Apparent writer’s bloc shifted, what have we been up to for the last few weeks?

Well, we went on holiday to Anglesea, which was lovely. We stayed here, and in fact, the bedroom photo is the room we used. The place is enormous, and was booked by some friends of ours, so we kind of sublet a bit from them.

The weather was surprisingly kind - Anglesea has some beautiful beaches, and in six days we visited at least three of them. We also went to Beaumaris Castle, and South Stack Lighthouse (or, if you prefer). We didn’t go down to it, though. I didn’t fancy carrying over two stone of toddler down four hundred steps, and then back up again.

About twenty minutes before we left to come home, Daisy considerately ripped the arm off my glasses, so most of the rest of last weekend was spent in trying to procure a new pair. The optician in Asda, which seemed like the most convenient option, said I couldn’t have an eyetest until Tuesday, and wouldn’t get the glasses for another fortnight, which didn’t seem terribly realistic, to me. Specsaver’s nearby were equally apologetic, for being unable to promise me a pair before Tuesday, which struck me as a full fortnight better than Asda could manage. They, however, got me an appointment with their city centre branch for the same day, and they produced a pair of spectacles by the following lunch-time, which seemed pretty good to me. And, being Specsaver, I got a spare pair for nothing, which means that the NEXT time Daisy destroys my glasses, it shouldn’t be quite so disastrous.

While we were there, we got Kevin sorted out too - he’s been wearing the same pair of glasses for the whole of the seven years I’ve known him, though, bizarrely, when we saw his family yesterday they didn’t notice the difference. He, like me, has a different prescription now, and a spare pair for emergencies. However, getting two eye tests, choosing four pairs of glasses, and collecting them afterwards took three trips to the shop over three days. I felt like I should start paying into the tea-club…*

In the process we went to three different opticians, one of them three times.

* Not that they gave us any tea. They really should’ve.

I don’t often do this sort of thing - they sometimes reveal an interesting aside about someone, but I generally think of them as pseudo-content. However, in the absence of any REAL content around here, recently, and since I was actively tagged by Deb, here we go:

Three things that scare me:

1. Fire, in the sense of burning buildings. Fire drills at school used to terrify me, and I’ll still do quite a lot to avoid being in a building while they’re testing the fire alarms. When I was about six, we were evacuated from Woolworth’s in Rochdale because the lighting display at the back of the shop had burst into flames. We were at the front of the shop, so all I knew was that an old man told my mum to get us out coz the was a fire, shortly before all the alarms went off. My sister was upset that she had to leave her un-paid-for polos behind. Mum took us to the toy shop at the opposite end of the high street, to get our minds off it. It clearly didn’t work, coz I’ve been mildly phobic ever since, though I’ve learned to manage it with age.
2. Losing Kevin or Daisy.
3. Being trapped somewhere - this relates to, but isn’t limited to the first one. I hate planes, boats bother me, and I’ve avoided going to the apparently fascinating Western Approaches museum, because it’s all underground. I need to know that I can get out whenever I want to.

Three people that make me laugh:

1. Kevin.
2. My mum.
3. My sister.

Three things I hate the most:

1. Injustice.
2. Bullying - any form of attacking someone who’s already weaker than you.
3. Most traffic legislation.

Three things I don’t understand:

1. How aeroplanes stay up (and that’s not a cue for you to explain it to me, Kevin. It’s magic, that’s all there is to it. A bit like how you feel about knitting.).
2. How we can have too many people in the country, at the same time as having too few. I mean, we can’t go around killing off the baby boomers because they’re too expensive to maintain in old age, so the only alternative is to have more people of working age to foot the bill. Isn’t it?
3. How other people have such difficulty understanding the blindingly obvious. Does that sound terribly arrogant?

Three things I’m doing right now:

1. Getting dressed… theoretically…
2. Hoping the weather holds for a picnic in Delamere Forest later on
3. Wondering why nail varnish never lasts more than 24 hours without chipping.

Things I want to do before I die:

1. Feel like I’m a good Christian, rather than a rubbish, limping along sort of one (feeling like you’re doing it right is probably the first danger signal, however…).
2. Learn Welsh - reconnect with my heritage.
3. Do exercise regularly - so regularly as to make it come naturally, instead of being the mammoth effort of will it has always been up till now. Which is why it’s never happened regularly.

Three things I can do:

1. Play viola by ear. Not violin, for odd, historical reasons, and not really from music because of not having tried in about 13 years.
2. Write web pages, if I’ve not forgotten in the two years since I gave up work. I used to be pretty good at it, though. Maybe it’s like riding a bicycle?
3. Run my house! This one definitely has it’s ups and downs, but it’s a long time since anyone around here completely ran out of underwear, and I’m not ashamed to let visitors into my living room, so yay!

Three ways to describe my personality:

1. Fiercely, stupidly loyal.
2. High maintenance.
3. Practically Perfect In Every Way (oh, and humble…).

Three things I can’t do:

1. Run - but why would you want to?
2. Reach the top shelves in the kitchen.
3. Stay up much past 10.30pm - that’s what turning thirty did for me.

Three things I think you should listen to:

1. Me!
2. Your children.
3. Your parents - you can ignore them afterwards (much as you can with your children) but you should listen. They’re not there forever.

Three things you should never listen to:

1. The call of the chocolate doughnut.
2. Sarah Kennedy in the morning (maybe she gets easier to swallow later in the day?).
3. People who tell you climbing mountains is fun.

Three things I’d like to learn:

1. Oh - I already said this - Welsh. My great great grandfather was a Welsh-speaker, but didn’t teach his children because he didn’t want them to be able to speak a language his wife didn’t understand. So Welsh died out in my family about 120 years ago.
2. How to sew - that’s another form of magic, if you ask me.
3. How to decide that a family tree is “finished”.

Three favourite foods:

1. Pizza from Papa Johns at the top of the road.
2. Lasagne.
3. Cadbury’s Dairy Milk.

Beverages I drink regularly:

1. Decaf coffee.
2. Skimmed milk.
3. Pink grapefruit cordial.

Three shows I watched as a kid:

1. Captain Caveman.
2. Saturday Superstore.
3. Press Gang.

Three people I’m tagging to do this:

1. Nope - sorry. I don’t know enough bloggers, I’m afraid.

And THAT’S why I don’t do these things - it took me an hour!

Oddly enough, all the things I was terribly wound up about a few days ago have all evaporated.

Last Thursday, I got a phonecall from someone called Tim at the DVLA, saying that he wanted to withdraw the case - as if it was his idea. He also said that he only found the note telling him to phone me when he opened the case to prepare for the upcoming court date, and that he should have had a note on his desk to bring it to his attention. Not much of an apology, but there you go. He was mildly disgruntled that I’d returned a guilty plea on a case he’d been planning to drop, but was reasonably understanding that I had to do something, in the absence of his phonecall. Apparently that makes it harder to withdraw before the day, but he ought to have been able to stand up in court and tell the magistrates that he didn’t want to pursue it. I say ought to have, because my understanding is that that should have happened yesterday, and it should all be over. Of course, I still have none of this in writing, and I’ll be a lot happier when I do, but it would appear that the DVLA have finally forgiven me.

Then, this morning, nearly two weeks since we last saw him, the cat came back. He seems hungry, but not unnusually thin (he’s quite a diminutive cat at the best of times), and fairly insecure - he keeps wandering around the house shouting for me, to make sure I’m still here. However, he doesn’t seem much the worse for wear, and I can’t quite believe he’s made it back. I’d pretty much given up on him. He’s very small and stupid for making it in the big wide world by himself…

So, all in all, it seems that all the things I was worried about have gone away, which is fabulous.

No Daisy posts for ages and ages. The truth is, it’s been pretty quiet. She’s just gradually getting better at the things she was already doing - new vocab, better pronunciation, climbing onto higher items of furniture, bigger tantrums, etc. On Friday, Daisy and I went to the zoo with her Grandmum and her Aunty Clare - Daisy’s zoo tolerance is about three hours, but the truth is, mine isn’t much more, particularly in the blazing sunshine.

Today, we went to visit my Grandma, which we rather like doing. I got a new story out of her (she tends to repeat herself, so a new story is always an event), and Daisy got to traumatise their dog, who is against children as a point of principle. She also hates men with beards, for some reason (the dog, not Daisy).

I’m gradually seeing the Terrible Twos, as they call it, hovering on the horizon. More and more, not getting what she wants can lead to shrieking at the top of her voice, or occasionally a full-blown tantrum, in response to which you can only wait till the end, then love it better. Attempts at expressions of loving before the end of the tantrum are not welcome, and are likely to result in a forceful blow from an arm or a leg. Welcome to the joys of toddlerhood…

So, life’s had it in for us a little, in the last couple of weeks. It’s nothing major, and I feel slightly guilty at how easily I’ve let it overwhelm me. Kevin and Daisy are fine, nobody is ill or dying, life is generally good. However, with the DVLA prosecuting me for tax evasion, and one of the cats gone missing, I do feel a little overwhelmed - to the point that I’ve had heartburn and insomnia (separately, although heartburn certainly can create insomnia, if it hits at night) this week, and last night had to go to bed at 8.30pm to recover.

I wrote a very calm and reasonable statement to the court, explaining why it was only a little bit my fault that the car tax had expired. I think I have successfully resisted the temptation to spit fire and call them all stupid, which is always a risk with such things. Now I just have to wait for notification of their decision, and hope it’s a small number. Since I’m not going, however, they are allowed to adjourn the case without telling me, so there’s no guessing when that information will come.

The missing cat is Tim, the smaller, less adventurous one. I really can’t imagine him having been run over, since he would have to have escaped the alley gates for that to happen, and he’s got a permanent limp that makes his climbing and jumping a bit limited. My fear is that he may be locked into the house next door, which has been empty for about a year, but which some people have been nipping in and out of, over the last few weeks. I’ve not seen anyone since Thursday, though. I’ve been pushing ice cubes through to letter box, in case he’s dehydrating, but I feel a bit guilty about it, in case he’s not even in there.