After some Dougie shenanigans, our house sitter Abi settled, the suitcase weighed repeatedly until it finally read just under the allowance...we finally set off for the airport.
1. And then we stopped. For an hour and a half on the M56. And Stu was bursting for a pee. Finally after the accident (no clue what happened but hope all were ok) we set off again to drop the car in Cheadle. This time we were flying Easyjet. And thankfully everything was on time. Even security wasn't too much of a hassle. Though we did have to empty nearly all the contents of the camera bag before it would get through the screening. 2. Arriving in Keflavik we set off at a determined pace to pick up our car. Only to find that our hire company of choice had moved. So back to the airport to find the rep. and a transfer to downtown Kef to collect our Jeep Compass. By now it was dark. And the dash of the car resembles a flight deck. And things were beeping. Repeatedly. 3. Anyway - we know where we're going. So, as I could make the car go forward and steer in the direction it needed to go, we set off....for a couple of kilometres. And then...the (only) main road from the airport past Reykjavik was closed. After a few minutes sitting with several other cars in a lay-by...we decided we had no option but to take the two hour detour. Just to get round to the other side of the city and head up to Borganes. We finally arrived at our hotel for the night five minutes after check-in, at 21:05. And crashed. After an hour of sleep I woke up - made myself a brew and stood on the balcony watching some pale green in the north sky. This morning, after a hearty breakfast (only £30...), we left our pitstop and headed north west to a little cabin by a lake. We're here for a few nights. It has a view. It has heating. It has a normal fridge and oven. It has a toaster. But it doesn't have a kettle. Also, infuriatingly...we had studied the online photos and determined the kind of coffee machine in the kitchen. Only to discover, on arrival, that it had changed to a pod-type one. Kettle is now a pan. And we discovered one of those tiny stove top coffee things. So we're all good. Key points so far:
Today's photos are a mishmash of today and yesterday. All iPhone pics as my camera is buried under Stu's chocolate stash in the kit bag.
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I googled shepherdess -- apart from the obvious (a shepherd with boobs who goes a little slower on a quad) we also have this definition...
An idealized or romanticised rustic young woman in pastoral literature. So for the past few weeks I have been a rustic young woman. With dodgy knees. I thought I'd write down my feelings on how it has all gone. The lambing I mean. On the whole it has been fantastic - for my spirit, my soul and my weight. But there have been some lows:
I have learned to despise the crows and magpies. But they're not to blame for all losses. Some lambs just aren't viable. Or their mum spends too much time cleaning their bums when they're born and doesn't spot their face is covered. So they suffocate. What I find fascinating is the ewes know instinctively which lambs are the weakest too. They lamb twins...one has a slightly dodgy leg? Mum ewe pushes it away. She wants the stronger lamb to have a better chance. It's hard to see a tiny lamb trying to feed when its mum wants nothing to do with it. This, and other situations, are how I ended up with pet lambs. I've had a few now. Some have been successfully adopted (with other ewes) and two sadly died. I have two little ones left - who will stay with me until they're old enough to return to the flock (assuming they don't die before then - not being negative - but lambs have a knack for finding a million and one ways to kill themselves) There are still around 14 ewes left to lamb (correct at the time of writing) so there is always the chance (risk?) of more to come. I always wondered how farmers can shout so much at sheep. They're just animals. They don't know any better. Now that I've done a few weeks lambing I have caught myself calling a ewe a 'nasty cow' a couple of times. They sometimes just make you so mad. But on the whole - they're wonderful. And I have cried more than once over the past few weeks (though I am getting so much tougher...). My conclusion from the whole experience is that I don't want sheep. Not never. They are such hard work. Lambing is just a fraction of the work involved. And so many things can go wrong. I'll stick with my gorgeous pacas. And, while my knees allow, just help out with sheep every now and then. Final thought - for my records: wishing Arwel a speedy recovery after his quad bike accident (that'll teach you!) and Meryl...I'll pray for your sanity, and sleep. Today's photo: The tiniest pet lamb We don't need more rain Boris. We have had plenty. And we have two storms on the way this week - joyous. In other news:
And finally... Big thanks to Heidi, Ketil and Pia for letting me stay and eat far too much food. Photos (all in the wrong order and mainly of Pia and food) from my few days in Norway... Hello 2022
After a very long break (three weeks), today I am due back to work with Novartis - on a new Programme. For those who know - I have managed to shake off the second contract I was working on last year. HUGE weight lifted and I'm hoping sanity and sleep will follow this year. So why am I doodling about on here if I am due to start work? I have no contract. Therefore I'm not insured. So I've done some Debbie Admin. Paid some bills. I was going to pay my Corp Tax - my fave bill of the year. Only to discover I paid it back in May last year. Joyous news...briefly. My next Corp Tax bill will come round soon enough. In other news...
*Blue spray - antiseptic spray used on farm animals. The last (almost) two years (feels longer) have really thrown a curve ball. It's hard to work out if the lingering feelings of anxiety are COVID-related.
Or would I be feeling the same without this new version of normal we're all dealing with? Am I too anxious to get in my car and drive further than the doctor in Corwen because of COVID? And am I nervous about guests staying over for that reason too? Or is it my response to menopause. I just don't know. What I do know is that the bloody menopause is the biggest load of crock ever. Next to Covid and childbirth. I'm not sure if every woman feels the same and suffers the same symptoms. I'm sure many keep quiet and struggle on. Not letting anyone know how they feel. Not me - I like to share:
I feel crap. I'm not me. Well...I am me - but with all my bad points hugely exaggerated. I can't handle things the same. I'm stressing over the simplest change to plan. I feel like I don't have anything to look forward to (which I know is bullshit - there is so much). I am now nearly three weeks into HRT. A big decision to push for this as the advice (based on family history) is to avoid. I have done lots of Menopause/ HRT reading. Many women pronounce HRT as life-changing - that was good enough for me. I really hope it is. I'm expecting miracles - every time I slap that oestrogen gel stuff on my thighs I am praying that tonight is the night I sleep. So far - no change. But I remain positive. Stu walks around the house with everything crossed. On a lighter note: Mouse the Ninja Corgi has mastered the art of appearing from nowhere, launching herself across a room and landing with her teeth in my toes. Get a corgi they said... I thought I'd try a more poetic post. I got as far as poising over the keyboard. Then gave up.
It's peeing down outside. I can't think of anything poetic about it. I'm looking forward to a VERY nippy winter. I've been in a state of permanent hot flush all summer. I'm sitting here in my office on this soggy Autumn day feeling mildly excited that my feet are actually feeling a little cold. We've been struggling to find a harness for that Corgi Mouse. Newsworthy? Maybe not. I don't give a hoot - if harnesses have been giving me sleepless nights then I'm sharing it. The harness story so far:
The menopause will be the undoing of Stu He only has to look at me with mild frustration and I turn into a weeping wreck. He stamped his foot at something yesterday - I nearly threw myself out of a window in despair (I was in the summerhouse - 1cm drop to ground level). That's enough for today - I have a Tunnocks teacake winking at me. Sometimes I hate summer. It's too much. Give me snow and at least I can add layers. But not only am I far too hot but my brain is fried. I am struggling to do two contracts at once (so I write a blog post to procrastinate for a bit longer). My full-time contract is taking up around ten hours a day. My 'do some work when I can' contract is not getting a look in at the moment. So what should I do?...
I need some days away from the office. Driving with music playing far too loud. Sitting on a fallen tree in a forest with a flask of coffee and an egg sandwich. I'm just not good at juggling two completely different jobs, 2 laptops (with completely different log in and system access) plus my Mac. And the best solution I can think of right now is time out. Then come back to it with a clearer head. Or I could get myself some help... Job details - must haves (not nice to haves)
It's July. The days are getting shorter already and we're over a year into Covid. And I am now 55 years old. That's ancient. I'm so old.
Ok. So that's enough of the good news. What else is going on in my little World of Wales? We nearly have a very nice summerhouse...
We also have a new paca...
We also sold the two new boys...
So what's the plan for Dougie?..
And in other news...
Today's pics... Today I am mainly frustrated. Irritated. Restless. Fidgety. And any other synonym that fits the Bill.
So Bill...he's a large transformation program (US spelling allowed in this case). Bill is fast-approaching the first launch of many. To some countries. Bill isn't sure which countries. Or when it will happen. But Bill is sure it is happening. So Bill needs Debbie to tell his people about the launch. Debbie needs to start the countdown messages. But Bill doesn't want Debbie to mention a date. And Bill isn't sure who Debbie needs to send the messages to. And while you're at it Debbie - Bill's people don't think we're telling them enough. So do your job Debbie and communicate. But...be careful what you communicate. And where you communicate it. In fact - don't tell them much. If anything. At all. Until further notice. Debbie - did you do those communications? I have no clue what I'm doing but I know I want to KILL BILL. The life of a comms lead on every large-scale transformation program ever. I've been struggling a little this week with anxiety and panic.
Stu is a master at averting the panic and picks me up when I break down so we're ok. But I've decided I need therapy - the therapy of writing shit down. When I write stuff down I tend to write positive stuff (so that in itself is a cure) - though I have been known to over-indulge in the maudlin meanderings of my mind. So how's life going?
So how's life really going? Now that I have written down the positives - the negatives are fading fast. This therapy works wonders. But if I was to draw them out..
So - taking positive action...
* I've just been on a work call - the chap I was chatting to was in Belgium (I think). He asked where I am from as he said I sounded Australian! I think my Altrincham accent has been accosted by Welsh inflections. And finally - the things that make life wonderful - not in any particular order:
So - there it is - the wonderful things outweigh the shit! Therapy complete. |
DebbieMe, my life, my family and my travels Archives
November 2022
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