It was the night before the night before Christmas

Took some leave from the Central, and caught a lift up with Dad to Wales to see Grandmother. We had a great evening a the local pub, Grandmother with the Sherry, Dad on something like beer, and me drinking Baily's. The locals seemed to like my dancing. Once home grandmother made chip butties with stew. I have forgotten how much I love Grandmother's cooking, how much I love Glenhaven, the house that she and Grandfather shared for 23 years. The decorations were up and the log fired 'blazed' away (in its own way). After a fitful sleep, we set out through a snow crisp Wales to Shropshire to see my uncle and his family. There were plenty of warnings on the radio to be careful on the roads and to travel if only necessary. On arrival I met with my youngest cousin Mary, whom I proceeded to chase around in typical Berry family high spirits. After watching Mary ride Mr Darcy, her pony/horse, I went with Dad to another local pub to meet uncle Tim (see a theme developing??). Later one we had dinner and watch Bridget Jone's Diary. Sadly Dad and I had to leave early the next day, but not until I had given the hydrophobic multicoloured sand as a curiosity present to the 'other' Berry family. I feel so much happier for seeing my family again, times have been tough and it is wonderfully reassuring that they are all doing well.

Good Old Florence

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tpsDegqioVA

Golden Delicious.

Circling an apple with you un-brushed fringe. This is the first thing I have found to do with my Birthday. I have the say off, and might take a lucky dip on what I do. Until then I shall continue to spin around the Golden Delicious.

I cannot believe it is my Birthday. Already!

Birthday!!!

Walking home

Walking home with friends, bike locked, key lost.

Life dealt a disappointing blow to me. I lost my bike lock key. The only good thing that came out of this situation was walking home with friends after they had finished Doyling (cataloging in the archive I used to volunteer at back in the good old days when this blog was called Space Dust and I was called psyconym - those were the days).

One of my friends quizzed me about how the library was working out. I told her about the fact I work with a wrestler, a young man who dresses as a chav for crowds to boo at whilst in the ring. I don't know if she found the fact that he is a wrestler and a library assistant quite as funny as I do. Let's just say I don't feel so scared asking for fines with the young wrestler around (6 foot, and knows how to feed his body).

Saturday

'Movement slow, head heavy.'

It is nearly Christmas time and the other girls at the library my age were making decorations in the office. Downstairs father's reading to their children; members of the public forever asking for access to the Internet. I've forgotten my tea for break, again.

Mountain

I am not thinking about the mountain,
though it is in my face
which is up against it
'It' is not coming I have decided
the way it calls me on.
I am not thinking about the mountain
I don't know what the summit looks like,
I can't help but wonder of home
I've taken the rope
no more to cling alone
I am not thinking about the mountain,
I am just thinking of home.