Ten miles and a cup of tea!

I remember the days when Berenice and me would get together on her day off in the week and have coffee and counsel! These days it's a cup of tea and tendon strain!

We both went through some pretty rough years back then, but these days we have exchanged the dimly lit afternoons talking through our worries for the great outdoors,to walk away our worries instead.Luckily we both love walking, the sea, the view...and one of our favourite walks is around the Great Orme.We both appreciate how fortunate we are to live in such a picturesque place and take full advantage whenever we can.

My little dog Fizz always accompanies us and is more attracted by the smell of sheep and goats rather than the landscapes...ha.You can see her peering over the wall in one of the pics, in search of the goats!!! Needless to say, she remains on the lead.

Neither of us is getting any younger and we usually have our fair share of aches and pains after our adventures!!! With B's feet and my knees...well, I won't go into that right now.

Nothing beats that cup of tea when we eventually arrive back at B's place!!! Heaven. A good cup of decently brewed tea...and tendon strain, from all them hills, and there are some too...big ones.

Here is a poem Berenice wrote about those days in the past.


Coffee & Counsel ( for M.E.J.)


It's funny, we rarely talk about
the weather. Instead we sit behind
our cups and trace the stains
of other counsels across my table cloth.

We talk with words and gestures,
chase the schemes we share.
Then the climate shifts. Our nightmares
begin to cross paths and collide,
bounce ceiling to wall to floor.

Words streak away, we don't know
why, or where. This counsel pulls us
through tunnels and caves, tempered
with her cigarettes, my kettle
and our dreams.

The clock’s timebomb ticks,
as our egos click with the sound.
Eyes meet, ponder, as we wander by,
unaware each is catching the other's hell.

All the while, the Swiss Cheeseplant
drips at us, drips across the tablecloth,
tries to recall it's jungle roots. A car
horn shatters our coffeed chit chat.

Deep secrets return to their rightful
place. We go back to the business
of the world. We gather up the cups,
mop away the stains
and hug
and part
and pray
this one is not the last.

© Berenice Dunford

This poem was originally written in December 2002, inspired by the hours Ellen and I have spent over countless cups of coffee, putting the world (ours and the rest of...) to rights. Time to pause and share is rare. Such friendship is rare. Jewels in the dark. May such jewels continue to grow and glow. My friends around the world...there are cups reserved for you at the coffee & counsel table...name your brew!!