Category Archives: My family and other furry creatures
The cast:
Rich – my husband
Harley – the stubborn Welshie
Molly – Our oldest, and therefore Top Cat
Diddies – Our mad fluffy part rag doll cat
Daisy – Our beautiful, gentle, huge black and white cat, also known as the bouncer!
Tilly – Our tinky, tiny, black cat, naughtiness personified.
Sophie – Our newest addition, a French cat, part feral, no teeth and sleeps most of the time
As part of our visit to beautiful Dunlewey Church we went on the hunt for the famous Poisoned Glen, it didn’t disappoint.
The Poisoned Glen responding to the call of beautiful Dunlewey Lough
Now we all know that Ireland is full to overflowing with legends, and needless to say anywhere with a name like ‘The Poisoned Glen’ is going to have a legend attached, I suppose it is also inevitable that there are various accounts as to how it got it’s name.
Two involve the one eyed giant King Balor. The first version of the story is that Balor’s exiled grandson Lughaidh (do the best you can pronouncing that one, I am struggling with the guttural sounds of Gaelic!) met with his grandfather at the opening of the glen to fight, and duly killed him. As he fell Balor’s one eye bled into the glen, poisoning it as it did so. Legend has it that if you look at the mountains behind the bridge you can see the face of the fallen giant..
Look in the middle to the left, and you can see the outline of the giant’s face.
The other account is that Balor had a beautiful daughter who he kept locked away and hidden from mankind (of course he did, misogyny is rife in fairytales!) Despite all his efforts word got out about her beauty and she was duly kidnapped. Balor went after the kidnapper and cut him off at this very bridge killing him and retrieving his daughter. As the kidnapper died under the bridge the glen was forever poisoned.
Harley and RD studying the place of battle,
The less interesting truth is that the people of Dunlewy were inspired to name it An Gleann Neamhe (The Heavenly Glen), but when the English mapped the area they carelessly marked it as ‘An Gleann Neimhe – The Poisoned Glen! And so it’s name was born! As we know, we can always rely on the English!
This place has inspired many, it’s not hard to understand why, and Clannad, who hail from Donegal, included a track titled ‘Poisoned Glen’ on their album ‘Anam’.
For me the best thing was watching Harley pup in the healing waters of the glen, his adventure with them continues, and it is truly heavenly to behold.
I hope you’re all inspired to visit this beautiful place if you can..
Rosie
Dunlewy Church known as The Irish Taj Mahal
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Its funny the things that make a home. Since moving to our house we have been making do with the old ripped sofa and chairs that were here. To say that they were uncomfortable would be an understatement, add to that they were clearly full of flea eggs! So when we arrived, clicked the heating on and sat down there we were: dinner! Luckily all of our animals had been treated with the combo that kills the eggs and the cats did their job, sleeping on the sofa and chairs and slowly killing the fleas. It was a joy! As RD would say the chairs and sofa were on ‘death row.’
Today we have been mostly sitting in our bare living room waiting for our new sofas. We dispatched the chairs to the garage (good luck in the cold fleas) yesterday, but were up early taking the sofa out. Understandably, given the past few months all of the furries, started to get stressed, looking at us as if to say ‘Oh no not again! We’re not moving again are we?’ In fact when we took the sofa to the garage (pending skip hire) Daisy set up a protest strike and proceeded to sit on it for hours whilst staring in the window, clearly making a statement that where the sofa was going she was going too.
Daisy (also known as Pussy Upsy Daisy) in protest mode.
For those of you who follow this blog you will see that we have changed the house quite a bit. But we still don’t own this house so I have not shared it all with you, and cannot do so until the sale is complete (something I am chasing weekly). But I am proud of what we have achieved in the living room, everything will be white in this house, a first for me, but necessary because it is so small. We have been busy.
Before…..with flea ridden sofas
Now … I love our mirror, a small thing but helps us feel at home.
A new table is now on the horizon..
The mirror above the fireplace is new, but the wooden mirrors were left here and I gave them a new lease of life whitewashing them and adding some pretty cheap hearts that we found. I miss my stars, that are currently still trapped in France (more of that to come.) I do believe that a star is for life and not just for Christmas. Its funny the small things you miss.
One of our handmade stars…
Because we don’t own the house we have decided to hold fire on the floorcovering until we do. We don’t know where life is taking us yet, or what we will do to the house when we do own it, so for now our new rug will suffice.
The curtains are up framing the view
The sofa’s duly arrived this afternoon, and all our cushions were placed, and then redesigned by Wiglet!
Wiglet, our new interior designer, she does love a cushion!
As RD and I sat down we both looked at each other and said ‘Now it’s home.’ Sitting on our own sofa, with our own cushion’s we both realised that this was the first time it felt like home for us in over five months. Needless to say I think that the Welshies and girlies are happy too!
Harley, finally back on the sofa with mummy
It’s good to be home. More to come I haven’t forgotten The Poisoned Glen!
Rosie
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RD and I are getting restless. Ever the home-makers after twelve weeks of living in our rental we want to move on into our own house and start to build our lives.
Now don’t get me wrong, I am grateful for this lovely little cottage we are renting. The landlord is so lovely, and the crofters around us have been so welcoming and friendly. But it’s not our home, and with our things still in France I have tried to make it as homely as possible buying some things we will need for our new house and using them here. I love our pretty crystal lights, currently on our bedside tables, but probably destined for our new living room.
Having always been a homebody there is of course nothing like a cushion or throw. The animals love them too…
Kittens on our day ed in Montaigu Wiglet in her old French Antique Cot, it didn’t make the move to Ireland.
Sadly most of my cushions are in France, and some didn’t make the move, so I brought some throws and cushions with us, as many as I could shove under the dogs without their heads touching the roof of the van! Knowing we will need some more I bought some from trusty Ikea, and I have made the living room as much our own as I could.
But it’s not home, no cherubs, no pretty curtains, no bed with crystals or little stars, no vintage French mirrors.
Home
As those that read my blog know the views here have been nothing but breathtaking, and we count our blessings for the opportunity to live here.
But before we moved here we used the lessons we had learnt: in not letting our hearts run away with us, and we drew up a list of our ‘idyll’ for where we wanted to live. With one of the biggest things being that we didn’t want to be in the middle of nowhere. We need to work, we want to work, we have realised that we don’t want to retire, yet, so we need to be nearer to where work is available. We also wanted to be near amenities, but still in the peace of the countryside; where we are now is literally at the tip of a little peninsula, surrounded by sea with a fifteen minute drive just to get out onto the main road, stunningly beautiful, but also remote. There is always a compromise.
All of that has served to re-enforce that we want to be near to a community, including shops, pubs (of course!) and a hub.
Carrickfin Beach and Donegal Airport.
Look at the picture above and you will see a small road on the right hugging the coastline, follow that road up into the outcrop and we currently live at the very end of that little outcrop on the left, literally right by the sea. You cannot even see the house we are so far out. It really is a spectacular place to be, and for a short stay or holiday I personally don’t think it could be beaten. But to get to any main town to work you have to drive almost an hour and a half up through the mountains, so it is impacting on finding work because once our current address is seen we would probably be excluded due to the journey. (Although I think that may be life trying to tell us something.)
Add to all of this that we are surrounded by houses on all sides, as is normal with crofts, it also means that there are other dogs all around us and Wiglet is constantly on a state of high alert. She had a bad start in life, put in a pound with other dogs who beat the crap out of her, so being able to see other dogs in our garden from all angles is her idea of a nightmare. We are stressed because she is stressed and we need to de-stress her.
Wiglet and her Wonky Smile
Poor Harley has constantly been on a lead when we take him out for nearly four months and we can see that he is depressed, which is hardly surprising given that he had the run of an acre of land in Montaigu
Harley, Waiting Patiently
So it’s time to move and things are on their way, more to come……
Rosie
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Last week we decided to find the beautiful long beach that our landlord had told us about. Off we went, sailing past the turning and following the signs depicting The Wild Atlantic Way
The weather was blowing a hooley, pouring with rain, with intermittent strong blasts of driving sleet, it was a joy. Really it was a joy! I am loving every bit of weather that blows our way, in the same way as I embraced every season and what it had to offer in France. I am doing the same here, with the different colours of the sky and sea. But on with my story…
We arrived at a small beach where there was a sign that said ‘No Swimming On This Beach At ANY Time Of The Year’. That should have been a clue! There were people walking on the beach, well in fact they were just leaving as we started to make our way down the wooden walkway onto the beach.
At the bottom of the stairway were a collection of small rocks, with a glen trickling into the sea, which you had to step over, or through if you had your wellygogs on like me. I stopped to look at the waves running back onto the rocks, trying to ascertain whether the tide was coming in.
This beach really lived up to the title of ‘Wild Atlantic Way’. The storm was blowing around us and the waves were pounding the beach, with some literally the size of a house.
Yep! That’s a wave!
RD had made his way onto the beach in front of me, and as I watched the waves run over my wellygogs, they went from covering my toes to coming halfway up my boot, in one wave! I shouted to RD ‘The tide is coming in, we need to go back’ as the third wave came to the top of my boot. He looked at me as if I was mad until he saw how deep the water was becoming, and as I turned and made my way back to the walkway he started to come back, reigning the Welshies in on their leads. But Harley’s lead jammed and as RD was pulling him back manually a huge wave came in and just took RD’s feet out from under him, literally. It pulled Wiglet’s lead and dragged her back into the sea, luckily she managed to scramble onto a rock.
The rocks now filling with water
I had turned round just in time to see it happen, it was so fast, and RD was just laying there, with his back to me, with the waves building up to come again, and I knew we were in trouble.
My immediate reaction was ‘Oh my God!’ But as the wave went out it also pulled RD’s tracksuit bottoms and pants down (thank God we were the only lunatics on the beach!) and I confess as I scrambled back across the rocks a little giggle escaped from me, and although I was terrified I was struggling not to laugh as my husband lay on the beach with his arse on show.
By the time I got to RD he had managed to get up, but was soaked from top to bottom, and was covered in sand. Wiglet was fine and just ran up to me but Harley was still halfway up the ever diminishing beach. I took Harley’s lead and pushed a very shocked RD towards the steps, as I pulled Harley back. I could see RD was in pain, he had hurt his shoulder because as he fell he hit some rocks (with his arse hanging out!).
As we got back to the van I looked back and the whole beach had been covered by the huge crashing waves. It had taken less than four minutes and we had been lucky. RD insisted on driving home, and refused to go to the hospital despite being in pain and unable to lift his arm. I am not going to lie, once we were safe, despite my best intentions I could not breathe for laughing every time the picture of RD on his side, with his arse hanging out came into my head. I’m blaming it on nerves.
The next day Wiglet decided to run at something whilst RD was holding her lead on his injured side, pulling his shoulder so hard it cracked and popped back into his socket. Who knew she was a nurse as well as a naughty terrier?! RD’s shoulder is now fine.
Revenge is sweet: my arse as taken by my husband!
So as they say revenge is sweet. As I wrote in my post about our walks I have a chronic injury in my piriformis muscle in my arse, it makes it very difficult to step up, or push myself up. Yesterday we went for a long walk on the beach and followed it all the way round getting to a low part of the bank where RD said ‘Oh look this has even go a foothold for you.’ Now the problem is as I said my injured leg cannot assist my other leg in either pushing or pulling myself up. So there I was stuck. As I tried to get up instead of helping me RD stood behind me taking a series of photos of my dilemma (and arse) and crying with laughter as he did so.
As I tried to get up, hearing him laughing I started to laugh, not good for a woman of a certain age who has had children!
So I suppose the moral of this story, in such dark times, is see the funny side, and don’t take life so seriously. We don’t and we feel all the better for it.
Have a good Sunday folks.
Rosie
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We arrived at 2am on New Years Day. Moving countries is exhausting, as someone said ‘You do like a big move don’t you?
Well if you’re going to have an adventure you may as well make it a big one!
I have lots to write about, but right now I have to take the dogs out as we cannot let them run free. So I thought I would share with you photos from our ten minute walk to the beach yesterday….breathtaking
The beach, surrounded by snow topped mountains The Wild Atlantic WayWe’re going on this beach todayThe Walk Down To The BeachWe Are Surrounded By This Mountain View RD walking into the clouds Sunset On The Beach In Beautiful Donegal A Happy Man
I think it’s fair to say, I have a knack for finding a view! But that’s not hard on the beautiful emerald Isle.
Rosie
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Nearly three years ago (in March next year) I wrote about our youngest cat Tilly, and how we had lost her. She went out one day, and never came back. We were heartbroken, and every time I drive past the woods in our lane I think of Tilly.
Last week we had all of the animals vaccinated, including the rabies jab. We smiled and chatted about our naughty black kitten, and how we wished we were taking her with us, despite the huge expense! We hoped she was with someone who loved her, or hadn’t suffered if she had left this mortal coil. We knew she had always been a free spirit, and naughty (which is why we love her so), and that there was a high likelihood that she would not live a long life.
Last night Tilly came back to our garden! Harley the Welshie was barking incessantly and wouldn’t come in, no matter what we did to persuade him. So poor old RD had to put his trainers on and trudge off up the chemin to the very farthest part of our garden where he found Harley who was clearly barking at something up the huge oak tree. When RD shone the torch there she was, Tinky Tiny Tilly, from Tinky Tiny Tilly Land. RD was adamant it was her, because she responded to her name and closed her eyes in love at him, and let out her little meow that only she could do. He grabbed Harley, and was frantically calling me. In the meantime I was going into the garden to look for him, he called me and I blindly made my way up the chemin in the pitch black, but Tilly was so spooked she ran off like a Jack Rabbit before I could get there.
There we stood in our jimby jamby’s and dressing gowns in the pouring of rain frantically calling her, whilst the dogs were locked indoors.
Daisy Pussy Upsy was Tilly’s bestest friend, and she joined us sniffing inquisitively up the tree, at the bottom of the tree, and at the part if the fence where Tilly had made her exit. She even went out again later looking for her.
I am convinced now it was Tilly, but what do we do? We leave this house a week on Sunday. Even if she had come back today it would be too late to take her to Ireland, she needs twenty-two days minimum before she can travel. We are in turmoil, we can’t stay, but the thought of leaving her behind is beyond our comprehension.
We have been searching for her today, but no sign; and are just about to go back out in the dark, when she must feel safer, to call her whilst the Welshies remain indoors. If we find her between now and when we leave we will get her jabbed and put her in the cattery to settle her, and RD will come back earlier than planned from Ireland to collect Tilly and our furniture. I have also asked our lovely immoblier and friend Aidan, if I can give him her passport, and if she turns up after we have left will he arrange for her to go into the cattery and get her jabbed. It’s all we can do.
We strongly believe that life will show us the way. For Tilly to come home now, as if to say don’t forget me, is surely a sign. Or was she just coming to say goodbye?
Come home Til Til ❤️🥲
Rosie
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As you can probably tell I am trying to cherish every beautiful sunrise that I see. There are not many left here for me to cherish. I know there will be new ones, I am not sad about our decisions, but those new ones are not here yet, and I firmly remind myself to live in the here and now.
November Sunset in Ambrieres les Vallees France
When I find my new home I will put up a collections of the sunrises and sunsets that I have had the blessing to see whilst living here in France. It’s been a part of my life.
Life has took off now, we have less than three weeks left in this house. I have been packing for the last two weeks, and now every cupboard is empty apart from the stuff we’re using. The home we built is now being dismantled. I have held onto my sparkly lights until next week, just to feel as if we are still at home, but I know I will have to relinquish them eventually.
I have been mercenary, even selling our vintage Blue Willow plates, bowls and side plates, they are just not my thing, I prefer my plain white plates. It was only after I sold them that I realised that I had packed all our other plates and now we have no small plates or dinner plates, just platters! When I gave Daisy the cat some milk and cream she looked at me as if I had grown another head when I poured it out for her on a platter!
Our Beautiful Bedroom. I will create a new one. I always do.Dismantling
The shelves are coming down, our antique French mirrors are packed away and my bedroom that I lovingly put together is slowly being dismantled, but I am still trying to hold on to my sparklies in every room for as long as I can.
Our beautiful French buffet is now in storage along with our armoire, both have already gained scratches but I knew that was coming. No stress they can always be repainted.
The fourteen mirrors we have throughout the house are coming down. The old grandfather clock has been taken to storage and when I woke this morning waiting for it to chime out the time, I suddenly remembered it was now chiming away in our friends summer house. I hope the mice appreciate it, and don’t feel the need to re-enact ‘Hickory Dickory Dock’!
Our furries are stressed to the max, the dogs are getting tetchy with each other, and the cats have finally started to snuggle together after being at odds for years. We feel really guilty about our animals, poor Wiglet looks afraid all the time after her terrible start in life, and we have to keep reassuring her that everything will be okay, that she is coming with us. Harley pretty much takes most things in his stride but even he is getting arsy with Wiglet.
I feel sad because I know they all love this garden, and because I know they will have to move again from our rental into whatever house we find; and God knows what condition that will be in. I do know that the first job will be to fence the garden to protect them all. Despite my guilt I know that part of our decision is based on finding regular work, because we have responsibilities to them, and I know that they will love Ireland just as much as they love here.
We know in our heart of hearts that we are doing the right thing for us all; and we also know that if you want an adventure part of it is discomfort, and apprehension, and poignancy. But we’ve done it once, we know we can do it again. This time we’re just letting more stuff go, and going into the future with our eyes open, using all we have learned from this adventure.
As I packed up this week it suddenly came to me that the last five years have all been about learning things to prepare us for our life in Ireland. We know that life is mapped out, we accepted that a long time ago.
Life’s all about learning and facing your fears ay?
Rosie
Sunsets from my French garden in France
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Anyone who follows this blog knows that I have always loved the sunrises over the valley. I have shared them often with you, the photo above is todays sunrise and I promised more in one of my recent posts, I hadn’t forgotten.
At this time of year the winds can whip up quickly in the valleys, but despite their ferocity at times I have always loved laying in bed with my beloved husband and Welshies and listen to them whooshing around the house. and more than anything I love to hear the rain hitting the drawn down shutters. I lay in bed with all my blessings around me and I listen to that rain and I feel safe, and blessed to have shelter. It is a small thing to some, but living here listening to that calming sound has made me understand that it’s not a small thing, it’s the thing that people search for: a home, safety, love.
This week we were reminded again, to live in the here and now. Harley has been a little off colour over the past few weeks, and I noticed he was drinking more, and he had some accidents in the house. On Friday he literally wet himself in front of us, so I took him to the vet on Saturday morning. The outcome was that they wanted to test him for ‘Cushings’ disease. Of course I had already looked up possibilities of what could be wrong with him, and I knew that this possible outcome was not good. Harley is nine now, and I want him to live forever (tears in my eyes now.)
We booked the test for today, and we cried all day on Saturday, and I just kept saying my mantra ‘here and now, here and now’ over and over again.
I joined numerous Facebook groups to ask for advice. The outpouring of support from those sites, and our wonder Welsh Terrier Fan Club site was overwhelming. In these difficult times it was a joy to know that people are still good people, it appears thats especially where our beloved animals are concerned.
Our vet is a lovely vet, but he is an agricultural vet primarily and after much discussion, taking into account that many people who have had to deal with this disease advised to have his urine tested in a lab and a culture grown, that we are moving to Ireland in ten weeks approx, the complexity of dealing with the disease (if he has it) and the complexity of diagnosis (get it wrong and give him the meds with terrible side effects and it could kill him), and that he would have to be monitored we decided not to go ahead with the test. We feel that for now we have made the right choice. It would appear that Harley does too, as he has stopped drinking as much and has perked right up.
So that will be something to keep my eye on, because we have approximately forty days before we have to leave this house, and there is still so much to do.
A bientot.
Rosie
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So after a slow start we have all signed the Compromise de Vente. Our buyers have a cooling off period but despite this they have paid their ten per cent deposit and paid to expedite the process, so it’s looking promising. It looks as if we will be leaving our home just after Christmas, if not before. Christmas is cancelled in our house.
We had started weeks ago with regard to getting the house ready to pack, including sorting the barn…
Yep! Why?
We have been clearing out cupboards, being really mercenary with letting things go. We have learned from this adventure that you have to let go to move forward. Despite knowing this I find we have to constantly remind ourselves. So due to this I am offering my son’s beautiful cherrywood cot, that turns into a bed, for free on a giveaway site. He’s 31, I think it’s time to let it go.
On Sunday we gave away his chess set and superhero figures to our neighbours little boy. I know why I bought them over here, I have realised that ‘letting go’ is a gradual process that, if we embrace change, happens over time. I loved my old house, it was the house where my son left home from, it was a beautiful house, and I couldn’t let it all go at once. But as we learn that change brings new things into our lives, so we let go to allow room.
There is a lot to do, and RD will be working for 3 to 4 weeks of the time left. So today we got up full of good intentions, despite both of us having a bad nights sleep, to crack on with clearing the goats shed, and the cellar. But I knew that we needed to plan this huge move, and the planning had to start from today, with everything to consider: money, the process, the order of things that needed to be done, and not least in the mix were our beloved animals. They have to be jabbed: the cats to enable them to go into the cattery at least 3 days before the actual move, and they and the Welshies need to have rabies jabs at least 22 days before the move.
We had to think are we taking the cats on the boat, for twenty hours, or fly them out to us. This would mean leaving them for up to eight weeks in a cattery, and I don’t want to spend a thousand euros on that. As part of our discussions we also both said we don’t want to leave them in France when we are not here. The decision has been made, they’re coming with us.
That led onto the discussion as to room in the van, leading on to ‘do we leave our stuff over here for months, or make arrangements to collect it sooner rather than later?’
To make all these decisions we had to contact the vets for prices for the inoculations, and a storage facility in Ireland, who acted like I was mad when I asked if he required a deposit, saying very kindly ‘Oh I don’t think there’s any need for that.’ We had to look up boats and what facilities they offer for our beloved furries, and so much more.
We need to find somewhere to stay for the ten days after the move, in France we have to leave the house at least 2 days before the sale goes through, because the house has to be clean, tidy and all blemishes and marks have to be made good. It’s all part of selling your house over here. On the day we all sign the final ‘Acte de Vente’ we hand the keys over there and then. There is no going back.
I wondered if we all pontificate when it comes to moving, because of that fear of change. I think we do.
So six hours after starting planning the day was nearly gone, but the plans have been mapped out on paper, decisions have been made and tomorrow we get up at 7! Hopefully I will get a wonderful sunrise to share.
Rosie
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It’s a blowy, blustery day here in France. One of those types of days that I love: when the rain is blown in and literally back out again by the ferocity of the wind, and the trees are waving away like demented stick giants frantically trying to tell us something.
I found the quote at the beginning of the post, today. As always, at a time when I needed to be reminded. What we will need will come. Selling houses are always such stressful times.
I reminded RD last night as we lay in our pretty little bedroom cuddling, with the lights sparkling away, and the Welshies gently snoring, that despite what we think we want, we must remember to live in the here and now: with our lovely house, with it’s stunning views, because that is all we have. As I lay in the night listening to the rain hitting the shutters I was reminded that this was one of the first things I loved about living here: that noise of the rain being flung about by the wind, knocking at the shutters as if asking to come into the safe and warm.
I think selling houses gets you so caught up in the planning for the future that you can often lose sight of the fact that you’re not really living your current moment. It was timely that the quote was sent my way today.
We had ordered some wood for the winter, knowing that despite the pending move nothing is certain and that we still need it for the here and now. With RD working it was down to me to take delivery and decant into our log store.
It was just what I needed: to be out in the blowey blustery day working, whilst I let the wind clear my mind. Nature was kind to me, the sun came out and the rain blew on by. I took some time to watch as the leaves dancing in the air as if some mad puppet master had control of them, at one point it looked as if they were marching in a line.
Now after a few hours work I sit here….
It is one of my favourite places to sit, and I am listening to the wind blowing through the trees, the sun is streaming through the window and I am again counting my blessings.
Rosie
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