Marching on…..

I have just come in from a walk in the crisp March air.  To be precise, I popped outside, turned the corner and then legged it back home – it’s bloody freezing out!  As an alternative, I turned on You Tube and found an exercise video: 12 minutes and 1700 steps – BOOM –   I got Fit With Rick to some 80s classics (and I almost threw up my chicken goujons).

It’s a funny old time of year, isn’t it?  The sun is peering out from behind the clouds and bright flowers are budding.  Canary-yellow daffodils have sprung up in patches and bunches of candy-floss blossom are blooming overhead.

And as aforementioned, it is also bloody freezing.

         

The clocks are springing forward (which always throws me, despite my 43 years of experience) and I still do not trust that modern technology will change some of my electronic devices automatically (have you seen iRobot?  Just saying).  I’ve donned the gardening gloves and planted a few seeds, I’ve wiped down the bistro table and chairs (ever hopeful) and….drum roll please….hung washing on the line for the first time this year HURRAH!

However, there is one particular thing about this climate, which I really despise.  I don’t even like saying the word because it makes me shiver.

Spiders.

If I see one – even a photo or picture – it can turn me to jelly and make me want to cry.  I feel cold and nauseous.  It’s not pretty.

This week I was faced with the ultimate horror: a spider on my net curtains.  Although frozen in fear, I did manage to phone my neighbour – whom I never ring, so she was a bit perturbed – and explain that I couldn’t leave the room to knock on her front door because said spider might move and hide.  She kindly swept in and saved me.  I learned how to breathe again and then sprayed insect repellent around the house for good measure.

People ask if I want to get over the fear.  Of course I do.  But not if it means going near – or God forbid touching – an actual spider.  I’m not the kind of person who will physically face my fear.  Nope. No way.  I’m also scared of sharks, but you won’t find me swimming alongside a great white any time soon.  I’ll take my chances in the Med thank you very much.

The repellent obviously didn’t work, because that evening I also found a money spider in my hair.  I was cleaning my teeth and staring into the mirror without really looking at myself (it’s safer that way) when  I spotted something moving out of the corner of my eye.  I panicked briefly, but as it was so miniscule I was OK.  I shook it from my head and then felt quite bad when it spiralled down the plug hole (I don’t like them, but I don’t necessarily want them to die).  As I watched it glug down the drain I smirked, thinking it was indicative of where all my money is heading at the moment.

I think you will agree that fuel prices are ridiculous.  Our heating oil price has tripled and diesel is daylight robbery (Oh my God, I have literally just realised what that saying means).

So, in an effort to save electricity we are basically wearing blankets at all times.  The only light we have on in the lounge is the one in the fish tank, but I don’t think that will last, as poor Darren can’t see what he is eating.  Mind you, that might help when all I can afford to make us for dinner is minced beef or something on toast.  Perhaps if I chuck on some different herbs and spices now and then, he might not notice.

Even the local wildlife are noticing the price hikes!  Our food waste bin has been tipped over several times during the past few weeks and we have been blaming the local pheasants (Phil and Bill) because they are so dramatic and jumpy that they probably scared themselves whilst pecking around.  It turns out that a fox (which makes more sense, to be fair) has been eyeballing our chicken bones, mouldy veg and toast-crusts.  He or she have been spotted sniffing round the bins on a Sunday night.  They have now graduated from tipping the boxes over and ripping open the bags (sorry Darren AKA The Clearer Upper)  and instead are taking the whole bag out and making off with it!  A veritable buffet!  I can picture him now, swaggering down the trailway, head held high and green compost bag swinging from side to side, strutting to “Well you can tell by the way I use my walk, I’m a woman’s man, no time to talk…”

*****

As you know, we drive to Cornwall every couple of weeks to visit my step-daughter.  I managed to find a bargain caravan for an overnight stay at the beginning of the month.  Charlotte was excited because there was a swimming pool on site, plus arcades and various entertainment.  I was excited because we had two bedrooms (so I wasn’t sandwiched between a wriggler and a snorer) and wouldn’t have to buy all our meals out and about.  I packed breakfast bits, cooking ingredients and movie snacks – perfect!

The morning of our departure I awoke to a message from the owner to say there was no cleaner to sort out the van in time for our arrival, therefore we would have to contact the park for another form of accommodation.  I was dubious, but rang them up (1.5 hours into our journey, because Reception wasn’t yet open when we left Dorset) and of course was told that this was not the case.  I contacted the owner again and asked them to link in with the caravan park directly.  Their reply was short and not-so-sweet:  “We only have one caravan, you’ll have to cancel”.  I swore.  I called them names.  And I was thoroughly pissed off with their attitude.

But I remained fairly calm.  We picked up Charlotte and I explained we had a bit of an issue but I was on the case.  We ate some chocolate Buttons.  Then £119 later we had secured another caravan and all was well.

Apart from my bank balance…

But we actually had a fantastic time, didn’t have to buy a meal out, played Uno (and sang “we don’t talk about Uno” all weekend) and I answered various questions that only a seven year old would ask, such as “Danii, are you a Christian?” and “how was the world actually made?”

We also got to explore a part of Cornwall we had not had not yet discovered.  And in spite of telling us “my legs are sooooo tired” about thirty times on the way back from Kynance Cove, even Charlotte enjoyed it.

We made some great memories that I will always cherish.

*****

I can’t finish this month’s blog without mentioning the awful conflict in Ukraine.  I’m not sure I really have the words to describe the horrors we are seeing on the news.  It breaks my heart to see those poor people fleeing their homes, leaving behind precious items, even people in some cases.  I can’t stop visualising the children holding their parents’ hands, the pets stuffed in zipped-up coats and the elderly stepping off buses into snowy, unknown cities.  Who knows if they will have a home if and when they return.  It’s just terrible.

It’s hard not to think how you would feel in that position.  But then again, it’s too frightening to even imagine.

I know I am not the only one who feels helpless.  I know I am not the only one who sometimes has to switch off the news.  They say ignorance is bliss, but it isn’t that I am ignoring it.  These people are in my thoughts all the time – when I open the fridge to choose my dinner; or as get into my comfy, cosy bed at night – I am so very grateful for what I have.

We are connected by humanity.  We stand with the innocent people of Ukraine and Russia – the brave, the frightened, the vulnerable – and we pray that the war will be over soon.