The Magical World of Tylluan Penry

Mr Penry is a passionate man

Well, what I mean (for the purposes of this post, anyway!) is that he gets passionate - obsessive even - about certain things. Which may explain why our house is full of clocks.

Those of you who live with but a single clock and a wristwatch have no idea what you're missing. We have clocks everywhere... long clocks, short clocks, wall clocks, a postman's clock, a cuckoo clock, you name it, and there's probably an example of it somewhere in the house.

Now in this digital age, it's easy to forget that old clocks were essentially mechanical, that is, you had to wind them, either with a key or a chain (one of ours actually winds on gut!) and they run on a series of cogs and wheels, powered by a pendulum and weights.

Years ago nobody expected clocks to be all that accurate. In fact, one of our clocks is so old that it only ever had one hand because all anyone wanted to know was the hour.... minutes were rather new fangled and regarded with suspicion. That clock is about 300 years old and keeps pretty good time, considering its age.

All this has resulted in chimes, bells and cuckoo sounds going off at all hours of the day and night. The cuckoo clock in particular is rather asthmatic. It staggers out of its little door, looking for all the world as though it's just come home from a party, and goes 'Cuckoo - wheeze - cuckoo - wheeze - cuckoo - wheeze' before slamming the door again.

This morning I was up in time to hear the clocks strike five, six, seven, eleven and twelve - all in the space of about ten minutes.

So what time did I get up?

No idea.

Sorry I've not been around much recently. It's been a combination of things... yes, I'm still feeling dire, I'm enjoying the sunshine and making the most of being out of doors and I've started on book number four. But of course this is no real excuse for me not posting replies to those of you kind enough to comment on my blog, or reply to emails... and for this I wholeheartedly apologise.

I hope to be back to normal again soon, it was just that I needed a bit of space to make the most of the hot warm weather and try to recharge my batteries a bit before winter's here.

See you soon

I took a day off today. Although I've already started my next book I decided the lovely weather was too good to miss. So it was off out and over the Brecon Beacons up towards Hay on Wye. Wonderful day... wonderful weather.

I'd like to say I came back totally refreshed and raring to get writing. In fact I came back shattered, ate salmon, drank wine and fell asleep. Now I'm going to crawl off to bed.

Catch up with you all soon!

What are the strangest compliments you've ever received? Mine include:

'You don't eat, you make love to your food'

and Mr Penry's marriage proposal:

'We get on really well. I love you and think we should get married. I think we'd be as happy as pigs in sh*t.' Virtually every anniversary card he has sent me has a pig on it.......

So........what are the strangest/niciest/weirdest compliments you've ever received?

It was a full moon last night, though hidden from view by the night clouds. And of course our house was very busy again. It began yesterday morning, when a large spoon on top of my desk started rocking. No physical reason that I could see, the desk is as solid as a rock, and my lack of dusting showed that the spoon had not been moved. But it rocked from side to side quite noticeable for a few minutes, even dislodging a card nearby that fluttered onto the desk in front of me.

And then there were the footsteps in the hall - heavy enough, though invisible to make one of the blocks in the wooden floor move and click, just as it does when someone actually walks on it.

The house bunny, Algernon, who lives upstairs was also spooked by something - or someone during the night, and a man and woman were heard talking. The windows were all closed so the voices came from inside, not outside the house.

Weird or what?

I have occasionally mentioned that Mr Penry suffers from insomnia. When he can't sleep however, neither can I... it's like trying to sleep on a trampoline. So when he announced he thought he'd found a cure for his sleepless nights I was prepared to go along with it. Silly me....

His 'cure' involves moving an ageing clock into the bedroom and fixing it to the wardrobe. This now gives a hollow, sepulchral tick tock sound. It reminds me of a giant walking on sandpaper.

So now Mr Penry is sleeping like a baby while I keep getting woken up by dreams of giants, machine guns and spooky footsteps on wide stone floors.

In fairness, he's offered to remove the clock, but it seems to be working for him, so I don't have the heart!

When I was young I had quite a lot of aunts. Real aunts, I mean... I was never allowed to call my mother's friends 'Aunty' like a lot of children did. Aunt meant Aunt.

These aunts of mine came in all shapes and sizes. Some were aloof, others quite bonkers. One was - or appeared to be - extremely deaf. She would, of course, become extremely annoyed if you mentioned this to her. Sometimes family members would tactfully hint that maybe she should get a hearing aid, only to be told 'I'm not deaf.'
'But you don't seem to hear what we say.'
'That's because I'm not listening!'

One day I remember her answering a telephone call. She had never liked the telephone, and in those days they were something of a rarity, except her husband worked from home and needed one.
Anyway, her side of the conversation went like this: 'Yes...I see... All right...yes...I see...all right' etc.
When the call was finished my mother asked her 'Who was that?'
'I don't bloody know!' my aunt snapped, and walked out of the room.

It must have been difficult for her, looking back, to cope with her hearing problems, and I think it was an odd sense of pride that made her refuse help. Occasionally the results - to a child - seemed hilarious. I remember once we'd gone walking near a forest, and my aunt drifted to the outskirts, presumably intending to enter.
'I should be careful if I were you,' said my father, 'there could be adders in those woods.'
I'll never forget the haughty look on my aunt's face when she turned and said 'No they're not - they're pomegranates.'

RIP Aunty.

It began this morning when a team of trolls turned up to work on Mrs Anubis Evans' boundary wall. This has been going on intermittently for several months, taking up the pavement, spewing out mud, stones and weeds into the road, and generally making a dirty great mess for anyone passing nearby. Worse, it looks exactly the same as the old wall, so I can't imagine why on earth she thought it would be a good idea in the first place.

But why trolls? Well, maybe I've been watching too much Beowulf (both film versions, the one where Hrothgar is Welsh and the one where Beowulf is Glaswegian.

The other thing that makes me wonder at my own sanity is this little article, tucked away in the pages of the Daily Diatribe Mail. Here is a link:
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1053362/The-How-Happy-classes-coming-school-near-you.html

but basically all it says is that some bright sparks have come up with the idea of classes to teach children how to be happy.

Utter tosh! What makes one person happy isn't necessarily what pleases another. Besides, much of it is common sense. My own suggestions for a happy life include:
Having some responsibility (to stop you thinking only of yourself.)
Eating when you're hungry (rather than constant scoffing)
Keeping busy (boredom can make you wretched)
Educating yourself long after you've left school
Taking time to appreciate the natural world.

Now - because I'm sure this list isn't exhaustive - what would your suggestions be?

I am fed up with this weather. The storm has been horrible. A window pane blew out in one of the outbuildings where we keep the rabbits and we can't find the glass anywhere. I can't really imagine that the House Brownie has taken it, but this year anything is possible.

Mr Penry, bless him, spent hours in the pouring rain freeing up our drains (there are six of them around the outside of the house) which had become blocked with leaves etc. He was drenched and shivering by the time he came in.

The news of our valley was a bit scary, but being up on the mountainside I think most of it has passed us by. It's not just the storm though, it's the endless rain that gets on my nerves, day after day after day. It gets on the dogs nerves too. Considering they've been cooped up all day, they've been remarkably good.

And we haven't had all that much rain get into the house, considering. And as Mr Penry says, better a few drops of rain than a few feet of floodwater!

I've not been around much the past few days since I've been feeling a bit yuck, unlike our Florence who, after being quite poorly not long ago is finally 'back to normal'.... gnashing her teeth at her terrified entourage and generally laying down the law.

However, it must be said that the 'new, improved' Florence takes some getting used to. No longer am I to greet her 'Hello Florence darling' in the morning. Oh no. Now it's got to be 'Ave Florence, strength and honour.'

To which she replies 'Ave Moi.'

Yep, she's been watching Gladiator again. And Asterix...

My 'Seeking the Green' website (which was hosted through orange) has disappeared. Orange didn't tell me about it.

I had this site for years and am pretty cross. Can anyone recommend a good (and preferably free) new website host?