Trampoline

I tried to go out this morning and got as far as the end of Llanbadarn Road before the strength of the wind began to scare me. It almost blew me off my feet. I feel vulnerable these days. And the wind was just too strong for me. I turned round and began walking in the direction of Llanbadarn thinking that if I walked into the wind it would be better. But I got as far as the beginning of the other entrance to the Llys and gave up. Here too the wind was whirling and gusting. It is too much. Too much for me. Don’t go, he’d said last night. I’ll give it a try, I’d said, tenacious as ever. And had dressed up super-warm in his coat, my gilet with fur hood, my set of waterproofs with double trousers, two pairs of socks, double-gloves, scarf and hat. Even so my hands were like ice, as were my toes. It wasn’t the air. It’s only meant to be minus one, it’s the wind.

Still no boiler, still no heat or hot water. Another bath in a thimble full of kettle-boiled water but I’m getting cannier. I dash from room to room, exchanging the little electric heaters the burly boys left us. It’s the hallway and bathrooms that are Siberian-like. Ugh.

A strange day yesterday, apocalyptic in feel. People looked strained, anxious, rushing, dashing through the wind. The 13 cm didn’t come. There’s barely 2, and even that is just wind-blown up the sides of pavements. Lorries are stuck on the mountains though. We are cut off from the world. How does that feel?

It was a rushed sessionĀ at the home. It was all too much, the rush, rush rushing around. And it was cold. I went to an upstairs lounge. A few Welsh ladies sat there staring at me with mild curiosity. Others were just dotted around, some eating at tables, others sleeping, one watching the TV and then breaking into song. Daisy, Daisy give me your answer do. Another was standing over a woman’s table attempting to wipe up some spilt sugar with her hand. All of a sudden she fell backwards. A heavy thud and a cry out. She looked like an up-ended beetle, shock and distress across her face. It was heart-rending. The staff are calm, they are used to it. One knelt down beside her, stroking her hand, her ankle. An alarm was rung and a hoist sent for. She didn’t want it. It must be so disorientating, hanging in midair being levered back onto your chair. She slept after that, her glasses falling off her face. Then it was rush, rush to work.

Driving to work I saw a trampoline in a front garden. It had come loose from its moorings in the wind and was waving, flapping like a great crinoline.

Work then home for lunch then out again. But no, that was cancelled. Thank god. We both needed rest. To hunker down. The cold is tiring. Managing it is tiring. But it is OK. I am made so grateful by this adversity.

He had a call to say that they will come today to fix it. We’ll see. The weather may make it impossible. We have to prepare ourselves for the worst. Always. And then it is OK. For the worst is always doable.

A warm life, I am truly blessed.