Author: Ellen Bell

There was a high chair outside the new Barnardo’s shop on Terrace Road, just beside the sign saying Please Don’t Leave Donations Outside When the Shop is Closed. It was white plastic with a lime-green seat. And there was a mug on its tray with SPORTS DIRECT written on it. The Christmas tree inside the Hot Dumpling Chinese Takeaway was on as I walked past. But there were no lights on in The Pelican Bakery, and no baker had turned up either when I made my way home. I hope all is well. I missed the smells. The chatter and hiss of the starlings under the pier grows stronger – perhaps they are waking and readying for their murmuration. I stood awhile and watched a fishing boat trying to manoeuvre into its mooring. At least I think that was what it was doing. It took an age and was still doing it when I turned back into town. Another one was still out there at sea. I saw its light and it seemed to be following me.

It’s not so cold today.

The Yr Hafod B&B have a big Christmas tree in their breakfast room. There is more room for one now that the restrictions are in place and several tables have been removed. It wasn’t switched on when I walked by. I stayed there one Christmas many moons ago when he was still living with his mother. I don’t know why I didn’t stay with them. It was a little bleak, the owner was away, and being a friend of his he’d agreed that I could stay sans breakfast. I think I got yoghurts and things in. I found the room cold and the rather garish pattern of the quilt a little unsettling. It was good to look out at the sea but the overhead light and lack of cosiness heightened the bleakness I felt. And before that an old friend of his, and for time mine, lived there in a flat before it was a B&B with his young family. So it is living in his home-town, memories of his abound. I live amongst them but without them.

Padarn Estates had a lit tree and lots of lights and G-one Fish & Chips and Kebab shop had flashing lights. The notice ticking them off about not obeying Covid-19 regulations and instructing them to try harder has gone. As has the one in the window of the pub on the corner of Thespian Street. Are they better? Have they been exonerated? Summit Cycles have a tree strapped to the back of one of the bikes in their window. Most festive. It looks sweet – like an American-style 50’s movie with Doris Day. She with the pointed breasts and usually ice-skating. How I loved her then. I stepped in something while out walking. It was mushy but not stinky so I ruled out dog and cat, could it be fox? A pair of black woollen gloves lay forgotten or lost on the pavement as was one trainer, size 11 I’d say. I took a turn off from the Prom to get out of the wind and saw a beautiful tree in one of the small terraced houses, what a sight for sleepy eyes.

Our neighbours have replenished their column of fat balls but so far I’ve only seen a pair of blackbirds pecking away at them. Or where they rooks?

Yet more Christmas tree sightings as I walked this morning. Though some, disappointingly were turned off. The one in The Hot Dumpling Chinese Take away was off as was the one in Sophie’s Cafe though the train of single lights were still white and bright. The Mecca Tea and Coffee Traders had up some new lights, long lines of red and blue and The Fusion King Sushi Bar had a tiny tree in one window, nicely ablaze. The Medina cafe and shop have what look like gingerbread houses in both windows, dusted with icing sugar, but no lights. Swanson’s Dry Cleaners have put up their decorations including a tree but it was unlit. Several stuffed elves hang awkwardly from the perspex signs in the window. And one of the trees has been removed from the window of the ex-Barnardo’s shop. One of the windows in a student house along South Road has a sign saying Have a very Holly Christmas. They have to go home by tomorrow don’t they? But what about the foreign students? Will they stay or go? We talked about them at breakfast. I recalled the girls who had to remain during the holidays at my boarding school. And he remembered a French and Saunders sketch detailing the same scenario. Poignant.

Still trying to sort out the muddle. In between I work.

We were supposed to be on holiday from today. We would be in the car now embarking on our journey to Yorkshire. It was just a week away, nothing fancy, just walking, resting, and sitting close up to the fire in The Lion and doing crosswords. I am sad that we couldn’t go. I like to escape and it’s been so long. But I must let it go, as I have done and enjoy what is.

She is safe. She has messaged me. They are in. Thank god. And I do, so much.

I want a day of being held, safe in work that is not challenging but repetitive, known, familiar. Tomorrow I will be braver. I want to order it all, all the jumble of ideas that besiege my brain from waking to sleeping. I want to give birth to them, let them all have oxygen but it is a muddle that needs to be managed. Help.

I dreamt that my phone was encased in wood. Beautiful wood with stunning grain but I couldn’t get at the buttons. I could hear people talking to me but I couldn’t respond. And then I dreamt of having to set up a ‘starter’ for yoghurt or was it sourdough (a notion filched from a crossword clue we had done earlier – how prosaic) but I’d messed it up and had to dash off and begin again. V was there as was he and my father who were trying to find a house to buy together. Ho Hum.

Not so cold this morning, did they sleep better?

It isn’t much of one, it barely protects them from the wind, but it is dry, there is a roof. There were two bodies sleeping in it this morning. I gasped when I saw their small cocoons of makeshift blankets and sleeping bags. It was minus 2 at least. I would die, I think from such cold. Do you get inured to it? My heart goes out to them, I want to wrap them up in blankets and hot water bottles. It must be desperate. Can they bear it? One has his belongings in a neat row along the outer wall of the shelter, lines and lines of bottles and bags. The other man, I presume it is a man, was just a sleeping form, bagless. Will someone bring them tea? I think so. People are kind here. I know it.

My internal wranglings are nothing to their plight so I’ll say nothing, except to bear witness as I do to the work of others is a privilege and at times it is enough.

This morning felt liminal. A liminal space with more than a little wild magic. First it was the light I saw in the water. No, I think it really began with the fishing boat moored in the marina. It was a large trawling ship with a squared off back (I forget the nautical term). It was alight. Not on fire but its lights were on. Yellow and white lights and one red one. I can’t tell you what it means to me to see bright lights in all that blackness. So I was lifted by seeing it. (Why its lights were on when no one was there I don’t know.) Then there was the light in the water. It looked like it was floating. I thought it might be a reflection of a star but there was cloud. Was it a buoy lit for easy discovery? Who knows? When I looked back it had gone. Then there was the blackbird on Llanbadarn Road. It was on some railings just to the right of me as I walked. It fluttered a little at my approach but held its perch. I was near, we were eye to eye. It jumped up into the air, flighty and nervous, only to return to the railings alongside me. It seemed to want to be close. Did it have something to say? And then, and then there was the fox. I was walking up the back hill that leads to our estate. It’s steep and on the right hand side the land has been flattened ready for more flats to be built. It looks eerie and exposed in the moonlight. Well, I was hiking up the hill when I saw a black shape. It was quivering and vibrant, I knew this even in that split second. It saw me and my torch light and bounded across my path and off into the open land the flick of white from its tail all that was visible in the moon’s glare. I caught my breath and stood a moment. Could I smell him? Was there that sharp, hot stink that Hughes wrote of? No. The air was too cold. He was so fast that wild, wild thing.

More Christmas trees. There are four in the windows of Philip Evans Estate Management Consultants. They are electric things with white bulbs of light on their extremities. Lily’s Boutique didn’t have a tree but the mannequin in one window was dressed in a red and white number, a la Santa Claus and there was an array of Xmas stockings. The Cardigan Bay Guest House had one in each window, one flashing, one not. I could see one in The Richmond Hotel’s lobby but it wasn’t lit. Shame. And I could see the Marine Hotel’s line of huge white luminous snowflakes all the way from the harbour. And finally the Hot Dumplings Chinese Takeaway on Northgate Terrace had one glistening in its new white interior. Thank you for lighting my way.

I dreamt I was pushing the empty metal frame of a 1950s style pram up a grassy bank which was made into steps and a man from a crowd of people sunning themselves helped me. We conversed in Norwegian, he with a bad English accent and we exchanged smiles.

Work done for now. But then there are all the little bits to deal with that have been left undone. Bitty days are not comfortable for me however necessary. Heigh ho.

Just a short walk this morning having had too much to do before hand. So I strode pushing against the North wind towards the Prom, did a round trip and turned back. I kept an eagle eye out for new sightings of trees. Capricorn Gowns had one in the window that flashed on and off rather too quickly. And Rees Astley Insurance Agents, though empty (I’ve never seen anyone in there even before the pandemic) had one too. Everything is done very elegantly there, the frosted window, the minimalist decor, very un-Aber and the tree follows suit, with one colour and lights that don’t flash. There was also a new one in a house on the corner of Llanbadarn Road – that one was flashing furiously in tandem with a line of blue lights. Let it be, the more tackier the better with the dull mood I’m in. Oh, and what used to be the Barnardo’s shop now has two trees in the window but they are bare. Perhaps someone will be in there today to deck them with bright things.

I thought it would be a breeze this piece but it’s not. So be it. I’ll make some tea and be at it now.

I like to look in other people’s windows, I’ve always done it, particularly in the early morning when I walk. I’ve done it too when I was without a home and looked then with longing. Now I look for Christmas trees, lights and decorations. I need the cheer, the lift. They’ve a tree in all flashing glory in one of the flats opposite, though this morning it’s not been turned on. And in a top room in one of the houses along Llanbadarn Road I saw a rocking horse. It wasn’t a very elegant one, a little chunky, but nevertheless a lovely site. I wanted one as child, not to ride especially but to just own. I think a rich friend had one. There used to be one in the window of the middle house along St David’s Road but I haven’t seen it for awhile. I walked a different way this morning, mainly to avoid the wind turning my umbrella inside out. It makes me ratty, it’s such an inelegant thing, like one’s skirt blowing up – all knickers showing. So I saw unfamiliar window displays, one had cotton wool for snow wrapped around the base of two fake trees. There were pine cones frosted with spray-on snow (my mother used to use it I remember the smell), plastic snowflakes stuck to panes and a silver glittery horse in the window of the nail bar on Mill Street.

Ronnie has been found. He was holed-up in a shed and she heard his mewing. I’m pleased. All is well with that part of the world, at least.

As I walked I continued my hunt for new lights in windows or trees freshly put up. There were none that I could see. Two of our neighbours were pulling a trussed up tree from the boot as we left for an appointment in town (he was wearing remarkably tight cycling shorts). And last night, I noticed that that house of the now deceased architect on the hill opposite us has a tree lit up in their living room. The room has a floor to ceiling window in the Scandinavian-style, and the lights, like a white block of brightness, shone out in the darkening afternoon.

The morning was quiet and muted. The moon was revealed between the clouds for a short time and then was gone. I noticed some strands of red and green tinsel on the pavement as I walked the Prom.

We talked of the ‘dirty-clean’ sketch at breakfast and he suddenly remembered the name of one of the comics who performed it. I thought that they were husband and wife, apparently not. Sid Caesar, he said, and then scanning his Ipad proceeded to tell me the name of the woman who did it with him, Imogene someone. It was all black and white, he said. Yes, I know. Lovely.

As I walk I watch out for new Christmas decorations I haven’t seen. The Marine Hotel has huge lighted snowflakes in each window. There’s a row of them, looking like giant rosettes. Most festive. And trees have sprung up in several of the student’s rooms in halls and in houses. They leave them on all night, as I would, falling asleep to the glow of them. It helps in this winter’s dark. It does. As does the moon, who even now is shining full through my window.

Do you think Ronnie has been found? I asked him yesterday, for the flyer announcing has gone. No, he said. But why have they taken away the flyer then? Because they’ve probably given up on him. I hope not. I really hope not. These seemingly small griefs hurt us. Greatly.