For the weary heart

Got up on Sunday morning to sit on the stone step of the house at Tregarnedd Fawr. Listened to the tall trees talking, many wrens darting around to whirr across the grass, house martins and crows still acting like it's the height of summer. No leaves falling yet but Autumn feels very close already, big bruised shrooms sprouting up in the grass, and a telling wind out of the west.

Not that the sun cared. Having left us to be rained on for over 300 miles, it appeared that morning and warmed my soul. I sat there for a long time.

Our friends had invited us to their place on the spur of the moment, and we went, despite my feeling pretty nauseous. But the feeling didn't amount to anything, and it's always grand to spend time with them. There are all sorts of tough times around and these mates haven't exactly had it easy either, so we ate, drank, talked night into morning, explored bits of Anglesey. There were so many stories! I wanted to walk along the coast because it is stunningly beautiful, but my joints/stomach/chest don't like Letrozole at all. Here's hoping 'Lumpy' is as unimpressed.

Next time maybe I will take better photos. Everything looks like the setting for some glorious Agatha Christie/Daphne Du Maurier mashup, and every single breath of the wind brings hope.