Battening Down

 

Hello. I hope you are well. It's still January. I have checked and it definitely is and there is more to come. I am curled up on the sofa, watching people on Antiques Roadshow pretending that they "will never sell" and listening to Storm Isha getting all worked up outside. Last week, we were catching the ferry to Cornwall. It was freezing cold but there was bright sunshine, so it was lovely. Wild horses wouldn't get me on the ferry today - unless I was allowed to lash myself to the lifeboat.    

A lovely time was had by all, walking in the sunshine, ordering brie and bacon paninis for lunch, getting served chicken and pesto instead but not wanting to say anything because we are British so eating it anyway. (And giving them a hefty tip).  By the way, chicken and pesto taste of absolutely nothing so it's not as if I discovered a new culinary delight. 

We left the house twice on Saturday. Messy Church first. I was on the Hama Bead table. For the uninitiated (i.e. me) you put these tiny beads on a plastic stencil which you then put under a piece of greaseproof paper and hot iron until the beads all fuse together. My table attracted lots of marauding girls who knew exactly what they were doing and didn't want me to interfere until it was time to do the ironing. I was thinking that this might be the easiest Messy Church I had ever done. However, the sharpest among you will have noticed some keywords  - "tiny" and "hot iron". First of all, when you are blessed with sausage fingers, as I am, it's a lot of pressure when you need to transport the stencil to the ironing table without tipping their intricate creations all over the floor. Also, I received precisely zero training about the use of the iron. It's not like when I iron work clothes and slam the iron around a bit and then shove it in the wardrobe muttering "That'll do". I had no idea how hot the iron should be. One of the mums told me that they are easy to burn or, if it's not hot enough all the intricately placed beads fall off and the poor child's parents are paying for five years of therapy. I spent a lot of the morning bellowing "Off you go sweetheart. I'm sure once it cools - the beads will stick together a lot better!" I was shattered at the end of it.

Then we went out in the evening to the pictures to see a film called Tish. It was a documentary about a working-class woman who took unflinching photos of poverty in Newcastle. I won't say much more about it because, frankly, I suspect you are all depressed enough. She was outstandingly talented but there weren't many laughs. She spent her life living in poverty because the poshos kept her at arms length. She died young.You get the idea. They were trying to encourage us all to take photos of our lives as part of a community project on Plymouth. I didn't volunteer. I couldn't see there being a lot of call for photos of me shouting at Match of the Day or sneaking the last bit of lemon drizzle cake. 

I'm trying to think of something a bit spiritual and encouraging to leave you with - something that I have learned this week. Er... no. 

Although, I have been trying to look it up in Scripture. Is it a scriptural principle that things actually do happen in threes? We've replaced the dishwasher, the washing machine and the mattress since Christmas. (Not for the fun of it. The kitchen equipment gave up the ghost and we are trying a new mattress because we have old and decrepit backs). I just wondered if Abraham had made some sort of mention of it somewhere. 

Right then. Am looking at a new jigsaw. We have completed the Agatha Christie. Might get a new one tomorrow. Exciting times ahead. I do hope not. Have a good week.