The parking fine. Parking faries i am NOT happy with you.

Saturday 14th went to Cardiff centre to do a flash mob with the fabulous Rock Choir. Trying to take my mind off things. Got home to find a parking fine letter from parking in the Heath Hospital on the day we got his diagnosis. £70 bloody quid reduced to £40 if I pay within 14 days. Not a chance are they getting a bean from me without a fight. I'd checked as far as I could on the day but apparently the 4th floor was staff parking only. Fuming I was. Drove over to Cardiff to get as much information as I could with which to fight the damn fine. That appointment had been the worst possible news ever and now they wanted £70. I couldn't see any signs to say staff only only to not park on hatches. Replied with my appeal when I got home. Took Dad to Llandough hospital on Monday 16th to have a stent fitted. waited for the 30m procedure to check he was OK then left. Still cross about the fine so went to the heath hospital on the way home to speak to their parking office it was closed. rang the hospital the next day between 10 and 2 and got through to someone who said to call a different number. called it and got an answering machine telling me to call the parking company. 😑 Went to the other hospital the fillowing day to get dad and was very careful where I parked. Went to the hospital in person the following day and explained why I thought their fine was wrong. They said 'its all fully signposted' this sounded like an automatic response to me not an answer to my points so politely I stated their signage was at best confusing and at worst non existent. I showed them photos. They took my details and said they would look into it. 4 days later I had an email to say the fine had been cancelled. One small step at a time but a win I was very happy with.

The final diagnosis.

Around a month ago my dad, a hoarder, not just a 'Lets just keep this for now,' kind of a hoarder, more a 'Lets keep everything forever,' kind of a hoarder (those of you who have read 'Diary of a Hoarder's daughter' will know the extent of it), asked if I would accompany him on a visit to his GP. A little concerned at this request, as he's never asked me before, and suspecting maybe there may be something he needed to share with me, I went. I drove from where I live, 7 miles over Caerphilly Mountain to his house to take him a mile up the road to see his GP. He'd told me he had a few aches and pains and a few other things. I know he wanted to discuss that a dermatologist had found a patch of skin cancer on top of his head which had been removed and he was ordered to wear a hat while outside at all times. They'd removed it all but also had given him a leaflet 'about Cancer' and given him a number for a MacMillan nurse who was off for 2 weeks. He was confused - did he or didn't he have 'the big C' as he called it? After greeting the GP like a good friend, he mentioned he was tired a lot, he was drinking a lot, he had a bit of stiffness, he was finding it difficult to swallow his food, he was having breathlessness going downhill as well as the uphill problems he'd before. The GP looked at him kindly, took his vitals and said 'but you're 95 this year, you have to expect a few aches and pains.' She booked him for a blood test and said to keep an eye on things and report back if nothing got better. Just before Easter he told me he was still having difficulty swallowing and was having to drink lots of water with each meal. He also had leg ache, was tired and breathless. I was a little worried but thought surely the GP would have picked up something dreadful although he's almost 95 and as she said he has to expect to decline in health a bit. Easter Monday was a bank holiday and I was away. at 8.23pm on Easter Tuesday I had a call from the local hospital 'Did you know your father is in hospital?' I didn't. 'It's OK,' she said 'we'll look after him now he's here but what are you going to do about Ant?' (my brother). Ant, 57, has Autism and the hospital clearly expected me to fetch him and take him home. I drove over the mountain and came in to see dad on the ward. Apparently he'd travelled to see the GP, on the bus. The GP had seen him and sent him to A&E immediately. He also went there ON THE BUS and had to walk half a mile from the bus stop. On arrival he had a funny turn and they whipped him onto a trolley and the next thing he was in a bed and they called me. Neither Dad nor Ant had called me earlier as neither own a mobile phone. Two days later the hospital called me at work to arrange an appointment to meet with us the following Tuesday to discuss treatment and what we could do moving forward. They said they had put a camera down his throat and now needed to discuss the results. At this point I began to panic. The vibes weren't good. I asked what they'd found and there was an ominous silence. 'Er we don't give results over the phone'. this sounded worse and I pointed out I'd prefer to hear it by phone, whatever it was, than worry all weekend. She asked was I sure. I said I was. She said they'd put a camera down and found 'an extremely nasty malignant looking mass in his oesphophogus.' They didn't yet know what it was but in their experience it definitely wasn't good. The biopsy would confirm but we should come in on Tuesday 5th June. I had to work out how to tell Ant in a way he'd understand. Dad was allowed out of hospital after being given the same news, and some protein drinks to keep him going. I went to get him on 4th June to take him home. he needed the venthlon needle thing taken out. The nurse came to remove it and he said "can I keep this?" I cringed. she said 'NO'. he persisted 'Honestly, I need it as it would be perfect for the light switch in my bathroom otherwise I will have to go buy a whole new fitting...' She looked at him somewhat bemused and repeated 'No - it has body fluids on and has to be thrown out.' She took it and left. 'Aw that's mean.' he says ' you're a mean girl and you're not my friend any more.' She looked a tad amused, - being in her mid thirties. Dad, not having given up yet, stood up and directed his attention at a young male nurse nearby. "She's really mean... Oh. Where are you from?' I cringed but there was nowhere to hide. 'From India' says the young nurse. 'Ah yes. India. Indian' says dad. 'Yes we have people just like you in our street. yes Indians right ok. well lovely to meet you.' he held out his hand. I took him home. 5th June was the appointment in the hospital Endoscopy unit. I dropped Ant and Dad in the concourse telling them to wait while I parked and headed sharpish to the multi-storey car park. I usually avoid these dark mysterious caverns from hell at all costs. The spaces are tight, there's cars all over the place (obs), no spaces, signs which make little sense everywhere and cameras lurking in every dark hole. People are rushing about and everybody's stressed. Spaces are rarer than a live plant outside Aldi in a heatwave and I wasn't having the best day ever. Outside the car park was a height warning sign, a barrier, many other signs and lots of yellow paint. I spotted a 'VISITORS AND PATIENTS ONLY' sign at the entrance and with a sigh of relief as there were a rather impatient few drivers behind me, I entered the pits of hell. I drove round floor 1, nothing. Up to floor 2, round and round, nothing. Up to floor 3 same story. 'Dear Parking Angels, saints and Sinners, will someone PLEASE give me a space,' I screamed, like a Karen in a supermarket and thumped poor Freddie's steering wheel in frustration. 'Please!' I drove up another floor as I shook the pain from my fist. I turned the corner and there I swear, glowing in the far corner was a space being lit by the sun like a gift from above. 'Thank you parking fairies' I said, out loud and reversed Freddie into the space. Just for the sake of my sanity and because I don't trust those places after stories I've heard about being an inch over the line etc etc, I checked all 4 wheels were inside - yes. I checked for anything saying I couldn't park there, no hatches - no. No signs on the wall. I walked over to a blue sign in the corner of the car park. The sign was in Welsh and there was no English translation next to it. Another sign on the wall said 'do not park on the hatches'. I hadn't so I left the car park by the back stairs and on to meet dad and Ant and go on to the appointment. We were all ushered in after a short wait and told straight that the camera had found his oesophogus to be 90% reduced in width and surrounded but a malignant tumour, which had since been confirmed as Cancer. In short, at 94, there was little they could do. Chemotherapy would make him very sick as soon as it was started and his body may not take well to it. Operating was not an option due to the advanced stage. The final option was to insert a stent to push the tumour back so he can at least eat or get something down him. This would be fitted on June 16th 2025 in a different hospital. We all left the hospital feeling totally devastated, each of us processing things in different ways. We walked to the car as dad said he needed air to clear his head. I linked arms with him, he felt very frail. It was so hard to stay strong for him and Ant. We have never been a family to share feelings so we walked in silence, none of us knowing quite what to say. Dad spoke. 'So that's it then!'

59 years plus 2 months part 2 - a log cabin in the Forest of Dean

59 years plus 2 months - A Ghost Walk in St Fagan's Museum

Month 2, I went for a ghost walk arund St Fagans Museum with a colleague from the funeral home and 2 friends who used to be funeral directors with the company. Trust me the buildings which are, let's face it, slightly spooky in the daylight are WAAAY more so in the dark. The museum is full of old buildings which have all been taken from their original destinations and re-built brick by brick to their original speficications all within the museum grounds. There are school houses, chapels, barns, churches, shops, houses, a pub and more. The museum was closed and locked up for the night but obviously it was an official tour, we didn't break in or anything. there were three guides from the museum, who had keys to the buildings. One led the group of about 12, one was at the back and another did the talking. We had all been advised to bring torches. When we got inside the buildings, they said to turn all the torches off while they told us of activities which had happened in those buildings. It was VERY atmospheric. We had been told it was a good idea to take many photos as often things show up in these which aren't seen with the naked eye. I didn't see anything personally but a few of the others said they did. Photos on this blog - on looking at the photo of the red building, I zoomed in, and there does look to be a figure in white there - what do you think?

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59 years plus one month - ABBA VOYAGE in London. A year of discovery.

2025 will be a big birthday for me. A landmark one which I feel incredibly lucky to be approaching. Mainly because my late mother never managed to reach that landmark but also because, working where I do, in a funeral company, I realise there are many others who also don't get this far. Forget the wrinkles, the eye bags, the saggy bits and all the rest of it, I have decided, rather than feel sorry for myself I will embrace life and do something meaningful each month in the lead up to the big day. I have always wanted to go to see this show, since I heard of its existence. I grew up with Abba, I loved their music then and still have it on my car playlist. Nothing like a bit of Voulez Vous on the commute to work and a bit of Dancing Queen on the way home. My favourite is Eagle. So off I went to The Abba Arena, taking the early train from the ABER station in Caerphilly to Cardiff and the bus from there. I went with my 19 year old daughter - who it turns out, thanks to all the time she has spent in my car, also knows all the words to all the Abba songs. I thought she was doing it to humour me and for a free trip to London. I was amused to find that all my favourite younger-years haunts in London; Camden Market, Carnaby Street, Kensington High Street and Kensington market etc are still there. Carnaby Street has lost its vibe but even the shops in Camden Market no longer held any interest for me, far too many people and the prices were insane. First time I have been there and not bought a single thing. I used to spend days at a time there. We checked into our hotel - it was unlike any hotel I'd ever been in, it took compact and bijou to another level - SNOOZEBOX - about a minute's walk from the arena. The bed was comfortable, warm and the location was spot on but that's as far as it went. The 'room' was a storage container which had been converted into two bedrooms. I had booked one for the two of us. There was no room to swing a rat. The double bed had a single bed fixed to the wall at right angles to and above the double bed. There was one plug socket. About three feet from the bed was an opaque glass wall which led to the shower and toilet. Being glass, it was blindingly obvious if your room mate was in the shower or on the toilet. Not ideal but only one night. We had tickets for the dancefloor in the Abba Arena. We went in early and sat on the floor until the arena was full when we were asked to stand up. During the wait, there was a snowy wood scene of Sweedinh Folklore on the screen - I thought it was lovely. When the show started it was the most amazing show I ever saw. If I hadn't known the people instage were Avatars I would have believed they were real - even down to putting their guitars on the floor when the lights faded. I was singing full on and at the top of my lungs, I looked at my daughter and she was doing the same. That made me cry - the next generation was having every bit as much fun as I was. They played Eagle with animations and I can't say whether or not they played all my favourites, I think they did, They played a few I'd never heard, which wasn't so good but I'm not complaining. All in, I had the most amazing time and came out in tears. We hugged outside the arena and went off to our box room for the after show bar. It truly is all about making memories now. :)

Elephant Abstractions quilt by Violet craft. My 2nd attempt

I love quilts and quilt shows and all that creative stuff. However, sewing zillions of triangles together is not for me. Too fiddly and bitty and I like to create something different. I love elephants and was mesmerised when I saw my first elephant quilt, about 6 feet high at a quilt show. I came home determined to track down the pattern. I checked Pinterest and found loads of similar elephants in different colours. I'm all for that. Make it your own I say. The pattern is by Violet Craft and is called Elephant Abstractions. the pattern is about £30 for a printed one or less for a downloadable one. I got the printed one and put it on my shelf at home for a month or five. Then one day I got the urge and started. I'd never done any paper piecing before. u asked on FB if friends had advice. They wished me luck. one said I should start small if.id never done it before. I said "Hell No! In for a penny, in for a pound." I got right stuck in. Once I'd started I kept going night and day. It took about a month all in. The pattern comes printed on both sides of paper so I traced it on A4 coppier paper. some.bits were too big so I sellotaped paper together. I learned by my mistakes, of which there were many. Finally Pink Elephant was complete. I love him.

Coronageddon Welsh Dragon.

I was doing the shielding thing durong Covid and decided to do something Welsh, something colourful and something bright and rainbow. Also, just because I wanted to, I made it big. There was no pattern as such other than the Welsh Flag. I used a glass table to trace it onto a bit of interfacing and appliquéd bits onto that then appliquéd that onto the black background. Big and proud I hung it outside my house to cheer.people up. I doubt anyone saw it as I was on a main road at the time.