Apropos of nothing, did you see the Guardian article on the 20 best UK walks with a great pub lunch last weekend? Moel Siabod featured amongst them – just saying… and to think I get to look at it every day – or at least everyday when the weather is reasonable…
We took delivery today of our new 3-fold leaflets. We had drafted something late last week, and then suddenly realised that the season is virtually upon us, so we polished up the draft, and now have several thousand to share around. We have also made our eighth batch of marmalade on Sunday, using a subtly different recipe. Since the cafe had a steady flow of customers over the weekend, the outstanding wall destruction in the long corridor had to take place after hours – but now the entrance to the stairwell (when it can be made and fitted) is cleared:
Last evening Jane and I went to the Penmachno quiz for Welsh learners which was very enlightening, but as all introduction and instruction was in welsh, I suspect I only understood about 5-10% of what was happening. Today I have been mostly in the cafe and/or domestic duties while Mike has removed the original door into the bar, and then cut an access hole from floor 1 to the ground floor, so that we can check floor to floor heights accurately.
Mike and I also took some time today to study the plans we received on Friday. These are not yet the finalised plans, since there are some outstanding queries regarding the building engineer’s calculations with Building Control (like joist hangar strength and position). So long as we don’t try to build anything yet, we should be OK doing some of the destruction so that we are ready for construction as soon as we get the word.
For the sake of completeness, I suppose I should also confess I took a tumble over the weekend. It was the most extraordinary: my feet sort of got caught up with themselves. What struck me most was that, since I last had a fall, all my elegance in flight and skill in landing seems to have vanished. I could feel myself going, but was aware I had all the grace of a falling brick. I also suspect that when the bruises come out, they will be far more extensive than they used to be back in the days when I played contact sports, which is probably about the last time I (a) fell over so completely and (b) got bruised so extensively. It only proves tempus fugit and takes much of our youthful bounce with it.