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Showing posts from February, 2012


‘Erm, I was wondering if you’ve done anything for our anniversary?’ ‘No,’ says Tom, looking anxious. ‘Have you?’ ‘No,’ I reply, thinking phew ! It’s not that we’re unromantic and, of course, it would be lovely to splash out on something frivolous like an iPad each – except that’s the best part of year’s heating oil - but money’s not really what it’s about. Which is just as well. Luckily for us , Lily and Rose and their other halves have very kindly made sure that our anniversary will be memorable. Our Christmas present from them is a night in a swanky boutique hotel (‘Well, we knew you wouldn’t do it for yourselves.’). Yippee! So we are heading north on our jaunt soon and greatly looking forwards to it. We’ve even decided to see a bit more of the area courtesy of a Premier Inn special offer… should be an interesting ‘compare and contrast’, shouldn’t it? In other news ... Monday 5 March sees the announcement of the category winners of the Romantic Novelists’ Association A

Don't Look Now

This week has brought my parents-in-law to Hotel H for their first visit of the year. Their stay coincides with a quick trip from Lily for more things wedding. Sunday morning arrives bright and clear, so Lily and I decide on a brisk walk to the beach before she heads off at lunch-time to catch her train. Seeing the sun, MiL and DiL decide to accompany us for as long they can manage and Tom says he can always pop back for the car if they have to give up. The good news is MiL and DiL complete the full mile and a half walk down to the beach. The bad news is that it’s taken twice as long as usual, the sun’s gone in, rain’s threatening and it’s a humungously steep climb to get home. Lily and I decide to forge on ahead to get the car, but, having blasted our way back, discover that the spare key is not in its secret hiding place. Pretty soon the garden is like a scene from Time Team , but the spare key is nowhere to be found. Leaving Lily sheltering from the cold, I hoof back down t

About Time

‘ Sit this side,’ says Tom, as I board the train. ‘Then you can look at the view.’ I have to admit that it hasn’t occurred to me to look out the window when I’ve got my Kindle and almost two hours reading time before I meet my elder daughter, known here as Lily, at Cardiff Central. As someone driven by the constant fear of time running out, I can’t even walk up and down stairs without thinking of something that might need to go with me. But on this bitterly cold, clear morning, I’m so glad to have done as I’m told for once. From Carmarthen, the railway drops down to Ferryside and along the coast which is spectacularly lovely in the frosted fondant colours of the morning light. Clusters of oystercatchers are slapping along the shoreline, poking orange beaks into the exposed sandflats and a calm, glassy sea shimmers under a low-slung sun. At Swansea, the train fills and the peace is shattered by a group of ladies eager to shop in Cardiff and happy to share their digestive com