucester and via a wedding with barn-dancing, moved swiftly onto barcelona and a full, all-out strike from weight watchers for the duration of my stay there. i ate lovely food, took lots of photos and made some new friends. i finished reading the tipping point, and anyone who's made it that far will know that it is a truly fascinating book, with a full-hearted recommendation from me..i stayed at sara's, where the sagrada familia was literally outside my window..i drank wine with lunch, as a rule, and very very much enjoyed the biggest bonus of my new special needs contact lenses - getting to wear my enormous sunglasses!! i had a right lovely time, and came back not sorted but readier than ever to get myself together and move on from feeling rubbish...

so i then took a break from taking a break from church and all its associated events, and attended much of the rising tide prayer conference over the weekend. and there i took a break from being an asshole. and i let god tell me off, love me up and get me out...

he's good at that.x

daylight savings..

so last night was the first night for many sleep-filled years, that i have not slept a wink all night
for one reason and another, sleep eluded me

i got a phone call at eleven
i smoked til twelve
went to bed at half-past-twelve
got back up out of bed, and smoked at one
had some blackcurrant squash at about two
ate ice cream (skinny cow, don't fret, ww's) at four
took my effervescent vitamin c at 6
raided the wezzle's place for coffee at seven
left the house bright as a button at eight

so i watched the first dawn over the gardens of blair road, from my seat at the kitchen window...i saw two street lights flicker their good mornings and take their nocturnal rest....i saw pink and orange stripes across the sky over towards the peaks, and sleepy clouds over my head shuffling on by, all in a morning's work for the good lord...
it was amazing...

and so a troubled and tedious night of temporary insomnia, allowed me the great fortune of welcoming a new day...

not just for the blair road gardens, or for us manchester residents or for the hills to the east...but for me, too

last night, i asked jesus to re-route my wellspring, (a la previous post) and amid a reunion of sorts, where i re-called my wellspring from a certain direction and asked to be rooted only in jesus again, no more of this post-valentine mini-drama, adios to hanging around waiting, when the call to wait seems now, overnight to have ended...i found myself this morning, with a pretty, sweet set of timely top-fives on my hands....

enjoy (and feel free to add any you deem essential that i have omitted, i know there are many..)

top-five songs for letting go, shipping out, and moving on...

1 = pass in time - beth orton
2 = time and time again - counting crows
3 = walk away - ben harper
4 = rescue blues - ryan adams
5 = let it die - feist

this evening, i shall mostly be...sleeping...

woooof..

is my new favourite exclamation
it has a positive tone, kind of a woohoo attitude, but more subtle. its not a woof, like a dog. which is usually more of a 'u' like in 'bus' anyway, but more prolonged and works well in conjunction with a sort of sigh of happiness.
such is the sound that i uttered several times this weekend, which was not only a fin de semaine, but for me a fin de l'hiver. the sun came out, the clocks got shuffled on and the brocklehursts were back in the neighbourhood.
poker was played,
cocktails invented,
new trof was investigated (reading group on the top floor, anyone...?!)
shoes were not bought
sainsbury's voucher fairies were honoured and beloved,
a record short amount of time was spent in the osbourne (one pint and no longer..)
articulate was so so much fun!
skate park prayer time was better than good.
beef stew was a triumph,
the crossword tried and failed
was in bed by 8.45 with a harry potter book, a sneaky (non-options)hot chocolate (can i get a gasp from the ww crowd...!?)
and i was asleep by 11
woooof

size matters..

three things over the last week concerning size, that i have laughed at or otherwise enjoyed alot alot
1 - the optician lady, while examining my eyes (for my new super amazing contact lenses, to be ready shortly - woo and yay..) suddenly enquired -have you always had such enormous eyes..?!- to which i mumbled a yes, thinking she must surely be taking the mick because everyone knows that everyone's eyes are all the same size....or so i thought! turns out mine are officially half a whole millimetre wider in diameter than your average peeper..! who knew..
2 - on speaking to chloe for ages on the phone last night, which was delightful, as soon as i informed her of my new WW allegiance, she exclaimed -but what about your lovely jubblies, you're not going to lose those as well, are you!?- i laughed alot alot, and then later grew in my increasing anxiety that in all my dietary piety, i may about to lose some of my greatest assets..
3 - i bought a skirt yesterday (mt, about a £1..!) and got it home only to find that i have already, yes, already lost a dress size. glory be.

..in light of which,

..supper out this evening beckons...
so i have done my research, and plan to thoroughly put these wise words into practise..
i searched for "eating out while on weight watchers", and got these..
(there were long and detailed explanations of each one, but they sound so much funnier without those parts...i've been out of the dieting game for such a long time, i'd fogotten the strange, coded, boot-camp language that "they" seem to think so necessary!!

Dining Do's and Don'ts
1. Set a budget.Determine how much you're willing to eat before looking at the menu.
2. Put on your game face.
3. Make special requests.
4. Practice portion control.
5. Break down (language) barriers.
6. Downsize the super-size.
7. Watch out for extras.
8. Don't go top heavy.
9. Don't drink away your progress.
10. Resign from the "clean plate club."

funtimes ahead, hey..?! anyone present this evening, you are welcome to call me on any of these if you see me straying from The Path...!
xxxx

if its between me and larry,

i win.
right now, am even happier than larry.
am in my bed.
its sunday morning, so naturally the archer's omnibus is on.
i have a large cup of coffee (its my second)
what's so abnormally good about that? i hear you ask...
note: i'm in my bed.
this can only mean one thing.
i got internet..!
oh and not just any old internet, the kind when i will now be able to blog from all sorts of places in the building...the bath...the balcony, the stairwell, the kitchen table, the flat roof at the front, MY NEW SOFA.
i could go on..
yes, yesterday was a brilliant day. in one morning i received: a replacement sim card for my stolen phone, a usb wireless adaptor, and a sofa. i was later given a phone AND i shopped in asda for the kind of food quantity that means i pretty much now don't need to go anywhere for about a month..except maybe work...
am excited.
i plan to be a better blogger, a more regular emailer, a back-to-better-form reader of books, and am trying to figure out the mythical realms of ichat usage for windows, via aol login and any help in this area would be much appreciated.
i also made food last night which i'm sure only katie hall could have appreciated as much as it deserved, so thankfully it was her who rocked up at my door just as i was cutting up the salmon...i've been trying to think this last week (for some reason boycotting any kind of recipe aides..!) how to make food that would remind me of cataluña.
(disappears to find a nice example picture..)
(gives up, and kicks herself for still having five films undeveloped of the 40 days in bcn, including all the nice food at ra, which was her favourite place..)
and i did it..! salmon and tomatoey sauce, with loads of garlic and spice and then lots of different kinds of beans and yellow split peas and some lentils...ahhh it was so good..! and i was transported back for a minute or two..
and to think i used to hate cooking.

well dears, i'm afraid you can expect more of these mildly pointless posts now that i can blog whenever i jolly well like...!
i can only apologise now...and later, i'll probably be back later..

come and sit on my new sofa, its lovely...!

anerchiadau chan gwrymiau

am in wales...!
the above is a welsh salutation, in a ..haha, i'm in wales..kind of way...
chez hugs, am content..with a coffee, the remains of a large glass of red wine, delicious dinner a short while ago, and sal, jon and ellie around, chatting away, talking wales, work, coffee, babies, cafés and relocating to the country...
a fine, fine way to spend a friday au fin du semaine...am ever so glad to be here.
with love, from windy wales, and all present...x

sunday kitchen..

is there a happier, more content man in the world than rolf harris?
seriously, i ask you....
on sunday, two wonderful things happened..
1) i made stew. i have never made stew before, i have never even bought the kind of beef that one buys in order to make stew before. but make stew i did, and may i say (i'm hoping sal will appear at some point to back me up...) it was the nicest food i have ever made. i shall be making more...
2) i watched, while the stew was doing that slow, sunday cooking thing and i was having a sly g+t, a programme that basically showed you why rolf harris is the happiest man in the world. i was amazed. the man has literally gone about creating this life for himself where he gets to do all the things he loves doing, and call it work. he has gone from music to art and animals and australia to england and back round them all again, being endlessly enthused and grin-inducingly animated. my dad is kind of like that, gets very enthused...he kind of looks like him too....maybe that's why i love the guy even though he's kind of wierd and a bit past it...! anyway rolf's cartoon club fascinated me as a child, seeing from ten lines on a bit of paper suddenly a giraffe or a cat or a zebra....what fun! kids tv is shit now, but that was pure and genius.
rolf, i salute thee, old man!
i had such a lovely manchester weekend..cate's on friday with pizza and wine....we are so classy....russell and dc and farewells to her for the next while as she's off to the man once more....and my new jason mraz cds finally came, all the way from amewica..! then le samedi i saw the gils for lunch and the wenhams for dinner, while ensconced in (gasp - not pw, surely!!) harry potter and the (still the best one..) prisoner of azkeban (sp?). a very enjoyable watch, although did anyone ever do more pre-empting and questioning and surmising during a film than those two...it was very fun....! the chicken a la grainy mustard was a right treat too,....colsossians with eggs and denno on dimanche au matin....generally a good week for food in my house....!hurrah!
i'm telling you, never was a weekend of non-events so quietly enjoyable..

had THE nicest dinner i can remember having for years, at the argentina steak place...what's it called please....? with russell the other night.....all food has tasted kinda rubbish since, in comparison...i hope that wears off soon...!

subterfuge..i think..

subterfuge is a new word which i just learned from fran.
she's so smart
it means secrecy...or something like being stealthy....so i like it....not that secrecy is particularly great...but stealth..is a grand word..
so anyway...in the words of the gils -a good weekend all round for gloucester and munster, ding dong!-
never a truer word...
indeed, for munster won the heineken cup, and the o'brien boys were all in cardiff to see it, without poor lucy who gave up her chance to go in favour of her nephews..
what a gem...a tiny tiny gem...
i went to doncaster on saturday, which was,.....east...
and then on sunday i went to sally's.....the parsnips were the highlight, for me anyway..although the ballot over which pudding was nailbiting, another highlight...and on the way walking home i realised that sympathy for the devil, on my headphones, could in fact walk me about two-thirds of the way home, its such a comically long song....well done there..

last night (this is where the post actually gets vaguely interesting...promise...)
i went to see jason mraz.....

i'll level with you...he's hot....and funny, and can sing and wear pink and is generally of the lovliness.....his band were brill too, the big djembe guy was back and i've never seen an acoustic bass before, but apparently that's what it was......that was good...he didn't even sing my two favourite songs of his, but the whole darn thing was still wonderous....big hands after with cate and the lovely mattie....joyous days of lounging around with those two are looming...

ooooh the other highlight of the last few days, i watched eight mile....with boys who are faaaaaaaaar to easily influenced and thereafter attempted to have a -battle- of their own in the lounge.....fran and i opted out.....not only of the battle, but the lounge...the house...the neighbourhood.....oh the shame.....

ok i should stop now.....this is still dull.....i just missed blogging though, its been a whole week...sorry....love you

you'd better put the kettle on...

if you have the time, i've got the story to tell...
go and get your coffee...

ireland is almost invariably good to me, but the north.....i've only been here once before, but i'm fairly sure i could stay...i won't, (yet) but i could....here in the quiet of county tyrone, its kind of like yorkshire moors meets riverful tipperary, and it seems like it's glad i'm here.

we three (barlow, drage and na) arrived on a cold saturday morning, my prayers for sunshine still ringing round my ears...we were met by a giddy emma, who had that look about her of one who has spent a week or two at home: good food, comfy bed, many walks, some hard work pruning. the four of us tramped around belfast for a couple of hours in the tank (not literally a tank, clearly...that would be contraversial....), getting a right luxury tour of the old town. emma has clearly being doing her research lately, and looked surprisingly at home even in her four-by-four....for me, it was all new....the falls, the shankhill, the muralled gables and the painted kerbstones had been mainly myth and legend in my head. my one trip to the north in 1995 had involved a route that bypassed the city (it had however passed almost alongside the cowan family farm as it would happen), and the tyrone towns on that road had shown me the fierceness of flags...but the city itself is something rather diffferent. not myth, the signs of nations and banners and histories, the faces of victims and prisoners and martyrs painted on walls, the slogans and promises of small armies of boys and young men....these are real and rather rife in the cities suburbs. you feel like they're glaring at you saying - do you really expect i'll ever be pulled down? - you can't argue easily with a flag. by the end of our tour i felt like my lungs were being wringed out by some very strong hands. i hadn't cried but i had instead felt just that - like my insides were churning or being kneaded. i didn't want to leave though - it had a strange pull on me that i knew meant until i had got out of the tank and walked around i wouldn't feel everything that there is for me to feel for the place. the walk is for another time.

so we took coffee and raisin bread at common grounds, possibly the most delightful coffee house i have seen for a while - take note rikes, you should come check it out...

then we proceeded to the farm. i'm not sure i know how to describe how homely someone else's house is, but when shown to my room, i felt i could stay a week and not miss anything or want to be anywhere else. emma had left a careful selection of books on my bedside table, and the accuracy of her understanding of my literary requirements was uncanny. seamus heaney awaited me there - the death of a naturalist - which i haven't read since i was about seventeen. he will resurface later in my story. alongside it was silver linings, by martin fletcher, which any of you wishing to know more about this place and why it has been so contested over should probably froogle for. (isbn 0-349-11251-7)

we ate lunch and enjoyed jimmy and rosemary's observation of us, his historical insights and her loving the chat from around the table. we sat around that table for what felt like the whole afternoon, so when we four came to depart for the boat, i felt sure it was nearly evening. emma then told us she had sneakily prayed that the minutes we were all together here would feel like hours...and lo, it was only about half-three....

the drive west across almost as far as enniskillin was for me a bit of a musical journey, through towns and across rivers, whose lovers and legends i had only heard sung about. (mostly by my dad, who i quietly wished was there for that particular leg of the trip). i read with wonder the book of irish history emma had provided for just such a road, and finger-traced our progress across the width of ulster on its map, wondering if one half from the south and half from over the water could ever really know what it means to love this place.

our expectations of 'the barge' came crashing down when we discovered that the cowan family boat was in fact a 'luxury yacht' (so named by the girls who have little concept of boats and less concept of luxury..!) it is moored on the banks of a river heading north from the upper lough erne, in county fermanagh, alongside about a dozen others, most of which are seemingly owned by friends of emma's parents or relations of the butcher from up the road, or so-and-so from james's classes' parents.
we set up house, and then get drunk. we laughed heartily, told some sad stories, some family stories, school stories...and a few about how good god is..tried to make emma say rude words (which, it appears, is probably more tricky than trying to get me to talk about poo....) we ate salmon when already drunk, we drank more wine than i knew we had brought, we smoked cigarettes enroached with rizla-packet-tear-offs, to the point that all that remained was a pile of papers with nowhere to go....we each left drunken messages for poor mr vino, whose impending marriage formed a large part of the evening's conversation...emma and i sang, badly, and not for long.....mostly we laughed. the boat was an instant home to us and we loved it.

when we woke, the hangovers didn't last long....the fruit salad and coffee saw them off for us....but then what do you suppose happened.....?

the sun, the sun came out, and there it stayed. the suntan i jokingly prayed for on the plane....? its here, its on me. i got it.....we sat out on deck, painted our toe-nails and drank more coffee, read our books, wrote our books, and in general were at ease. rosemary and jimmy arrived later, and off we went on a trip down the river to the lough and back again. we moved along the river having types of birds pointed out to us and then argued over like only parents can do.....we drank coke and ate crisps and kind of felt like kids i think. the cowan parents are, it seems, such innately parenty parents that if you are roughly their child's age, they'll adopt you for as long as they can see you. we moored again the other side of several miles of lake and a few islands.....we ate, slept, walked, and the time it just went on and on....it was half four when i thought it surely nearing eight.....madness.....on the way back, we all found our place on the boat. drago of the indoors was reading on the couch......snuggled and warm with a hundred layers over her. she had lamb and the chilli peppers on the laptop and was content, i think....claire and emma huddled like a pair of old washer-women, car blankets round them and sitting at the very front of the boat, headed towards the sun going down and being as close as friends are when they know that one is about to get married and they don't want to miss out on anything that might happen before then.....jimmy and rosemary steered the boat and loved eachother like kids i think..she smoking away, him with his tea and his life-jacket.....me i found a small seat in the corner right at the back......i got my hat and jacket so the wind didn't bother me.....the sunset on the river and through the trees on the islands around us was not even photographable...well, i just mean it was too good for photos....with a cigarette and a cup of tea in one hand, and the - death of a naturalist - in the other, i was as happy as i can remember being.....he is from this way, you see, seamus heaney, and it shows....when i studied this book for gcse english, i realised i could understand poetry by myself. i also realised i was glad to be irish, and didn't need to be proud just to be glad. i became friends with paul f over that book, and also learned to write poetry a bit because of it, i think. punctuation is very important to him. as are all aspects of nature, and ways in which man uses and enjoys nature are kind of themes. it turned out that that dog-earred copy in my lap had been used not only by emma and later her brother james while at school, but also by rosemary, in 1974...reading it was good right then because i saw that i was different from when i last read it...but also the same, i think.

i found one poem in it that i do not ever remember reading before.
rashly or not, i there and then named it my favourite of the book.

and here it is....


scaffolding

masons, when they start upon a building,
are careful to test out the scaffolding;

make sure that planks won't slip at busy points,
secure all ladders, tighten bolted joints.

and yet all this comes down when job's done
showing off walls of sure and solid stone.

so if, my dear, there sometimes seem to be
old bridges breaking between you and me

never fear. we may let the scaffolds fall
confident that we have built our wall.


i'd like to know how it feels to build love.

i haven't enjoyed writing for a long time as much as i have this morning.
i still have a few hours left, so i'm off to make soup for the girls for when they return from their walking tour of the county.
if you have got this far, thanks.
back home tonight. love you x

wednesday o' wonder

has replaced the super sal saturday..

yesterday she and i went into town and mooched around. it was surprisingly windy, so we wound up in cafe rouge eating delicious french onion soup.

i didn't make her cry either. we actually just laughed, alot alot, all day. and had ice creams with flakes. and i got new shoes with higher heels than any of you have, i'm sure, ever anticipated seeing me hobble around in. i feel like a real live girl when i wear them...i can't move, but i look hot...

we then watched narnia in the lounge camp with the projector...it is projected onto the white curtain these days, what with the invasion of the wallpaper and all...and i was quite distracted during most of the film, by wondering what it might look like from the outside of the house....does it go through? can you watch narnia, soundlessly and backwards from outside? who knows...i was also rather distracted by the wonderous homemade beefburger that i weas given for supper....

all in all, a lovely day..thanks sal

i got home quite late, and while i was pottering around putting out the trash wearing my new shoes for practice, my phone rang, and as i looked at the screen, i gasped to see the words...calling...caitlin...

and a joyous two hours ensued, of joy and laughing, story-telling and question-asking, grinning and sighing with the sheer relief of being known.....these are happy days indeed...

i still have no job, but its somehow ok...

my kitchen is white. whiter than white. ben helped., i wouldn't have finished it without his help i don't think....thanks ben...

resa and krister are in town for a few days, which is fun...if any of you are in the manchester area, do come to heald tomorrow evening, for hanging out with them and eating cake and hopefully drinking wine and laughing.....anytime in the evening, just bob over...

ok enough news and thank-yous...expect maybe one more, to fran..for the cookies just now...hot, just out of the oven.....as i said..happy days...

breakfasting at one's desk...again

turns out i like bringing my breakfast to work with me.
today its nice orange juice with bits and a muffin
problam is, what with avoiding my boss, eating, checking emails and doing the morning blog round, i actually only start work right about now..10.24...
slacker
so, what news from the mark?
well, it seems i have lost all ability to type, just had to re-do this very sentence about six times.
can't believe its august

starbucks breakfast and blogging..at my desk..

granola bars are good, is my conclusion..
its the way they make you feel, man...all healthy and smug..
there's no way you could have a brownie or bit of rocky road with you misto for breakfast and feel this good about yourself.
ok have now finished both eating and one-handed typing
so harry potter six came and went...
i was done in a few days, and then cried..and cried..still don't believe its true.
ok, also i've..ooh watched pirates of the caribbean for the first time..whatever is meant to be wrong with jonny depp in that film, he plays it so well, i've never seen him funny really before...horribly attractive as ever...at one point with him and orlando bloom fighting it was all i could do to keep on looking at the screen, too much beauty at once can be overwhelming..
y, que mas...?
went to london..saw friends..felt funny...not quite at home
and now decisions must be made, about august, about september, about greenbelt and dublin and devon and santiago and manchester....and i just want someone else to decide for me...i frankly can't be bothered...but i know i'lll regret it come mid-september if wherever i am, i haven't actively chosen to be there...ie, if i just end up still being here, or if i just end up in manchester with an ill-thought-through plan and an ill-fitting job...
i need to work now..more in a minute..

la terra gallega..

well yes, happy birthday to me..
and what a birthday
i was in santiago de compostela, and you may see the feast o'photos for yourselves..
i laughed a lot, ate a lot, drank a fair bit and laid in the sunshine.
we were slightly at a loss to know what to do with our time in a rainless sdc....it struck the three of us one sunny afternoon that we'd bascially been forced into hibernation that year that we lived there...life became a daily series of scuttling from one place to the next, trying to keep the bottom of your trouser legs off the ground, avoiding getting swept along on rivers of rain, and cursing the lack of heating anywhere....
no such horror this time, the sun shone, alot alot...
i ate pulpo..still not convinced about it but i tried it. twice.
we went for another slightly less harrowing but still fun coastal drive..ended up at the naked beach..we always do, somehow it just happens...i just kept my head down, read my book and tried not to watch the overly-active strange beach tennis going on sin ropa..
my birthday was a day of being happy. i had cards over breakfast at the chicken sandwich place..then afternoon in the park..with sprinklers..and beer..
then sleeping..then eating - oh! that was the night forrest was going to arrive at midnight...just in time for the end of my birthday...so he made us swear we wouldn't be drunk when he got there. this meant we ended up having supper three times, because we ate, then went for wine, realised it was working a bit too well, had to go eat somewhere else...three times we did that..plus one time having birthday cake..and it still didn't work..we were in the weeds when the boy arrived. ah well. we went and danced in asbestos..particularly on the stage at one point, as i recall..meandered home at about six in the a.m..had a nice lie down on the ground outside..you know..
oh and timmo you will be pleased to hear i went in the cathedral
i thought it horrid. but i went.
when returning home via london i happened upon a spanish tapas place right next to where i had to wait for my bus home..happy coincidence...they served estrella galicia..and the old barmen were from galicia and they thought i was too and confusion ensued...
and i've now got that lovely feeling of knowing that the old place is still partly mine...
no rush.

posts appear before your very eyes..

so i just went to wales. i'm always taken aback with how much i love wales, but its like the border is some kind of magic portal that absorbs some of the memories when you cross it and go back into england, so that every time you return its shocking how beautiful it is.
me and sal cleaned the house on saturday and then left, had the funnest drive we've had in years together, took a wrong turn at wrexham (ah well) and ended up going the slightly longer way to our holiday...but the hills, i daresay mountains, were wonderous..we sang like ginny, smoked like old women and were quiet when appropriate..see, sa is one of those few people whose appropriacy when it comes to silence so often coincides with my own. and when the two of us are silent, its not as surprising and outsiders would imagine. i can see their problem, two of the most chatty people they know, in a car, for hours, mostly quiet. never. but yeah, and it works and its good for us. i think it got me ready for the days ahead.

my favourite single minute of the holiday was the last morning, communion just ending, mrs p singing like it was 1965, about the united nations letting my people go, rusty playing his drum like he's heard the song a hundred times before, and people singing. just singing, making up their own words, no acetates around, just singing about people being let go.
and then after that the jollities of BH Monday ensued, monday lunch at the pub, laughs with dan cate mrs p me and rusty, then more beach with lying around.
the beach on saturday was so much fun. the deep well of a sand dune we found ourselves secluded in was perfect..we had enough space to be friends together or friends in corners or up hills on our own. the time on the very top with mrs p telling her life story, what an epic, then emma cowan telling hers and people sitting around suddenly realising they did understand her...is there anything finer than a life story told in an hour that is so honest that all it takes is an hour....well done indeed girls...
the first night i was hugged more than i can remember being hugged before.
garden state with duvets at 2am on the sunday night was such a treat.
midnight frisbee with sal in the middle was hilarious on the saturday night.
peeling potatoes with emma and claire in the kitchen was a definite highlight for me.
and finally the drive home with rusty and the tired beer drinking that followed in the shire was the nicest way to finish it all..more stories, alot more laughing, you know, following the general theme
friendship is marvellous.

who knew..?!

ok look, if you have ever heard me say "who knew?!" in response to something i've not heard/known before, please let me know. hewo was insistent all weekend that its like one of my pet phrases, and that it always reminds her of me when someone else says it. is wear i have no recollection of saying it ever, let alonge all the time..
bizarre
but..i'd like to say it now..!
who knew weetabix actually tasted of anything?
in the new world dietary order of me, weetabix are the essential start to everyday, and without sugar, it turns out they have a taste all their own..who knew? not me that's for sure, this morning i was like, mum, did you know!? yes darling...good one na
so things with me and god are good. no, no weetabix related analogy. give me time..
i think i get him a bit more, like i can see now that loving him is the most important thing, and that stages of the journey with him are about gradual discovery and slow but steady increasing obedience and commitment....i think i tried for years to catch up, like everyone i knew was so far ahead of me, so i always had these standards, like points to reach before i could know a certain thing, or understand another. but always in the light of other people and how they related to god. and so often living my life with him, in such close connection to the lives and loves of others, that i never quite knew what was my understanding of him or what he was telling just me, blurred in the community of believers that share thoughts and walks. but now its like we're just friends, like i want him around and i don't care if we don't have a chaperone. i know he knows what he's doing with me.
don't be mistaken, dear reader..i sound giddy, but i'm not.
just quietly glad, and steadily figuring that staying still in him is what i want to do with my time just now.

apparently nothing..

i went up a snowy mountain in catalunya the other day
i also spent the weekend with some of my absolute favourite people, in one of my all-time favourite cities..
barcelona is good to me, its good for me, and yet, i have no idea if i get to move back there or not. we drank lots of beer, ate good food and laughed, an awful alot.
more will follow, but for now, no news, but its all good
really

warning: non-eventful day narrative ahead

in keeping with the recent promise i made myself, here i am to blog..with no news really. nothing of consequence anyway, but blog i must. today i have
worked in next all day
eaten carrot cake
had a lovely coffee at a lovely coffee place
smoked four cigarettes
had no alcohol
started my day quite flustered. in my spirit. in a way i haven't for a very long time. it was quite unpleasant. but not all bad, since i am wanting very much to have the same need of god that i used to have when waking up to that sensation was a daily occurance.
received a lovely and very welcome text message from catelin
sent several emails
well, that's about it!!
not earth-shattering stuff, is it? and all formatted in a slighly bridget jones style, which was not intended!
i wonder if living here will mean that my days take this non-eventful form most of the time? thing is, much as i've always wanted the exciting life of a wandering person, loving god round the world, meeting people all the time, seeing new things, doing life in a non-normal way, i'm thinking a bit at the moment about how exciting life with god can be anyway, without the things of external excitement? the thought of it makes me shudder, but then the aftertaste of it is pretty nice. its like i want god to be the single most exciting thing in my life, and this is the best way for hm to help me bring that about right now. to put me here, where if i was my days to be out of the ordinary, i have to seek that out, from him, instead of like life in barcelona, where you look around and its exciting, and i have no doubt would have continued to be so even had i stayed for years. but if the novelty of god can wear off, and that of the place may not, then we have a problem. here, there's just no excitement! well that's not true, i know some lovely people, and it is really lovely here. but its not thrilling. i believe that a relationship with jesus, in fully functioning, fire making heart-felt mode can be as exciting and thrilling as any city in any foreign land. more so, much more. so this is what i'm after.
except i just realised it. right now.
thanks blog