Yorkshire Vista and Entente Cordial

I love travelling; road, rail, air and boat. Not that I've travelled much in the last few years, due to my lovely man's illness and sudden death.

I have visited friends in South Hampshire, Essex and been on a Canal trip and a spent a week in Tenby. I have also visited friends in Yorkshire early in the year and visited Castle Howard with them. I would've visited again this month, only the arrival of Pebble has stopped me in my tracks.

However, there has been an improvement in the house; namely entente cordial between the two cats, who now skirt around each other without hissing, spitting and growling. The deterring water spray has been put away and both cats now feed from the same tray and seem to be tolerating each other's existence.

Another week and a half before Pebble is allowed outside; it won't be too soon either, as he tears up and down the stairs, in and out of all the rooms, jumping on and off all the furniture, prancing dangerously close to Banjo who raises her right paw in warning making him brake furiously hard before prancing off to attack the toy lion. It's too much to hope that Banjo will regain some of her youth and prance around the house with him; she is now officially overweight, due most likely, according to the vet, to ongoing depression after losing her sister to cancer and my husband whom she adored and moving house twice; all in recent years. Cats don't cry when bereaved, they become depressed. My grief probably contributed to her unhappiness too; I could've spent more time with her rather than submerged in my own unhappiness. Isn't hindsight wonderful?

Perhaps I shall be able to visit friends again in the New Year, once Pebble has had his 'Op' and his 'pebbles' removed; apparently this will calm him down considerably, (I've known a few men in the past who would've also benefitted from having their 'pebbles' removed).

While I can't travel much at the moment, I still have my many photos to gaze at and remember the excitement of the journey and destination and the accompanying anticipation.

Bath Revival

The full body massage and facial, followed by bathing in the thermal spa waters of the new Thermae Spa released all the pent up muscular tension and stiffness.

I felt uplifted, released, revived and renewed. My eldest daughter and I had decided to treat ourselves to a few days at Bath after the tensions that a family wedding can bring. It worked, and we both returned to normal day to day activities thoroughly refreshed and ready for anything.

The feeling of being complete, whole, relaxed and in control stayed with me as I saw old neighbours and people who were once my friends when I returned to the small town I'd lived in when bringing up my four daughters. So-called friends blanked me, remembering that I'd suddenly left my husband, home and youngest daughter over 10 years' earlier. They still had their prejudicial views, probably fuelled by much gossip at the time which must have distorted the actual truth.

Did I care? No... their opinions did not affect me. I smiled at them even though they turned their backs on me. I walked tall amongst them and didn't give a damn.

Everyone should enjoy a Bath Revival now and again.

Last holiday

The last holiday we had was to Prague. Cobblestones abound as do mannekins, russian dolls, waffles and cream and beers of all kinds in huge litre jugs. This view is from one side of the Charles Bridge which we'd walked across many times during our four day stay. It was here that he bought me a blue topaz ring, with matching ear-rings and necklace and which I wear regularly.

I have jewellry from many foreign places, something he loved to do, but the topaz ones are the most special. After he died, a clairvoyant told me that whenever I wear a special ring he will be near me. I don't really believe that. In fact I don't believe anything the clairvoyant told me while I was deep in early grief. I am too sensible, but was very vulnerable at the time and just wanted someone to tell me he was still with me in some way. I have spoken to two people recently who swear that their deceased husbands have come to them when they were at their lowest point. "How?" I asked. One said he sat on her bed when she was crying in the night and just smiled at her. The other said he had stood behind her in the hall while she was looking in the mirror and he just appeared behind her, and again just smiled. Is it me? Or does anyone else think that the appearance of one's deceased smiling partner is ironically cruel? Does the smile indicate that they are okay in a land unobtainable? I haven't seen even a smoky whisper of my lovely man, but... in those painful early days I thought I heard the front door close, then his footsteps bounding up the stairs and the bedroom door open. By this time I'd closed my eyes and was hiding under the Duvet, when I looked... nothing. I told myself it was because my mind was unbalanced by bereavement and grief.

If he does appear, I have some questions for him; like, where the hell did he put the tenon saw and mitre block?