Morning views

Looking out of the bedroom window this morning...

And then the bedroom door...

Joining in...

I had in my mind's eye when we moved that we would join in.  It was mentioned to us a few times that we really should; often dire warnings of ignoring this good advice were made explicit. 

"Oh you will be OK as long as you enter into the spirit of things and don't ever turn down invitations." 

...or worse...

"You know what the Welsh are like and they really don't like the English."  Nudge, nudge, wink, wink.  "Hope you've packed a fire extinguisher." 

These comments from parochial well wishers simply confirmed that our decision to move was the right one.  We had always intended to join in as really it would be a bit shortsighted of us to move somewhere new and then promptly insulate ourselves from the world.  You have to make an effort to make new friends.  This was going to be home after all.

Never a more welcoming crowd could we have we met.  Cymru Am Byth!  A Barabrith was awaiting us on our arrival, left on the doorstep.  People have warmly invited us into their homes and plied us with food and wine. 

In our turn we help with looking after the common land (actually Him Next Door does most of the mowing), this Friday we have a community bonfire to burn all the chopping back we did earlier in the year.  We also go to fundraising events in the local community and support the school, village hall and local shop whenever we can.

We actually proactively fund raise for both the common land (Cadwraeth Llysyfran‏) and St Meilyr's Church, nestled at the bottom of the garden.  I am not particularly religious but believe I suppose essentially in Christian principles.  And the Church is truly beautiful and awe inspiring in its age and presence.  You wonder what those walls have witnessed in their time.

From my involvement in the immediate community was born the website http://www.llysyfranchurch.co.uk/.  My little bit of giving. 

140 Christmas Cards sold so far...

Letter writing.

A quaint old tradition. 

I have one friend from school who has not dabbled in the 'Interweb' at all.  He insists on writing letters and I must admit there is nothing like finding that little jewel amongst the drab brown envelopes scattered on the mat.

I can type quicker than I can write, so I have found that my handwriting has deteriorated somewhat... especially when balancing the pad on my knee with one eye on the TV and one hand holding a cuppa, all whilst trying to help G9 with her gwaith cartref Cymraig.  (Hmmm perhaps that's why she doesn't get 10 out of 10).

I can barely understand what I have written myself when reading my letter back, goodness knows how anyone else can.  But still, it's more personal somehow than the typed page.

The only other time I hand write in earnest is on Christmas cards.  For those I see regularly I don't pen much except for the usual salutations*, but for those I rarely see it's a chance to catch up.  So I carefully write little messages in each card for my distant friends and family, all individually scripted.  It makes my arm and hand ache, but every year I do it, just to get those little gems back.  It's like Facebook but hand made.

I have a box of old love letters and cards, hand written by someone who died when just starting out in life.  Although I look at them rarely, when I do I feel connected somehow - they have more resonance than a typed page could ever have.

Writing this blog has made me feel a little guilty as it reminds me I have a pen friend I still owe a letter to, its been months and months.  Somehow life keeps getting in the way.  It's back on the top of my things to do for this weekend.

*Addendum: I never understand why people have photographs on their walls of relatives they live with, after all they see them every day.