There’s no average day in the life of….

Do you have an average day? I don’t. They’re all a bit different. Often evolving as they progress, rarely planned anything more than by a vague outline, and quite often a little ‘out of the norm’ . Saying I’m not a nine to fiver is a bit of an understatement.

Want to know what my day is doing? Well it’s now 11am and I’m here..

Yep. I’m working whilst in the bath!

So today is like this. I woke up at 8:30 and though ‘i fancy a bath’ so I popped off to the bathroom but there was a spider in the bath and I didn’t want to disturb him so I hopped back into bed. Hubby, as is his wonderful habit, appeared with a cup of tea and we sat in bed catching up on FB and Twitter and discussed our separate ‘plans’ for the day.

We have b&b guests this coming weekend so for me it was ironing bedding. I see ironing as a bit of a waste of time so whilst steaming away I practiced a belly dance routine (and I haven’t even told you before that I go to dance classes.. another day another blog); and did some toe exercises as prescribed by Katie Holland as ‘guaranteed to improve your dancing’… Katie, I’m doubtful that anything will help but I’ll let you know.

Having built up a steam iron sweat I’m now in the bath (fortunately Bernard the Bath  Spider had buggered off) but to make better use of the time I’m both writing this for you lot and sorting out my art catalogue, making sure all my work to date is listed and titled. I have an exhibition pending and I need to make sure I know what’s  where and ensure I have enough pieces in the collection. Plus I’m having half a dozen or so images printed up as cards and my photographer friend and technical whizz needs to have the wording for the backs covers.

Alongside getting this done….

and I’ve added a face pack…may as well spruce up properly.

It’s now noon. Too late for breakfast, so a quick brunch and then off to get some groceries.

Marmite and mushrooms on toast yumyum

May as well pack up my old bras and take them to the bra bank at Tescos whilst I’m at it.

Donating my old bras

It’s a gorgeous day so hoping to get back in time to garden at home. Still have several plants that need to go in the ground before winter sets in.

….it’s now evening. Needless to say the gardening didn’t happen. I had about £60 in my hand from a swishing event I organised at the last-minute to clear out my wardrobe. A swish, for those who don’t know (I didn’t when invited to one last year), is a clothes swap. I’d cleared out my cupboards and had a car boot full of clothes and shoes to get rid of , friends could have them for a donation to a local charity. It raised £58 and I still managed to drop 2 large sacks of goodies at the local community charity shop.

So having done my shopping I went back into Aldi and spent the £58 with a view to dropping it at the local food bank. Sadly the charity was closed so that will involve another trip but look how much I got for my money!!!! Six full bags of none perishables! Aldi really is better value

Just about to head into the garden when I remember we have a fridge freezer to pick up from a friend (I need extra storage for the catering for my 50th).

And then the doorbell rings. The landlords of the flats I manage are here from Spain and I forgot they were popping in. Still they came armed with plenty of wine so I’m not complaining.

By which time it’s supper time. I cook a meal for me and Hubby. Bulk cook a bolognaise to add to the new freezer. Watch a movie. Then suddenly it’s midnight so off to bed.

Guess who’s back?

Bernard the Bath Spider

I wonder how he filled his day?

Lucy At Home

My Random Musings

You can even enter on the day – memorial Half Marathon … come on…

…and Do Do the Ron Run…

It’s the 11th Memorial Half Marathon in Llanwrtyd Wells on 23rd October. a 12.5 mile fell/mixed terrain run in a figure of eight from and to the town square twice.  In memory of the late great Ron Skilton, co-founder of Green Events Ltd (who bring you Bog Snorkelling, Man v Horse, Chariot Racing , Real Ale Wobbles and Summer Cider Cycles)… A fabulous family run event, marshalled entirely by member of the Skilton family who reunite here annually in his memory.  Open to solo runners or two person relays.  All ages from 14 up.  You can even enter on the morning of the event.  This year its on Sunday 23rd October.  So all I can say is come along and Run Run Run Run…

all the details are on my original blog about it from 2013…

Helpless with the homeless

how can we help?
homelessness, hopelessness

So. How do you react when you pass a homeless person?

Avoid eye contact?  Feel embarrassed? Feel helpless? Offer a sympathetic glance? Cross the street?  Give cash?  Strike up a conversation? Report him/her? Buy him a coffee? Feel offended?

Today I had the luxury of two hours of time-wasting and coffee drinking with my partner in central Cardiff before an appointment.  We were strolling along happy and carefree.  Laughing I expect.  Holding hands.  A young lad, maybe in his mid 20’s is sat on a dirty duvet in a shop doorway. Rucksack by his side, blanket on his legs. Teardrop tattoo by his right eye.  He looks sad.  Freezing.

By the time I see him I am in the process of crossing the road away from him.  I catch myself looking at him and turn away… I’m embarrassed.  It looks like (to whom I don’t know), I’m crossing the road to avoid him.  My mood changes.  I feel sad.  Helpless.  Embarrassed.  I tell my partner I want to go and get him something warm.  We turn around and walk back to the market.  I avoid eye contact with the pathetic looking lad.

Having purchased a cup of hot soup we head back.  I say to John, “what if loads of people have bought him food or drink and he doesn’t want it”

“At least it will keep his hands warm for a bit” says John, “but I doubt it”.

Poor lad, sat there in the drizzle, a lost soul, invisible in the commercial, consumerist chaos and greed surrounding him.  I feel guilty for the money I spent on a meal out the evening before.

“You look freezing love, here’s something to warm you up”

He looks terribly sad and quite confused.  Has he been crying?  “My mum’s just died” he says

I ask how he knows.

“I go to the library every Monday and use the public phone”

We continue to chat. Another person arrives and hands him a roll and a coffee.  Asks if she can help.

I don’t know if his story is true.  I don’t even know if he knows.  But I’m told his mum has died since his last call.  His son is at school, he doesn’t know what to say to him.  His mum is his son’s legal guardian.  He’d been in prison because of some incident of violence and he needs to get to Caerphilly where his mum and son are.  He tells me he asked the police to take him there but they told him not to waste their time.

So.  What should you, or would you, do at this point?  More cash?  Some sympathy?  Walk away?  Find a policeman?  We don’t know how to react do we?   We’re not trained for this.  There’s no manual we can refer to.

I offered to take him to the station and buy him a ticket.  In my mind this is the obvious solution.  I would have ‘done my bit’, I could feel right with the world again.  I am so saddened by my helplessness in the situation and of his plight.  It’s embarrassing to admit it makes me feel uncomfortable and its put a bit of a damper on my day.

Anyway, it’s all too much for him.  He can’t get his head around his options.  He thinks he should stay put for a bit and try to get some money.  Talk to his aunt who’ll be by after schools out.  As I said before, he’s confused.  Whether or not the story is real is irrelevant, he believes it and his heart is breaking.  Well mine is.

So? What would you do now?  Say ‘Ok’ and move on?  Try and persuade him that your help is the right option? Report him? Give money?  What is the etiquette here?

I offer to come back in an hour with the car and if he wants a lift and a ticket I’d get him one.

As we walk off he calls after us ” you will come back and check won’t you?”  “Of course”, says I.  “I promise”.

I wonder at the chain of life events that has resulted in this point of time.  At the pain and sadness, trials and tribulations he and his family and friends may have endured.  A small part of me is angered by this negative intrusion into my rose-tinted world. Another small part of me is ashamed of that.

We do go back.  I have John driving down the taxi only lanes and parking in the disabled bay so I can get to near him. So he can see the offer is genuine.  Its been about 40 minutes since the food, soup, coffee, chat.

But he doesn’t think he should come.  Not yet.  He should wait.  Who knows what for.  I’m sure he is struggling to grasp his thoughts.  I’m not sure about his reality.  I want to give him a cwtch.  Should I?   All I can think about is how vulnerable and small he looks.  I hesitate.  But I don’t offer the cuddle.  I also don’t offer cash.  Even though he asks for the latter.

I’m reluctant, but I walk off back to the car. “Thanks anyway” he calls.

I wish I’d offered the cwtch.  I wonder what he’d have done with the cash.