Turning on the charm or 12-week jabs

12-week jabs done.

He was wide awake on the journey to the docs, chatting a little once we arrived, so innocent and blissfully unaware of impending nastiness.

As the lovely nurse approached with needle in hand, he smiled disarmingly at her and gurgled, before turning red when the offending item pierced his fat little thigh. He screamed, bottom lip turned out in a pout, hands clinging onto me. Then a second time and the cries got louder.

Finally it was time for cuddles and he gazed up out of my arms at the nurse, tears running down his cheeks, and he tried to smile at her through his unhappy pout.

My brave little man is now sleeping on my lap, occasionally giggling in his sleep.

Howling

Saw this video of a husky puppy trying to howl - soooo funny and cute.

Makes me think of some of the boy's attempts to cry. Pathetically sad...and I have to try not to giggle, while scooping him up in my arms for a cuddle.

Baby steps

Clever boy vomited so effectively into my bra today that he didn't spill a single drop on the rest of my clothes. Had a bit down his own clothes, but the rest was nicely collected in a vomitty pool in my bra.

Today he also tried sitting up for the first time. He was kind of propped up in my nursing pillow and he lifted his head and shoulders up off the pillow straining to lean forward, before eventually settling back quite comfortably.

His final cleverness is laughter. He's been laughing in his sleep a while, but only last week started laughing at the red space monster hanging from his play mat. The other day, the clever boy laughed at a real person. My youngest brother managed to get him to laugh via Skype. Great entertainment. Since then his daddy has managed to make him laugh on numerous occasions too. Clever boy. :-)

Recently acquired skills

I have recently acquired a whole new skill set. It's been a steep learning curve.

The basic boring things like:

- changing a nappy quickly enough to prevent being peed or pooed on
- distracting an infant long enough to put a vest over his head
- holding a slippery infant well enough to prevent drowning (though there is room for improvement here as I've not yet done this alone)
- handling an infant gently enough single handed, while standing up to answer the door, to prevent projectile vomitting

And other things, like:

- eating spaghetti bolognese with one hand, left-handed
- eating soup without dribbling a single drop
- making a cup of tea with one hand
- going to the loo while holding a crying infant
- going to the loo while holding a sleeping infant without waking him up
- having a grown up conversation in five minutes flat, covering how our days have been, plans for the future, world events, and any emotional sticking points
- being concise (with reference to the above)
- ensuring ten things are all within a 30* angle from my right hand (for use during breastfeeding)
- eating food without dropping crumbs in my infants ear while breastfeeding him
- timing my meals so that he doesn't wake up just as I sit down (surprisingly difficult - they have mini sensors inside them to let them know it's waking up time when we're about to eat)
- putting a wash on, having breakfast, washing up, tidying the house, hanging out washing, replying to emails (etc.) within a half-hour window of sleep
- speed-eating (this doesn't yet apply to my tea drinking, sadly)
- speed-showering
- putting pants on while holding a fractious infant

I look forward to the next loads of tasks to learn...as yet unidentified.

Long overdue ponderings on labour and motherhood

I bled at thirty-six weeks and six days and went into labour at thirty-seven weeks. He was born the next day.

Nothing happened how I’d hoped. He was too early for a home birth, so I knew we’d be in hospital. The drive there was painful and scary and walking in the hospital to the labour ward was a slow journey, broken up by stationary moments in time when contractions broke through my movements and I clung onto my doula. We met the man upstairs, waiting for us, after he’d parked the car and brought the labour bags with him.

His memory of what happened is much clearer than mine, which is fogged by hormones and a lack of sleep and food for the two days of labour. We worked together, my man and I, with the support of our doula, for hours. He held me, kissed me, told me stories of the early days of our relationship when things got tough, a distraction from the present moment. He tried to feed me and give me drinks, but nothing stayed down.

Eventually, the labour not progressing, we went into theatre and our beautiful (if somewhat purple, misshapen and slimy) son was cut out of me. It felt traumatic. It wasn’t what I’d hoped for. My first thought, upon seeing his wrinkled little face, was that he didn’t look familiar. I suppose he felt so familiar inside me for so many months, that I somehow expected him to look familiar too.

After the c-section, I shook violently for what felt like hours, though I’ve no real concept of time during that period. I don’t remember our son being with me, and I longed for the contact with him. I needed him to be next to me, touching me, our bodies close. I needed to know he was safe and that was my only concern – that and feeling more and more desperate for sleep, with each night that seemed to pass me by.

The memory of his arrival fades with each day he grows bigger and stronger.

Before his birth I wanted someone to tell me that birth would be easy and painless; now I realise that would have been a lie. It was naïve of me to wish for that. The reality is that it hurts and it’s the hardest thing I ever did. The reality is – in line with my pre-labour wonderings – that it does compare to being horribly constipated, to having food poisoning and to participating in a triathlon all at once and, as with each of those trials, I was able to get through it – I did have it in me. That’s what I wish someone had told me – that it would be painful and tough, but that it wouldn’t more than I could handle and that I am more than capable of managing and coping with childbirth. I was afraid I didn’t have it in me, but I did.

I can recall moments that felt undignified, frightening, unbearable, but my man was with me and kept me strong. I don’t delve too deeply into those memories. I can also recall moments where I laughed and smiled; the many moments that made up the beautiful and precious hours in the birthing pool; and the moment I first saw my son’s face. That, for me, was a moment of conversion. I fell in love.

The conversion didn’t fully happen then. It happened over a series of many moments and, I imagine, will continue to happen over many moments in his life as he grows older. When they took him away to special care for severe jaundice my heart tugged closer to him; when I first saw him in his light phototherapy cot in special care, I realised I would always fight for my baby and would be willing to give my life or take another’s to protect him; when he cries inconsolably, my heart breaks for him; when he first smiled at me and every time he has smiled at me since, my heart overflows with love for him and the sleepless nights, the lack of space, the absence of time to write – all those seem worth it in that moment. Of course, there are also moments when I want to give him to someone else for a few hours, to give me a break, but, I realise as I type this and it surprises me: I never want to give him back.

I’m not like those mums who only ever wanted a baby and who think having a baby is the ultimate fulfilment in life. I don’t want my entire life to revolve around childcare and stories of what 'Alfie' did yesterday. Despite this, although sometimes my reaction to others asking “Isn’t motherhood wonderful?” is sometimes slightly offkey and less than enthusiastic, I can say with absolute honesty that I love my son more than anything in the world, more than I thought possible, and I am glad he’s in my life. He is more precious to me than I could understand before and while, yes, I want my life to be one that fulfils me outside of motherhood, being his mama will always be something that is of the utmost importance to me.

The joy of earplugs

I wore two earplugs last night and I feel like I've just returned from a spa.

I didn't feel able to wear any at first, wanting to learn his habits and trust in his abilities to not choke on vomit and to keep breathing all night. Then I tried one earplug, just to dampen the sound of his nocturnal groanings a touch. Two is blissful in comparison.

I slept so much more, not waking for minor fusses, letting him fall asleep again with no intervention. I woke only for hunger sounds. Though he did wake me screaming once and was still fast asleep. He quietened again, but this kept happening, so I lifted him out of his basket, and his eyes sprang open like one of those dolls, and he was ravenously hungry.

He continues to amuse, astonish and entertain me, especially the hour he decided he wanted to play in the middle of the night and treated me to a stream of giggles and gurgles. Who could not delight in such innocent joy?

Minor guilt

Boy has been great of late, apart from three hours yesterday afternoon where I wanted to lock him in a soundproof room...then he did a humongous burp and was fine. I felt terrible and instantly fell in love with him again!

The range of emotions a tiny scrap of a human can conjure is quite phenomenol. A lesson in patience and a harsh (and sometimes kind and gentle) mirror to my soul.

Sleep ramblings

Last night I tried to wake the man to pass me the crying baby on his side of the bed, but he just muttered something about pipework. Crying baby was not hungry and promptly fell asleep on me. Still being a relatively new mum, I panicked and tried to discuss times of last feeds. I realised I would get nowhere with him, when he explained that the pipework was in at least two different locations.

I suppose it's an improvement on his nocturnal wanderings to check for "activity outside the door", informing me there were no sleeping babies on the landing; or his knife and fork request when I asked him to change a nappy.

He's a fantastic father and really very helpful, most of the time. Just not very good at middle-of-the-night waking up. Sleeps too deeply. I'm going to have to resign myself to that bit always being my job. I should be thankful that his deep sleep allows him to be an early riser so he can do the early shift.

I wonder what all this pipework was...?

As an aside, baby boy slept almost six hours before feeding. They said he might be sleepy after his jabs and clearly he was. Fed like an animal fresh out of hibernation all afternoon, so I guess he had enough resources to take him through the night.

Right...time for the man's early shift to start. Baby boy has a stinky nappy. :-)

Inconsolable baby

For the first time since his birth we had an inconsolable baby. An hour of crying. It was terribly distressing. We tried a warm bath which made it worse. We changed him. I tried feeding him. Nothing worked.

In desperation, we searched the internet. Success. It turns out that a hairdryer consoles an inconsolable baby. Or, slightly more environmentally friendly, an eight hour recording of white noise.

Autumn

Autumnal sunshine in the sky, in the leaves and in my heart.

Vomit

Baby boy just vomited into my bra. Only a little. Probably drank too quickly or too much. Yesterday, it was down his sleeve. He's getting good at vomiting into small spaces rather than over everything.

Your bed's made

We're just waiting for you to come now...

Baby room done

Just need to unpack into it, but this isn't urgent as baby won't be sleeping in here for a while!

Hip pain in pregnancy

I have finally got a referral to a physio for hip pain, though I've apparently left it too late to see a chiropractor or osteopath, who won't work with women in their first trimester or the last month of pregnancy.

If you have hip pain in pregnancy, don't leave it too late like I have. I'm slightly annoyed at myself for listening to the midwives tell me that it's an "unavoidable part of pregnancy", because I've now found out that it's not! You can do lots of things to get it fixed or at least ease it considerably, and the doctor immediately referred me to the physio, as soon as I mentioned how much pain I've been in. Why didn't I just go to the doctor in the first place?

I was also told to stop cycling or walking up stairs (the stair thing being rather impossible as our house is over two floors). Incidentally, stopping cycling hasn't helped at all. It's actually got worse since I stopped, though whether this is due to decreased movement (being still for long periods of time makes it worse) or because I am further on in pregnancy, I have no idea.

Anyway, my point is, the pain is not (as I was told) utterly unavoidable. I wish I'd done something earlier. Ah well, at least I know for next time (if there is a next time).

Another first

I filled the car up with petrol today! All on my own. The first time I have ever done this. I am very proud of myself. :-)

It's achieving small things - and overcoming the small fears by refusing to listen to the Voice of Fear and not letting it dictate to me - that make me feel more confident about being able to achieve the bigger things.

Here's to many more small successes on the path to overcoming my biggest fear. May I manage that as competently as I have been managing the smaller fears...

Bedroom finished

Another one done! Just a Moses basket to install in this room now.

It's been a tough summer, not having much time to ourselves or to relax with one another, but it's shown us who our friends are...or some of them anyway.

I've also learned how to accept help this summer, which has been a huge learning curve for me and for which I have the man and aforementioned friends to thank.

Just two rooms to go and then our lives will never be the same again...

New lawn!!!

All I can say, is yay for the lawn and yay for the rain.
We've also got the heating on for the first time and it's deliciously warm. :-)

H&S gone mad

So we had our new lawnmower delivered just now (by whoever Argos uses as its delivery company) and I asked the man if he could kindly put it somewhere against the wall in our hallway (so I could close the front door) and he muttered something, leaned in and moved it about two inches. I asked again if he could move it in a bit and he said a bit louder "Not allowed..."

I'm able to open and shut the front door, but can barely squeeze past the damn thing to get in or out of the house or to get to our downstairs loo. 

I'm gobsmacked. So the health and safety of the delivery man (not being allowed to lift the lawnmower in my home) is clearly of greater importance than a heavily pregnant customer? Where have manners and consideration got to in all this?

I suppose I ought to be grateful that we have a back door (in the event of fire or other emergency) and that we have an upstairs loo - that'll make me marginally fitter...

[Cross pregnant woman]

---

Update - apparently it's for insurance purposes, not H&S, that they're not allowed to be helpful...

No, I don't want to move over

I got shouted at today.

This isn't a rant at white van drivers - it's more of a request to *all* drivers.

He shouted at me to tell me to move over to the left while I was cycling on the road. In fact, he rather aggressively shouted at me, asking me "Do you want to move over?" as he approached (very closely) from behind me. At least he waited to overtake until there was enough space for him to do so safely - to give him *some* credit.

Although he was long gone in the short time it took me to gently and politely reply "Nope", it was satisfying to reply. I wish he'd stopped so I could have explained *why* I didn't want to move over, but of course he wasn't really interested in my response. He wasn't really asking me. He was telling me what he thought I *should* have been doing.

The reason I didn't want to move over, is that there were inch deep pot holes and grooves covering the entire left hand strip of our side of the road - not comfortable or safe to cycle over even without being 34 weeks pregnant. I would have happily swapped sides of the road with him, had he wished to do this, though I noticed that he seemed to have no intention of driving over the pot holes himself either.

My issue is that (a) I have as much right to be on the road as any car (and not just squashed into the curbside) and (b) sometimes cyclists can't or shouldn't move over i.e. if it is terrible road surface (like it was), just one among many other reasons (ice, very windy conditions, other obstacles...).

Anyway, I guess this man will probably continue to shout at cyclists (though I really hope he noticed my fat belly as he drove past and felt bad about shouting at me), but I am aware that there are many drivers who have never cycled and possibly don't realise that we can't always move over to the left, so this is the intention behind my post - just to raise a little bit of awareness. If we're in your way, it's not necessarily to be irritating or just to make a statement - there's probably a very good safety reason.

If you're already very careful about cyclists, then please ignore this post. If not, I hope it helps a little bit. I know there are loads of bad or annoying or aggressive cyclists out there, but not all of us are like that. And, just to clarify, I know that not all drivers are mean to cyclists - most people are very, very nice and I always thank those that give me lots of space.

Rant over. This tired, fat-bellied lump is off to bed.

Punchdrunk while 7.5 months pregnant

So we went to the theatre on Sunday evening and it was a Punchdrunk production - this time, the Drowned Man.*

I'd been to two Punchdrunk productions before (Faust and the Mask of the Red Death), both while living in London, and neither with an extra couple of stone attached to my front. I was slightly apprehensive about how I'd manage a three-hour promenade performance with a long journey home afterwards, but I was fine (upon purchase of a large chocolate bar at the end, anyway). I managed to locate the toilets quickly and the bar had glasses and jugs of tap water on hand at all times.

For those that have never been, it's a surreal experience. You can either choose to follow the main acts or you can split off and follow your heart. Sometimes an actor parts from the main group and runs away, with whole segments of audience members (all in masks) following at a quick tempo. This was not an option for me this time, as there was no way I was keeping up, especially as the whole thing was over four floors. Instead, I generally wandered on my own, not even spotting my man until about half an hour from the end.

The whole thing was more surreal than usual, given some of the key themes were madness, loss of reality, desperation, fear and anxiety. Usually (previously) I have had my own odd and special experiences and this time was no different.

In the medical room, where I found (upon reading some medical reports lying on the table) that one of the key characters had depression, the doctor found me and stared at me a while, before shining a torch on my large belly. He then touched my belly - with some reverence - before leading me to 'someone very important'. We eventually found ourselves in a forest, large trees around, woodchip on the floor, watching a performance in a gazebo. He (very respectfully) slow danced with me, before pointing out a blonde woman (one of the key characters) and telling me that I should keep an eye on her, as she was falling apart, acting scenes, rather than living her life. I had previously watched an odd scene in a diner, where she was working, where she acted out a scene that a man brought in on a clipboard, rather than seeming to have any free will of her own.

My second odd experience was with a woman in a long black veil. She'd been part of a scene on a floor covered with sand, dimly lit, rows of straw people sitting in chairs, a dead world. When she left the scene, I followed her and, after she had unlocked an invisible door, she held her hand out to me. She ended up telling me a story about a little girl who had been afraid of the light and had sought out the moon...until eventually the light had died and the world with it. About an hour later, when I returned to this floor, she put a small scroll in my hand with the symbol of Ankh written on it, which I thought was rather appropriate in light of the new life within me.

Each of the floors held incredible detail - the woodchip floor had an area of caravans, each full of information, letters, belonging to each of the characters, that gave away a little bit more of their story. There was the sandy floor, with rooms full of studies - the Bible, engineering, electronics - a church in which the woman in the black veil resided. A floor with a bar, a toy shop, a diner, a water fountain in the main square. And finally, the basement, a place of madness, full of shrines to dead people, a room full of dead sunflowers and what was clearly some kind of ritual sacrifice room. I can't remember which floor it was on, but I also found a psychiatrist's room, where the desk was full of reports on all the actors and their various states of madness (some with simple depression, other with hallucinations and on a cocktail of prescribed drugs). Then there was the floor with salt deposits and the actors' dressing rooms, crumbling ash covering some of the rooms...another dying world. There was so much in this created world, that it's impossible to list it all (and would, no doubt, be terribly boring!). I'm convinced, if I were to return, that I would see many unfamiliar rooms and scenes.

It was an excellent performance, with incredible attention to detail within the set, as usual, and the three hours flew by, with me barely noticing how tired I was getting.

If you can get to it, I highly recommend it. Well worth it, especially if you (want to) challenge your own fears and wander off on your own, seeking out your own experiences.



* Synopsis from the National Theatre website:

The award-winning Punchdrunk stage their biggest and most ambitious production yet. The Drowned Man: A Hollywood Fable is an extraordinary theatrical adventure: a unique personal journey which unfolds across four levels of a vast central London location.

Amidst the fading glamour of 1960s Los Angeles, stands Temple Studios – a crumbling monument to the golden age of film, seducing wide-eyed dreamers with the promise of wealth and fame. Here, movie stars mingle with hungry young upstarts, while beyond the gates lies a forgotten hinterland where the many rejected by the studio system scratch out a living.

Inspired by Georg Büchner's fractured masterpiece Woyzeck, The Drowned Man explores the darkness of the Hollywood dream. Celluloid fantasy meets desperate reality, and certainty dissolves into a hallucinatory world.

Carrot and coriander soup

Delicious and made with coriander chopped by my big brother's fair hands. :-)

My lovely sister

With my sister's help, yet again, the bannisters are now complete.

We also stripped the wallpaper in the master bedroom, to find more dubious colours, and managed a first coat of white - after the man had sugar soaped the nicotine off the walls.

Finally, wallpaper stripping in the dining room has commenced. More hidden treasures, including tiny holes suggesting evidence of a dartboard once upon a time...

Thank you to my treasures for your invaluable help. I'm so very grateful.

Original colour underneath the wallpaper

First white coat

Second view of first white coat

Dining room beneath wallpaper

I did it!!

So, I did.

I drove on my own! It was only a short route, one I have cycled a few times before and driven once or twice with someone else, but I did it! There AND back (of course). I am extremely proud of myself. It wasn't even overly stressful, though my Braxton Hicks increased a little, so perhaps on some level, my body did find it slightly stressful. Still, I didn't have a panic attack or crash or do anything silly.

If I can do this, maybe I can give birth successfully after all. Now all I need to do is keep doing it...

:-)

Anniversary dinner

Lovely view and delicious food at Loch Fyne. :-)

Updates on the house

I've not been updating of late, partly due to broken phone, but partly due to tired me.

The guest room is complete, though will be changed round a little, as are the hallway, landing and bathroom. Thanks to some wonderful friends and my sister.

Baby bedroom has also been stripped of black and grey wallpaper, and had the horrid carpet removed. All of this thanks to brother and equally pregnant sister-in-law.

Guest room

Guest room (very comfy) sofa bed

Hallway complete with drying bay leaves (thanks to lovely friend)

Top of stairs, with new linen bin

Stripped baby room (equally unpleasant colours)

Bathroom

Instructions

This makes me ask myself, regardless of whether it's referring to the bag or its contents, what is the world coming to? :-(

Reminds me of Wonko the Sane and I wonder whether I might like to join him...

But the neighbours love us...

I spoke to our nextdoor neighbours yesterday (who already love us because we're not the old owners), to explain why my man was hoovering the grass. The polystyrene balls.

I remember our neighbours when I was small, hoovering the dead deciduous leaves that landed in their evergreens and dusting the cobwebs from the outer brickwork of their house, and I thought they were mad. I was worried our new neighbours would think the same of us.

It turns out no-one noticed. All they noticed was that we'd chopped the 10ft plus hedge down to about 6ft and so they already love us. Didn't realise it would be that easy.

What else will we find?

Our front garden is full of polystyrene balls, multiplying by the day. It appears the delightful people we bought the house from have left us with an attic full of loose balls that are now making their way out through our eaves. I'm not impressed!

Second room finished

...though to be fair, I just scrubbed the walls with strong cleaning fluids. The only room that was half decent to start with.

The only painting was the ceiling, doorframe and door...but still, it's nice to have another room 'done'.

Happy.

Kitchen

First room is painted, washing machine and fridge are connected and working - and the washing machine is so silent it plays a little song to tell you when it's finished.

All our stuff is also, finally, in our home. Last of house moving is complete. Just the nesting now! :-)

This is London

Wouldn't find this kind of thing in Sandhurst! ;-)

First night in new home

This is what I woke up to, having slept, slightly uncomfortably, in the spare room... Guests will be happy to know that it's a lovely room to sleep in, and will soon have a sofa bed and blackout blinds.

I'm also delighted to discover that the master bedroom and bathroom get sunshine in the morning. I hope this always happens!

Sunset

A beautiful sunset to celebrate one year and one day married.

Last two days

We had the roof of the yurt open last night, which was beautiful, though the brightest stars were out of view. The moonlight was bright, casting heavy shadows, making the nighttime scene eerily like a dim, silver daytime.

The air was cool last night and we comfortably and peacefully slept under our duvet, waking at half seven, the light stirring us an hour and a half earlier than usual.

We have two more days and two more nights. Tonight we'll have our last dark yurt night and we'll open up again for the last night, to wake us early, ready for our drive back to Seville. The moon is growing so I imagine the night will be even brighter.

Not sure what we're doing for the next two days. Probably taking advantage of the climbing temperatures to do nothing but laze around in the shade, reading, swimming, eating and chatting. My idea of heaven.

Thought I'd share a photo of where I am when I write, so you can see. This is my internet hotspot!

Little things

A big black sow wandered past our breakfast table yesterday. Jasmine, the neighbour's pet, is apparently very friendly, but she seemed more interested in snuffling out some delicacies for herself than making friends.

The dogs still bark, the birds sing and the roosters crow all day.

We had the additional tones of a local man driving around in circles shouting into his loudspeaker - melones, melones! Rich, sweet and fat! But obviously in his toothless Spanish accent, which I'm getting better at understanding. I'd say I'm up to about eighty percent now, at least, when I know the context, like in the caves we visited yesterday - a must for anyone into natural beauty, geology or cave paintings. Cuevas de la Piletas, I think they were called.

Anyway, off to continue my morning of reading and listening to cow bells, after chatting for a while to the lovely nutty French man who owns this place with his calm Irish wife.

Love to all.

Little things

A big black sow wandered past our breakfast table yesterday. Jasmine, the neighbour's pet, is apparently very friendly, but she seemed more interested in snuffling out some delicacies for herself than making friends.

The dogs still bark, the birds sing and the roosters crow all day.

We had the additional tones of a local man driving around in circles shouting into his loudspeaker - melones, melones! Rich, sweet and fat! But obviously in his toothless Spanish accent, which I'm getting better at understanding. I'd say I'm up to about eighty percent now, at least, when I know the context, like in the caves we visited yesterday - a must for anyone into natural beauty, geology or cave paintings. Cuevas de la Piletas, I think they were called.

Anyway, off to continue my morning of reading and listening to cow bells, after chatting for a while to the lovely nutty French man who owns this place with his calm Irish wife.

Love to all.

Gibraltar

Slightly baffled by Gibraltar with its worst of British culture, mixed with Spain, slightly Hong Kong-ish and a bit of very wealthy British.

I didn't like the high street or the food on offer - fish and chips, pie or nasty fast food. The rock itself however was amazing, beautiful, full of history...and a huge amount of walking. Monkeys, tunnels and caves. Photos another day.

Having dinner right now in the posher bit, so will sign off...

Eco info

So, I've found out a bit more about what we have here.

The composting toilet actually smells delightful. Rather than using the regular expensive specialist compost, they use sawdust from a local carpenter, which smells of pine and fruit, mixed with huge bags of cheap potting compost. The brand of the toilet is Biolan. Lights are solar powered where possible, though everything is hooked up to electricity too. It looks like the water for the shower and sink is heated by gas, with a gas tank round the back of our shed. Incidentally, there seem to be acres of wind farm round here too, though I'm not sure what they power.

The yurt itself cost about 2,500 euro, but required a floor. It is raised on wooden stilts and breeze blocks, with little wooden steps going up to the door. Inside, we have a double bed and other furniture and it feels very strong and sturdy. The only problem, apparently, is water. They have monsoon type rain here in winter - which explains how the acres of arid corn-row olive groves of further north have been replaced by the lush green vegetation in these parts - and so they expect to have to wax the outer cover at some point and probably replace it eventually too.

You open the door and roof (as with the toilet shed) when the sunshine is not on them and close them when the sun moves round. This keeps a good temperature. Even with daytime temperatures of high 30s, the yurt was deliciously cool at night and still is, though mid afternoon, yesterday, we needed to put the fan on inside. Outside in the shade was cooler, with a light breeze. Apparently in winter it only needs a small heater to keep it warm enough in subzero temperatures. These are Mongolian yurts and so designed for extreme cold and extreme heat.

Now I've relaxed a bit, I don't mind the bugs or miss the air con. The air here is fresher and less humid than in the cities. The hum of background noise is soothing, even the odd distant aeroplane mixed in with donkey chatter, cow bells, birds and chugging farm machinery...and still the roosters with their poor sense of timing!

Isn't life wonderful?

Amazingly, we have wifi. Though only at a special table near the main house.

I wanted to share our peace, after yesterday's minor trauma.

We arrived to find some pictures on our bed that almost had me in tears, drawn by our friend's daughters who stayed here a few weeks ago, welcoming us and wishing us a good stay. I was so touched!

It was hot, so we dipped in the pool before dinner, a late swim around 8pm, technically our son's first swim, and so refreshing.

We ate late last night at a local bar, full of extremely noisy but friendly locals. The waitress enacted various animal sounds and impressions to aid her spoken menu, her soft and gently enunciated accent causing us both trouble. For only 5 euro we had a light dinner of two tapas each - octopus salad, and a tuna pasta salad for me, with chicken thigh and chips, and a potato salad with garlic mayonnaise for the man, plus peach juice for two.

While it was hot in the yurt last night, it cooled quickly and we realised why we had sheets AND a duvet. Usually I hate pitch darkness, but last night it felt safe, as if I was held in the womb. The circular dark cosiness, with the weight of the duvet, muffled sounds of dogs barking and maybe even the odd owl. This morning we slept late, the darkness of the yurt keeping us asleep as long as we needed, until I slowly became aware of some belated roosters, still crowing now, the dogs still barking in the distance, birds singing, doves cooing and the occasional lamb bleating, along with incomprehensible Spanish voices and a tractor or two.

I sit at our breakfast table waiting for breakfast, in the early morning sun, my fleece taking the edge off a pleasant chill. We are awaiting toast with tomatoes, jam, ham, cheese and eggs, plus fruit salad and a teapot full of organic loose leaf tea, with, yes, soya milk for me!

I've attached photos of the views from our yurt, the bathroom window and of our little home for the next week. The shed is our shower, sink and composting toilet, the bark for which smells deliciously of strongly scented woods. I must ask what they are.

Road closure

So our main road is closed, which means we have to find another route. I thought it was a blessing in disguise, as we found a reasonable restaurant in which to have lunch, but it seems I was grossly mistaken.

We bumped into a family of total crazies. To be fair, I thought they were rather odd when we came in, no smiles, sitting in silence in the corner, a woman, her seven-ish year old son and her over-sun-wrinkled mother.

I took my mobile phone out, which incidentally is not connected to any kind of network, so I could use my translation app, and as they left, she waited for my man to leave to get something from the car, charged towards me, and, waggling her finger in my face, accused me of damaging her grandson and killing my unborn child with radio waves, by using my mobile. I calmly thanked her and explained that I had read plenty research and did not believe the danger to be that serious.

"You do not BELIEVE" she said, as if her beliefs were somehow more rooted in fact, stepping closer to me and sticking her finger in my face.

I said I found her very aggressive and she repeated that I was killing her child. I asked her to leave me alone.

She disappeared around the corner, I'm assuming, to pay, and then she returned to attack again, this time with her early 40s daughter and child. I asked again for them to go away and leave me alone. The daughter rather childishly muttered "Leave me alone" in a whiney voice, presumably meant to be me, as they stormed out the building, presumably oblivious to all the other customers' phones and the wifi flowing throughout the whole complex.

And I notice, they choose to pick on the most vulnerable person, as a group, armed with their 'facts.'

I'm still shaking from the unspoken aggression in their bodies and wish I'd been more composed than I was, but I suspect no amount of discussion would have prevented that reaction. They were little angry bombs waiting to explode at whoever got in their path.

I hope I never meet anyone like them again and I feel incredibly sorry for that poor child, having to live with people like that.

Oh, and don't worry, I'm fine. I just needed to write, get it out of my system and leave behind this horrible experience.

Albaycin and Alhambra

A final walk round Albaycin, already in the low 30s, and I notice adverts galore for chi kung, tai chi, yoga, pilates, dance and singing classes. Plus a health food store or two set among the many bars, tapas joints and food shops. This is definitely the part of Granada I'd live in, if I chose to live here. High up with fantastic views, cobbled streets and only a 10-15 min walk from the centre, though somewhat more back up again!

The Alhambra, yesterday overwhelmed my senses. The Generalife gardens, with mazes of evergreens, cross shaped irrigation systems, fountains and ponds with lily pads. The air was alive with the sound of swallows and heady with the scents of hundreds of roses, scents I'd never previously associated with natural sources. The air was balmy in the morning, hot in the sunshine, and cooler in the shade.

We saw the baths, the complex and ingenious irrigation systems that covered the whole complex, designed to supply hundreds with the calming sounds of running water.

There were squares designed purely for contemplation, longer than they were wide, after business or prayer, fountains trickling, cool marble floors and shaded terraces.

The palace itself filled my eyes with such a multitude of multi-prism carvings, gold, arches, columns, tilings in orange, green, black and blue, that they didn't know how to respond. We saw the bedrooms of two sisters, with their own marble courtyard and fountain, connected, as always, to the complex pathways of irrigation and other waterways.

The lighting was beautiful in the palace, in some places lit by eight-point star shapes cut out of the ceiling, creating a dancing dappled effect on the floors and walls.

I'm still not sure what to make of it all, my mind having taken in a month's worth of beauty in about seven hours. Truly a place I'd recommend spending a whole day visiting.

For now, this is me. We're leaving Granada today, bound for a yurt in a national park further south. Hoping to hit the beach and get some swimming in...

Just two pics some of you will have seen - one from the palace in the Alhambra, one from it's gardens. I promise there will be more in a few weeks!

Mezquita de Cordoba

Overbearing Catholic splendour and glory, organ pipes, gold carvings, statues of pain, peace, succour, nurture, agony, suffering and beatitude. Rows of pews for the faithful to uncomfortably perch. Incredible richness of design.

Muslim arches and columns casting patterns of light and dark across the smooth and empty marble floors. Doors of gold that lead...where? Geometry, design, order.

Stained glass windows, bright colours, flowers, geometrical designs, pain and peace interspersed. Muslim and Catholic combined, reminds me of the cultural heritage of the little boy growing within me.

The cool within these walls makes it difficult to recall the heat outside...

Granada relics and impressions

Ooh, I didn't sleep well on my first night here and I think this might have been the relics.

Basilica de San Juan de Dios is beautiful. Peaceful gardens, a hospital for the vulnerable and poor. There is an inner chamber, fully lined in gold, with various relics of hundreds of saints - teeth, skulls, bones, even a piece of diaphragm. His tomb, the founder of the hospital, is central. I notice a tiny painting of the Virgin with her son, the same as one we have hanging in two of our childhood homes, right next to a piece of Saint Columba - the church I went to as a child. I don't like the feeling in here. It fills me with a sense of anxiety and suffocation, of fear of something unknown. My night, later, will be filled with the same feelings. I can't help wondering why the girl on reception likes working here, daily taking countless visitors into this room.

The rest of the Basilica was being renovated and we peered down from the balconies at the machines, under a plastic sheet, cleaning the floor below, all the statues also covered in dust sheets, looking for all the world like floating ghosts.

I like the rest of Granada, especially the Moroccan roads full of the smells of incense and shisha, lined with brightly coloured baggy trousers - of which I am now the proud owner of one pair - colourful glass lamps, girls in dreadlocks.

In the old part, Albaycin, where we're staying, up a series of steep cobbled streets, we arrive at a kind of terrace with the most beautiful views of the Alhambra and the snow peaked Sierra Nevada behind. I sense a longing for snow as I stand in the heat, gazing up at their white coolness. Again, photos will have to wait.

I hear clapping and guitar playing, voices singing in accompaniment, and I see a group of tanned, dreadlocked 30 somethings, sitting cross-legged around a tree.

We finished that day with more tapas, again cheap and very filling.

Carmona necropolis

Photos will have to be posted at a later date...

Caverns, caves and ladders to the underground - no H&S here, delightfully un-British - paintings on the walls (2,000 years old), reminds me of my mortality. Smells of thyme, lavender, pine and rosemary, intense heat with a warm wind, the edge taken off in the shade.

Later in a bar across the road, we order tapas, again. Very cheap enormous portions - salad for me, steak and chips for the man. I ask what 'aguacate' is, in one of the salads, to be told it's a tropical fruit. I will later find out it's avocado! My Spanish is again good enough to order my salad without onions. This is very satisfying. The food is good, the waiter gentle. The bar is full of old men and flies, with dated walls in white and terracotta tiles, out of the 80s, only the flat screen TV on the wall above us out of this century.

We also visited a vast cemetery outside Seville, but, aside from the million plus inhabitants and shanty town compactness of some of their 'habitation' versus the space of the weekend houses (mausoleums), it was just hot and not noteworthy. On to Granada!

Carmona

Beautiful little historic village, sounds of a bleating solitary lamb, doves and swallows, intense heat heightened by white washed walls.

Menu del dia, only 11 euros, spinach and chickpeas with cumin (a Cordoba speciality apparently) followed by calamari with salad and a huge slice of melon. All delicious and amazing value.

We climbed the castle, with much huffing and puffing on my part, lugging my growing belly around, to see fabulous views; and we walked many narrow twisting cobbled streets. We also visited the Parador, amazing or historic buildings converted into hotels, to see the most amazing view a cafe has ever offered me, accompanied by friendly geckos and more delicious fresh orange juice.

Seville

Hotel wifi!

Sitting in bed in the sunshine. 28°c here today. Bought a summer hat yesterday to protect my scalp, very cheap, market stall. It was also rather hot, but deliciously so, yesterday.

The first night we were kept awake by a 12 foot Virgin Mary with her child, being carried back and forth past our window, on the padded heads of about 15 men, but last night I slept like a log.

Orange juice is amazing here, as are tapas, which seem to be only source of food anyway. We had a 40 euro posh meal, then a 13 euro cheap dinner, both equally tasty!

Spanish here is spoken as if everyone is an old toothless woman, a bit like Losinj old ladies in black with wrinkled faces speaking Croatian. Takes some getting used to!

Architecture is amazing, Seville is very beautiful. We did an awful lot of walking yesterday, so contemplating driving out of town today to check out a cemetery and some old towns.

But first, brekkie. Yummy toasts with delicious jams, a kind of cold tomato mush, delicious on toast, fresh orange and tea with soya milk. delicious. :-)

Right. Off to wash my hair in our huge double shower.

Time

I've been experiencing a total lack of me-time and far too much work over the last month or so, which seems to be culminating this week in a mild panic and sense of (unfamiliar and unwelcome) stress.

I'm aware I've been slack at posting here, and wanted to say that this won't change for a while.

Please expect a complete absence of communication and response from me until the end of June - that way, you'll be pleasantly surprised when/if I do respond.

In the meantime, rest assured, from this Saturday until the end of June I will be enjoying myself and totally chilling out.

Enjoy June, everyone!

Bounce control

So, bigger boobs also need a bigger sports bra.

My new sports bra comes with the very amusing claim that it has been 'bounce control' tested. Can't help laughing and can't help wondering exactly how they test it, who does the testing and how much pleasure is derived from the testing process!

Highgate Woods

A sunny day in London... :-)

Y331 DLJ...

...has gone.

The BMW represented security and safety for me, and Y331 DLJ was the number plate I looked out for when he used to visit me in London, when we first met. It was the number plate I looked out for when he picked me up from the train station when I visited him and, later, when I came home to him after a long day working or studying in London.

It felt like an extension of everything he has represented to me since the day we met - something special, safety, security, excitement, stability. It was an extension of him and of his home, and now it's gone.

I've only ever said goodbye to one vehicle before that was an emotional part of me and that was the campervan we grew up with - BTU 982K - but he went to my brother so he never really left.

We took a photo of his numberplate before he went, so I have something to remember him by, but part of me wishes I could have flung my arms around his bonnet and given him a kiss goodbye. Then the buyers would have thought I was completely crazy.

Anyway, gone, but not in my heart. I'm aware how stupidly attached I feel, but it's not the car; it's what he represented to me. And surely you can forgive me for being somewhat more emotional than usual - I blame it on the hormones!

At the top

...and coming down again, having bumped into my cycling friends and Boris the Dalmation at the top, I pause for a cereal bar and admire the view, noticing that it feels remarkably balmy.

Peace

After a thoroughly miserable night where the B&B turned off all heating and hot water to 'save money' I have now found peace.

It was like being in Fawlty Towers. No heating, no hot water, blocked sink, no bread (which took them 20 mins to fetch at breakfast). And this for a luxury place, apparently. There was more, but I won't go into it. Last night was spent in woollies and a hat and, upon complaining, we were told we should leave, but didn't have to pay. The owner then complained to our friends about people who complain, can't be doing with them apparently...

Anyway, having vented and now sitting in the sunshine, i've found peace. I'm happy. I'll post animal pics later.