Dot writes: the Welsh for ‘microwave’ is ‘popty ping’. Isn’t that marvellous? ‘Popty’ seems to mean ‘bakery’; maybe ‘ping’ is onomatopoeia. Anyway, I shall call it a popty ping from now on.
We’re just back from a few days camping with my mother, my sister and her fiance (Almost Uncle Ben), which explains the further little pause in blogging. The first day was extremely windy and Hugh was very upset by the loud flapping and jolting of the tent. I began to reflect grimly that people who take a seven-month-old camping in Wales probably deserve all they get. But the rest of the holiday was much better. We managed to pack in quite a full programme given the complications of always carrying babyfood, emergency toys and subtly graded changes of clothing, plus the intricate layers of delay introduced by having five adults all thinking of little things to do while waiting for each other. One thing about Hugh, he never disappears at awkward moments to go to the toilet. Sometimes one wishes he would. Anyhow, it was lovely to see Meri after far too long a gap, and Mum practised her admirable grandma skills, and we had an excellent time. I plan a further post on one of our outings, which was to the Centre for Alternative Technologies near Machynlleth. Right now, however, I need to face the horror of my email.