Slow Train to Dreamland

Over Easter weekend we remained in Minehead itself.
On Sunday morning, we joined the ringers at Minehead Parish church and afterwards stayed for the service.
The priest had great fun shaking water over the congregation, and there was plenty of incense!

By mid-afternoon, my eyes were watering severly.
My right eye was particularly bad and felt as if someone was stabbing it with a knife.
"I think you are suffering from hayfever." pronounced my husband,
Why don't you have one of my tablets?" 
It seemed worth trying, as these tablets can be purchased from a supermarket or chemist and do not require a prescription.
The tablets did the trick and the pain subsided, to my immense relief!
I spent the rest of the evening resting my eyes, as I really wanted them to recover.

On Monday we planned to go by steam train from Minehead to Bishop's Lydeard.
It was a glorious morning as we walked along the seafront to the station.
My eyes were much better this morning, but a took another tablet,
just in case the smoke from the engine triggered the pain.
At the station, we had to wait while they found someone to open the Ticket Office.
The volunteer they were expecting was not there,
so they quickly had to train someone in ticket selling.
Having done my research online, I knew both the KHT and I could get a reduced fare.
However, the KHT takes exception to reductions on the grounds of disability,
as she wants to be normal, rather than receive a discount.
To avoid any upset, I suggested she went and looked in the shop and chose a postcard to send, whilst I did the boring part and got the tickets.
Tickets obtained we went and retrieved the KHT from the shop, where she had selected an unseasonably snowy scene to send ...

We boarded the train and were soon trundling through the glorious countryside.
Soon the ticket collector arrived to check our tickets.
He inspected the tickets solemnly.
"You've got a problem here, 
and I can't do anything about it. 
I can't change tickets once they are issued, 
but you can take it up at the Ticket Office at the other end."
"What is the problem with the tickets?" I enquired.
"Well, with a disabled ticket, the carer is also entitled to the discount"
The KHT watched on.
Meanwhile, I was silently fuming at the well-intentioned Ticket Collector for blowing my cover over the reduced-price tickets,
even though there is no way he could have known that the discount COULD be an issue!
"You should both have got the discount. You should have asked for the cheaper price."
"I did ask for a Disabled Ticket and a Carers Ticket. I think she has just given us the wrong coloured ticket. 
The lady in the ticket office was being trained on the job, 
as the person on the rota hadn't appeared."
The Ticket Inspector gave an official tut,
clearly not happy with the wrong coloured ticket being issued.
I had no idea where the receipt was,
and was really hoping that I didn't have to empty my bag out to find it,
just to prove that we had not broken into the Ticket Office and issued our own tickets...
The Ticket Inspector decided there was nothing he could do about our wrong-coloured tickets and departed to check if all the other passengers had tickets of the correct colour.
On we trundled, through the beautiful Somerset countryside.

Just one problem...
I (yawn)
couldn't (just resting my head)
stay (and my eyes)
awake.
ZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz....

I lifted my head about every hundred yards or so to check the view.
Green field, yellow field, trees.
Zzzzzzzzz.

Cute bridge over small stream, trees, cute cottage.
ZZzzzzzzzz.

Green fields.
Zzzzzzzz.

Rusty delapidated train stock under taupalin.
ZZZzzzzzz.

More fields.
Zzzzzzz.

Village, nice gardens
Zzzzzzz

Station. People. Train sheds.
ZZzzzzzzzz.

Level crossing
ZZzzzzzz.

Big church tower
ZZzzzzzz.

Fields
Zzzzzz.

Fields
Zzzzzzz.

Station
ZZzzzzzz.

Fields
Zzzzzzzzz.

More fields
ZZZzzzz




By now, even my husband was noticing my battle to stay awake.

"Is something wrong?"
"I think that hayfever tablet has made me sleepy."
Fortunately, whatever problem had caused the pain and made my eyes water, had passed, so I decided to go cold turkey.

However, the sleepiness remained, so I crawled into bed at the unheard of hour of 9:45pm and slept until around 7am the next morning.

I wouldn't say I awoke bright-eyed and bushy-tailed - that would never be me.
However, I was awake enough to finish cleaning the flat
and, to my husband's surprise,
I stayed awake all the way back up the M5
and had a sausage roll from Tellytubby land (Gloucester Services)  to celebrate!

Cliff Walk

We set the sat nav for Porlock Weir, a nearby beauty spot, as it was close to the location for a picture we had purchased many years ago.

Upon arriving we found that the markings in the centre section of the car park were rather confusing - arrow/chevron-shaped boxes is the best way I can describe it.
The chaos was compounded by groups arriving in more than one car,
and then idling in the centre of the car park while they decided what to do - should they stay or should they go?
We solved the problem by parking in a space on the perimeter,
thus avoiding the angular conundrum!
The car park may have been chaotic, but the loos were free... Some you win, some you lose!

We perambulated at a leisurely pace, past the harbour to the beach, where the KHT followed the example of nearly every other person under a certain age and crawled into the slopping pill box,  half buried in the beach - no doubt a relic from the second world war.

Other constructions - both temporary and more permanent adorned the beach,
as did numerous other tourists.
We quickly reached the conclusion that  Easter weekend is probably not the best time to visit  - unless you wish to feel that you are part of some parade trooping across the bridge,
past the rented cottage
to the Pill Box on the beach,
and back again.




We consumed our picnic lunch
sat at a conveniently positioned picnic table.
You could either describe it as being on the uncut verge of the car park,
or on a wildlife lawn on the cusp of the beach
with sweeping views across the bay.
Both would be equally true.








Then I had one of my bright ideas
"Let's go the Valley of the Kings, or whatever it is called, walk along the cliff path to Lynton and take the cliff railway down to Lynmouth."

Google revealed that it was actually called the Valley of rocks.

We set the satnav and headed off into Devon,
over moorland,
through woodland,
past mysterious deep valleys,
enjoying the stunning views over Exmoor
brightened in the spring sunshine
by the ever-blooming gorse.










The Valley of Rocks was just as stunning as we remembered.








The KHT was rather surprised
by the coastal path into Lynton,
with the steep unfenced hillside,
with the rocky sea some way below.
She would have prefered the reassurance
of a protective barrier,
to keep her safely on the path.

She kept well aware from the edge,
being reassuringly wary of the drop.
Last time we had done this walk,
some ten or eleven years ago,
the KHT had little awareness of danger
and the whole experience was far more stressful
for us as her parents!
This time she was the one who was more anxious, but not sufficiently so to detract from the walk.




Upon reaching the cliff railway we noticed a cafe at the top. A quick reconnoitre revealed some very promising cakes, almost compatible with DH's diet.
I can thoroughly recommend the cappuccino cake!

We then descended via the cliff railway to Lynmouth.
The KHT enjoying the view from the front of the car
as it descended.

We didn't have long to spend in Lynmouth.
We did explore the visitor's centre.
The KHT found a soft toy for me to admire.
"Is it cold?"
"No!"
"Well, in that case, it must be an otter!"
Sure enough, it was.

The Sales Assistant groaned appreciatively
"I am sorry," I apologised, "You must get the same jokes every day."
Pretty much, " she agreed, "But I haven't heard that one for a while...!"

We spent half an hour or so sat on the beach enjoying the sunshine,
idly observing a family who seemed intent on picking up large stones/rocks
and trying to smash them.
We had no idea why.

The KHT took the opportunity to pose with the sculpture of a walker by Richard Graham,
which marks the starting/finishing point of

• the Tarka Trail, 
• the Two Moors Way, 
• the Coleridge Way 
• as well as the South West Coast Path.

It was not by the 'Richard Graham' we know.
I checked.
Apparently, there is more than one 'Richard Graham'.




Too soon, the time came for us to join the l-o-n-g queue waiting to be transported back up the hill. We could have walked, but it would have been FAR more knackering.
Besides which I carefully ensured we purchased return tickets,
which are only valid on the day of issue.
It would be a pity to waste a trip!

"What do you think LLCR stands for?" I enquired of the KHT
"Local Land Cable Railway."
" Not quite."
"Local Land Carriageway."
Then she sussed the 'Cliff Railway' bit, before working out that the 'L's referred to the pair of  towns that it connected.

We returned along the coastal footpath,
to the somewhat depleted car park
as 90% of the cars that were there when we arrived
had already been reclaimed by their owners
and driven away.

Our waiting vehicle was being serenaded
by the sound of a herd of wild goats
intent on devouring as much of the undergrowth as they could!
The volume produced by their  coordinated munching
was impressive!








We returned to our temporary abode,
with its view over the estuary,
but the excitement was not over yet.
By the light of the moon,
the lifeboat was launched to rescue those in peril on the sea.
It toured around the bay,
searchlights ablaze.
We were never any the wiser what the shout was. Presumably, they were not searching for the Easter Bunny!

As the lights came on,
Wales was visible for the first time
since we arrived in Minehead.
The KHT gave a sigh of relief,
content that God's own country was back in sight,
remembering the days
when she was convinced that it was the exotic delights of France she could glimpse,
not Barry Island.

Imitation Lark

The flat we rented for Easter weekend had a stunning seafront location and a king-size bed!
Bliss!
After five nights sleeping in a less generously-proportioned bed at Butlins, this was a very much appreciated.
Seriously, do any couples chose to sleep in a 4ft 6 bed these days?

The first morning I awoke just as the sky was getting light.

Yesterday we passed a house just a bit further down the road, that went by the name of 'Sunrise'.
"Was that a random name?" I pondered, from deep beneath the duvet,
"Or are first sunrays of the day visible from there? 
If so, can they also be seen by other buildings in this road, 
and most importantly, 
this one?"


Only one way to find out.
I reluctantly crept out of bed and peeped through the curtains at the front of the property
Sure enough, there was a distintly pinky hue developing over the Bristol Channel.











I made myself a coffee and sat and watched
as the sun slowly emerged.
The colours of the sky imperceptively changing and as they did so
they were reflected the calm gently rippling sea.






Then I went back to bed.


I was never cut out for this lark, lark!

Down Two and Up Two

Day three of Spring Harvest aka Springy.
After her late night discovering that Graham Kendrick really was a person,
the KHT fails to make it out of bed for The Big Start,
preferring a quieter, slower and more importantly, a later start to the day.

Our Bible Teaching continued led by theologian Anna Robbins,
who joked about being bumped by the AB of C the day before.
The KHT quickly spotted the change of personnel at the front.
"Where's Justin?" 
"Back at Lambeth Palace or some other part of the globe, doing important stuff."
The visit of the Archbishop had included the promotion of 'Thy Kingdom Come' prayer initiative, based on The Lord's Prayer
The Archbish encouraged congregations to get involved in prayer events, between Pentecost and Ascension, particularly outdoor events with a view to engaging with people who would not normally cross the threshold of a church.
Congregations were encouraged to hold events this year, and particularly in 2020.
Having checked the diary, in 2019 this will be 9th June - just after half-term,
but in 2020 it will fall at the end of half term on 31st May.
That complicates what we will be able to offer as a church, but we will see what we can do!

I asked the KHT how she got on in her Young Adults session the previous day.
She confessed to nearly having a fit of the giggles as she watched flies buzzing around the room,
I came to the conclusion that she felt a bit out of her depth,
and would probably get more out of the session we went to  'The Main Prayer Academy, as it involved interviews with guests.

"Come and see what you think of the session in the skyline. 

The leaders sit on a settee and chat to guests - it is just like Graham Norton..." 
I wonder what Sim Dendy and Carla Harding, who were hosting the sessions, would have made of my description, but the chances of them finding out are pretty slim!

The KHT is a great fan of Graham Norton, so that was sufficient incentive. My hunch was correct, she did enjoy it.

In the evening we went to see Adrian Plass who was filling the After Hours slot.
The KHT really enjoyed hearing about all his madcap adventures, and poignant take on life.
She is dying to meet Minnie Stamp.
Alas, Minnie is just a character in a book.
Alas, alas, this won't make the slightest difference to the KHT.
Characters in books are as real to her, as real people are!










We finally made it into The Hub on day four.
where all sorts of Christian retail temptation awaits,
and you can sign up to a thousand mailing lists both email and snail mail. (I am still receiving regular post from one charity the KHT took an interest in a few years ago,
and I have yet to discover how to disengage from them, worthy though they are.)
However, I was delighted to notice books by a very good author were on sale.

The days rolled on, we attended many seminars,
often slipping away just before the end
to the KHT's disgust.
"Don't tell me, this has got coffee written all over it!"
she correctly surmised.
There was supposed to be a half hour gap between the Bible Teaching and the next session, but things often seemed to overrun a little.

Too soon it was time to carry all our clutter back down two flights of stairs and drive half a mile to the other end of town, where we had rented a flat for Easter Weekend.
Upon arriving we had to carry all our stuff up another two flights of stairs...
At least we didn't go shopping en route this time...

Make Way for the KHT

The KHT was up bright and early to The Big Start with DH, leaving me to crawl out of bed and enjoy a more peaceful start to the day.

Bostin' Justin - the AB of C

We then had the delight of the AB of C leading the first morning Bible Study on The Lord's Prayer.
As usual, he was entertaining, thought-provoking and very easy to listen to.
I am so pleased that the Anglican Church isn't led by some dry academic, who may be very knowledgeable but makes your heart sink when they speak.

After a quick refreshment break,
I took the KHT off to the Young Adults session.
They all looked incredibly grown up.
"Are you sure I am in the right place?" whispered the KHT
"Yes, would you like me to stay?"
"If you don't mind."
DH was saving a seat for me in another venue.
I tried to text him, but there was no signal.


Telling the KHT I would be back in a moment, I went downstairs to let DH know that I was staying.
I returned to find that they had split into groups of about a dozen young people.
The KHT was ensconced in a circle of about a dozen young people and had her 'fixed happy smile' in position.
She may not have a clue what was going on, but she was content.
"Are you happy to stay without me?"
"Yes"
I left and sent DH a second text to let him know that I was on my way.
I suspect I arrived before the texts did...

In the afternoon the KHT enjoyed the delights of the pool.
Normally she prefers to swim in the evening, but today she had other plans.

At 6:45pm we had the AB of C again.
Then, we had the moment my daughter was waiting for. Her favourite songwriter was on After Hours - the 10-11pm slot.
We went to queue up 30 mins before the event was due to begin and there was an impressive number of other people who were already waiting.
Having grown up listening to Make Way for Christmas, Rumours of Angels and numerous other songs he has penned, my daughters face lights up when she realises that we are about to sing a song written by her fav songwriter.

Unbeknownst to the KHT, a friend had emailed and let him know that his greatest fan would be there and if he could say hello to her then that would be wonderful.
Imagine my daughters total shock, when one of the first things he does is to greet her by name from the stage.
"My heart nearly stopped!" she said afterwards.



The KHT thoroughly enjoyed the whole hour,
singing along with songs familiar and new ones too!















Afterwards, somehow adults conspired to ensure that the KHT was first in the queue, and Graham took time to chat to his No. 1 fan and signed a copy of his latest CD for her.

Whatever else happens this holiday, this will undoubtedly be the highlight for her.

Thank you, Graham, you made the KHT's day!

Trolley Bad!

"Let's stop off at the supermarket on the way. 
We drive past the entrance, it is hardly a detour." I suggested.
It SEEMED like a good plan at the time.
We detoured into the Minehead branch of Tesco to stock up with supplies before arriving at Spring Harvest deep down in the West Country.
What can possibly go wrong...

Most people had arrived HOURS before,
but we had been delayed
as the KHT had been taking part in a community panto.

On our way we had stopped off at Gloucester Services for tea,
to avoid having to cook when we arrived.
I do apologise to the poor person who was in the queue after us,
as the catering staff checked the allergies Bible
to see what DH could eat.
He was rewarded with his first curry in ages!

We had not stopped at Gloucester southbound before
and boy it bent our brains,
as the layout is the reverse of the northbound,
where we often choose to stop.
With the Cotswold hills as a backdrop,
it is possibly even more beautiful
than its counterpart!
Despite our desire to arrive at our destination,
we could not resist having a quick wander around the grounds.

The fourth member of our party had already checked in and obtained keys.
We found a parking space near the top end of the car park.
Fortunately, there was a trolley, as we never ever travel light.
Plus we had the loot from our impromptu supermarket sweep.

When traveling the KHT's clothing goes on hangers.
If it is packed in a bag it arrives resembles something obtained from a jumble sale.
DH supervised the loading of the trolley,
and, as I had the directions to our accommodation, I set off, expecting DH and the KHT to follow.
I reached the path we needed to turn down.
No reassuring trolley rumble.
I waited.
And waited.
And waited.
Not wanting to go further and run the risk of misplacing my family, I waited.
and waited
And gave up.
Staggering up two flights of stairs laden with clothing and cool bags.
Fortunately, the door was ajar, in anticipation of our arrival.
I deposited the clutter in an undignified heap and returned to the car to a raptuous greeting from the rest of my family...
Err, no!
"Thanks for abandoning me! I had NO idea where to go."
"But we agreed we couldn't take it all in one go. I thought you were following me."
"I would, except the trolley wouldn't move! It is useless!"
"How was I to know that the trolley wouldn't move? Have you tried backwards?"
I turn the trolley round.
It moves.
I tow it to the edge of the car park.
"Ha!" I think, "It just takes some lateral thinking!"
Then I discover that the trolley refuses to turn corners.
"Ha!" mutters DH, "I told you it was useless!"
He is right.
It is useless.
Great, we have the only broken trolley in Butlins.
No doubt payback time for the spoof version I did of one of the Psalms featuring stewards and trollies in one of the creative streams at Spring Harvest several years ago...

A  young couple, bright and cheerful, approach us
"Ohh a trolley! Do you know where we can find one?"
They really should not be so happy and jolly and optimistic.

They should be weary and fed up, like we are.

My response comes from the depths of despair.

"No, this was the only one. I would happily give you this trolley, but it is of no use to you.

You are better off without it."

The KHT and I gather up bags containing essentials such as cereal, 5 types of fruit tea and the water filter, more clothing, and other junk and set off for our apartment.
DH stays with the half unloaded trolley.

We stagger up two flights of stairs.
The KHT enters the flat first and insists on holding the door open, whilst laden with bags.
I, too am laden with bags.
She is NOT going to move as she MUST hold the door open for me.
Our matrimonial discord has filtered through to her and she will not be denied her opportunity to also be tired and grumpy.
I have bags in both arms, another over my shoulder.
Additional items are draped over my arms.
My requests for her to move further into the flat fall on deaf ears.
She MUST hold the door open for me, even though I cannot pass her.
I have no energy for arguments, so I apply a sweeper tactic.
I enter the narrow hallway and keep going,
propelling a surprised and somewhat startled KHT, together with all our bags, into the living area.
The pile in front of the TV grows even further.

I depart to rescue a disgruntled DH.
The KHT disappears into her room to arrange 14 out of 15 of the books she has brought with her, plus numerous toiletries.
DH and I carry the rest of the clutter down the darkened pathways.
At the foot of the staircase, the coats decide that they are going to slide in different directions.
The KHT's fifteenth book (by Jacqueline Wilson) slides gently to the floor.
DH rescues it.
I re-sort the coats.
We wearily climb the stairs.
We are here
Not feeling at all spiritual at the moment, but confident that everything will be OK now.

I turn and look at the fridge.
THE FRIDGE!!!
They have replaced the small fridge which had a small icebox with a mini fridge freezer!
This means the small fridge is now significantly smaller!
ARGHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

The essential are carefully stacked in the fridge.
This can only be accomplished by sitting on the floor!
Stuff that does not absolutely need to be in the fridge stays in the cool bag.
Fortunately the weather will remain cool over the next few days.
We happily allocate the top cupboard that no-one else can reach, to DH. so that he can store all his fruit teas, and non-dairy, non-gluten, non-carotene foods in there.

It is nearly 10pm, but we need to sort out what the KHT can do now she is no longer a youth.
We make it over to information just before closing.
and meet a very helpful lady.
We agree that the KHT will try the Young Adults discussion after the morning Bible study.
We crawl into bed before 11pm and have the best sleep of Spring Harvest!

Easter Egg-ventures

Somewhere, amongst all my books, craft supplies and numerous other odds and ends,
is a set of raffle tickets.
I know there is, as I have seen them recently.
Frustratingly recently.
They came to light when I was searching for something else and I recall thinking
"Aha! THAT's where the raffle tickets are!"
Now they are required I have absolutely no idea where I last saw them.
Their location has become one of the irritating minor mysteries that plague Daff's world!

Having failed to track the raffle tickets down,
the KHT and I headed over to Tesco to purchase replacements,
as we were running an Easter Egg Lucky Dip at the local Community Easter Fayre that afternoon,
in the small, but perfectly formed, local library.
As usual, the KHT had one of her pet topics to discuss.
"Let's talk about life WITHOUT the welfare state!" she announces brightly.
Thanks to the books of her favourite authour, Jacqueline Wilson,
she is firmly convinced that benefits,
social workers
and the welfare state
are all A Very Bad Thing.
I do not think this was ever the message the author intended to convey,
but it is what my daughter has chosen to read into her words.
She was rather crestfallen when I briefly outlined the impact of life without a welfare state...
It is rather ironic that someone who is in genuine need of the benefits of a welfare state,
is unable to see,
that the safety net it provides is essential to their wellbeing.
The KHT is firmly of the opinion that if she did not have benefits then she would be normal...
There is nothing I can do or say that will convince her otherwise.

We head into Tesco car park,
which is designed to provide parking for the maximum number of vehicles,
rather than ease of use by pedestrians.
Good car park design minimises the places where pedestrians and vehicles interact.
To reach this particular store you have to cross several roadways where cars have right of way.
This car park also has had many kerbs removed,
thus blurring the boundary between vehicle and pedestrians.
A woman was waiting to catch the bus that is arriving,
unintentionally blocking the narrow pavement.
I walk through the bus shelter to circumnavigate the woman.
The KHT steps out into the block paved layby

and is rather surprised when I urge her to get out of the road. 

She does not perceive the layby to be part of the road. 

Fortunately, the bus driver was driving slowly

and waited until the KHT was safely back on the pavement before pulling into the layby.

I point out that if she was being assessed for independent travel 

her actions would have resulted in her failing a risk assessment.

"I thought you were on my side!" she replies, rather aggrieved. 

"I am!... On the side of you staying alive!"

"Well, I needed to get past the woman."

"You could have walked through the bus shelter or waited."

In the afternoon the KHT helped me fill the eggs,
ready for the Lucky Dip.
It was to be a Prize-a-time game
with the children either winning a finger puppet,
or a pullback-and-go vehicle.
Despite the KHT's best efforts,
one egg refused to click together.
We had to resort to holding it closed with sellotape.













Next, the KHT put the tickets in the tin for me.
I forgot to remind her to fold them!















The Easter Fayre was great fun!,
Lots of families turned up,
and had fun making easter bonnets,
and taking part in the various competitions and activities.
The face painting was awesome!













When nearly all the eggs had been picked in the lucky dip
we were bemused to discover that we had more eggs than tickets,
which was very puzzling as we had started off with the correct number.
We quickly identified and renumbered the offending egg,
only to discover that it was an empty one that a child had helpfully put back on the display!
I did ask for the eggs back to reuse next year, but that one got past me!

Eggs & people with autism - years ago I remember my cousin telling me that he was taught how to pack eggs so that they could be dropped from a plane without breaking.
It blew my mind that such a thing was possible.
Eggs and people with autism - both can easily be broken, and need protecting.
However, when the correct support structures are in place, both can achieve amazing things.

Rudolf's Revenge

Cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough.
Cough, cough....
Cough, cough, cough, cough, cough.
Coughty-cough, cough, cough, cough.
Cough.
Cough-cough, cough, cough.
Cough, cough, cough-cough,
cough-cough,
Coooooooough
Cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, Cough, cough,
cough,
cough.

After about an hour of persistant coughing I gave up lying in bed and came back down stairs. I collapsed into an armchair clutching my hotwater bottle and buried myself under my dressing gown, in a desperate attempt to quell my relentless coughing and permit the rest of the household to enjoy some peace and quiet.

Recently I traded in my old reindeer-themed hot water bottle cover for a new more sophisticated cherry red fluffy version.
Just one problem.
After only a few months the new cover is distinctly disintergrating. As a consequence I leave a trail of crimson fluff in my wake. Old Rudolph never betrayed me in this way!

Once I settled in the armchair my coughing stopped, but I knew if I were to return upstairs and lie down, it would recommence.

Unfortunately the best snoozing arm chairs in the house are located in the kitchen - the nocturnal domain of the cat. Once the humans retire for the night, this is kitty's kingdom!
As you can understand, the cat did NOT welcome the reappearance of Giant Mrs Sneeze.
Tiddles made her feelings VERY plain by departing in high dudgeon through the cat flap and out into the night. The cat reappeared a short time later, hoping I had seen the error of my ways and departed. However, to her disgust I was still there, enscounced in the arm chair, with no apparent intention of moving.
Tiddles climbed on to the chair opposite and turned her back on me, hoping I would just disappear.

Armchairs are for napping, not serious sleeping. I can testify to that, as during the night I awoke roughly every hour, if not more often.

Sometime around about 6am Tiddles decided that I had been cough-free for sufficient time to be rewarded by her condescending to climb on to my lap. At least I think that was when she appeared. It was not long before it got light that I was first aware of her arrival. The only clock in view was the timer on the oven. As this is at the opposite end of the room and I didn't have my glasses on, I was none the wiser. I also had no idea if it had been adjusted for the recent change in hour, or not.

Just after 7am the KHT appeared for breakfast.
"I thought you were a burglar!"
"Sat here, with the side light on, cuddling a hot water bottle?"
I had visions of dectectives following the tell-tale trail of crimson fluff...
On second thought they could track me down by monitoring the seismic activity resulting my coughing.
If all that failed, I am sure that the disgruntled cat would blow my cover...
or would it be Rudolf's revenge?

Giant Mrs Sneeze

Late Saturday evening I became aware that the cold I had recently recovered from,
was in the process of being replaced by a fresh variety,
with coughing that was increasingly ineffectual,
and sneezes that were even more powerful and explosive
than those suffered during the previous ailment!
Just what you need when you are leading and preaching at the Mothering Sunday service the next day.

All went well on Sunday morning until I got to the sermon,
which required more than a couple of sentences be strung together.
Cue overwhelming desire to cough.
At one stage I required a drink of water at the conclusion of every sentence.
I thought to myself, at this rate this is going to be a v-e-r-y  l-o-n-g  s-e-r-m-o-n (swig of water).
By now the glass was literally three-quarters empty,
so I between sermonising, coughing and swigging
I requested additional supplies.
The kindly sidesperson came to my rescue with a glass of H2O,
which had the most amazingly restorative powers.
As long as I grasped the glass firmly in my hand like a security blanket
I did not cough,
which was a great relief  - to myself and the congregation.

Back home, the coughing, sneezing and spluttering continued, much to the cat's dislike.
It reached the point where I only had to pull a tissue out of the box,
and Tiddles was off,
out the cat flap.
The poor thing was unable to relax,
she lay watching me,
ready to respond to the merest hint of the blowing of the nose,
or, worse still, a sneeze!

Monday morning, and dawn was later that it had been in recent weeks,
on account of switching to BST.
Unusually, I was the first one up.
Driven from my bed by my incessant coughing.
The cat is usually very keen to be fed, but she stayed in the chair looking at me,
as if to say
"Oh no! It is Giant Mrs Sneeze! Why did it have to be her that got up first?!"
Puss examined her food suspiciously,

ate a little and left a lot.

Then stomped off through the cat flap away from my sneezes.

I think we will both be pleased when this malady has run its course.