Writing this during the ad breaks of an episode of 'Vera' - a British crime series starring Brenda Blethyn, based on the novels by Ann Cleeves. You might like it Bex - it's not Yorkshire, but it's right up north. I like the books - more about the who and why, less about the how. This is the first of the TV ones I've seen - it's quite different but retains the spirit and the characters [final verdict - there are worse ways to spend two hours].

Yesterday I felt Valentine's day far too much, up in my face. It's being online - you used to be able to ignore it, apart from the strategically placed red flowers near the entrance to the supermarket which were passed in a second, but no fucking chance of that now, it's bloody everywhere. It brought all the lingering weirdness of my relationship with Bloke right to the foreground - probably a good thing in the long term, but not exactly a welcome addition to the shit I'm trying to get straight in my head right now, thanks and all.

But then I got a text from Sis saying her girl had gone into labour, and all else pales away at the magical wonder of a new person arriving in our family. Baby girl born in the afternoon, sister to F - the one Sis looks after on Wednesdays - all doing well. Who will she be? Only time will tell. I'm visiting tomorrow - fabulous. I love that niece - well, I love all of them and whichever one I'm thinking of at the time seems like my favourite. This one is very much her own person - I remember the first time she went out clubbing with Son and YD. I told them to keep an eye on her and they pissed themselves laughing at how little I knew her, at the very idea of her not being able to look after herself, and so it has proven over the years. But she's kind and funny and doesn't go round terrifying people with a cold stare and a tongue-lashing unless they start on her or with bigoted fuckwittery, and then she does and tells a good tale about it too, bless her.


But between all that it was another bad day yesterday, another terrible storm on the spring tides, another day of not getting dressed. The sound of the wind is doing my head in. It really does that - we used to notice it when I was teaching, that persistent high winds would make the kids markedly more volatile, every time. I used to love it, the connection with the elemental that's missing from our modern lives compared with our ancestors - that's why I bought that house on the spit of land between river and sea. But I got sick of it in the end. The wind off the sea is so strong and so frequent and when it goes on too long it makes me feel panicky - I get a sick feeling in my stomach and am on tenterhooks waiting for something to happen. Horrible. It's not too bad tonight - still wild but not too noisy.

This afternoon the rain became intermittent and Bloke and I ventured forth. I have to apologise for the dodgy horizon in some of these shots - the wind was so fierce it was impossible to keep my phone steady.





The poor old pier is still hanging in there:







If the wind ever stops I might try and sort all this out:



Just noticed my prayer flags are drooping - they're pretty tough to still be there at all.

Today I am grateful for: Becoming a great-aunt again - yay for babies, honestly, there's nothing better for the jaded heart than a new baby in the family; living on a hill and not at risk of flooding - I haven't been ignoring all that, but cannot bear to dwell on it; getting out into the fresh air; feeling less mental today

Sweet dreams