Going for The Burn

Mrs Tyhurst is a great fan of Artichoke. 

Not the vegetable sillies - the creative people that put on artistic events (think the Sultan's Elephant, the plinth in Trafalgar Square.....)

She went up north a few years ago to see 'Lumiere' in Durham and was moved to tears several times seeing so many ordinary folk queuing up to see light installations across the city. 
The soppy old thing. 

This time she is  at  'Temple 2015' with her dear travelling companion and financial assistant, Mr Lord.

Thousands of  people have visited Kelly's Field high above the city of Derry, where artist David Best and his crew have built an enormous 70 foot high wooden temple. Local youngsters have been helping cut the intricate fretwork, contributing their own ideas. 

Mrs T started getting emotional again seeing so many people climbing the hill. 
Quite like a pilgrimage she thought, snuffling into her tissues.

The temple was absolutely buzzing......everyone squeezing in, holding children up to write things, leaving pictures of lost loved ones, reading inscriptions, standing, looking,marvelling. 
The temple will be burned, a massive communal letting go.

Yesterday Mrs T had rather impulsively responded to an email request for those attending to share objects and memories that they were leaving in the temple. She wasn't really sure what The One Show was, but she does enjoy the odd dalliance with the media.

So she took that old copy of the Elgar Cello Concerto along - many years ago she had a rather nasty experience playing it. 
Mr Lord was shooed away and the interview took place in the fading light.

Mrs T is now bezzies with the lovely Lucy Siegle and would like to point out that Lucy started following her on twitter first.


The burning happened.
It was Tissue Time again as the flames leapt into the air, engulfing the construction. It was all over in about an hour. 
Mrs T made a mental note to check on the house insurance when she got back. 


Many of the locals said it was a pity to burn the temple, but Mrs T thinks it's so much better to get rid of all that nasty old stuff. 

A brief pause for sleep

We actually planned an entire community arts project whilst waiting for the recovery vehicle in the Brecon Beacons.

Mrs Tyhurst met Mrs Deeth at at 1 o'clock on Sunday and chattered incessantly (with a brief pause for sleep) until Monday at 7pm. 
We were so thirsty we had to stop off at the TOAST shop in Llandeilo for fizz and Welsh cakes. Mrs Deeth poured herself a large glass and proceeded to raid the rails. 

Moments later, clutching their lovely tissue wrapped purchases, the ladies calculated that they had saved their husbands over £300 with their judicious spending (sale prices and another 20% off today ! )

We continued, still jabbering, all the way to Mrs Tyhurst's small country residence near Llandysul. Sitting amidst the Bloomsbury-inspired coziness, the two continued their discussions with a short picnic tea.

In the morning - and what a glorious one too, they travelled to Wrights Food Emporium for a spot of breakfast. 
Mrs Tyhurst showed her dear friend around - where one could refill one's wine bottles, buy a nice pie and so on. Despite several woes previously expressed about 'the state of the waistline' the  two ladies ( by now resplendent in their new purchases) managed to deal with delicious bowls of Tartiflette.

And so onto Hay on Wye....or so they thought.
A sudden loud clanking noise caused the two to pull rather quickly into a lay by.
Mr Lord had kindly placed details for such emergencies in a little folder in the glove compartment, so no time was wasted making the necessary calls.
Luckily the two had plenty of wine and the remains of the previous evening's little picnic.
So they continued.
Yes, why not a community arts project ?
Mrs Deeth made notes.

At last we continued onwards to Hay.
We made it with just enough time to buy a dear little copy of 'Mrs Dalloway's Party' and a quick spin around the antique shop.
Then home....talking all the way.

More selfie madness

Mrs. T has always thought that taking 'selfies' to be ever so slightly narcissistic: here's me at the bottom of the Spanish Steps, here's me halfway up, here's me at the top, here's me coming down..........

We saw a woman doing just this today in Rome. The endless need for self-validation. 

Mr. Lord and I feel rather quaint with our circa 1990s old digital, and have vigorously resisted all the attempts by the proliferation of hawkers trying to sell a selfie stick. 

Still we had a wonderful day.

We were possibly too early for hipsterish Testaccio (everything seems  to open after 8pm) but we did enjoy a little trip around the outside of Macro (very trendy contemporary art gallery in a reclaimed slaughterhouse) viewing a bamboo helterskelter. And Mrs T continues to astonish with her knowledge of Italian foodstuffs.

Things threatened to turn a little nasty when her wee legs started to give way after the Pantheon. Mr. Lord wondered whether the poor thing was overcome with emotion but a visit to the loo and a bowl of very al dente pasta seemed to revive the poor old thing.

Up and down the Spanish Steps, a moistening of the eyes around our dear Keats last resting place and back to the hotel for a reviving glass of Sangiovese.

She has been extremely well-behaved today.

Selfus stickus

Rome seems to have been infected with a plague of 'selfi sticki'.

Mrs. Tyhurst is visiting the city sadly senza her dear companion Mrs. Lawton. She is instead in the company of her faithful and devoted husband, Mr. Lord.

A slight disagreement at the airport : Mr L refused to buy a tiny biscuit to accompany coffees causing a protracted queer turn lasting several hours and protestations of 'I'm never going on holiday again' etc.
Mrs. T was eventually restored to something (vaguely) approaching normality after an early night and a lovely breakfast.

Back to the subject in hand, or rather, on the end of a pole.

It's always interesting observing tourist items for sale - you know, little sunhats, fridge magnets of the pope...those sorts of things. 
Now it's selfie sticks. 
All over Rome simply everyone is smiling into a phone on a stick.  
Mrs. T has health and safety concerns.

Mr. Lord has bravely directed her over the Forum and the Palatine Hill.
Mrs. T is rather taken with the pines and has developed several amusing little ideas for photographs (seagulls in various places, and pictures of Mr. L's head with columns.....)

A few bottles of vino rosso and the silly old thing should be right as rain.

Train of thought

Don't you just HATE it when you're eating out and the staff keep checking every 5 minutes to see if everything is OK?
Completely destroys the train of thought.

It's been an exceedingly long time . Not that Mrs. T and Mrs. L have been staying in. Oh no, far from it. 
Mr Lord intervened. Moving. Bath. Moving again.Piglet. 

We are happy to announce that Activities Have Resumed now that Mrs. T has come to her senses and is back in town having cast off the limitations of a 'proper job' without a care. Work does rather interfere with one's social calendar. 

But where in Chepstow to meet ?


The Boat Inn was closed (ON A FRIDAY) so we turned left following the small blackboard sign to The Riverside Wine Bar. 
A very smart young man ushered us into the restaurant area, our heels sinking somewhat into the plush carpet.
We had at least 3 days of glittering chat to catch up on since our last meeting at the Italian class  on Tuesday (Mrs. Lawton IS getting out these days).

Which brings me to my opening point about being interrupted in restaurants:  checks about our well-being, being referred to as 'GUYS'....you know, that sort of botheration.And the imperative 'ENJOY !' (I'm retching into my hankie). 
Well, there was very little of that at The Riverside.
Two coffees. Then some rather pleasant beef on skewers. We would have preferred it a tad more rare and Mrs. Lawton struggles a little with the current fad for serving food on anything but a plate (boards, slates, leaves...). But, mercifully we were left alone.Afterwards we had two delicious affogati.
Mrs Lawton shared a big secret......
Now that would be telling wouldn't it !