Ma’s eyes lock with the butcher’s. It’s a match made in Hell, the meeting of two naughty minds. Ma’s obviously feeling chirpy again, after our accident, and is ready for some serious flirting. Our butcher, a fine figure of a man with a wicked glint in his eye, is more than up to the challenge. Neither of them wants to be the first to look away. As the conversation grows ever more risqué, I’m the only one blushing. They’re still at it as I grab our purchases and drag Ma out the door. Whilst Ma’s on the mend , Tom and I are still feeling pretty shaken. Tom’s been a tad on the snappy side (you know it’s true!) whilst I seem to have lost a few layers of skin and see danger lurking round every corner. The stupidest thing reduces me to tears. Whilst hacking away at some overgrown clematis at the end of the garden (must be feeling unlike myself to be gardening) I uncover a tiny nest, beautifully lined with moss and downy feathers. Inside are four perfect, dazzling blue eggs and I a...
Christine Stovell, author and freelance writer, on living and writing in West Wales