No place like gnome

I went to see the oncologist's (very nice) underling today.  She was a bit concerned that I hadn't yet been given an appointment to see an ophthalmologist (after all the hoo-ha when an optician spotted a variation in my pupil size a few weeks ago).  Bugger.  I'd been feeling fairly relaxed about the whole thing since the CT and MRI scans of my brain came back clear.  It seems there may still be cause for concern. 

I'm also going to have a chest x-ray next week (in addition to the scheduled CT scan at the end of the month) as I'm coughing quite a bit.  Hey ho.  Luckily I'm still suffering from jet lag after my Easter trip and that means I'm too knackered to get worked up about anything at the moment.

'Jet lag' I hear you cry in uncontrollable excitement, 'oh what wondrous foreign climes have you been exploring Disco Del'.  Well, let me tell you.  Pembrokeshire.  And going by how I feel today I can caterogically state that it is possible to suffer jet lag after a three and a bit hour drive from South Wales to Shropshire, so don't try to tell me otherwise.

Pembrokeshire was lovely.  Look:

Atmosphere in bucket loads

Spring time arrived (just)

Sunny Solva

We went with friends and their little boy.  So there were Easter egg hunts, football on the beach (although I was more of a spectator for this due to my lack of puff) and colouring in as well as the usual booze and sight-seeing.  So it was a brill holiday.  And lest you think I've gone soft in my old age ... if it's wrong to laugh at a six year old falling over and getting a proper drenching in a very cold sea then I don't want to be right.  Oh don't look at me like that, he was fine, if a little soggy round the edges.

True to form I kept an eye open for cats and found a humdinger up at the local church

Hiya Handsome

Then we returned home to an intriguing mystery.  A three foot tall plastic gnome has appeared in the back garden.  I've composed a short list of possible culprits which I'll be passing to CSI Shrewsbury shortly.  Here he is - I'm just hoping he doesn't invite any mates round.

And if anyone has any information on who placed him in the garden I'd be delighted to hear it.  Once I discover the identity of  the evil genuis behind this crime I will have my revenge.

Making hay

So it seems that Eribulin (my latest chemo) is something of a mixed bag.  It frequently gives me high temperatures in the days after infusion which means me having to make trips to hospital to make sure my white blood count is OK and that there are no infections about to run rampant in my system.  The chemo also seems to give me headaches and make me feel a bit blergh, but on the week I don't have to have swamp juice (two weeks on, one week off) I feel pretty good.  I've just had one of those good weeks and so I made hay while the sun shone.

I've had a trip to Shugborough, an historic house about an hour away from home 

It was OK, but to be honest I've been to better stately homes - the whole Patrick Lichfield thing was a bit of a pain (he used to live there and they make a big deal of it).  Much as I love an historic house, I'm not really into royalty and their relatives (to put it mildly).  Anyway don't let me put you off if you fancy a trip there.  One huge plus point ... it's got a cat monument, no home should be without one.

A couple of days later we ventured out again to another historic house, well a castle actually, Powis Castle.  It's only about a half hour drive from home and I just can't believe we hadn't visited before because it's absolutely stunning.  I loved it.  Bear in mind we are well into Autumn now and it was still beautifully colourful, look:

Stunning views

Borders to salivate over

 

And I do love a lumpy hedge (the other-half included for scale)

Not bad eh?

There was, sadly, a distinct lack of monuments to cats.  However they did have dragons, and that's the next best thing

Then, to round the week off, we went to the seaside (West Wales).  The weather was glorious and I walked my legs off

 And also succumbed to a seaside selfie

Ah well, back to the swamp juice next week and, no doubt, a lot less gadding about and a lot more moaning.  

I won't know if this chemo is working until the end of October (having a CT scan in the middle of the month).  I have my doubts to be honest, as I'm still coughing like mad and have to stop for breath if I encounter even a slight slope never mind a hill.  The worrying thing is that I seem to be running out of chemo options (although there are a couple to try yet).  I may not yet be in the last-chance saloon but I do feel I'm clunking up the steps to the bar door getting ready to order my two fingers of red-eye.  Still, it's hard to differentiate between what the disease is doing and the side-effects of chemo, so I'll just have to wait and see. 

I haven't entirely lost my optimism though.  I'm going to attempt sewing again.  After the last dressmaking disaster I'd say that makes me incredibly stoic!  I am going to attempt a skirt with a button hole, zip and darts, so stand by for swearing.  I will report back with details of my amazing prowess as a seamstress, in the meantime admire the lovely second-hand fabric before I destroy it begin work.

At least something is coming up roses

Talking of stoic, the other-half has just assembled our new bed.  This has been something of a trial with an oily salesman, late delivery, missing parts and general grumpiness.  However, it is now done and we can now sleep easy.

To end on a positive note, I will have something very exciting to announce in the next couple of days.  I know I've tormented you with this before but the day is nearly nigh.  Stay tuned.

Fancy pants

Hold on to your hats.  I have bought a sewing machine!  As if my adventures in knitting weren’t exciting enough I have decided to diversify. 

I’m starting out with something simple; pyjama bottoms - no button holes, no zips and, hopefully, no frayed temper.  Behold the material I’ve bought.   

Sunglasses on

My plan is that I’ll be able to read in bed solely by the light of my incredibly bright night attire – no lights needed. 

You may think this latest step into the world of make do and mend is foolish on my part, seeing as I haven’t really progressed beyond scarves in the knitting department.  However, I am inspired.  Of late I’ve been perusing (and enjoying) the sort of arty-crafty blogs where the writers skip around their beautiful gardens with a paint brush in one hand, embroidery threads in the other while home-schooling floral pinafore clad daughters with names like Marigold, Petunia and Cystitis (I may have made that last one up). 

While I can hardly compete with those blogs in the angelic offspring stakes I can offer a rosy-tinted shot of Cyril, the three-legged monster cat, in my beautiful garden

Butter wouldn't melt

You'd never know from this photo that Cyril has been to the vet for an infection picked up while fighting again.  He's right as rain now though (after a course of anti-biotics which were next to impossible to get him to swallow).

Anyway, my beautiful garden.  Look how things have come on in the horticultural department:

June 2013

March 2014 (complete with pensive other-half)

April 2014

June 2014

July 2014

Please be especially impressed by the 'memory path' which is filled with odds and ends from beach-combing and the like.

I know all this is shameless bragging but really it's nothing to do with me, it's all the work of the other-half.  Sometimes he has his uses.  

It was a shame then, that on the evening we decided to invite the other-half's family, Clan Wiggins, over it rained buckets.  However, we weren't going to let a little thing like rain put us off and so the other-half erected a make-shift tarpaulin-covered seating area - so the family were forced to sit outside and admire his handiwork.  

The other-half comes from a huge family.  This can make entertaining difficult as my idea of cooking is putting together a cheese and pickle sandwich and I can get even that wrong.  Never, on the night Clan Wiggins came over, have so many boxes of supermarket pre-cooked snacks been opened.  Truly I am the hostess with the mostest.  Some of the family stayed over and although I had stocked up with the ingredients for a cooked breakfast I didn't have to raise a finger as the other-half's sisters rode to the rescue.  Hurrah for the breakfast pixies and many, many thanks.  Without them I'd have been sobbing under the kitchen table having a panic attack.

Lest you think all my adventures have been home-based, I've been out and about.  I've been back to Ludlow and bought yet another hand-bound notebook and gone over the border into Wales to see the the UK's tallest single drop waterfall, Pistyll Rhaeadr. 

see bloke in red on bottom right for an idea of scale

It was magical, as was the surrounding countryside

 

If goblins don't live under this tree then my name's not Rumplestiltskin

 We stopped for a cuppa at a nearby (and very lovely) cafe and shared a cake with one of the locals

 We then went on to Lake Vyrnwy and had lunch in a very unlovely cafe.  We should've guessed what it was going to be like given the signs on the path

Once inside there were more signs forbidding you to move any of the tables.  I was too scared to take photos of these as, surprisingly enough, the owners were not very friendly.  We sat outside in a rather rancid marquee type veranda.  I'm really glad the sun was shining as inside the cafe building they appeared to be playing things like this on a continual, hellish loop.  However, even this horror couldn't spoil the gloriousness of the day and the view.

Ignore the power lines, you picky sods

I'm not sure if it was all the gadding about, the side effects of the chemo (still mercifully few) or good old cancer related fatigue but I did end up pretty tired for a good few days.  I was forced to rest up at home and eat food that even I could cook

Many thanks for the spiffy new egg cup J!

But I suspect my tiredness was as nothing compared to that of my ex-husband who ran the Shrewsbury half-marathon in blistering heat for Breakthrough Breast Cancer (a charity I've got a lot of time for), so hats off to him.  Also hats off to Frances, who took part in a recent Race for Life bearing my name on her competitor's bid.  Thanks Frances

That's all the news from Discombobulated Towers for the time being. I'm off to do battle with my new sewing machine in the hope that next time I'll be able to post a photo of my luminous new PJ bottoms.  You lucky devils you!

 

Wildness in Wales

I've been rushing around like a long dog of late, having a fine old time with barely a chance to wash behind my ears let alone put fingers to keyboard.

Firstly, I headed down south to see my new great nephew who weighed in at walloping 10lbs at birth and, at three months, is a beautiful big chappie.  

I also saw some old friends, had a good laugh and stuffed my face with lovely grub.  I spent some time in Ware as part of my travels.  It's my kind of town with cat statues,

helpful red arrow as I know some of you are a bit slow

excellent (albeit disused) cat flaps,  

and even tombs with paws

Then, no sooner had I returned to Shrewsbury than we set off for a few days in Pembrokeshire.

We'd arranged to stay in a tiny and remote cottage with no TV or mobile signal, thinking we'd have a beautifully peaceful time.  As the holiday approached we realised, with some horror, that this meant we might actually have to talk to each other.  Thankfully, as you'll see from the pictures, we were able to survive this trial with the help of red wine 

Compact but cosy

Red wine saves the day (yes, those are the other-half's legs)

View from front door

The cottage was set in 6 acres of stunning (even in November) gardens

I have got a zillion more photos like this but if you'd like to see more about the house and garden the best place to go is the official website Dyffryn Fernant. 

While we were in Pembrokeshire we went to the small but pictureseque city of St David's.  It being November we almost had the place to ourselves, in fact we did have the old ruined and atmospheric Bishops Palace entirely to ourselves

 

As we walked around, despite being the sole visiors, we sometimes got the impression we were being watched

Lest you think this was a very staid and boring visit let me assure you it was danger packed with tall towers to climb 

sometimes I preferred to remain on terra firma

and every manner of peril, as the signage made all too clear

See I know how to live on the edge, I do

My favourite is the sign on the bottom left.  I think it's meant to warn people of the danger of bumping their heads but, to me, looks more like someone realising they've locked themselves out or left the bath running.

The danger theme continued into the following day when we went for a walk.  First the good news, I was able to walk much further and higher than I thought I could (in early summer I could barely walk 400 yards without puffing for breath, thanks to the cancer in my lungs).  While I was hardly mountain goat-like in Wales I was able to walk a good four miles and take on some steepish inclines, albeit slowly.

me, striding manfully upwards

We'd walked uphill from the pink building.  You may now gasp in admiration.

However, it would be remiss of me to claim that I didn't have some help in getting to the top of the hill. As we neared the top we saw several horses around the rocky outcrop including a foal.  We didn't go near the horses but just skirted around the edge.  This didn't stop Devil Horse from trying to kill me though.  A huge black horse came snorting towards me with murder in his eyes and evil in his heart.  

Here he is.  Have you ever seen anything more scary?  The stuff of nightmares

I walked away as briskly as possible, wishing there was a tree to climb, but could hear his horrible hooves and nasty snorty horse breath getting closer and closer.  The other-half turned looked at him and said, with some feeling, "that is NOT a nice horse".  Apparently he was also doing the kicky thing with his back legs too.  We managed to scramble over a fence and up, up and away from the mad, demented beastie.  When we were a safe distance away we turned and waggled our bottoms and then stuck our fingers up at the horse, not wanting to let him have the last snort.  The horse gods in the sky must have been watching us though as from then on the foot path signs disappeared and we ended up going on a much longer walk than intended and, for the last half hour, in a substantial downpour.  But what did I care, for I had escaped from the jaws (and hooves) of doom.

The rest of the stay was calm, tranquil and horse-free.  Even though I got heaps of exercise I suspect I put on lots of weight as I ate like a (shudder) horse.  And here's the proof, do you think my bum looks big in this?

 

A quick health update before I go.  I've been continuing with the TDM1 chemo trial and all seems to be going OK.  I have yucky scans at the end of the month and see the oncologist for the results in the middle of December by which time I will be almost as anxious as if I were being chased by a homicidal horse, but for now I'm trotting along not thinking about it too much, which works for me.

Oh, and just when you thought I'd finished, a final cheery note.  Two days ago I became a great aunty yet again.  Congratulations to all concerned.  The dynasty continues!