Writerly Things...

At last, after months of searching I finally found my writing desk!  I had a picture in my mind and nothing I'd seen, in shops, on line had fitted my mental tick list - it had to be small (ish), have a couple of drawers, space at the back for storing things and most importantly have some character - I was thinking along the lines of a vintage french/swedish design in wood, limewashed the palest off-white.  I've trawled the usual places and the unusual places to no avail, until one evening driving home from work I spotted my desk, sitting proudly in a shop window only two minutes from home!  Even better - I got it at a reduced rate - meant to be, destiny...
So, I had a fun hour 'dressing' it and this blog entry is its christening, the first time I've sat at it to write; the first of many I hope and now I can indulge in my other secret (or not so secret) obsession - stationary, and all the other writerly paraphilalia that I'm addicted to, like heart shaped paper-clips; vintage paper notebooks and pens in rainbow hues.

My Book Log

Ready to write

Petal Power (picked from the garden)

Ten Things I'm Thinking About...

Lazing in the garden

• Tomorrow's 'short write'
• having a bath
• wondering how I can be so tired and it's only Monday!
• Will Geordie's fur grow back?
• Booking a hotel in Paris
• ordering some new books for my kindle
• writing some cards at my new desk
• calling my family
• will I make it to the gym after work tomorrow
• what colour nail polish shall I paint my toes

Family Ties

A few weeks ago, when I was home in Newcastle, my Dad brought out an old leather suitcase.  It had been lying in his study for some years, since my Grandpa's death and he had only just begun to go through it.  Inside was a cornocopia of items; things my Grandpa had kept because they had meaning for him and my Granny.  Through these objects I had brief access to a tiny slice of the things they deemed important - it was humbling.  Inside this leather case were cards and congratulations messages to them on the engagement and marriage of my parents; their order of service; letters my parents sent to them from Kenya, complete with details about me and when my sister was born, a letter detailing how ill she was.  There were exercise books that I had written in, sentences that I had copied when I was no more than four and bizarrely some passport sized photographs of my friends from primary school and another photograph of the lady who lived next door - Auntie Rae! Who knows how they came to be in there.  Tucked away under these relatively new items, was evidence of family long gone - my greatgrandparents death certificates/birth certificates, detailing the Welsh side of our family.  Going through all these things with my Dad gave me a wonderful sense of continuity as well as a strong feeling of belonging to a family that had a history, one that I was now playing a part of, and one that my children would go onto play their parts too...

Agape

I realise that it's been a while since my last blog post! Life and all that accompanies it, I guess, sometimes gets in the way of recording it!As coincidence would have it, today I walked again along the Wey navigation (see last post) , in warm sunshine and a blustering breeze.  In the intervening weeks I've been up to Northumberland, hosted friends from Australia, celebrated Easter and watched a very royal wedding.  I'm not a 'royalist' in any sense; I don't stalk them and the news pages; I don't queue to see them make a 3 second appearance along London streets but I was looking forward to Will and Kate's wedding and was happy to fight their corner with the more grumpy of my friends.  After all, in a world where headlines are dominated by Tsunami's, earthquakes, wars, and other pestilence, in my book a wedding and a chance to celebrate some of the good things life has to offer, namely love, is always worth the effort, royal or not.  So here's to love in every guise, filial, romantic, agape, I raise a glass to you...

Love

I was walking yesterday in the Spring sunshine, along a stretch of the Wey Navigation.  Moored canal boats gave way to fields, gave way to large houses backing onto the canal, when I spotted this....

John Donne's cottage at Pyrford

John Donne (1532-1631) married Ann More in December 1601. He was around thirty years old, and Ann was about sixteen. This was perhaps the most decisive event in John Donne's life, and effectively split his life in two. Before the marriage he was busy trying to overcome the handicap of being a catholic in a protestant country, and forge a career for himself in Queen Elizabeth's Court. But then the love poet fell in love and all his carefully laid plans collapsed.He spent many years in a sort of self-imposed exile here in the cottage at Pyrford. 

Lovers' Infiniteness

by John Donne

If yet I have not all thy love,

Dear, I shall never have it all;

I cannot breathe one other sigh, to move,

Nor can intreat one other tear to fall;

And all my treasure, which should purchase thee—

Sighs, tears, and oaths, and letters—I have spent.

Yet no more can be due to me,

Than at the bargain made was meant;

If then thy gift of love were partial,

That some to me, some should to others fall,

         Dear, I shall never have thee all.

Or if then thou gavest me all,

All was but all, which thou hadst then;

But if in thy heart, since, there be or shall

New love created be, by other men,

Which have their stocks entire, and can in tears,

In sighs, in oaths, and letters, outbid me,

This new love may beget new fears,

For this love was not vow'd by thee.

And yet it was, thy gift being general;

The ground, thy heart, is mine; whatever shall

         Grow there, dear, I should have it all.

Yet I would not have all yet,

He that hath all can have no more;

And since my love doth every day admit

New growth, thou shouldst have new rewards in store;

Thou canst not every day give me thy heart,

If thou canst give it, then thou never gavest it;

Love's riddles are, that though thy heart depart,

It stays at home, and thou with losing savest it;

But we will have a way more liberal,

Than changing hearts, to join them; so we shall

         Be one, and one another's all.

Five things making me happy

Watching the news, wave after wave of disasters, literally and metaphorically, has made me take a more pragmatic view of my own life.  Be glad for the small things and as ever, live in the moment, the past is history, the future a mystery, the moment a present...

So, here are five things currently making me happy....

Tiny Narcissus and Grape Hyacinths

Tiger Primulas

Geordie Cat!

Olive tree against a terracotta wall, reminding me of holidays

'chanelling' coral, my new fav colour!

Pea Pesto Crostini

Today is offically the first day of spring.  What a weekend it has been; clear blue skies, warm sunshine and all the spring flowers showing off their finery.  In honour of Persephone, Goddess of Spring, I decided to make this decidedly spring-like dish - Pea Pesto Crostini.  Simple and delicious flavours.  Take half a packet of peas, one clove of garlic, salt and pepper and a good handful of parmesan and blend together.  Slowly add a good olive oil until you have a smooth consistency.  Griddle some farmhouse bread and top with the pea pesto, garnish with tomatoes, basil and freshly ground pepper, then simply enjoy...



Happiness is...

• my new grey jumper from whistles

• roast lamb cooked slowly with winter veggies

• kate - always patient and there!!

Happiness and solitude

Each morning when I open my eyes I say to myself: I, not events, have the power to make me happy or unhappy today. I can choose which it shall be. Yesterday is dead, tomorrow hasn't arrived yet. I have just one day, today, and I'm going to be happy in it. - Groucho Marx

A disused railway cutting near Hexham

This quote made me wonder where it is I go when I feel down, or I want to improve my mood, reflect or just be quiet.  I came up with the following list:


1)Anywhere with running water - streams/rivers
2) Beach - preferably somewhere remote, my favourite being Holkham Sands, Norfolk
3)Nearer to home - my study and listening to 'Om mane padme hum' always makes me feel happier, calmer and ready to face the day
4)my white sofa, snuggled into soft throw, scented candle burning
5) Hot bath, warm towels, good book, glass of wine,
                                                           6) and last but not least - laughter!

Too much; too long;

So much has been happening in my life that normality got put on hold. Today all I want to share are some things that gave me pleasure:

drifts of nodding snowdrops, wobbling in the breeze
the smell of sage as it crisps up in the pan
clean linen on my bed, the lines of the cotton straight and smelling like spring

Autumn Pleasures...

1.  Shiny, red conkers, smooth and round

2.  Homemade soup, warm and comforting

3. Scuffing leaves, the colours of a blazing fire

The present and 'presents'

There is something special about those clear blue-skied days that appear before the real onslaught of winter.  They appear like an unexpected gift, the pleasure doubled as a result.  Walking on the common yesterday, was one such unexpected present; walking through the woods, the sunlight bouncing off the water; children running and squealing, their parents chatting and it struck me how much pleasure we all get from these 'gifts' and how by living in the moment, as everyone seemed to be doing yesterday afternoon, we can really live in the present and appreciate it; because it was unexpected people had abandoned their usual routines, left the homework, the Sunday dishes, the phonecall to the parents, and even the ritual tidying of the garden had been put on hold.  We were truly living in the moment and taking advantage of what it had to offer.  My present was to feel the warm tendrils of sun; the sharp spike of the chestnut cases I held in my hand; the long shadows on the ground and the rare but cherished moment when a dragonfly alighted on my bent knee and I had a moment of pure and unadulterated happiness...

Ruins and New Beginnings

As I've been reflecting on the events of the last month or so I've become increasingly aware of a running theme - it's taken me a while to get the message but finally i have it!  'New Beginnings' are all around me - new terms, new lives, new experiences; there is new everywhere I look and new is what I'm getting whether I like it or not!  I was musing on the idea of acceptance and how we can't control exactly what life throws at us, but we can control how we react to it and how we deal with it.  That's now my challenge and one I hope I'm up to, after all, things in ruin are a gift, for from ruins rise transformations and whole new and different beginnings.  This is now mine...So, to all those about to embark on new beginnings, Salut and Bon Voyage...!

Life's rich tapestry...

This week has been a tumultuous ride of diving and soaring emotions.  As I've tried to surf the ragged emotions of the week, often falling off into its frothing, shampoo, clawing my way desperately back to the surface again, I've been reflecting on how we hold onto sanity and a sense of normality when events tip us into an arena that is completely alien and wholly uninviting.
Friends/family and priorities is my conclusion.  Without my friends I would not have had the daily propping up necessary to get through the imminent minutes/hours; without my family I would not have had the security of knowing that whatever life throws at me they will always be my safety net; and now my priorities have to change; as a close friend observed to me ' your only recourse now is to prioritise your children and at long-last yourself.'
I'm still not sure what that will mean, but it feels right, albeit strange, as I worry about being alone.  However, I have also found huge comfort in an experience a year ago almost to the day; Holkham beach. I am swimming alone in the ocean.  The sea is calm, the sky very blue, the air warm as I float on my back, completely cut off yet strangely connected too; the moon hangs from the vapoury trail of a lone flight, imprinted on the sky like a minim on a music score, and as I drift a white gull glides over and there is only me, the bird and the moon and peace.

Wild Swimming

This summer I went swimming
This summer I might have drowned
But I held my breath, I kicked my feet
Moved my arms around
I moved my arms around

This summer I swam in the ocean
And I swam in a swimming pool
Salt my wounds, chlorined my eyes
I'm a self-destructive fool
Self-destructive fool

This summer I did the back stroke
And you know that that's not all
I did the breast stroke, the butterfly
And the old Australian crawl
The old Australian crawl

This summer I swam in a public place
And a reservoir to boot
At the latter I was informal
At the former I wore my suit
I wore my swimming suit

Oh, this summer I did swan dives
And jack-knives for you all
And once when you weren't looking
I did a cannon-ball
I did a cannon-ball

This summer I went swimming
This summer I might have drowned
But I held my breath, I kicked my feet
And moved my arms around
I moved my arms around

As a child we often swam in the rivers in Northumberland - Chollerford, Barrasford. My memory replays picnics and soggy sandwiches that were dropped in the peaty water; laugher and dams; sunshine and if we were good, crisps at the pub on the way home. This swim was different, still with my sister, but also her children, one of my children and her husband. We drove up the valley, along the River Coquet, on a slightly overcast day that kept hinting at the promise of sunshine. Ever optomistic we took along our picnic and the ubiquitous flask of tea. Tiptoeing our way through sheep droppings and bracken we found our very own sheep-nibbled lawn edging the lazy river. Never one to hang back, Martha was first in, closely followed by her uncle and cousins. I couldn't resist much longer and went for the juggular, straight in, no acclimatisation. Breath-numbingly cold, gasping for air as I struck out...and then, calm as I looked up the valley, water at nose level, pied wagtails bobbing their tails at the waters edge, the deep waters licking at my limbs in the silkiest caress. The nearest to contentment for a long time; the closest to complete abandonment of worry. There is something about water and its healing properties; to wash away, to refresh, to cleanse and invigorate.

Swallows and Sunsets

Today in the stress of moving class I remember a day quite recently when I hankered for some space and greenery and two hours later I found myself lying on the grass, under an old oak tree in the beautiful serenity of the Kent countryside. I could feel the heat on my legs as the sun burnt down and I watched the whispy fragile clouds drift on with no seeming purpose. A pair of swallows dipped and dived over me, my own personal acrobatic display, and over on the cricket pitch two young boys kicked a ball repeatedly against the old clubhouse. bang. bang. bang.

All shall be well....

"All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well" said Julian of Norwich all those many centuries ago. I've been thinking of this recently and what it means. I personally take it to mean, that whatever is at the present moment, is exactly how it is meant to be at this moment in time. It could become a sort of mantra for the 21st century..all shall be well, all shall be well...

Three beautiful things...

1. sleeping til late then just lying warm and cosy under the duvet reading.

2. lemon drizzle cake, moist with curd, soft and comforting with a cup of tea.

3. Geordie cat, lying with his head tucked into his soft fur belly, purring loudly.

Stolen Time

Bank holidays always feel to me like stolen days...as if the universe has given us some extra time and doesn't want paying back. If feels ok to lie later in bed, give the gym a miss, potter about in the kitchen and garden, chat to friends and reply to emails; it feels ok to read a chapter of my book whilst lying on my bed eating Minstrels (and it's 3 o'clock in the afternoon!)and to be planning a roast dinner followed by a long hot soak, with candles and face-pack, because before you know it tomorrow is here with its deadlines and do's and don'ts and today will be just another bar on the recharge battery of life.

"It is not how much we have, but how much we enjoy, that makes happiness."

"Let your life lightly dance on the edges of time like dew on the tip of a leaf. "

Monday 12 April 2010

Strange, quiet day today...
been for a swim, set up desk in bedroom so I can get some work done, although trying to make desk look less worklike to prevent stress setting in as I go to bed and see the computer winking at me in the darkness.
Read an obituary today about Elspeth Thompson and realised she had killed herself which, although I didn't know her, made me feel inexplicably sad. Especially as I've just read her book 'The Wonderful Weekend Book' which has made me feel totally inspired. How could someone who suggests we make a 'Gratutude Journal' find herself so unable to find anything in her life that makes her feel grateful enough to stay alive. Depression is a destructive companion, full of trickery and malice. I found this poem on her blog - here it is as a reminder that life can be full of blessings, if you only look closely enough

TWENTY BLESSINGS
adapted from the Celtic by Thomas A Clark

May the best hour of the day be yours.
May luck go with you from hill to sea.
May you stand against the prevailing wind.
May no forest intimidate you.
May you look out from your own eyes.
May near and far attend you.
May you bathe your face in the sun’s rays.
May you have milk, cream, substance.
May your actions be effective.
May your thoughts be affective.
May you will both the wild and the mild.
May you sing the lark from the sky.
May you place yourself in circumstance.
May you be surrounded by goldfinches.
May you pause among alders.
May your desire be infinite.
May what you touch be touched.
May the company be less for your leaving.
May you walk alone beneath the stars.
May your embers still glow in the morning.

And another
WILD GEESE
BY MARY OLIVER

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting —
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.