Skip to main content

Sea and Star

Sunday 4 November 
Lovely Lily, aka the new Mrs J is staying with us for the weekend while Mr J is away. We have a fine old time replaying her wedding day and looking at photos, but a bitter wind and heavy downpours put us off going for a walk to the beach.

‘Never mind,’ says Tom, ‘we’ll drive up to the tea hut at Aberaeron instead.’ A sense that the man in the tea hut is not, perhaps, as delighted to have any customers at all on such a miserable day as we would hope is offset by the fact that his tea is served in decent mugs. The sea is silvery green with impressive rolling waves and we park ourselves on a bench in a painted concrete shelter to watch it.

‘Tea time, is it then?’ says a man sitting on the adjoining bench to offer a biscuit to his scruffy little scrap of a dog. The little dog crunches delicately. ‘Sweet,’ Lily and I say to each other and, ‘oh look, it’s coming say hello!’ whereupon the little dog lifts its leg and does an almighty wee in front of us instead. I’m not sure what kind of hello that is, but we decided not to wait for ‘goodbye’ and head back to the car.

Tuesday 6 November
‘Third time lucky?’ says the courier who’s been following my efforts to buy a dress that goes over my rib cage without flapping round my hips. But no, having found a brand that seems to fit me, I’ve spotted a bargain in the clearance sale. Even better, it fits! Happy days!

My good mood gets even better when we nip out to the nearest shop to buy the celebrity magazine, Star. I’ve been told there’s a chance Move Over Darling’s going to be reviewed in it – if I haven’t been bumped out by books by Proper Slebs such as Cheryl Cole, Rod Stewart or any of the other biographies doing the rounds for Christmas. I’m over the moon to see I’ve made it! My second novel reviewed in a national magazine – amazing! 


Then, just when I think it doesn’t get any better, my neighbour arrives with a parcel that she’s taken in while we’ve been out. It’s the painting that I was incredibly fortunate to win in a hotly contested prize draw! ‘Watching Joe’ by talented artist, (and incredibly funny blogger, damn her, inventor of Writing Pants) Lane Mathias, is a beautiful, happy painting in acrylic and collage on canvas,which is now rubbing shoulders with Tom’s work in my study where it will always remind me of a very special day. Thank you, Lane. 

Painting is ‘Watching Joe’ by Lane Mathias

Comments

Frances said…
Chris, I am bleary eyed this morning after staying up very late last night watching the election returns.

I am happy and relieved with the President's re-election, and also think that there are some very good new Senators headed for Washington.

You've made me laugh with your tale of tea by the sea with pee! Congratulations on the magazine mention...I'm sure you'll be getting more and more readers. Could we have a photo of you in the new dress? Your prize pictures is delightful.

xo
123 said…
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
123 said…
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
Oh well done for being reviewed in Star! Wow!
Flowerpot said…
Well done on all fronts Chris - and I love Lane's painting, too!
Chris Stovell said…
Just catching up with your comments - thank you all for taking the time to do so - much appreciated!
Love the painting and the image of the tea hut too. Customers just get in the way.

Popular posts from this blog

Happy Endings, New Beginnings

Blended families come with conflicting loyalties and at Christmas time nearly everyone has somewhere else they feel they ought to be. Throw partners into the equation and it gets even more complicated. Since Tom and I aren’t especially hung up about Christmas we’re happy to let our children go with the strongest flow, but I have to say it was a great delight to have the girls and their partners staying with us this year. When such moments are few and far between they become very precious. My stepsons weren’t far from our thoughts either, not least because we had the very happy news on Christmas Day that my elder stepson and his girlfriend had become engaged. Congratulations Dan and Gill, here’s wishing you every happiness together. Tom and I end a year that has seen the fruition of many years work, both of us crossing important thresholds within weeks of each other. I’m really looking forwards to seeing Turning the Tide published next year and it’s been so satisfying, after al

Reconnecting

I hadn't realised it until now , but it’s probably no coincidence that my last post was about our trip to Norwich, a city I’ve loved since studying at UEA. I wrote, then, that coming home was a hard landing, a feeling that took me completely by surprise as it’s been such a privilege to live in this beautiful, remote spot on the very edge of the west Wales coast. A trip to Skye at the end of October - Tom’s choice - with Ma, was a truly lovely holiday. The weather was kind, the colours of those breathtaking seascapes will stay with me, as will all the happy memories we made that week. And, because our small cottage had been so beautifully modernised and worked so well for the three of us, it was easy to imagine what it might be like to live somewhere different. If travel doesn’t broaden the mind, it certainly brings a new perspective. By the end of the year, Tom and I had decided that it was time for a change, time to move closer to a town (we are neither of us, as they say, getting

Fly Free, Dottie Do

‘How many days to my birthday?’ Ma asks. I do a quick calculation. ‘Eighteen,’ I reply. ‘Eighteen days until your ninetieth birthday.’ Ma pulls a face and shakes her head. Every sentence is hard work for her now, when each breath is a struggle. ‘You’ll have to write a book about this, you know,’ she says, with one of her quick, mischievous smiles. ‘“Carry On Dying”. Make ‘em laugh, make ‘em cry.’ The smile fades. ‘Who knew,’ she adds wearily, ‘that dying would be such a palaver?’  It’s only eleven days since Ma was diagnosed with a high-grade, aggressive lymphoma, four days since she was overwhelmed with pain and breathing difficulties and was admitted as an emergency to hospital. Until a few weeks ago, she lived completely independently; shopping, cooking, cleaning and tending her much-loved garden. The deterioration in her health is shockingly rapid. The eight days preceding her death are a living hell, a constant battle with the ward staff to get Ma the pain relief she’s been presc