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In Cartmel

We left our lovely apartment at Summer Hill  at ten o'clock this morning. However, we were in no rush, knowing that the journey back to Sheffield would take approximately three hours. 

It was a beautiful late September morning - the colours of nature so vivid. We decided to make a detour  - first to the village of Cartmel and then on to Grange-over-Sands which was developed in the late nineteenth century as a genteel seaside resort served by a new railway link.

The magnificent east window, Cartmel Priory

At Cartmel, we visited the wonderful priory church  founded by the first Earl of Pembroke in 1190. Then at Grange we ambled along the promenade to the disused lido where thankfully restoration works are soon to commence. 

The disused lido in Grange-over-Sands

In a Mediterranean restaurant we ate wholesome Greek food before commanding Clint to transport us back to South Yorkshire. 

It had been a lovely break in a part of this island that neither of us knew. Lord knows if we will ever be back there but we are glad that we went and made some good memories to recollect through the coming winter and beyond.

The Promenade, Grange-over Sands

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Pond

 The velvet voiced Linda and I had our first Pond Open Day meeting last night over one of her lethal gin and bitter lemons . The other members of the TCA have done all of the hard work clearing the land and planting and setting up the decking and the like. 

Our remit is just to sort out the open day which will, I’m hoping include the school children who I suggest will be conscripted into a competition to design a pond logo.

Flintshire council will have a whole plethora of environmental experts we may be able to use on the day and with the promise of free home made cakes and cups of tea, I’m sure we will have an impressive turn out. 

I didn’t stay too late. I’m mindful of not outstaying my welcome as Linda and hubby Nick are such good company so it had just turned properly dark when I left their cosy cottage which overlooks the pond and original village green.

It’s one of my favourite places in the village and one of the oldest. A square boarded on three sides with houses and cottages. The fourth side, the pond and lane leading to the Livery Stables and the ruined Siambr Wen 

Youth club Bridget and her family, Boffin Cameron and his , the Manley’s , Mr Poznań  all live on the quadrangle and each house ,was cheerfully lit up behind Living room curtains and small door windows. 

I walked over to the pond and stood watching the bats flashing in black shadows over the water for a while. 

And I feel grateful I am home

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Questions

What are your wins for the week?

What is bringing you joy?

What is one purchase you made last week?

One random act of kindness?

Favorite quote?

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Cack Handed

 Many years ago now, a doctor who was neurologically assessing my patient paused and watched me draw up some medication into a syringe. 

Because I am clumsy I always draw up meds in a certain way which may look conspicuous to those clinical staff that do it day in and day out. 

The way I do it minimises the chance of me dropping the glass vial but does look somewhat ham fisted to others. The doctor asked me if I had a tendency to drop things.

I was intrigued and told him that I often dropped items at work and when cooking 

“ Do you know a millisecond before you drop something that you are going to drop it?” he asked and that was a lightbulb moment. For this strange phenomenon has happened for all of my life.

When I was a child I was called cackhanded

As a teen, I was just gauche and awkward. 

I cannot dance, I am often awkward in my own skin and I fall over when others don’t.

My fine coordination can be lacking and at choir when Jamie feels he wants to push his chorus to some movement to accompany the singing, it is universally amusing that I cannot do both

I am, also well know for food stains down my t shirts

“I think you have a mild form of motor Dyspraxia” the doctor told me and I felt so much better after decades of being called clumsy and by association a bit dim .

I repaired the back door handle today. It was fiddly, especially as  there was a tiny Allen key to negotiate, one   which I must have dropped a hundred times. But after an absolute age I had drilled new holes, matched up the handles with the spindle and got the handle working well.

I’m meeting someone for lunch and have just realised I’m almost late…..

Check my T shirt 

Yeap! 

There’s breakfast egg all down the front of it.

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