Happy New Year to everybody in Social Media Land. I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas and are still enthusiastic about taking 2015 by storm!
Have a listen to this song, and don’t pay too much attention to the costumes: they are so ’70s but I like this recording of the age old song, ‘We Have Come this far by Faith‘.
I can’t believe January is almost finished already. Since arriving in London, I have been in somewhat of a holiday mode, for want of a better term. But all gears will have to change come February 2 when I start my new assignment as coordinator for the charity, Word for Weapons. Continue reading
Some people say there is no God but I believe that there is.
I didn’t get the full-time role that I’d applied for at Ascension Trust. Instead, I got a better paid, part-time role as the coordinator for one of their affiliate charities: Word For Weapons. Not only was the role more suitable in terms of my career level but it would afford me the privilege of having time each week to work on my personal business and other goals-sourdough included.-while still having a decent salary.
I saw it as a God-given blessing that I had done nothing to deserve, and so I prepared myself to embark on another step of my journey-my sourdough journey-determined to make the best use of this time.
Gone were the sunny scenes of Hay-on-Wye. In place of the wonderful scenes through different bedroom windows where I’d stayed,
Scene through one of my windows in Hay-on-Wye – at the start of the day, all creatures looked to the horizon in anticipation of a blissful summer’s day. . .
Back in Hay-on-Wye, I went downstairs on Tuesday morning to find Sue’s dog, George, nosing around behind the garbage bin in the backyard. What on earth was he doing? Maybe he’d cornered a cat-but no, Sue said he was a gentle dog; or perhaps he’d found a bone-no, he was amply fed with pedigree dog food. Something fishy, though, was definitely going on behind that bin. Sue wasn’t in the house, and even though George and I had come to a kind of understanding about my presence there, I was not about to entangle myself in his affairs regarding whatever lay behind that bin. Continue reading
About half an hour later, the traffic slowed as we approached the outskirts of Leominster. I texted Lisa to let her know we’d be arriving in about 10 minutes, and when we pulled up in the narrow Leominster street, outside Nitty Gritty, she was there waiting for me. I helped Malcolm to take the Nitty Gritty order in, where Lorna, the shop owner, was also in a bit of frenzy over our delay. Continue reading
A few weeks later, my friend, Lisa, from Leominster, invited me to her friend’s birthday party. Hay was a great place but like anywhere, it was good to get away sometimes. This time, however, I was spared the rigours of public transportation and instead got a ride in the delivery van with Alex’s dad, Malcolm. He had another delivery to make before going to Leominster to deliver to a cool little health shop, known locally as Nitty Gritty, that was just around the corner from Lisa’s house. I was looking forward to going the rounds and though it was to be as circuitous a journey as the bus ride, I anticipated that it would certainly be more lively. Continue reading
Living in Hay-on-Wye, the Town of Books, with a self proclaimed king, was a bit of a novel idea. (I pray thee, dear reader, please forgive the unintentional pun) It was an idea that paid off pretty well both for the town and for King Richard, who started it all in the first place. For the town, in that it had developed into a tourist destination attracting 500,000 visitors each year; and for King Richard, in that he was awarded an MBE in the 2004 New Year Honours List for his services to tourism. Continue reading
Work moved along steadily at the bakery. The first goal I set for myself was to taste one of everything that was produced there; and the first on the list was the cinnamon buns. My friend, Lisa from Leominster, had told me about these. She didn’t know what their correct name was, she was only able to describe them to me. “Sweet and soft and sticky and full of cinnamon; melts in your mouth when you bite into it and oh so nice!” is what she had said to me. “You must try it.” Continue reading
I spent the rest of my first Saturday in Hay doing grocery shopping, laundry, cooking, and generally sorting myself out in preparation for the coming week. I went to bed early and slept late into Sunday morning. I rose at about 9:00 a.m. to get ready to attend church-I had passed by the Evangelical Church in the week and had decided to go there. Continue reading
Alex was extremely busy on account of the popularity of his bread but I finally managed to make concrete contact with him about four days after my arrival.
“Hi Joy, – If possible, can you come to the bakery for 3:30 a.m. on Thursday morning?” his email said. “We can start from there!”
“I’ll be there!” I replied.
“Hi Joy. In other words, 3:30 a.m. tonight . . . cheers,” a second email from Alex said, minutes later. Continue reading
I landed at Gatwick on a typically warm, British summer day and made my way, by train, to Leominster. My friend, Lisa from ‘Lemster’, couldn’t come to fetch me because she had to attend her cousin’s wedding. A number of fellow travelers, though, helped me with my cases at the difficult spots, like getting on and off trains that had a big gap between the train and the platform edge; and I made it in good order to the fairly quiet Leominster station. Continue reading