Since 1895, Haford Hardware Store has been a family run business in Mid-Wales. Business is steady, yet they battle competition from the internet and large chain stores.
Their family Christmas video is pure joy. ❤ Thanks, Mum for telling me about it. ❤
After a tiring day, I pulled my wellies on and headed off to walk the beach in the last hour of daylight. There among the dog walkers, fishermen and birds, I returned to my calm centre. There was a chap pottering on the beach with intent and as I walked up the slipway, I waited for him to follow. ‘If he smiles at me’ I thought to myself, ‘I will ask him what he was doing.’ He did and walked towards me opening up his hands, which held broken fishing lines and weights.
‘I was fishing at high tide earlier and the currents kept breaking my lines.’
We stood looking at his hands full of his beachcombing rescues.
‘I found a huge fish attached to one, still alive, so I walked him back to the sea.’
We wished each other well and headed back home.
I have spent time lately creating a 50th birthday jumper for a friend’s husband. With love, I gathered measurements, found just the right yarn, followed the pattern faithfully and after finishing it stood back, frowned and got my tape measure out. It’s massive and I mean ‘tent-like’ massive. I know he’s a chap who works outside with chainsaws and the like, but with the best will in the world, he’s not that big! They were dealt a shattering life blow in the last few days and are struggling. All plans have tumbled to dust and as we spoke yesterday I heard her cry for me to talk about anything that gave them some respite. So, ‘tent’ like knitting it is! I may not have created a garment he can wear, but we have a heart story that will make us chuckle for quite some time.
My lovely buddy, Suzette B, runs a blog where she posted about ‘waters flow’ today and it made me think of all the times our plans and projects turn to dust and how life flows on. Of how we keep on creating new plans and projects regardless of labels, judgments, shattered hearts and expectations on how things are supposed to be.
It is how it is and love is the ever-flowing constant. ❤
I saw an oldie but goodie this morning and it made me chuckle. Thank you, Debby and Sally. ❤
Women are angels and when someone breaks our wings, we simply continue to fly, on a broomstick. We’re flexible like that!
Yesterday I played hookey and went with lovely friends to visit a wonderful converted old mill in Flintshire, North Wales, where all the stone buildings are filled with yarn, fabrics and craft supplies. There is also a restaurant selling yummy homemade food on-site, which will not come as a surprise to any of you.
The day was filled with support for each other while we chose the things we needed for future projects, bounced ideas around and at times were bent double with laughter. Plus, there was a sale on, so the bargains we found were a bonus.
Welsh rarebit for lunch added to the wind beneath our wings.
We ended the day sharing coffee and lemon drizzle cake back home in the conservatory of a clever lady who creates animals from her imagination that make you go ‘Ohhh, will you look at that!’ Her lovely buddy sparkled as she talked about the things they used to make together and it was obvious how these two souls have been the wind under each other’s wings for many years.
Today I had a tricky situation that flowed through my morning. Before I would have gone quiet, internalised it, hashed it about, stewed on it and made myself feel thoroughly ‘Yuk’. The re-vamped me reached out to my buddies and they flowed their wind under my wings. I managed to maintain a calm exterior, stop anything inciteful from leaving my mouth, handled it and stayed in my space of grace. The soul with a tendency to dramatic wind then passed on through and all settled back down again, without upset.
My Granny used to say that the older you get the more important your girl friends are and those are wise words.
Thank you girls for being the wind beneath my wings. ❤
Each Friday, my buddy in France and I ‘sail’ together on Skype as we share our working day. We call Friday’s ‘Le Club’ in honour of a group I was touched to share during my time in France.
Around about sixty creative women gather in a village hall deep in South West France among the hills and farms, where the honeyed stone buildings give out warmth and the peace is palpable. They come bringing easels, sewing machines and bags full of creativity to share a day together. All nationalities with a bond that transcends language as they sit inside nattering, crocheting. knitting, embroidering, quilting, sewing and felting, while outside under the trees are a group painting.
They sit together sharing stories of childhood, love, illness, bereavement, children, grandchildren, retirement, plans gone awry, projects, home renovations, family visits and specials from the food market. I sat next to a lady who creates pictures through exquisite bead embroidery and with hand gestures and smiles we had understanding.
The energy carved a place in my heart and each Friday my buddy and I return together. ❤
As I start to write this there’s a seagull perched on the edge of the roof terrace in the rain and he’s watching the world go by, as the tide goes out.
I have learnt a life gift recently that is a treasure. A loving friend sent me a text message one evening and I sensed that all was far from well with her. I telephoned and she burst into tears. In all the time we have known each other I have never seen or heard her cry and I was shocked. Thank goodness I managed to listen, but then I dropped a howler as I tried to make suggestions to fix what she was dealing with. I mentally have my head in my hands as I share that. What was I thinking!! She wasn’t asking for help, she just needed me to listen. My shock at her distress and love for her propelled me into ‘rescue’ mode and fortunately, I realised what I was doing, apologised and let her speak.
We met up for afternoon tea on Saturday and had a wonderful time, as we always do. Homemade scones, strawberry jam and clotted cream were involved which helped. Away from the heat of that moment on the phone, I quietly said sorry again and we talked about it. Oh, the gift of having someone listen, truly listen and not judge or try to tidy things up. Within a few days she had found her own answers and sorted things out. ❤
Other friends of mine are living through a dark situation that does not have a solution and we met on Saturday evening to spend some time together. We chose a wonderful Italian restaurant and sat there together all cosy and warm, under twinkling fairy lights, as it lashed it down with rain on the pavements and the sea outside.
One of our waiters was obviously Italian and bursting with youth. He looked after us beautifully and after one of his bursts of Italian as he brought yummy bread covered with mozzarella and caramelised onion to our table, I commented as he walked away.
‘Isn’t he lovely?’
Quick as a flash my buddy said;
‘He’s really Jim from Sheffield, Jane!’
I’m still chuckling as I share that.
We shared, cried and laughed through the evening and I was minded to just listen. ❤