Dreams and Trebuchets

It must be the antibiotics; I dozed between sleep and wakefulness this morning dreaming of being kept prisoner in a damp, cold stone room with large flagstones on the floor and some hay in the corner for my bed. I had no window, just an arrow slit in the thick walls where I could hear hammering and knocking and men shouting. There was a rumbling sound as if heavy machinery was being moved along a gravel road... I awoke. The hammering was still there, so too the sound of heavy machinery; the builders had started work early, and the dust-cart was emptying the bins outside. Not a flagstone in sight and my bed was not made of hay.

I lay there for a while, reaffirming the reality of my life, time and place. I was not a maiden in distress locked away in a castle tower, nor were there Trebuchets on the horizon ready to hurl fireballs. Perhaps my subconscience was saying that I need to be rescued from my current situation... who knows? In my mind I rattled off all the good things about my existence; I am secure, have a nice home, have wonderful daughters, two peculiar but loveable cats, am in good health, (apart from my inflamed teeth), I have a car and live in a particularly beautiful part of England. This is more than a lot of people have, so why the dream?

Some of my weirdest dreams have materialised whilst under medication or with a high temperature. Years ago, I lay in a hospital bed, recuperating from a major operation; dosed up with Pethadine and coming round from a deep sleep, when I imagined a fire engine speeding towards me and about to run me down. I remember my heart thumping in my chest and woke up suddenly to see the Tea Trolley coming to a stop by my bed. "Cup of tea, Love?"

Sunshine and Teeth

Another glorious day, so again, no decorating while the sun shines. Pruning the Buddleia and Lavatera as the sun's rays warmed my cheeks while Nat King Cole's warm, chocolatey tones drifted out through the open window, was sheer heaven.

The cats joined me, although Banjo kept her back to Pebble as if to reject his intrusion upon her up-till-now, sole domain of the garden. Each sudden noise sent him scurrying back indoors, only to creep outside again when perceived danger had passed.

I'm so tired... antibiotics the reason. Teeth have reacted to recent treatment, or bacteria has crept into new wounds, leaving me with tooth, gum and jaw-ache. I've been so careful with rinsing and cleaning too. Told to rest to let antibiotics work, no gym, no heavy work, no swimming or lifting. A little light pruning should be okay though.

The weather will change tomorrow. Who knows what else tomorrow will bring...

A Taste of Spring and Cream Teas

What to do on a sunny Sunday in February after a miserable grey winter so far? Not the decorating that's for sure! So out and about I went; going wherever the car took me and I ended up at Stow-on-the-Wold along with the world and his wife. Eventually found a parking space and then spent a couple of hours wandering around in and out of tourist shops and basking in the warm-ish sun rays.

I can't help but notice that on days such as these, there are couples everywhere and singletons like me are definitely in the minority. So where do all the other singletons go on a sunny weekend day I ask myself? Is there a venue somewhere that I'm not aware of where I could perhaps find someone to have a general conversation with, without tying myself down to an actual 'date'? Someone suggested I embark on a lot of late-night shopping trips... well, I don't have the money to keep shopping and I'm not convinced that this is where all the other singletons hang out.

Getting back to the day out... From Stow I drove around the Cotswolds, ending up in Bibury; nowhere to park so continued along roads never travelled before and came across some exquisite little villages with their butter-coloured stone houses; profusions of crocuses and snowdrops and everywhere birds were singing. I fancied a Cotwold Cream Tea and headed east until I found a remote sign to Burford, passing some travellers in ancient Gypsy caravans along the way. I couldn't understand the congested traffic as I crossed the A40 towards Burford, then I saw the reason; a horse had broken loose and was standing in the middle of the main road. Passers-by and police officers were trying to coax him onto the grass verge, one holding on to his mane with trepidation. I drove down into the village parking alongside the river Windrush where an abundance of ducks fought for a child's handful of bread.

I sat in the Priory Tea Rooms, warm, relaxed and enjoyed my scone, clotted cream and hot Tea.

So much better than painting the kitchen.