"Too much gossip; not enough long walks."

That would be Islay's assessment of the day, anyway.
Last night Pauline came round to invite me to the coffee morning at Pear Tree House. It was in aid of the campaign to get cancer treatment in Hereford, rather than having to go all the way to Cheltenham for treatment - a journey of three hours for some, which is why some people have refused treatment or failed to finish their course of treatment. The journey was just too arduous. The good news was that the money has been raised for a chemotherapy unit in Hereford, and it should be built and up and running by 2010. There is also room in the plans for radiotherapy machines, but this would cost more millions. At the moment, the Health Authority are looking at Hereford, Worcester and Cheltenham as possible sites for these machines, and the decision should be made by June. The chap who is leading the fund raising said that, even if the decision goes against Hereford, he will continue fund raising to get the machines independantly. So every coffee morning counts.
It's a slight shock to go to something like this, and mingle with people who are obviously local - but who you don't recognise at all! Pauline and I both felt this. We recognised a couple of people, but most of the thirty or forty people there were strangers to us.
Still, the cakes were very nice, there were some very good prizes for the raffle (including a £20 gift voucher for Shepherds - that's a lot of ice cream) and a bring and buy table. I got talking to a lady from Rhosgoch who has something to do with organising Huntington Fete, and when she heard that I did weaving workshops in medieval costume, she asked for my name and phone number. So I might be appearing at Huntington Fete this July, which should be fun.
After the coffee morning, I collected Islay and a shopping bag and went to pick up the ingredients I needed for banana bread, which I'm making for Fairtrade Friday in the Parish Hall.
Rob Soldat was in Londis, and stopped to chat (while Islay sat on the pavement looking mournful and scratching herself). He was discussing Hay Festival with the chap who now runs Londis, and the possibility of re-routing the shuttle bus to go through the town square, so that Festival-goers were dropped off in the middle of town rather than round the periphery. Slightly scary to think that it's time to start planning for the Festival already. One of the ladies at the coffee morning was considering the possibility of letting out rooms in her house for it, but was a bit put off by the thought that she wouldn't know what her house guests were like until it was too late, as it were, and they were there.
"Now you can have a walk," I told Islay, as Rob and I parted company.
We got as far as the Castle, and Tracy came out to speak to me about Stitch n Bitch. We're meeting tomorrow night to discuss what to do with the money we collected last year in membership dues - a trip to the Collinette shop in Newport has been suggested. Islay sat down on the grass, looking mournful.
"Right, this time we'll do it." Across the car park, into Cae Mawr - and there's Sally's mum, walking Alfie. So Islay got to play with Alfie while I chatted to Sally's mum - and she was on her way back from a walk, so we didn't go far.
Back up through the car park, and I decided Islay deserved a treat, so we went into Country Supplies. She's got the routine off pat now - dashes in, barks, runs to where the pigs' ears are, sits until she's given one, and then she dashes round the shop in triumph while I go to pay. Everyone thinks she's cute.
We went down Backfold, and I happened to spot Susy in Bedecked. So I left Islay to eat her pig's ear outside in the sun, and I went in to make sure she'd got the book I left on her doorstep the day before.
"So what's this about the Cheese Market?" she asked, after comparing the merits of Neil Gaiman and China Mieville, and Phillip Pullman and Ursula Le Guin. It seems the County Council want to sell the building - but we'll all know more on Thursday evening at 8pm, at the meeting at Shepherds.
I left her and the Bedecked lady discussing the possibilities of enrolling at the Art College as mature students in order to pick up young and good looking men.
I'd been there so long that Islay had finished her pig's ear.