Tag Archives: Love

The biggest green eyes in the world

01 Wednesday Jan 2020

Posted by in Change is a coming, Friends, My family and other furry creatures, The adventures of living life in the French countryside, The continuing adventure

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Pat a cake, pat a cake

Bakers man

Bake me a cake as fast as you can

Pat it, and prick it

And mark it with C

And out it in the Oven for Molly and me

Molly Kitten was born in our cupboard on the 1st of May 2000. We told Tom he could pick a kitten from the five born, and he picked another one. But this naughty kitten picked us, and she would come out of the cupboard and do naughty things to make us laugh, needless to say Tom changed his mind.

Molly died in my arms at twenty minutes past midnight last night. She saw in the New Year in my arms, held close and loved, just as I promised her she would be.

I know she was loved from the moment she was born, until the moment she died, she was my beautiful girl. All her life I have recited the above nursery rhyme to her, whilst she let me pat her paws; and at the end, during the closing days, I would stroke her and whisper it to her as a comfort.

She had many names, not least Cowbag Kitten because she was so naughty; but through her long life she was also known as Princess Tippytoes, Madam Pomfrey, Shark tail, and most of all my beautiful green eyed girl.

When we brought new kittens home she would immediately become their surrogate mum. I know Tilly was coming to take her home, we lost Tilly nearly two years ago. Last night Daisy lay behind me on the sofa as I held her, and Diddies lay close by. Everybody loved her so.

When RD was gone during ‘The War’ Molly would lay one side of me on the sofa, with our old Westie, Snowy the Dude, on the other side of me. It was as if they were hugging me, telling me I would be okay. I know that dog will be part of the contingent who came to take her to rainbow bridge.

She never liked the cold, my Mil Mol Hol Pol. She was never happier snuggled somewhere warm, or in the hot sun in summer. When she was two years old she jumped out of our bedroom window onto,our flat roof and landed in two inches of snow, the look in her face as she turned to me and meowed, as if to say WTF is this?

She was a prolific hunter, especially birds, so when we moved her to live by the sea and a seagull that was bigger than her landed on our balcony one day she just stopped in her tracks, and looked at Rich and Meowed loudly, as if to say ‘why have you bought me somewhere where birds can eat me?’ It didn’t stop her climbing up the roof to take a look at their nest though, resulting in both her and me being dive-bombed by angry seagulls.

She was fourteen when we brought her to France, she retired to the continent and spent her last days in front of the fire or laying in the baking sun. She loved milk and cream, and food, and ate up to her last day.

She didn’t want to go, she wanted to stay forever, because all she had ever known was love, and all she ever gave was love. But I whispered to her last night to let go, go with them and wait for me, until I arrive one day.

We have to bury her today, I know that what is lovingly wrapped in a towel downstairs is just Molly’s shell, her spirit has gone, but I will find it so hard to leave her in the cold.

Farewell my beautiful green eyed girl, I promised you that you would die with mummy and daddy and you did. The kitchen was empty this morning without you there to meow hello.

I lied I will cry, I am crying now.

Mummy

Two Christmas’s

25 Wednesday Dec 2019

Posted by in Friends, Galavanting, laughter & giggles, My family and other furry creatures, People, Simple things, The adventures of living life in the French countryside, The continuing adventure, The seasons

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It’s been a whirlwind few days after our son Tom surprised us on Saturday. We have tried to cram so much into three days, because he had already committed to going to my sisters house for Christmas day, and it was only right that he fulfilled that commitment.

We decided to have two Christmas’s one with them and one on the day.

On the Saturday we went out to visit someone who has been nothing but kind to us. She is alone and for me Christmas is about understanding and giving something other than gifts: time. We had already arranged to visit her, and Tom and Chris (the boys) volunteered to come with us. Trundling into the back of RD’s van (totally illegal!) and moaning about their arses hurting them.

When we arrived these two young men were so polite and kind, even sorting out some technical stuff for her on her computer. I was so proud of them both: another gift.

We then took a detour to the medieval city of Domfront, with its beautiful lights, and had a few drinks in a quintessential French tabac. The weather was awful, but it couldn’t damp our spirits.

It’s strange how we can all revert back to being ‘mum and dad’ with our kids. Tom has a good job, lives in Newcastle, contacts me when he wants and needs to, and I pretty much leave him to his own devices. He is an adult I am not an ‘over motherer’. I had him to live his life. But on Saturday they went out late and drove to a town near us to see if any bars were open. We didn’t go, we would have ‘cramped their style’, and also we were knackered! But they said they were coming back for chicken burgers and we waited up for them, knowing the bars in France do not stay open late. But when they hadn’t come back by 1am we started to worry, wtf! I looked at RD and we both started to laugh, because he felt the same. Our son looks after himself in Newcastle all the time, and we never worry, yet as soon as he comes over to us we become worried parents. I gave in and rang him. A very pissed Tom rang me back from a house in Lassay, they had been invited by some French girls they had met in a bar (nothing changes!) Tom thought it was hilarious that his mum was ringing him. I cooked the chicken burgers and left them out for them. When we got up the next morning they had obviously cooked chips, because they were everywhere. Nothing changes!

We visited Mayenne on the Sunday, where Christmas activities were taking place, and had mulled wine and hot chocolate.

When we got home we had an alternative Christmas dinner, of roast lamb and all the trimmings.

Followed by an evening in front of the fire and TV. Bless Chris he had driven for over ten hours to get Tom to us, so that was him!

On Monday we went shopping, I cannot begin to tell you the amount of wine and cheese they bought! We played Monopoly, and ate spaghetti Bolognaise very very late.

It was a joy to see RD with them. I realised just how much he misses the banter of being around men. They always used to love tormenting RD, but they never won, he always got them in the end, and nothing changes. I love this video, it sums these few days up.

https://www.facebook.com/moira.swindell/videos/2869801423030602/

It was all going too fast, and Tuesday came too quickly. Very early in the morning, in the dark before dawn, we hugged them goodbye. Am I crying now? Of course I am.

So it’s Christmas day, and we are still in bed, even the Welshies are worn out from the whirlwind of fun.

We will have our traditional turkey dinner, and have a very quiet day. But we will have the greatest gift of all: memories.

Have a mellow Christmas folks.

Rosie

The best Christmas Present ever

22 Sunday Dec 2019

Posted by in Friends, My family and other furry creatures, People, The adventures of living life in the French countryside, The continuing adventure, The good life

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A quick post, more to come. Our son’s birthday is on Christmas Eve. The plan was that he would come out and spend Christmas with us this year; but flights were too expensive, everything was too expensive and despite all our efforts we all agreed it wasn’t possible. Yes I was disappointed, we haven’t seen him for two year, but as you know I am also philosophical and I did not want him to start the New Year with debt because of a trip to see us.

He was disappointed because he is thirty this year, a milestone birthday. But I put a brave face on it, we planned to put some money into his account and were going to call him at my sisters house on his birthday. I ordered his birthday card from Moonpig on Friday to be delivered to my sisters house so that it would be waiting for him when he got there.

Yesterday we had a lay in, and got up at ten. We were meant to be out and about early but something stopped us, and as we sat in our wingback chairs in the window, and I chatted to my sister on the phone, I heard the gate go, and the dogs started to bark. Still in my jymbies I stood up to see who it was, and saw my son standing in my garden looking at me. (I have tears in my eyes now!) I couldn’t believe it, and found myself in denial, with my brain telling me he couldn’t have got here. (Any train or plane would have meant someone would have to collect him). All was explained when in walked his friend Chris, who we haven’t seen for five years! Every Christmas for many years he would spend Christmas evening at our house, eating and playing Monopoly (a Christmas tradition.) and he has often said how he misses us.

I cried, RD cried. What a fabulous surprise. Tom (Ethan) had been travelling for over twenty-four hours, Chris pretty much the same. For the love of us. That is what Christmas is about.

So much more to tell you, but have to go and make more memories.

Just a little tantaliser here we are stuffing our faces with bread, cheese and wine. Happy days.

Rosie

Cherishing every moment

22 Friday Nov 2019

Posted by in Change is a coming, My family and other furry creatures, My home, Simple things, The adventures of living life in the French countryside, The continuing adventure, Us

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These are two of our cats (we only have three left now!) Molly, the cat ‘doing the washing’, and Daisy, the cat being washed. I took this photo yesterday as I sat at our window in our wingback chairs blogging.

I am cherishing the moment. You see Molly is nearly twenty years old, and we know that the time is coming that she will leave us. In the past two weeks alone I have shed tears for her. As her condition deteriorates I have thought I would wake up and she would be gone. But every morning when we come downstairs she has rallied, and gives a loud miaow.

On Saturday she took a turn for the worse, and wouldn’t eat. We always said that when she wouldn’t eat it was time, all day she just lay in front of the fire. So we topped it up with logs before we went to bed, just to make sure she was warm.

RD got up on Sunday morning (our ‘have our tea in bed day’) because he didn’t want me to find her; but when he came down she was up, perky, and shouting; she ate a bowl of food and had two plates of milk and cream! (She can have what she wants now, in her limited time).

But I know, after holding her close on Tuesday when she deteriorated again that our days left together are few.

Twenty years is a long time.

Rosie

This poignant time

03 Sunday Nov 2019

Posted by in For the live of dogs, Reflections, The continuing adventure, The good, the bad and the ugly., The seasons

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Since you went away the days grow long
And soon I’ll hear old winter’s song
But I miss you most of all my darling
When autumn leaves start to fall

Anyone who reads this blog knows that I love Autumn, for its colours, for what it symbolises: letting go; and because it never fails to remind me that everything must change. That yearly reminder that things must die to make room for the new. It has that constant air of poignancy for what was, for the time that has past and for the things we have lost.

But this year it has been particularly poignant. We both adore our dogs, we believe that dogs teach you about unconditional love, and we are both members of some social media sites that celebrate the Welshie breed, with their smiling faces, and love of cuddles, and wickedly stubborn temperament.

I recently wrote about the tragic death of Dylan the Welshie puppy who was counted as part of our family, but since her death two other young pups have died in tragic circumstances, one was drowned by a goose, and the other, just fourteen months old, was hit by a car. As I write this now my eyes brim with tears for the loss, and for the pain that all those left behind feel. So this year when I look out on the grey rainy days that we have here, and the leaves and walnuts falling from the trees, I am reminded, yet again, that where there is life there is death; there can be no life without it.

“the longest-lived and those who die soonest lose the same thing. The present. The present is all that they can give up since that is all you have and what you do not have, you cannot lose.”

Marcus Aurelius

Treasure every moment, treasure every sunbeam, every raindrop, every rainy day. Hold those close to you tight.

Rosie

Autumn leaves written by Songwriters: Giorgio Canali / Francesco Magnelli / Gianni Maroccolo / Massimo Zamboni / Giovanni Lindo Ferretti

My mad house

31 Thursday Oct 2019

Posted by in For the live of dogs, My family and other furry creatures, My home, The continuing adventure

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I think this picture pretty much sums up the madness of our house. This is my pretty new basket, which Diddymandod has decided to make her new bed, well one of them anyway!

This is my wet washing with two cats, Molly our very old senile cat, and Daisy, now our youngest since Tilly left

one day and never came home.

This is Wiglet the Welshie, also known as Wiglet the Piglet, wub wub, because I wub her, Princess, Titties, wibble wobble wubble wibble jelly on a plate, and so many more names. I give up trying to keep throws and cushions clean in our house.

This is Harley, the cuddle bunny, my beautiful boy, who made us fall in love with Welshies. After nearly losing him two years ago I say to him every day, ‘we love him more than words can say.’

I have been busy painting our bedroom furniture this week, and because the days have been grey and wet I have had the company of two Welshies asleep on my bed, and Diddymandod, in the draw of the unit that has been removed for painting. Would I have it any other way? No. We don’t care about having to rewash the washing, or cat hairs on our clothes, or mud on the throws on the chairs; we only care about the love that all of these animals bring to our home.

We are blessed.

Rosie

A feeling of disbelief and incredible sadness

14 Monday Oct 2019

Posted by in For the live of dogs, Friends, My family and other furry creatures, The continuing adventure

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Last year I shared a series of posts from our wonderful, crazy summer, with our friend Karen and her naughty little bundle of mischief Dylly Dyls, the puppy Welsh Terrier that had joined Karen’s life the year before. Karen blogged about the antics of Princess Wiglet and Dylan, they were best buddies, on her blog Dylans Welshie world.

We celebrated birthdays, and the world cup, hosted here in France, and the dogs had a summer of chasing each other, swimming in the pool, playing tuggies with mops (Dylan’s favourite toy in all the world) and Dylan loved riding on the lawn mower with uncle Richard, with whom she celebrated her first birthday on the same day.

The catchphrase of the simmer was ‘Dylan what have you got in your mouth.’ That puppy loved to pick Up everything, and I mean everything up in her mouth, and run with it. Sticks, socks, pants, phones, lighters, packets, you name it. Dylan was a one year old bundle of mischief.

Punctuated within all of this fun and frolic was lots of sleeping, as you do, wherever you fall.

But as autumn drew in things changed and Dylan had a new family. By the late spring she and her mum were off on a new adventure: to live in Spain with her new family and new baby sister, who although a pup was five times bigger than her. But that didn’t deter Dilly Dilly, oh no! She was top dog, and shouted at everyone as they swam in the pool. She spent hours with lots of other dogs, and life was the best.

Dylan was my friends baby, she saved her at a time when so much had changed. Along came this little, fat tempestuous puppy, who was nearly named Chubster, and she gave Karen’s life new meaning and form; and as dogs always do she gave her unconditional love, and taught Karen about giving love, and allowing herself to be vulnerable.

Last Thursday Dylan and her sister pulled down a bin bag that her loving parents thought had been put out of reach. When they were found Dylan had eaten chicken bones, and despite Karen’s determined attempts, the little bugger swallowed them. They perforated her intestines and Dylan collapsed. She was rushed to the vets where Karen pleaded with them to do all they can. But sadly Dylan died in Karen’s arms. Karen could not bring herself to tell us until yesterday, she believed that if she wrote it down it would make it real.

We spoke today, both cried together, I am still crying now. Karen? She is lost, and distraught, and caught in the grip of despair. I wrote years ago about how Harley nearly died, and how a guardian angel saved his life. That angel was Karen, Harley would not be here if it were not for her. What do you say to the person who saved your dog, but nothing could be done to save theirs? Where do you begin? Just listen I suppose, which I will always do. We feel so powerless, so weak, there are no words that can offer comfort.

Dylan had the most adventurous life in her two years of life. She spent a summer with us in France, lived in England, lived in Spain, swam in pools, met new dogs, and made people fall in love with her wherever she went. She persuaded uncle Richard to squirt cream directly into her mouth, chased cats, pulled cupboards down, and had me running after her as she ran straight into our French neighbours house. She took on cows, and sometimes Harley and Wiglet. She was such a little bugger.

She left too soon, there is nothing more to be said. But she taught us all so much, and will leave a lasting legacy, and so many memories.

I am writing this in homage of Dylan for my friend. There is nothing more I can do.

Farewell Dylan, run free on rainbow bridge my darling.

Auntie Moira

Laughter and giggles: Tormenting each other”

24 Saturday Aug 2019

Posted by in laughter & giggles, Simple things, The adventures of living life in the French countryside, The continuing adventure, Us

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My last Laughter & giggles post proved very popular so I have decided to have a section dedicated to the things that make us laugh every day.

Those who read my other Blog will know we have had our trials and tribulations, but even in the throes of them my husband’s piss-taking dry sense of humour has still made me laugh.

Even when I wanted to be really furious with him, he would make me laugh: like the time (just four months after ‘The War’) when we went to Crotoy in France. We rented bikes and rode down little narrow streets and got totally lost; with me in the lead saying ‘Oh look at that babes, I’ve never noticed that before’. When in fact we had ridden down the same road three times and even past a bloody great water tower! H proceeded to call me ‘my wife the Goldfish’.

Then there is his cheekiness, like the time when it was very hot and my visiting friend took her bra off from under her top. As she walked across the garden with drinks in her hand H shouted out ‘careful you don’t trip over them!’ My oblivious friend started to frantically look for what was going to trip her up, until she realised. – He gets used to being called a bastard, albeit through tears of laughter.

So to the current day: H has decided that every time I take a drink of my squash he is going to make loud glugging noises. Each time I start to laugh, and go ‘leave me’ in a pleading voice. But no! Each time I went back to drink my drink he did it again, so much so he could hardly do it for giggling, and I couldn’t drink because I was laughing. He was not content until I had laughed into my drink and spilt it all over me!

But I get my revenge: yesterday as he was obliviously scratching his bottom lip using his teeth I proceeded to do it back to him and he laughed and bit his lip! Revenge is sweet!

You see no matter what we go through, or have been through, we laugh every day, and for that we are blessed.

Rosie

Counting My Blessings: Day 10

02 Wednesday Jan 2019

Posted by in My family and other furry creatures, People, Reflections, Simple things, The continuing adventure

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So here I am on my final post of the ten day series Counting My Blessings and I am going to cheat, I am counting three in this post, and will put it under the heading ‘My Family’.

First let’s talk about my son Tom (also known as Ethan) I chose this picture carefully because he is on top of a peak in the Lake District in England, with the sun behind him, and for me it symbolises how he can do anything he wants, he is young, and his life is in front of him with every opportunity available should he wish to take it.

I am proud of him: how he has coped with mum and dad moving to France, has pursued his dream of working in the gaming industry and has never given that up. I don’t think he realises just how much strength you need to pursue your dream, and exactly how much strength he actually has.

He is full of fun, empathetic and learnt his lesson to walk in others shoes and is loved by so many people. I am proud of him.

Now my second blessing, my sister. She will kill me for putting this photo on, but she has to be in this, not least for the support she has given Tom over the past four years. The second photo is of Tom and I, with Tom getting ready to walk her down the aisle.

We have had our ups and downs, as sisters do! She thinks she’s always right ( and annoyingly more often than not she is!) But she is always there, she cares, and Tom would not have his dream job without her tenacity and love.

Now last but never least:

My husband R/D

If any of you have read my serialisation of my soon to be published book (it will happen this year whatever) https://makingthisbetter.com you will know how R/D I and sailed The Ocean of Despair for a long time, to get to where we are today.

This man fought tooth and nail to keep me; he evolved because he wanted to, not because I asked him to; because I never did! After what happened he had to keep up with me, I wasn’t going to wait for him!

And every minute of every hour of every day he did.

I once had someone say to me that they ‘had never had a man look at them in the way R/D looks at me’ and that was true, I know I am truly blessed to have that in my life.

He is a kind and gentle giant, who enabled me to trust him enough to come on this adventure. He makes me laugh every day, literally every day, with his dry sense of humour, and silliness.

Everyone he meets loves him, because he just sees the funny side of life. Look at him in this picture, he is so naughty he has led them all astray.

I am blessed to have this man in my life, he is sensitive and loving; strong when I need him. I could not be on this adventure without him. We are blessed to be as strong as we are now, and we both count that blessing every day, and NEVER take it for granted.

I know he will cry when he reads this; and that just makes me love him even more.

So my final blessing, my family, but more than that: the pride I have for my son, the hope I have for him too.

The understanding I have of my sister, and the respect too. My book wouldn’t exist if it wasn’t for her!

The respect I have for my husband, the love I have for them all. I am truly blessed.

I hope you have enjoyed this series; And I hope it has made people think about the small things, because, trust me, they are the things that keep you going in life. So in this New Year, please take time to stop, and see the small stuff.

Rosie

Counting My Blessings: Day 7

30 Sunday Dec 2018

Posted by in My family and other furry creatures, My home, Reflections, Simple things, The adventures of living life in the French countryside, The continuing adventure

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This is Wiglet, my curly blessing; and I count her as a blessing for many reasons:

Wiglet came into our life three years ago, when she was two years old. She had been bought to show and breed; and she came from high ranking French hunting stock. But the problem was her tail would not behave; it was just too curly, like a piglet’s tail.

Due to this she would not win shows; so in the first year of her life she was operated on twice to straighten her tail! As you can see Wiglet is just a curl, from the top of her head to the tip of her tail, and that wilful little tail would not be straightened!

Wiglet didn’t help herself when she then killed one of her owners chickens, and she was kept in a pound with other bigger dogs who then attacked her (she has issues now around food, so it was at feeding time we believe). In the end she was attacked so badly that she had to have a new home and was shipped off to a chateau just outside Paris, with another male Welshie.

But the aristocratic who had Wiglet did not like her. We believe he wanted to hunt with her and she is afraid of gunshots; add to that the fact that she was now a vulnerable little Welsh Terrier who needed love and she ran away, in the middle of Paris!

So Wiglet was sent back to her previous owner, back to the other dogs who attacked her, and she had to be shut away from the dogs in a small room. This was now home number four for her, because she had been with so many people.

But serendipity stepped in, as she always does, and a friend of ours (the lady who bred Harley) suggested us to her owner, we knew Welshies, and we knew their naughty and extremely loving ways; poor Rich, when I heard of her plight I just called the owner and didn’t even ask him. ‘We can’t afford another dog!’ He said. Wiglet came to live with us two days later.

Do you think she is a daddy’s girl?

She is our blessing because she is so grateful to live with us. She loves her adopted brother Harley, and she is grateful for the love we give her, with her sweet vulnerable little face looking up at us each day.

She gives us so much love, and when she smiles her wonky little smile it makes my heart break for the suffering she had. When I bought her a new bed, her own bed that no other dog had had before her, she got in it and that was that, it was her place; and she lays beside me every night in that bed, snoring.

Every morning she wakes me with a tap of her paw and a smile, waiting for a head rub.

She was sent to us, as much as we were sent to her, and she is a blessing.

Let’s share this series, lets get people counting their small blessings, they help to put things in perspective you know!

Moisy