Universe A: Cerrigydrudion High Street with telegraph poles.
Universe B: Cerrigydrudion High Street whereby electric and telegraph technology somehow escaped us.
Our “ballroom”. More or less the last room to come online – 3 years in the restoration. Lime, horsehair, oak lath the works. Just upstairs landing and bathroom corridor and we’re done on the inside. But for about 300 I’s to dot of course.
We took a break from endless house renovation this weekend to make a new bridge across the gorge in our garden. Our very own “Pont o Ocheneidiau” (Bridge of Sighs)
I’m getting in on all this internet cat stuff.
Here’s ours. She’s called “cat” and does sod all except meow to come in and then immediately meow to go back out again. Here she is thinking about meowing to come in.
My wife, Keri, has achieved immortality of a sort. Twenty odd years ago, we started a project to turn 11 acres of monoculture upland sheep pasture into an oasis of nature.
Over three winters, I watched as she toiled in driving sleet and rain to spade in each day’s quotient of trees. More than 5,000 oak, birch, holly, rowan and ash were planted along with the remaining strength in her back. She didn’t crow about it, but quietly, satisfied, started to interplant with other trees and woodland plants. Together we dug ponds, erected hundreds of birdboxes and generally set about making it a home for all but humans.
Years later, to celebrate this achievement I had Ordnance Survey rename that parcel to Coed Keri and planted this commemorative stone. Today, Coed Keri, vibrant like never before, is left to the wildlife of Denbighshire, but the stone moved with us to Powys, and just got replanted in our garden in Meifod, where we started the process all over again.
Look who dropped in for tea! Well, homemade elderflower cordial and Keri’s vegan shortbread actually. That’s right, none other than Aston Villa supporting patron of the Vegan Society, Mr B. Zephaniah.