welsh hills again

Three weeks since I last blogged.  Why?  I don't know.  That is the reason, I think, that I don't know.  I don't know what is happening with the virus and what we should and should not be doing.  Following each twist and turn of what is happening is impossible.  One moment it seems that some sort of normality is reappearing - yoga classes restart, we spend a weekend with older son and his family.  The next it is clear that numbers of cases of the virus are surging up again.  Friday saw the largest number of new confirmed cases since the peak of the outbreak with 6,874 people testing positive.  At the moment hospital admissions and mortality figures are not rising as steeply, perhaps partly because the age profile of those testing positive remains much younger than it was in the earlier peak in the pandemic here in the UK and younger people do not tend to be as severely hit.  The Chief Scientific and Medical Officers, however, are predicting a significant increase in the num

Well the nicest of reasons for not blogging for the last couple of weekends:  some time spent with younger son and his family.  They have three children under seven and two dogs, all pretty well behaved but nevertheless life was suddenly very full with all moments spoken for and "Grandma!  Grandma!" the rallying cry.  These are days you have to make the most of.  Our oldest grandchild is now a young man of fourteen, lovely and loving but living his own life with his own friends and enthusiasms, just as it should be.  It seems no time since he was three and insisting on sitting next to Grandma at the table, having Grandma put him to bed and read him stories.  So while there are stories to be read and games to play and children pursuing you around the garden - "Grandma, where are you?" - these are the days that lay the foundations for a life long relationship. So there is hair to be brushed and plaited and ribbons to be tied.  The youngest is a two year old little boy