The Shit

This is the latest installation to grace Piazza Della Signoria in Florence. Florentines, I have been reliably informed, call it 'the shit.'

I find it quite apt.

Music and Pictures

I do not tire of looking at pictures of my girl. In fact, most of the time I find it comforting. It is music I cannot stand. Certain songs I used to listen to when I was dressing her tumor or watching her amble across the terrace. They are unlistenable. Some folk would probably argue they were unlistenable even before then - especially my James Blunt collection.

There I made a joke, that's something I suppose.

About a week after she went to the artichokes,
I received a mail out of the blue from Alberto her old oncologist. He moved 300km up north back in July but he had been told of her artichoke relocation by her vet clinic. It was lovely to hear from him. He really was the best vet she ever had and the letter he wrote to me summed up why I felt this.

 I have pasted it below.

Hi Joanna,

I’m Alberto, I’ve just known about TP.. I’m really sorry, you’ve been her best friend for years, you loved her till the end.

I wanna thank you. I don't know exactly how to say it.. If I loved  being a veterinarian and if I'm terribly missing my job, it's because of persons like you and patients like TP.

Now I'm sad to know that she's gone, I feel like a part of me has gone away with her.

A big hug,

Alberto

Pandora's Smile - radio version

If you want to hear my story being narrated by...um..me. You can do so here.

Calendar girl

I recently received news that Three Paw will appear in one of the 2018 calendars for tripawd animals. Bittersweet news but the calendar raises money for a good cause which makes her story all the more worthwhile.  You can look at her calendar here Three Paw calendar

I started to clean out her summer house today so I could convert it into a winter house for one of my randaggio (strays). I found a small chunk of tumour she must have bitten off her leg months ago. I'm glad we got rid of that and she had those months of sun :-)

Words from istanbul

Yesterday an old teaching friend of mine wrote to me from Istanbul. He told me how he had been thinking about Three Paw ever since he heard the news.
How every time he saw a cat, he thought of her too.
And how she was such a strong spirit,  he could feel her presence, even in her absence, all the way over in Istanbul.
And how we can't be without Three Paw because she is always with us, and in our senses; hopping around, beating the odds, and standing against anything that comes at her with her iron grit.
He said if he could feel her presence and I could feel her presence then she would always be with us just as light is during the day and the darkness is at night.

Back in Istanbul

The moon and the bones

This morning I got up just after the sun and went into the garden. It was a beautiful, crisp morning; the thunderstorms from the previous days completely washed away. I tried not to hate it for its beauty; for being so buoyant amidst my grief. Pirate ambled alongside me and together we picked flowers for Three Paw's cremation ceremony later that day. Actually, we didn't pick many flowers. It was more the different trees and shrubs that our girl had so loved to lounge under and sniff with her little nose. I wanted her to be redolent of her treasured garden as I let her go today: rosemary, olives, lemon.scented flowers.

At 8.50 a taxi came to pick me up. A friend had offered to take me but I didn't want to sit in the car, putting on a brave face to make them feel better. I wanted to be able to feel whatever hit me even if it was nothing at all. The taxi driver, Antonio, commented on the mountains and how the snow had returned. I remember the snow leaving back in February.

Three Paw was waiting for me at the crematorium. Just where I had left her - on a beautiful soft cushion with a toy mouse Pirate had left her, some flowers, and a letter. I took her into a private room. In my mind, I had imagined it would be some sort of prison cell set up with a metallic chair in the shade of wilted lettuce and damp, grey walls. I don't know why. Of course, it was nothing like that. It was a beautiful bright room full of candles and quotes about pets on the wall. There was a comfortable couch..the type that swallows you up whole, and I took Three Paw in my arms and we lay there together. I read her a poem, a little prayer, and a card I had written her. I also put a few drops of Raki on her fur to ackowledge her Turkishness. Then I talked to her all the while as she lay resting in my arms. My face pressed against her cheeks, her head, her odd hairless ears. After a while the words just fell away and it was just we two, as it always was, stewing in each other's souls.

Luca, the man in charge came in after about 40 minutes and said it was time to let her go. I arranged a couple of artichokes next to her ( so now I really can say she has gone to the artichokes), a card with some photographs, and a little clutch of flowers. I kissed her and I hugged her and I told her in Turkish how much I loved her.  I called out to her how much I loved her as he took her away.

Then I threw back a little Raki - medicinal purposes you understand.

Now for some people the whole idea of cremation sounds like something you do but don't watch but for me, it was important to be there every step of the way. I  had always promised her I would never leave her and I wasn't about to now. Luca doesn't actually let you into the room where it happens. probably afraid a person might try to leap in or something but you can watch on a screen from the couch in the room. So I watched as he lay her precious body down and I watched as he gave her the cards, the artichokes, and the flowers. And I watched as how every time he bent over to lovingly tend to her all I could see was his own moon brought about by low-slung trousers and a shirt that was too short. I remember smiling and thinking how absurd life can be.

After an hour the cremation was complete and Luca came in to inform me that it wasn't like the movies. The thing is I don't remember a cremation scene ever being in the movies so I told him not to worry and that I didn't have a Hollywood story in my head. Basically, he was trying to warn me that when they remove her from the oven she isn't going to be tiny little ashes like you imagine she might be.
Did I want to see her come out?
Yes, I replied.
And here is the thing. This is when you know what love really is. Because as he respectfully brought her out - his moon now tucked away -  all I could see were her bones and how beautiful they were.  Neat,  little, snow-white things, each one of them perfection.  All part of the glorious infrastructure which had carried her both into and out of my life.

And I treasured every little bone, every single one of them.

A few minutes later he brought them in, now much smaller, and they were sealed in a bag which he had then arranged into the shape of a heart. They were still warm as I pressed them to my own. We then put them in her little box along with pirate's toy mouse, her collars and another letter.

I decided to walk home which was quite some distance but I wanted to carry her there. I stopped for a prosecco on the way, to toast my little girl,  and then together we wended our way along a road past olive groves and vineyards. In the distance, I could see the mountains with the snow on them again

Winter was coming home and so was my beloved girl.



SIDE NOTE:

Ataturk died on the 10th of November and every year at 9.05 the country grinds to a halt to remember him. I feel it only fitting that she should be honoured on this day too. Not that her and Ataturk have that much in common ( she was always very nice to the Armenian film director who lived next to us in Istanbul) but for me she was a great Turk like Ataturk was for his people.

Gone to the artichokes

There have been times over the past two years when Three Paw would disappear into my neighbour's garden and lounge under the artichokes. I could never understand why she did it when she had a beautiful, sprawling garden of her own but she was a street cat I suppose - a wanderer by nature. 

Now this garden she went to wasn't even the one next door and so the journey to get there was quite some feat on three paws. First, she had to navigate the increasingly complex impenetrada gate I would have fashioned out of wood and an old sun-lounger. I never saw how she got through it but she always found a way. Then she had to forge her way through a wild garden of brambles and bushes on a slope which even I struggled with. I never saw her do this either. ( An Italian friend actually asked me recently if Three Paw could teleport and now when I I think about it maybe she could.) Once she made it through the jungle slope, she had to climb through a marshy vegetable garden and then up a flight of steep stairs.

And yet somehow she did it.
And not just once. She even did it one time with the tumour on her leg.

Every time she disappeared I would be thrown into a panic. Pirate would come running to the door saying ' Sheeeee's goooone' and we would begin our frantic search for her. Pirate scouring with her one eyes from up in a fig tree. Mostly  I found her under the artichokes or another bush but sometimes she was right up the top of the garden pottering among the tools.

I remember the time she disappeared for a whole night. Me traipsing through my neighbour's garden in my pyjama pants and a flashlight. She was nowhere to be found. At just after dawn, I returned home defeated and desolate. I lay on the sofa and reasoned if I just rested for half an hour I would find my energy again. Then about twenty minutes later I heard the jingle of her bell up my stairs and she arrived with a bound, inquiring about breakfast.

A friend and I have decided she has gone to the artichokes now.

The words of others

“My heart has joined the Thousand, for my friend stopped running today.” 
― Richard Adams, Watership Down

8.39 AM

All Saints Day

All Saints Day national holiday here in Italy today. The fact that I am so under-employed means that a public holiday doesn't mean as much to me except that when I woke up this morning I felt this legitimate sense of freedom; that I could spend the day relaxing in some way. I  ended up planning lessons anyway but it was for my group and I always find planning for groups enjoyable.

I have to say though that the weather has been sublime today. Really quite beautiful and I was able to cut through all my thoughts to see it from my back garden and bask in its splendour.

A good day in the end.

Revel in her miracle

I cry every day these days.
But then it is hard to remember a time when I didn't cry. 2008 perhaps.
I cry about all sorts of things. Big things. Little things. Things in the world. Things in my world.

But mainly I cry about her.

I just find her so incredible and the thought of that incredibleness being taken from me is unbearable.


I guess I will just have to try and appreciate every day now.
And revel in her miracle.

Photogapher ahoy

Not much happening at present. Students are trickling in so I am almost making rent - eek! My bank even invited me in this week to point out that my account was empty. I wanted to suggest they pop a little in to make themselves feel better but I couldn't find the right phrase. Actually, they were very nice and supportive of my job change ( which I may have made sound slightly more lucrative than it is)  but I think they were more interested in checking I was still here. We were all smiles at the end so I feel at ease with them.

Luckily my students like to bring things like whole pumpkins, olive oil squeezed from their own trees, and new boots they can't fit, so I feel quite blessed. Poor but rich if you catch what I mean.

Last weekend I did have visitor though. An ex-colleague from Florence who came with her enormous camera to take photos of my village, Franco the barber, and my laydees in the backyard.

Now, this friend is beautiful. I  mean she literally takes the breath away of the people she passes. I can see them gasp when they see her so you can imagine the collective gasp of my village, which is predominantly (from what I can tell) made up of dirty, old men, when they saw her.

First I lightly poisoned her with a rather salty stew but she even ate two servings so she was a good victim. Then we worked Three Paw and Pirate in the back yard, trying to capture their essence. Funnily enougn Pirate kept looking right into the lens. I can never get her to look into my camera but I think this lens was big enough she could see inside it and it intrigued her. Or she was as beguiled as the dirty, old men by the photographer.

After, I took my friend to see Franco the barber, which was kind of like a lamb to the slaughter. Franco has such a curious shop filled to the brim with oddities perfect for photographing.
For better or worse though, it had a couple of customers in it who were not shy about telling my friend what they thought of her.  Actually, they are never shy about saying what they think but my Italian is not good enough to understand everything they say to me. My friend's Italian is, however, perfect even though she is Greek so she understood everything they were saying - which didn't seem to stop them. I wasn't there because I had left her alone to work but I was a bit horrified at the rather direct questions they asked about her breast size for starters. Fortunately, she knows how to handle these types and she came out with some brilliant photos and a radiant smile.

Little Star

Three Paw is the star this week on a website in America for tripawd ( or in her case bipawd) pets.

http://tripawds.com/2017/10/17/two-legged-cat/#

Proud mama here.

A good day for nimble feet and minds

Yesterday was such a beautiful morning Three Paw decided to spend it in the bottom garden. There is nothing more delightful than watching her bushy tail swish its way down the uneven, stone stairs. Honestly, she does it far more nimbly than I ever can. I am always clutching at the wall; afraid I am going to tumble down, crack my head open, and get eaten by all the rats I inadvertently feed at the bottom garden because I don't know what else to do with my food scraps.

In the evening, she helped supervise the class I have started in my house. I am not sure how good her English is because she is nowhere near as vocal as Pirate but she dished our stern and approving looks in equal measure. Pirate joined in briefly but seemed more interested in rubbing people's  sweaty bag straps.

Three Paw supervising from the back

Teaching a group again felt good. I enjoyed planning the lesson and during the class, I had this peaceful hour and a half when I felt in control of my universe.

Three Paw distracted from the task of education by a marching band in her head. A common occurrence for her.

Cinque Terre

I first visited the Cinque Terre almost twenty years ago - gulp! I remember how beautiful I thought it was; all those vineyards cascading down to the sea; the shimmering lemon trees; the colourful, painted houses.  I wasn't very well during my visit but I still found it enchanting. D did not. I still don't know why but he remained totally unmoved by everything he saw.

The next time I visited was 11 years ago with my mother but it was only for a day. We did a mighty job though and walked four of the five villages. We had lunch in Manarola and mum ate a whole garlic bulb, which drifted merrily in our company for the rest of the day. I remember us both arriving back in Florence at the end of the day absolutely spent but utterly beguiled.





Now finally this summer I managed to go with mum and dad and Three Paw. We stayed in Portovenere for two nights. While not officially included as part of the Cinque Terre, I found this village utterly charming and a perfect base for exploration. It had a lovely promenade by the water and a narrow, medieval street full of shops and rustic buildings. It also had a formidable-looking church from which you could gaze out onto the ocean and all things beyond.

Portovenere was also pleasing because it had ThreePaw friendly facilities which she was highly approving of. In fact, I don't think she had a single complaint about the entire trip except, perhaps, for the bathroom queue in the morning.

Hurry up already!

Have case, will travel

Three Paw and mum shooting the breeze at Portovenere

The nicest thing was that we were able to cruise between the five villages for a day which meant (a) a partial escape from the full onslaught of Lucifero (b) satisfying dad's love of the boat trip, and (c) the use of very nice ship stewards to help us off between ports.
I like Ligurians. They are very friendly and patient despite all the tourists, They could teach a Tuscan a thing or two ( in my humble opinion.)

We had a gorgeous day. My favourite village is Vernazza but to be honest, the whole place is magical and when we finally staggered off the boat at the end of the day, Three Paw was lounging on the bed waiting for us to tell her tales from the sea. 

Super girl

Mum and I in Florence back in 2006.

Yesterday I was in Florence and at one point I wandered past Via Santa Elisabetta. I lived in an apartment on this street back in 2006 for about eleven months. I never actively seek out this street when I am in the city so it took me a little by surprise to be standing outside it. All I could think was how I had been there 11 years ago and how Three Paw had been living a parallel life somewhere else at the exact same time; our lives not yet enriched and enmeshed.

And I wondered how I was able to live without her back then and how I will be able to live without her in the future.

I feel especially disappointed in myself for not documenting her past four months post-amputation with more vigour. I like to think it is because I was too busy living each triumphant bound and leap with her. And that if you spend all your time behind the lens or the keyboard, you might just be missing the real magic anyway.

Still, the beauty of having a memory (relatively intact despite a persistently impressive grape intake) means I can recount the highlights now anyway. 

The thing that stands out for me the most was her total acceptance of the change and immediate decision to accept it. From running across the hospital floor within twenty-four hours of her amputation ( and Alberto's accompanying joyful face) to her adaption to the toilet I specially designed for her so that she has not once lain in her own previous work. I mean I like to take a little credit for the genius contraption (an enormous plastic dog bed lined with a pet pad) but the way she spins herself like a wheel so she never lies in the same spot is true genius. 

https://drive.google.com/open?id=0B6JwDrXCpQgib1ZMSlFDZXl1NkpvbEtMRkgtOFRiTjB4b09F





During these months she has never cried out ( and I wouldn't have blamed her if she did) nor sulked. She has scaled the garden stairs, run the ramp I built up to my bed, and worked out that if she runs to the cushion I set up in the kitchen she can get a meal. Her intelligence and optimism and love of life has been a gift and lesson to me and my love for her is as layered and rich as any other love I have ever felt.

And now she even has a boyfriend...a randaggio from my garden.  Her talents, simply, never cease.

But above all this, she is happy and at peace. And that is what  I love most of all.

Piece by Piece

You know so much happened during my summer blog hiatus, I feel a little regretful it wasn't documented: Three Paw's amputation recovery and trip to the Cinque Terre; Lucifero - the heatwave; my parents' visit to Italy and our holiday together in Devon; a rather nauseating hysteroscopy; the discovery of the village organist's practice schedule; oh and me quitting my job in a progesterone-enhanced rage. I have no regrets about the last one I might add even though my life is somewhat precariously unemployed now. It felt like a good decision the minute it fell out of my mouth.

I guess piece by piece I can put all those stories together. Especially since I have ample time being somewhat employment-challenged.

I think I will start with a picture of my folks who bravely marched through the Tuscan countryside under the relentless gaze of lucifero.

This picture is of us at end of a scorching day, enjoying the street life of San Miniato - willing it to rain!

Lessons in leaving the bed.

At present I am unemployed. I have a few private students, which keep Three Paw in the two legs she has become accustomed to, but that is about it. I feel no sorrow, however, about not returning to my old school even if things are very stressful and uncertain for me now. Sometimes you have to jump to save yourself in this life.

It is hard being unemployed though. Not just financially but emotionally as well. At first, I was up at 8.30 every morning with a huge list of tasks to do, emails to send etc. But as the days turn to weeks, I find myself struggling to punctuate my days with meaning.  It is difficult not to let the anxiety take over my life.  And today when I woke up I just didn't want to get up.

This made me feel even worse.

Finally, at midday, I told myself to go for a walk. See the sky and a different view. So I decided to walk to Cigoli. I hadn't done this walk since Three Paw's diagnosis but as I started to stride out I felt better and better. Ideas began flowing and the September sun on my bones felt like just the right tonic.

Walking is free too - so no guilt about spending.

Of course, I accidentally took a wrong turn and ended up walking a far greater distance than I had planned. My poor little thighs were beginning to worry about how they would get home when suddenly this-out-of-service bus came hurtling past. It halted further up the road and pulled up on the footpath. I then saw a man approaching me from the bus. It was Gino,  the bus driver...one of my favourites. He had just finished his shift and was on an hour break. He wondered what I was doing so far from home. I told him 'ho fatto un giro' ( I had gone on a little ramble) but now I was spent. He drove me back to the valley centre and told me if I waited an hour he could take me up to San Miniato for no ticket, of course. It was perfect because I wanted to do some grocery shopping anyway.

And even better he told me he was glad he had seen me because he wanted to call me about arranging lessons for his son.

Suddenly I felt so glad I had got out of bed.

And if that was not enough of a reward I also stopped in a bar to use their toilet and discovered (a) their bathroom smelt like a holiday and (b) when the door closed it groaned like chewabacca.
joy, joy, joy.

Happy to be up

Fabulousness

In case you need evidence of fabulousness, paste this in google and watch :-)


https://drive.google.com/open?id=0B6JwDrXCpQgicTh6LWZLa1d0TU1MLXphcXVIdmc4MTZYVXpZ

Pandora's Smile

 I have a new short story out this month in Issue 230 of Antipodean SF. You can read it  here https://www.antisf.com/ It is a very silly story but in a such a serious and sad world sometimes that's all you need.

I promise to resume normal blogging very soon but in case you are wondering -  Three Paw is doing fabulously!

Operation Day

Last night I got home from work late and Pirate met me to the door.  She took me straight in to see Three Paw (who she even head-nuzzled for the first time ever. Things must be grave.) The tumor looked horrific. Rupturing like lava out of her leg. It was clear to me that everyone in the room was completely fed up with it and the time to vote it off the island had come.

In the morning we left early for Florence. I could smell her tumor from outside the cage but I could also hear her purr above the train engine.

When I got to the clinic, I kept the goodbyes short. I had already said everything that I needed to say to her. I just reminded her that she was free to do and go wherever and whenever she wanted. That her family back in Istanbul loved her very much and that we all wanted the best for her, for the suffering to cease.

I spent the day in a kind of exhausted stupor and then in the evening I returned to see her. She was less than an hour out of the operating theater. Her eyes were dark circles ( from the morphine I suspect:) I don't think she even knew what had just happened to her. I opened the door and she immediately nuzzled her head into my hand and I knew she would be OK.

The Decision

So today Alberto, Three Paw and I sat down to make the most important decision of her life. To be honest she just sat in her carrier, purring enthusiastically, but for the humans in the room the mood was far more somber.

The tumor has become intolerable. In size and in smell ( a rancid combination of rotting flesh that permeates the whole house, even the bedclothes.) She finds it very hard to walk even though she still does. Leaping up to my bed to cuddle up against me.

Even Pirate looks disgusted now and she enjoys dirty underpants.

Eventually Alberto turned to me and said those dreaded words. 'We need to think about putting her to rest or amputating her leg.' I looked at my girl, watching me though the carrier and I said ' What would you do?' which vets must really hate.

But Alberto rose to the occasion and said exactly what I knew that we both wanted to say. That when Three Paw had first come into the clinic she was just one of the many cats he saw suffering from cancer. That he thought amputation was impossible because of her current situation. However then he had got to know her and her indomitable spirit. That she was this incredible life force with such a will to live that now he felt differently. Now he thought we should give her the choice. Do the operation and see how she fared. If she adapted and was happy, it would be a joyful success. If she struggled or was in pain, then we would let her go.

I turned to Alberto and said ' promise me she won't suffer.'

'I won't let her,' he replied.

Amputation is on Wednesday

Edoardo the hedgehog

Meet Edoardo. I originally called him Roger but then I realised he probably answered to a more Italian sounding name. 

He often comes onto my terrace in the evening to eat the biscuits I leave out for my garden cat ( whom I have named Dude because of his enormous balls which really need to go.) Sometimes Edoardo even likes to come into my kitchen and dive head first into the stash of cat food I keep in the corner. 

The cats don't seem to mind, in fact, I think Pirate quite likes him.

I am going to keep leaving out biscuits for him because a student told me that some people around here like to eat hedgehogs. Hopefully he won't feel the need to venture from this safe haven.

1000 Miglia

 On Saturday the 1000 Miglia ( a vintage and classic car race )came to San Miniato. Well, it passed through it to be exact. The race actually starts and ends in Brescia ( up north) and does a loop through Rome which my dad would be highly approving of because he does appreciate a loop. (Nothing disappoints my dad more than having to backtrack in a car or even when out strolling.)

Anyway this year the route came through San Miniato on its was back up from Rome.

I didn't even  know about the event until Saturday morning when I went out to buy pickled onions - my favorite Italian treat. No onions were to be found but there were plenty of Italian flags waving from people's houses and  an awful lot of men rubbing their hands with delight.

In the afternoon I did what all good Italian folk do and stood roadside, licking a gelato, while all manner of eccentrics vroomed past in their cars.

Palladia Days

On Monday it was my birthday and I spent it with Three Paw in Florence.  It was a difficult appointment. Alberto told me he didn't think the chemotherapy was working on her leg tumor. It appears to be doing a good job on her metastasis because this hasn't grown at all but the one on her leg seems unstoppable.  I started crying and Alberto looked at me and said that this was not a cat on her last day yet. He said she was actually no different to the cat he had met almost three months ago. That she was still a happy, comfortable and healthy cat ( cancer aside.) I was grateful to him for saying this. It is hard for me sometimes to be objective about how she is. The tumor is just so ugly so when I see it, the sight consumes me.

We are trying  a new drug Palladia. I have to give it to her every second day. She is also taking a different herbal medication for any pain which she might be feeling.

I have to say since she started her new regime the edema on her paw has gone down and she seems much more comfortable. The tumor smells a bit because there is some necrosis but in general I would say the rest of the week has been quite restful and happy.

For her anyway, I am a constant wreck.
And another year older!

Birthday shot!

In between the tears :-)

Quietly writing

I don't tend to write much about my writing. That's not to say there isn't any writing going on. It goes on quite often but it isn't as successful as I would like it to be. I mean that in two ways. Both from the actual words themselves, which sometimes won't mesh no matter how long I spend moving them around, and also on a more empirical level.

I just don't seem to be able to catch a wave. And all the rejection slips slowly pile up like layers of filo pastry. So paper-thin and without any real substance, telling me ' not for us but send us your next one.' I have received some amazing, unsolicited encouragement over the years from writers and publishers and yet still I don't seem to be able to translate it into more than this.

I know I need to get out more, that is part of the problem. Also more confident. More prolific. More everything!

But I do have two little victories I can at least share for today.

First, I have a story coming out in an Antipodean Sci-Fi publication later this year. They want me to record a podcast to go with it. I am happy about this publication because they are Australian and the short-story publishing scene there seems a little precious,  if you ask me. Last year I sent a story to a fantasy magazine there and they sent me feedback questioning whether polar bears would actually go dancing in an Australian creek ( um - it's fantasy!) and one of them even alluded to a pedophile angle because my lead boy was befriended by an older drifter. Honestly, I couldn't quite believe what they said and I looked more closely at the magazine and it just seemed to be filled with the same names over and over again.

Probably my better news though,  is the fact that I recently discovered that one of my past stories (The Moon-keeper's Friend) actually  inspired a reader to create her own recipe for rose-water churros. Best possible review for a story, don't you think!

So I guess I will keep writing, maybe I will be able to inspire a whole cookbook out of my tales, That would be something!

Spring walk

on the path

Right now I have an infestation on my nose of charming proportions. I took it out for a stroll around town and I am waiting for the village mayor to knock on my door and banish me to some sort of leper turret. It is stress-related I am sure so there is nothing I can really do but ride it out.  

Fortunately I didn't really see that many people because I took the old coal walk which runs along the spine of the town and below my back garden. 

I went there around Christmas time when they had all the nativity scenes up. Some of them are still there as are the toy animals in the makeshift stable. Mary, Joseph and Jesus have gone though, probably back to the Middle East for some sun. 

It is a beautiful walk with a little place along the way where you can have a barbecue or  picnic on some dilapidated, wooden tables. I try to walk along here as often as I remember too.

I went a while back with a friend and had this picture taken. it is about the only one of me I have seen of late where I don't look utterly spent.

Ooh apart from this one with my lady,