Sunday was a beautiful day, possibly too hot. Andrew was running in the BUPA Great Wales Run, down the Bay. Regular readers will recall he ran it last year too. Because of his hamstring related lay off this was his first 10K for a while. Picture attached of him just before the start. In spite of his worry about his time, he actually did a very respectable 52 minutes, which he was very pleased with, considering he only started training again in May. Next run is the Swansea Bay 10K - this year will be his 3rd in this race. Although we were only out for a comparatively short time, at a reasonably early time, (race started at 9.30) Andrew found by the evening that he had caught the sun on his arms.

One of the most dispiriting things about the race was parking at County Hall; we then walked round to the start area by the Millennium Centre and I was shocked by the amount of litter, an overflowing bin by County Hall bus stop that had clearly not been emptied since the night/day before, and the bus stop itself was deep in leaf litter, fag butts and detritus - not swept for some time. Irrespective of extra litter caused by the run itself (mainly plastic bottles) this was not good outside the Council's main offices and right by a key tourist area. It also does not bode well for the forthcoming Eisteddfod which will be a major cleaning challenge.

Andrew was in London today, at the Institute of Directors in Pall Mall. As I often do, we got up earlier so I could drop him at the station and then walk the dogs at Hamadryad Park. After almost eleven years of marriage, he's learned that it's best not to engage my brain till a coffee or two has hit the spot. This morning though he posed a wardrobe dilemma. The IoD has a dress code - which struck me as slightly stuffy and old-fashioned these days, but anyway. He didn't want to wear a suit, but also did not want to fall foul of the sartorial police who presumably would eject him if he did not meet their exacting standards. Smart business casual is much harder for men than it is for women - once you get past the classic suit, you need good taste and a bit of thought to get it right. I think it's even harder in summer, for both men and women. Most Brits (myself included) just look hot and miserable when we get our few annual days of sun and humidity, and simply don't have the continental style found in say France, Italy or Spain. I think it's no surprise that one of the best shops for women's smart summer clothes is Zara, which of course is Spanish. Its clothes manage to look good without falling into either the trap of "wedding guest" look or "just wandered off the beach" approach. Anyway, Andrew eventually decided what to wear after a lot of rummaging, though I had reservations about his belt.

Another humid day today - I did a spot of baking and made a coconut cake - it smelled delicious while it was in the oven. Bread also made, and a bolognese for when the young master returned from London. We watched the F word, which was on the Sky box, and GR ate puffins - nooooo! Far too endearing to be eaten. Yes, I know it's soppy and illogical, and if I was a starving Icelandic herringwife, I'd be glad of it, but could you really eat one?

Two mornings of early trips to the railway station to drop off the young master. Dogs are bundled into the boot and we then walk down at Hamadryad Park, on Clarence Embankment. At 7 a.m. it is peaceful and very attractive. I like the river, there are often early morning rowing teams out, and a wide selection of birds, including cormorants, gulls and swans. You can see both the Millennium Stadium and the Millennium Centre, St Davids Hotel, and close by, Century Wharf. We rented a flat there very happily for a while when we were househunting in Cardiff. We loved being so close to all the attractions of the Bay, it was wonderful to be able to stroll out and have such a variety of bars and restaurants on the doorstep. The development itself was very peaceful and secure, although there was the most horrendous noise every morning from the entire urban gull population which roosted nearby on a set of factory roofs, and decided to start an enthusiastic dawn chorus at 5 a.m. every day. Each morning we'd groan and wish for an Uzi.

In the park, I'm particularly struck by the abundance of wild flowers - very attractive at this time of the year. After our trot round the park, with an occasional squirrel sighting for Andy, it's back in the car, and back past County Hall to return home, for an eight o'clock breakfast, for woofs and for me. Then a brisk couple of hours attacking the housework, followed by an encroachment (but not a full invasion!) into the ironing. When domestic duties are completed, a refreshing shower, lunch and then a peaceful afternoon with my cross stitch, accompanied by two snoozing hounds. Booty prefers an upstairs bed, where she can rest her little head on a pillow, and get some serious power-napping done. Andy likes to keep an eye on me , just in case I suddenly feel the urge to throw cheese at him or leave a steak lying around the kitchen. Young master not too late tonight - prawn curry though he had to miss out on the poppodums, on account of his war wound, which is healing nicely.

A relaxed evening with a bottle of wine, watching Barefoot Contessa (like her cooking style), my evening dose of the Tour and then an episode of Lewis, which I must admit seems to be streets better than Morse. Tomorrow the Tour will be decided by the time trial - there is still only a matter of seconds in it, and some particularly strong riders. Unusually, I don't have a strong personal favourite, although it would be nice to see Frank Schleck get it, or Carlos Sastre. Somehow, I have enormous respect for Cadel Evans, but find it difficult to root for him. This year it's been a really close race all the way through, although there hasn't been the high drama of last year's race with Vino, or even the year before with Floyd Landis, who did that extraordinary chase back to regain time, won and then was discovered to test positive. Quite operatic in its intensity and excitement. I love it.

Firstly, a quick update on the young master. Took him to the dentist this morning. He was ushered in to the inner sanctum and emerged shakily a little while later. His tooth had been removed, but the dentist was so skilful that he hadn't even realised that the deed was done. Wow. Came home, very numb and pale, and sensibly spent the afternoon on the sofa cuddling Booty. I went for a haircut and picked up a few treats for him, including some thick milkshakes and some rice pudding. This evening he had a relaxing bath and is now looking a lot better.

Secondly, praise where it's due for a company. My dear friend Leila has in the past used the website Figleaves and reported positively on them. I decided to have a browse. Well, what a selection. Everything from the budget and sensible right up to the most frothy lingerie imaginable, just what you'd imagine wearing on a hot date with Jean Reno (or other hot date of your choice). I made my selection and ordered on Sunday evening. Yesterday, I had an email confirming dispatch of goods, and today a beautifully wrapped parcel arrived, with a packet of lingerie goodness nestling in luxurious tissue paper. All fitted beautifully and am very happy. It's nice to be able to give good feedback about a shopping experience. I also can't imagine that there will be many high street shops with such a fantastic selection in a good range of sizes.

Finally, isn't this weather wonderful? tomorrow, I will be glued to the sofa as ITV 4 will be showing live coverage of the Tour on the stage up to Alpe d'Huez - a really famous climb. The race is very close in the top four and tremendously exciting - I am really enjoying it.

Some domestic dramas since I last wrote. Andrew has a deep, almost pathological hatred and fear of dentists, owing to an unpleasant experience when he was very much younger. He hasn't seen a dentist for a number of years, and any suggestion that he should is met with horror. Anyway, some eight weeks ago, he lost half a tooth and on Thursday night said tooth began to ache agonisingly. He was in so much pain he took a painkiller (something he never normally does, unlike me) and still had difficulty sleeping. On Friday morning he seriously considered pulling it out himself, but I went ballistic. Eventually, after a lot of nagging and drama, he allowed me to phone the Emergency NHS dentist service. To my amazement, the service was fantastic. Spoke to a lovely helpful lady, who managed to find an appt for the young master in Butetown at 11 am (I phoned just after 10). Dashed down to Loudon Square, where the health centre looks incredibly grim, but again staffed by lovely friendly and charming staff. He had no waiting and was whisked in to see a delightful dentist promptly at 11. In fairness, I can honestly say that in 11 years of marriage I have never seen him look so awful - not just white but a kind of grey colour, with a pallor on his skin. They thought he might faint so gave him glucose tablets. Anyway, after injections, he was still able to feel the tooth, so the dentist decided that the infection in it needed to be settled before it could be extracted, so home we came with a prescription for antibiotics. They have worked brilliantly and he's booked in tomorrow at my dentist for an extraction. He's on soft food, so I've made lots of soup and we've eaten tonnes of rice. I will update on the patient after tomorrow.

We had a good weekend. On Saturday, Busy Bees (where I go for quilting lessons) was celebrating its tenth anniversary by holding an exhibition at the Dyffryn community centre, just at the back of the Tredegar House carpark. We visited, and it was stunning, full of beautiful quilts and other handmade textile goodies, all done by people who'd attended classes or workshops at BB. Very inspiring. Then went over the shop to choose some sashing and backing fabric for my latest quilt top, and to pay for my forthcoming chicken course in August. Also treated myself to another charm pack in delightful Christmas colours. Will update further on this on my craft blog.

Sunday was equally enjoyable. We went down to visit Penny (another greyhound friend) who lives close to old friend Liz in the wilds of Carmarthenshire, on a very nice farm. She is the owner of two wonderfully affectionate and bonkers lurchers who bounced all over us, chased each other round the garden and through the raspberry canes and then collapsed in a heap, looking contented, before getting up and repeating the exercise. It was lovely to sit outside in the garden and Penny also took us up to see her latest foal who was beautiful and also had a really stunning mum, a gorgeous Section B palomino mare with a very sweet nature who came over for a neck tickle although I think she really wanted her feed bucket.

Today, it's actually been hot and sunny. This morning, after walking the woofs, I set about cleaning. In the afternoon, I decided to do some stitching out in the garden, to take advantage of the sunshine. I was only out there for a little over an hour, but my arms have caught the sun. I am normally very careful about not burning and religiously apply SPF 15 moisturiser every day for example - I guess I've got so used to having constant cloud and rain, I completely under-estimated the power of the sunshine. It was lovely to sit out there though - butterflies and bees in abundance, lots of birds, distant hum of lawnmowers, really relaxing and summery.

Talking of birds, I am sorry to report that they have nicked the majority of the ripe blueberries. I have now learned my lesson and the ripening berries on the other two bushes will be picked as soon as they are ready, rather than being left on the bush. Next year, I might invest in some netting or a cage to keep them off.

As TS Eliot so famously said in one of my favourite poems - "In my end is my beginning" and that's how I feel today, as I embark on my new life as a full time housewife and megastar. One of the important challenges facing me is what to wear. Should I opt for the Waynetta Slob look, as modelled locally comprising vast gold hoop earrings, scraped back dyed blonde hair and a variety of polyester leisure wear? Generally accessorised by a couple of screaming and feral toddlers. Or the Nigella Lawson "domestic goddess" with a cashmere twinset and a hopelessly pornographic approach to cooking the dinner? This would involve staring lustily at Andrew while making suggestive licking and stroking gestures with any available root vegetables or kitchen implements. Since watching her show I've never seen a nutmeg grater in the same light.

Actually, on one of my many forays into the byways of the Internet, I''ve come across a number of patterns for retro pinnies - you know, the ones that are frilled and that your granny probably wore. One of those in a nice vintage print would be just the job. Judging by the number available these are becoming popular once more - possibly to be worn with a gingham shirtwaister, red lipstick and maribou trimmed mules?

Andrew has (jokingly I hope) suggested a range of performance indicators and of course with my background I am clearly destined to set up a domestic Cleanliness index with interior zoning and time bound constraints for restoring it to perfection. I am also in the process of setting up a range of spreadsheets to help track various tasks and to assist in menu planning. Fortunately I have reached the stage of my life where I can laugh at my characteristics without feeling any need to change them.

Andrew's chip arrived in the post today for his next run - he's training for the BUPA great Wales run at the end of the month. Today has also been a day of industrial action by Unison and Unite over local government pay issues. When the Echo arrived this afternoon, it was nice to see some familiar faces either in the pictures or being quoted in the article. Generally, the dress code for picketing seems to be based on a "smart casual" approach - usually jeans as they give a nicely classless air with a nod to their working origins. I wonder if anyone has ever done a serious study on the messages of dress and industrial relations? Would be interesting reading.

In other news, our blueberries are ripening and we have some ready for picking. Unfortunately although this is very exciting, there are only about 8 of them so Andrew and I will have to share them without baking a glorious blueberry cobbler or some other delicacy. Maybe a smoothie?
The gourds are also in full flower, which should give us a bumper crop in the autumn.

Blimey - 78 people from the Council have read my blog today. I must leave more often. Thanks to the mystery commentator, much appreciated.

One of the handy features on my webstat counter - well, they're all good - is a listing showing what searches bring up my blog, organised both by search engines and also more interestingly by search term. Not surprisingly, Google is far and away the most popular search engine, with Google Blog search and Firefox appearing occasionally. Andrew is an enthusiastic user of Firefox. If I was starting my blog again, I would not use a title that had the word "mistress" in it, as the internet caters for slightly more adventurous searches using that word. It's quite odd to see search results with a heavy mix of greyhounds, nipple clamps and spanking (and those are the politer ones). One of the funniest to have popped up recently was something to do with a threesome of lesbians ironing - frankly, I'd welcome them with open arms if they wanted to come and do mine. One of these days I'm sure I'm going to see a search phrase combining greyhounds with some particularly kinky pursuit - doesn't bear thinking about.

An early start this morning to take Andrew to the station. Miraculously it wasn't raining, so bundled sleepy hounds into the back of the car and after dropping off Andrew by station front, drove down to Hamadryad Park on Clarence Embankment. Took the woofs for an early morning constitutional, not helped by part of one of my teeth falling out on the way. Now will need emergency dentist. Still it was lovely by the river with early rowers on the water, ducks bobbing and a wonderful selection of wild flowers in the park. Drove home via Tesco for a paper and some shampoo - and treated myself to one of their new bags for life shoppers. Three ticks in the box - made from recycled plastic bottles - hurrah! Raising money for Marie Curie, one of my favourite cancer charities - hurrah! Designed by Cath Kidston and covered in jolly flowers - hurrah! As I got back to the car with my purchases, it began to rain, and it is now bucketing down. Am about to do battle with laundry - oh, frabjous day, as Lewis Carroll put it. Woofs content on sofa in post walk torpor, having devoured breakfast.

Inundation. How else to describe yesterday and today? Near constant rain, heavy, persistent, soaking. We seem to be constantly mopping floors, needing lights on against the darkness and generally feeling very un-summery. Every time the dogs go out the garden they return soaking wet, even after only a couple of minutes.

Received some news today (long expected) that confirms my employment with Cardiff will almost certainly come to an end early next week. Cue a mass breakout at Lamby Way of singing "Hurray, the witch is dead." We have no particular ties to the city (my roots are in Swansea and its western environs) and Andrew's work can be carried out anywhere in the UK provided he has access to good transport links. Accordingly, I think it unlikely that we will make our permanent home here. The friends I have made since moving here are generally greyhound related and if we stay in Wales would continue. Can only think of a few people from work I would want to stay in touch with - inevitably,and quite naturally, work relationships generally wither without the daily contact and work setting. And of course there is the equally important point that very few people would be wanting to stay in touch with me, particularly as I have never made much of an attempt to win any popularity contests. This has been brought home to me recently as I have been surprised by the deafening silence from colleagues. My handy site stats show that the blog is receiving a lot of readers from the Council, averaging around a dozen a day with peaks well above that. I suspect people are reading it in the hope of work related gossip or the online equivalent of gawping at a car crash - sort of cyber rubberneckers. A number of other blogs have been writing about my departure for some time so I suspect that for most people it will be old news. Further reflections on my time with Cardiff will follow.

A lot to write about. On Friday night, we enjoyed my Christmas present from Andrew - two tickets to see Dolly Parton at the CIA. I had been looking forward to wearing something really summery such as the silver sandals I bought last year and have still only worn twice, but the weather got steadily worse throughout the day, and was raining heavily by the time we got into Cardiff. Accordingly having donned my thermal vest and Fair Isle bloomers, we went to the CIA and took our seats. Promptly at 8, the performance began. Naturally she looked divine, she is just so tiny, so perfect and looks fantastic for her age. The costumes were a riot of rhinestones and underwiring, the wig deserved its own tribute band and the makeup was a testament to the power of pigment married to the technology of the space shuttle. An excellent line up of songs, a cracking band, and all totally RUINED by the appalling sound quality of the venue. Most of the time we could barely hear individual words, just an echoing wall of sound. However, I'm just so pleased to have seen her - she is a truly professional performer, an amazing songwriter and a fantastic role model. The sound was better when she did some lovely accapella numbers later in the set but the moral of the story is definately - AVOID THIS VENUE. I also begrudge paying nearly £3 for a tiny bottle of water - what's that about? Interestingly there were dire warnings pinned up everywhere when we went in that all photos were forbidden and you weren't even supposed to take a camera mobile in with you. Naturally most people ignored this but occasionally stewards were prowling and asking people who were taking quite innocent pics of themselves with friends to desist. This did not add to the gaiety of nations.

Eventually came home on a high note and were met as usual by woofs by the door. I was pottering around downstairs making a cuppa while DH went upstairs to undress. There was an ominous silence then he called me to come and see.

Andy's raiding activities had hit a new low (or high, depending on your perspective). While we were out, he had taken a full bucket from downstairs with a sealed lid containing bags of wild bird peanuts and those plastic mesh sacs full of mixed bird seed. This had been dragged upstairs (no mean feat considering the weight) then he had managed to remove the tightly sealed lid, then the contents had been partly eaten and partly lavishly scattered all over our bed, the bedroom floor and the ensuite. When I saw it, I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. So, late at night, Andrew began the laborious task of hoovering every inch of the bedroom, changing the bed and jiggling the furniture so that we could remove the nuts and seeds that were everywhere. This took a surprisingly long time so we were quite late going to bed. While all this was happening, the culprit was skulking in the front bedroom, occasionally rolling his eyes at us forlornly - he definately knew we were not happy bunnies. Eventually bed was changed and made up, and all retired after quite a memorable evening.

Saturday we took a new walk. Regular readers will recall we walk very often over at Tredegar House and also at Tredegar playing fields which adjoins the park of the house, being separated by the road and the exit from the M4. Quite often in the playing fields, if you look up, you can see an attractive hill with what appears to be walks on it. So on Saturday morning, we drove past the playing fields and into the suburb of Caer, up onto the hill, parked and walked all over the hilltop. On the map it is shown as Tredegar Fort (age unknown at present, but we will endeavour to find out) and there was a wide selection of ditches, lumps and bumps. The view was stunning, right over the Transporter bridge to the Severn crossing. Somerset looked virtually touchable. All over the fort, we wandered, enjoying the views, the wind, the sun and the solitude (only two other dog walkers to be seen). Paths had been mown and it was a pleasure to stroll along turf studded with clover while the dogs sniffed excitedly.

We timed our walk well, as just after returning to the car, the rain began again and the weather worsened through the day. I began watching the Tour (my one annual foray into professional sport broadcasting). Later, I actually began making some Christmas cards for the greyhound shop.

Today, we did another new walk, this time to St Brides on the levels. We parked by the Lighthouse Inn, and then walked out along the edge of the Severn to the lighthouse at the mouths of the Ebbw and Usk at Newport docks, and back along the raised sea wall. It was lovely, very peaceful and lonely with stunning views. All we could hear were skylarks, the wind in the grass and the sound of the sea. The dogs loved it too, with lots of new smells and puddles for Booty to play in. Again, we timed it well, as it started raining this afternoon and has been miserable for the rest of the day. I watched some more Tour and we had a delicious evening meal of a beef casserole with a bottle of Shiraz. Some photos attached of the walk.

Over the weekend we watched Pan's Labyrinth for the second time. Again, I was struck by what a powerful film it is. Beautifully acted and stunning visually, with a very clever way of alternating between the terrible horrors of the Civil War and Ofelia's own nightmarish battles in the world beneath, as well as the loss of her mother. I kept being reminded of Goya's paintings - that same horror. If you haven't seen it, I recommend it.

Later in the week, I am looking forward to settling down and watching Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistlestop Cafe, which I recorded today. This is a really lovely film and always makes me cry buckets, as it's such a touching story of friendship and the love between girl friends. Quite old now, probably about 15 years, if not more, but I'm hoping it will stand up well, especially as much of the flashback action is set in the pre-war era.

Finally, it's been a while since we had any gratuitous shots of the greyhounds. The bed was stripped this morning to take advantage of the sunshine. Before I could finish tidying, Booty had colonised it and enjoyed a relaxing snooze with her legs in the air. The other photo shows Andy having a similar power nap in the front bedroom. Clearly, it's hard work being retired.....