tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-59031526201922558612024-02-19T11:28:45.480+00:00A wandering worldA ramble about a life lived "on the road"Moominhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14308705214707002165noreply@blogger.comBlogger47125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5903152620192255861.post-30473721438360213472014-05-13T20:53:00.000+01:002014-05-13T20:53:31.024+01:00A family treasure<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDiJ94k-TyzZaKcJj7I6nQ4m-b6e8YR54-DKoGHPv3QkDnk2T-QfvVOenABHD3-wvKfNIdT6s8maVDVBW4NKfPzk_ZwYtqgKgDgX_U7U7kVXxS2550Pm5sqwXw_AdWpEM_wrExSrABI1nn/s1600/NormanKitBag.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDiJ94k-TyzZaKcJj7I6nQ4m-b6e8YR54-DKoGHPv3QkDnk2T-QfvVOenABHD3-wvKfNIdT6s8maVDVBW4NKfPzk_ZwYtqgKgDgX_U7U7kVXxS2550Pm5sqwXw_AdWpEM_wrExSrABI1nn/s1600/NormanKitBag.jpg" height="320" width="300" /></a></div>
This bag was issued in 1942, to a new, war time recruit. He was just another young man, leaving his family behind to do what he he believed to be his duty. His name was Norman Nicholls, and he had recently started 'courting' a young lady by the name of Barbara, with lush auburn hair and a sparkling smile. He was gone from her for 4 and a half years, during which time they wrote each other many letters, which followed him across the world to India, where he spent most of his war.<br />
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Norman was my husband's uncle, the elder brother of his father, Ken. Norman was a second father to Jeffery, and Barbara a second mother - not to say there was any clash with Jeffery's parents, they were a quartet of dear friends till death. Norman and Barbara never had any children, which, in my opinion, was a tragedy, as they would have made great parents, but their niece (Jeffery's older sister, Pat) and nephew gained immeasurably. Norman, Ken and his wife, Phyllis, died several years ago, leaving Barbara alone of the 4 family who were such close friends. From their reunion at the end of the war until shortly before Norman's death, this bag housed those wartime letters, which makes it, by association, a symbol of all those special, loving years together.<br />
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Shortly before his death, Norman decided he didn't want to risk these letters falling into the wrong hands, and burned them. Recently, Barbara, in her early 90s, has been attempting to make clearing her home easier for those whose job it will be when she, too, dies, and confided that she didn't know what to do with the kit bag. To cut a long story short, I was given custody of it when visited recently.<br />
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This responsibility is a great privilege, and I treasure the lifetime of love that this bag symbolises. Thank you, Barbara, for your trust.<br />
<br />Moominhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14308705214707002165noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5903152620192255861.post-84056964586113114632014-04-29T20:55:00.000+01:002014-04-29T20:55:24.766+01:00Home from Home<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Having lived mostly mobile for nearly 23 years, we've seen a lot of caravan sites! We tend to favour the small, 5 van sites of the Caravan Club, not really being party people, and we've pitched in all sorts of nooks and crannies, and in capacious open spaces. Some we delight in leaving, others we depart from with many a regretful backward glance. For the past 2 months our temporary home has been a large and luxurious site on the borders of Hampshire and Wiltshire, and we will depart with regret - even though we are delighted to be going home!<br />
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www.greenhillholidays.co.uk is a large site with fishing lakes, wildlife, a forest walk and easy walking access to the New Forest. It has plush 'log cabin' style facilities blocks nestling in the wooded grounds, a special family area with a smashing playground (my son would have loved it as a child!) a agin with a bar when it's busy, as well as onsite take away, laundry, shop etc etc etc - just the sort of site we usually avoid!<br />
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I'm so glad we didn't avoid it this time, it's one of the nicest places we've stayed, and marvellous value (I usually resent the high prices these 'all singing all dancing' sites charge) Only one site we've stayed on has been grander and beautiful, and that was a 'Stately Home' with grounds laid out by 'Capability' Brown - Burton Constable, in Yorkshire, where the caravans were laid out around the Georgian lake, with its elegant bridge. However, Green Hill Farm is much more a home - and you can watch the Boss herself digging holes, fixing the electrics and laying turves! The owners are working hard to make the site ever better, yet are managing to maintain a friendly atmosphere at the same time - an impressive trick.</div>
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Many large sites are a bit snobbish about the vans or tents they allow on their premises - not Green Hill Farm, I've seen some delightful vintage vans, as well as some that are more like a science fiction fantasy! If you're an early bird, from some pitches you get glorious dawns, rising over the edge of the Forest - on our pitch, we've been blessed with some magnificent sunsets. Yes, we'll miss Green Hill Farm, many thanks to Lorna and her staff for making us feel at home, we'll be back when we get an excuse!<br />
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<br />Moominhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14308705214707002165noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5903152620192255861.post-7541292125520113172013-01-10T20:34:00.000+00:002013-01-10T20:34:37.179+00:00The year of 3 dogs!In the summer of 1999 we acquired a small, young terrier from the Dogs Trust, they had called her 'Gypsy' as she had been found wandering at a site in Manchester after some gypsies had been moved on by the police. <br />
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We called her 'Sioni' (short for Sioned, not the masculine version, for those who speak Welsh!) and she shared our lives and our travels, our tribulations and triumphs, until June 2012.<br />
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By this time she was grey haired, and getting a bit stiff, but seemed ok otherwise, until she started having 'accidents'. She had always been a fastidious kind of dog - almost like a cat, and this clearly distressed her, and we realised something serious was wrong. After consulting our vet, she was put to sleep, and a post mortem revealed it had been the right thing, at the right time. We decided to be dogless for awhile, but fate had other ideas! Our landlord's sister in law, who worked with the RSPCA, asked us to give a little rescue dog a chance. She was a Shi Tzu/Poodle cross who had been returned to them for the 2nd time as a biter, but was young and pretty - maybe we could turn her around? I'm a sucker for a sob story.<br />
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Peta/Martha came to stay for a while, 2 months or so later, she went back. She was indeed 'a biter'! She bit me at least twice a week over that period, without warning, and several times to the bone! This one was not going to be suitable for any domestic environment. Sadly, after a long period of assessment, she was put down. In a way, I'm glad for her, because, like most creatures who are not sane, she was very unhappy, and only getting more so. Yet again, we decided on a dog free period!<br />
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We have a habit, when we have the time and the diesel, of making occasional trips to Burnham on Sea, in Somerset, for a walk along the beach and a good, old fashioned fry up at the Beach View Cafe (recommended, proper seaside cafe!) At the end of October we took our first dogless walk - and felt bereft, surrounded by happy dogs belonging to other people. We talked - and talked, and finally agreed that we would be open to the idea of letting the right sort of dog into our lives, a small, older dog, in need of a caring home, that wouldn't need too much exercise etc. The very next day a Twitter friend posted a picture of an elderly Yorkshire terrier whose mistress had died, and was pining in kennels. This seemed extraordinary to me, as she rarely retweets anything that isn't about sewing!! Having looked into it, we went to pick him up from Porthcawl the next weekend.<br />
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He is called 'charlie', though he doesn't appear to recognise this! Neither has he been trained to the lead or even think he's a dog! Dog food is an alien concept to which he turns up his nose, and his legs are very weak, we had to carry him <u>alot</u> at first! His skin was a mess, very infected, and he had to have infected lumps and his upper incisors removed shortly after he came to us, poor chap.<br />
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He's still got a way to go, but now he scampers up the steps into the caravan, and knows we are his people and that this is home! His digestion is still pretty erratic, and he's a plodder, rather than a marcher, let alone a runner! However, he is losing weight and getting healthier, let's hope this summer sees him enjoying life as he should!<br />
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Charlie came to us from
<span class="url">
<a href="http://www.jemimas-place.com/" rel="me nofollow" target="_blank">
http://www.jemimas-place.com</a> they are struggling for funds at the moment, and they are very dedicated in their care for abandoned animals, so if you feel like it, please go to their site and donate, even a little bit!</span>Moominhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14308705214707002165noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5903152620192255861.post-35232044349227518442012-11-13T11:53:00.000+00:002012-11-13T11:53:26.302+00:00Adopting Charlie<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Our family has always been a 'doggy' one, I have strong, 'smelly' memories of the dog we had when I was tiny, before my father died - he was a rather portly Spaniel, by the name of Scallywag! I have no pictures of Scally, but one of the few pictures I have of my father is of him in his Merchant navy uniform, with his dog on his lap. We had a dogless gap after my father died, we were very broke, and my mother struggled to provide for herself, my baby sister and myself, never mind a dog! I help us acquire a terrier when I was about 10/11, a very intelligent little dog who my mother taught to do many useful things! She would have made a great support dog for a person with disabilities in this more enlightened age. At about the same time we started doing a bit of fostering for the RSPCA, including a starved Guinea pig collected one Christmas Eve, to be cared for over the holiday, who finally died in our care nearly 8 years later!<br />
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I had various other animals as I grew up, but have few pictures of them, the cat in the above picture was Minou, a black cat rescued from the 'care' of some lads in one of my mother's bedsits when I was 23 and passed to my care. She went though many moves and traumas with me and my children, dominating both any dogs that came into the family, and my children! She finally died at the age of 19, with the collie in the picture (Mutt) and a black Labcross (Tara) still firmly under her paw to the last.<br />
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Mutt was an Orkney collie, a working dog acquired while I lived there, at the urging of my eldest daughter! She was an amazing dog, intelligent and loving, and, as you can se from this picture, totally devoted to my husband, who was far more enamoured of Mutt than me! At about the same time we had a little terrier, bought from some travellers as a puppy, slim and elegant in her movements, we called her 'Lady", a gross misnomer, as she would more appropriately have been named 'Anybodies'!<br />
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Lady & Mutt both passed on in their turn, as did Tara, who had also been an addition via my eldest daughter! When Tara passed on, all our children had left home, and we went dogless for several months, but eventually realised that we felt bereft, and went to the Dogs Trust near Shrewsbury, explaining that we needed a small, adaptable dog, as we lived in a motorhome and travelled alot, because of my husband's work. There was alot of umming and ahhing, saying that they didn't often get small dogs in, let alone young ones, but to leave our contact details. A young dog came in the very next day! Picked up by the police after moving some travellers on from a site in Manchester, they had named her 'Gypsy' - she seemed fated to be ours, and we picked her up almost immediately. We knew her as 'Sioni', short for Sioned, the Welsh version of 'Janet". That was in 1999, and she finally left us this summer, having brought us 13 years of companionship and entertainment, comfort and challenge.<br />
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This was Sioni just after we got her, sleek and black, bright as a button!<br />
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And this was Sioni shortly before she died in June, grizzled and a little portly, but blissed out! During Sioni's life we also, briefly had a retired racing Greyhound, whom we called Ioan (Welsh version of John) and who was a delight and a challenge!<br />
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When Ioan came to us he had only known kennel life, stairs and traffic were a terrifying new challenge! I had never before had a greyhound, and was enchanted by his gentleness and loving nature, I miss him still.<br />
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Sadly, in 2007 I destroyed my right elbow completely, leaving me quite unable to manage a large and unpredictable dog like Ioan ( he was scared of his own shadow, bless him, and inclined to suddenly leap off!) After Sioni died, we thought that, maybe, I could at alst indulge my tearning for a chihuahua, having loved them since 'dog sitting' a delightful pair when I was in my 20s, so we made an appointment to go and see a litter of pups. Fate had other plans, as it so often does! Our landlord's sister in law fosters for the RSPCA, on a rather larger scale than we did! They had a young Schi Tzu/Poodle cross brought in who had already been in more than one whom, and had been passed to the RSPCA as a biter, would I give her a chance, see if we could sort her out? If not, she would be put down. Had to give her a chance, the appointment with puppies was cancelled, and Peta came into our life.</div>
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To cut a long story short, Peta was pretty and charming, except that she would turn without any warning and sink very sharp teeth into you! We tried for 3 months, but she just got more and more determined to embed her teeth into us - and anyone else she felt like, with no warning whatsoever. reluctantly, with many tears, we returned her to the RSPCA, knowing what her fate was likely to be, but also knowing she could never be safe in a domestic environment.<br />
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Rest in peace, little Peta. After that experience, we were very reluctant to take on another dog in a hurry, if ever, and decided to give ourselves space to enjoy each other's company, and do the kind of things it's hard to do with a dog in tow. That was until lastSaturday, 3rd November, when we went for a walk on the beach at Burnham on Sea, which is a regular treat for us! The beach was full of dogs, and reminded us of how much more one shares in when walking with a dog! So, we decided we would open ourselves to the possibility of another dog - let life lead us. On Monday, as I surfed my Twitter stream, I read a ReTweet from a lady I follow, who rarely RT's other peiple's tweets. It was a picture of a little Yorkshire Terrier, posted by an animal rescue centre in south Wales, simply saying 'I need a home'. Charlie was calling us.<br />
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Poor little Charlie is 12 years old, and has lost his elderly mistress, so he's been 'widowed', and his world has turned upside down. His mistress obviously struggled to care for him towards the end, and he hasn't had much exercise for awhile - as for his diet, I dread to think what he was eating towards the end of his mistress's life, cos he's quite tubby! However, he has a very sweet nature, and knows what's good for him - none of this processed rubbish, please! His choice is a little lean meat with fresh fruit and vegetables, so he'll soon be a healthier little chap!<br />
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Although his legs are weak and a bit wobbly, he's keen to explore a wider world, so walks are 'little and often' and his new territory is being thoroughly marked and investigated - and the resident yellow Lab, belonging to our landlord, has already been told to mind his Ps & Qs! His coat is very thin, so I've knitted him a jumper for chilly days, and the vet has checked him over and cleaned up his nether regions for him, so he's good to go! Onwards and upwards, Charlie!<br /><br />
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<br />Moominhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14308705214707002165noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5903152620192255861.post-91666108861526197362012-05-24T09:24:00.000+01:002012-05-24T09:24:53.917+01:00A 21st century friendshipI started using Facebook in 2006/2007, encouraged by my 2nd daughter. The whole internet/IT thing was still pretty scary and daunting but, as my children were on it, and they were getting increasingly scattered, it seemed like a good way to keep in touch, so worth facing my fears! On April 4th 2007 I fell, and completely destroyed my right elbow - not a clever thing to do for someone heavily right handed! This left me learning to do as much as possible left handed, and surfing the net was easy in comparison to some things, so, to save my sanity, I started to spend alot of time online, learning all I could about all sorts of things! I discovered, to my delight, a group for over 50s on Facebook, and started chatting with the lovely lady who started it - a certain Peta Bridges.<br />
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As we chatted, we discovered we had both grown up in Canterbury, and that I had lived just a couple of houses away from the Police Station where her husband, Bill, had worked. She coached me in using the net, and encouraged me to have confidence in my explorations. As time went by, the problems with my missing elbow increased (there was no replacement joint available, and I lived with steadily increasing levels of debilitating pain) and Peta was there for me as no one else was, searching the net for all the help she could find for my situation. There was little practical that could be done at that time, and as my pain inceased, my spirits sank. At all times, Peta lifted me up, reaching out through the ether to place a metaphorical arm around me, and giving me the courage to lift my head and plough on.<br />
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In late 2008, I reached the point where I could stand the pain no longer, and asked my Consultant to amputate my arm above the elbow, as I could no longer even breathe without the shock waves in my arm being excruciating. Still Peta was there for me, understanding, though regretting my decision, and I felt her presence with me as I went into see my consultant. Astonishingly, he had just found a brand new, suitable joint for me, and it was fitted in May 2009. The joy Peta expressed for me was almost greater than my own! <br />
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Bill & Peta had a talent for speading happiness, confidence and strength, as became evident reading their Facebook streams, I was far from the only one that Peta had supported through hard times. Tragically, they both started to suffer some bad health themselves, Peta undergoing some fairly agonising treatment on her back, and being unable to drive because of the pain, and Bill generally suffering all round 'not feeling good'. Earlier this year Bill underwent a series of tests, which showed him to have cancer, but they both decided to fight it with all the strength we, their online community, could offer in support, setting up a special page on Facebook where we could gather together to share and pool our resources.<br />
Bill had been given an estimate of 10-12 months, but he deteriorated rapidly, and was sent home to Peta's loving care. Apallingly he died only a few weeks later, on the 15th May, exactly a week before his birthday.<br />
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Peta was devastated. Left alone with just her 2 dogs, Paco & JD, her distress was palpable over the net, and Facebook overflowed with loving messages from the enormous, wordwide network of people whose lives she had made so much better by her touch.<br />
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It was not enough, and Peta was found dead at her home on Bill's birthday, exactly a week after she had lost her 'beautiful boy'. This is just my personal perspective on Peta & Bill, many more had the privilege of much closer, longer and physical friendship with them, and many of their Facebook friends made the effort to go to Spain to be with her in the flesh - I desperately wish I had been one of them.<br />
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I am heartbroken for the pain that Peta felt without her 'boy', for one who had given strength to so many, it was peculiarly cruel. They are together again and we are bereft - but she helped us be people who could cope with that loss.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2XevaU-D8k48qsr-QISNFTaRqSGz6e2FF1qQSayCwn37nbq9Tsx2iopnM5Sc9EAthkVXXLJ6O2RySNaBV8Cx30RF8WbMoBqvxdKP3ZYntBsGC-jxzxiBopAx4HKOVxlwsUOZgazZnLkyX/s1600/BillPetaWedding.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2XevaU-D8k48qsr-QISNFTaRqSGz6e2FF1qQSayCwn37nbq9Tsx2iopnM5Sc9EAthkVXXLJ6O2RySNaBV8Cx30RF8WbMoBqvxdKP3ZYntBsGC-jxzxiBopAx4HKOVxlwsUOZgazZnLkyX/s1600/BillPetaWedding.jpg" /></a></div>
Rest in peace, Bill and Peta Bridges, you will take alot of forgetting. Thank you for being.Moominhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14308705214707002165noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5903152620192255861.post-83950115581909372532012-04-02T12:11:00.000+01:002012-04-02T12:11:21.686+01:00Witley Court, Worcestershire<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF_C-ttNTyCWAKl4zudGK2PpXbKP4wzT3ojatY0F8Ji6w_sE6Rx7CqiomGvuQdNRwz45A5u0DuRFyMhC4OTK_5y9g9qK5aW-LwoW9K5EInqaCg9pkMvHnjd-izWZWE_6UKk-gNvGtVoJ_a/s1600/WitleyBigFount7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF_C-ttNTyCWAKl4zudGK2PpXbKP4wzT3ojatY0F8Ji6w_sE6Rx7CqiomGvuQdNRwz45A5u0DuRFyMhC4OTK_5y9g9qK5aW-LwoW9K5EInqaCg9pkMvHnjd-izWZWE_6UKk-gNvGtVoJ_a/s400/WitleyBigFount7.jpg" width="307" /></a></div>My husband and I (how regal!) met in July 1981, when he was working as an archeologist for the Department of the Environment - shortly to become English Heritage, under Mrs Thatcher's reorganisations. That summer he started work at Witley Court, a grand mansion in Worcestershire fallen into desperate disintegration. When he first visited it was crumbling, having had a bad fire shortly before the War, then being stripped of its contents and choice architectural features, before suffering the final indignity of being used as a jam factory! It had stood lonely and unloved for many years by the time English Heritage took it under its wing, and the gardens had returned to wilderness, the grand fountains were full of saplings and debris, and the fabric of the building itself was in danger of collapse, only the magnificent Baroque Church had survived in any kind of reasonable condition, as it had become the parish church.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8ACMgOamftjYh7abCVVs-K9fgylAIUHqiFbK31VVI2LIYBXpfCHIi86FWse2pC0SapWTzmXLkm81wrnlhGJALPdtut0DZOR6qEeV_kzXEJAJFF2ek70FOsc6i0TwyeWChi0yES8eQZedJ/s1600/80sWitley4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8ACMgOamftjYh7abCVVs-K9fgylAIUHqiFbK31VVI2LIYBXpfCHIi86FWse2pC0SapWTzmXLkm81wrnlhGJALPdtut0DZOR6qEeV_kzXEJAJFF2ek70FOsc6i0TwyeWChi0yES8eQZedJ/s320/80sWitley4.jpg" width="226" /></a></div>The first picture of the Perseus & Andromeda fountain, at the top of this essay, was taken yesterday, the second was how my husband found it in 1981. It has taken many years, and a frightening amount of money, but English Heritage have returned as much as possible of this staggering house & grounds to at least a hint of its former glory.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0o8kxHLbPntER0gOuDS_HxF068yi6dTwxn3OhdydAj7gG5463fXJEGQls__g325kqzdrOBwacb-t-yIpBop1Lgd4od-xgWPJTxxnheMA_4KCCjgbYce_cikwwfFaLAy6AFYVlge1hC96J/s1600/80sWitley1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="217" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0o8kxHLbPntER0gOuDS_HxF068yi6dTwxn3OhdydAj7gG5463fXJEGQls__g325kqzdrOBwacb-t-yIpBop1Lgd4od-xgWPJTxxnheMA_4KCCjgbYce_cikwwfFaLAy6AFYVlge1hC96J/s320/80sWitley1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div> This was the house itself when Jeffery first visited, still showing its grand scale, and the bare bones of its glory, but all the fine stone steps, and portable architectural flourishes had been removed and sold - its gates ending up in the US, I understand!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga1iBuI-apNyT1HXBEdxGll5gLoQSq7tr1h0PObzvKkf5Ldq1jk1_XPeInq9MSA0ONi1enaWzOK16A7GWJ6zOL_mXCzLPXat9dCG6lf-BaTdXy21opYt6X9AXdGlzb-iNE6dxlb0OSS6LB/s1600/WitleyMainView.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga1iBuI-apNyT1HXBEdxGll5gLoQSq7tr1h0PObzvKkf5Ldq1jk1_XPeInq9MSA0ONi1enaWzOK16A7GWJ6zOL_mXCzLPXat9dCG6lf-BaTdXy21opYt6X9AXdGlzb-iNE6dxlb0OSS6LB/s320/WitleyMainView.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>This was the same view yesterday, the masonery much restored and stabilised, many of the 'flourishes' restored and the parterres of the garden replanted. The grand steps have been replaced, and the statue plinths repaired, though the enormous lions that once gazed out across the parterres & fountain have gone forever.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB3RbcyNXOrhbd4Z81n9CsHagiTJ_5ItLYMpYu1ycxJCa5mavy54UAHyKasa7sC-2K8Veqopa_SmjVRNfRCHaBGKNGkdzz-c7kdLT0lYw9VLBNmYdw70uoYJdx4KmAtW1q78eKtEWnXSIQ/s1600/80sWitley2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="272" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB3RbcyNXOrhbd4Z81n9CsHagiTJ_5ItLYMpYu1ycxJCa5mavy54UAHyKasa7sC-2K8Veqopa_SmjVRNfRCHaBGKNGkdzz-c7kdLT0lYw9VLBNmYdw70uoYJdx4KmAtW1q78eKtEWnXSIQ/s400/80sWitley2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>The fire started in this wing, in the ballroom/music room, which overlooked the smaller fountain. Much was rescued (there are pictures of the gardens heaped with furniture and treasures!) but in the 1930s, there was little money around even for the wealthy, and the family decided to cut their losses, salvage what they could and sell the house.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSyM5vEQQsPvuawEaJ9Owo43Db8U55JY0A9VrRVriUBttKyg97wJEnJnfzurOrbdGp29pDps1bGMc9Dy20pF46C3GMkLlmQF2M0yEWzeObkLU8Os1d15UXcIxWD_beTE_rsgRo6lS7Wc44/s1600/WitleyBallroomSteps.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSyM5vEQQsPvuawEaJ9Owo43Db8U55JY0A9VrRVriUBttKyg97wJEnJnfzurOrbdGp29pDps1bGMc9Dy20pF46C3GMkLlmQF2M0yEWzeObkLU8Os1d15UXcIxWD_beTE_rsgRo6lS7Wc44/s320/WitleyBallroomSteps.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Today the steps and balustrade are restored, but within, the fire blackened timbers are still visible in the walls.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgleeTy4PazNc3ydgUZcPSPi87gm7iVT1BE6_wO4AqYxj6qeb1GGYXZTk_xw3c8XHSa-PJwXgrXbgaujebUFPTkV4Y6Jt1nsnYJ4mn07W91HcpBGErNlDm_jkPSWVV5TC7KJjYtBl_9P0rI/s1600/WitleyJiffDrawings.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="222" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgleeTy4PazNc3ydgUZcPSPi87gm7iVT1BE6_wO4AqYxj6qeb1GGYXZTk_xw3c8XHSa-PJwXgrXbgaujebUFPTkV4Y6Jt1nsnYJ4mn07W91HcpBGErNlDm_jkPSWVV5TC7KJjYtBl_9P0rI/s320/WitleyJiffDrawings.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Jeffery spent 3 years at Witley, 'dissecting' the building, and doing much research in Record Offices and dusty files, to uncover the history of the house and its people. He did a series of drawings, to show how the house developed from the Stuart mansion built by Thomas Foley, through various incarnations, including work by Nash, to the final splendiferous statement mansion of the Dudley family. These drawings are still used by English Heritage to illustrate the story for visitors!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYiW941Q1VMyeXKjaYNjmcNtQI6BkqHhiVcXlDomLsMFN3DUhdjow3Q6UufwHy5DhXHJyZMFXl_9NSHGmu8ENl6-NdIdBWBwqcJJlNcKqpp_GTgYowaF-SJYuk790T-2rnKBB85iJQNmlh/s1600/80sWitley5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYiW941Q1VMyeXKjaYNjmcNtQI6BkqHhiVcXlDomLsMFN3DUhdjow3Q6UufwHy5DhXHJyZMFXl_9NSHGmu8ENl6-NdIdBWBwqcJJlNcKqpp_GTgYowaF-SJYuk790T-2rnKBB85iJQNmlh/s320/80sWitley5.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>The Ballroom looked out on a less grand fountain than the Perseus & Andromeda, which was its misfortune, as the salvagers felt it was worth trying to sell bits of it! In 1981 it was shattered and derelict, the basin full of vegetation and rubbish, a pathetic sight.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWJPxRF7geYKCU6Op3frb5jrUSvl_ozLemD8vKph3IywlTcIh7ZPzNiT6q-Mj6nicdxgbMOxJecR__mAFdDqBrP5q0X4BAZtsy5ybYBULHgBhXjtDx9kflZoLKx75UgJVyL0h5KLl-KgRl/s1600/WitleySide+Fountain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWJPxRF7geYKCU6Op3frb5jrUSvl_ozLemD8vKph3IywlTcIh7ZPzNiT6q-Mj6nicdxgbMOxJecR__mAFdDqBrP5q0X4BAZtsy5ybYBULHgBhXjtDx9kflZoLKx75UgJVyL0h5KLl-KgRl/s320/WitleySide+Fountain.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Today, it is still sadly truncated, but many details have been restored, and its basin once more holds water. It is surrounded by reinstated parterres and lawns, a pleasant place for adults to stroll, and children to play, as it was 100 years ago.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFgIHBitMMv4eOCWe8pOxttXp1OjtUW5GUY42X5GKXCXNXLfUJee9vyX8iOn60VJtGF2X5WXenD7nOv7AjmO2hBZQ4lG3eFCj0HWTC6SFSRKWkoZ02l_ILUT0aLxUB0FIVFyONf8LYNbKZ/s1600/WitleySideFountDetail1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFgIHBitMMv4eOCWe8pOxttXp1OjtUW5GUY42X5GKXCXNXLfUJee9vyX8iOn60VJtGF2X5WXenD7nOv7AjmO2hBZQ4lG3eFCj0HWTC6SFSRKWkoZ02l_ILUT0aLxUB0FIVFyONf8LYNbKZ/s320/WitleySideFountDetail1.jpg" width="277" /></a></div>This quirky face would once have spouted water!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6i3idN3brwSMBo99uljrlqf_J5MQUrgBw5OwH5x2xmrG4-icuCPVdBYdSJ9a-lmJVLkOESbvrMLdC3TjLp2IO_jjzRqLk57-Z_N6jvYKfONDkJzgWIcfg8QLf8PDCWxHjFqg9gX2zWTZo/s1600/WitleyBigFountDet2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6i3idN3brwSMBo99uljrlqf_J5MQUrgBw5OwH5x2xmrG4-icuCPVdBYdSJ9a-lmJVLkOESbvrMLdC3TjLp2IO_jjzRqLk57-Z_N6jvYKfONDkJzgWIcfg8QLf8PDCWxHjFqg9gX2zWTZo/s320/WitleyBigFountDet2.jpg" width="287" /></a></div>Witley's true glory, though, remains its staggering Perseus and Andromeda fountain, once more gushing water high into the sky, on the hour, every hour, when the house is open! Witley has been a current through our entire lives together, it has brought us highs and lows, been a source of disputes and mutual delight, but always there. After 30 years, it is a delight still, and a precious thread in the tapestry of our lives.Moominhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14308705214707002165noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5903152620192255861.post-64266066712157930422011-02-18T15:34:00.000+00:002011-02-18T15:34:25.863+00:00Creativity!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZWLhrQUz22gklPYo7c24IfvOkClr_bURIDSdY7FByK4s_HoNzjLATu_GYxMKvtD9zzjlLYaYJS26c8QZgowwF3zkg_lOppo_2AKO605C4vvJ96sa-FevhAe-ayM0qpW9ltV0QRBI6wChd/s1600/Ember1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZWLhrQUz22gklPYo7c24IfvOkClr_bURIDSdY7FByK4s_HoNzjLATu_GYxMKvtD9zzjlLYaYJS26c8QZgowwF3zkg_lOppo_2AKO605C4vvJ96sa-FevhAe-ayM0qpW9ltV0QRBI6wChd/s320/Ember1.jpg" width="260" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcIX3PrC0y54fwlj1ufubxlcRKb2czLuoiKM3Wsh2syDybnwMSJmloVPPUbhixOoRu0JOJTWAHTyhllAUNPSVCZ9KL05ciRVs62Y_049UDNNKRu-Du-6Hjho6fUpbF-qtoH5udNAZJO66o/s1600/Frothy1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcIX3PrC0y54fwlj1ufubxlcRKb2czLuoiKM3Wsh2syDybnwMSJmloVPPUbhixOoRu0JOJTWAHTyhllAUNPSVCZ9KL05ciRVs62Y_049UDNNKRu-Du-6Hjho6fUpbF-qtoH5udNAZJO66o/s320/Frothy1.jpg" width="250" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhswao-GjFxfUtHOUmVf54kqM3Og_06BC-pGDaM1g46JKSu3Zilk770ELpFeYpPg0UcCvDA6-Cze05VuJxOzi5NxKMnP5lSpiv1Rse8Htb9oY3KLiUL_U3Uw2rylJ6fHeyrtJcAZB0QXsrK/s1600/DarlingBags1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhswao-GjFxfUtHOUmVf54kqM3Og_06BC-pGDaM1g46JKSu3Zilk770ELpFeYpPg0UcCvDA6-Cze05VuJxOzi5NxKMnP5lSpiv1Rse8Htb9oY3KLiUL_U3Uw2rylJ6fHeyrtJcAZB0QXsrK/s320/DarlingBags1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Blogging is a funny thing, if you're not a professional writer, that is. If you're a *Writer*, you have to write, and find things to write about, but if you're a dabbler, like me, you wait till a thought grows into something you want to share, and that hasn't happened to me in ages! "Probably just as well" I hear you mutter. However, my sharing tends to be more through what I make, than in words, so I thought i might share some of those.<br />
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I knit, not standard jumpers and so on, but more entertaining, somewhat less useful things, like teddy bears, necklaces and handbags - granted, the last can be quite vital, but mine are rather more the self indulgent kind! <br />
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I used to make collectors' mohair fabric bears, until a combination of arthritis in my hands & RSI stopped me. Now I knit them - I originally intended to make proper children's cuddly toys - but the soft-sculptor in me took over! Now I make more complex bears, to comfort the inner child in any adult.<br />
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My necklaces are knitted from embroidery silk, and have the advantage of being washable - many women have sensitive skins, and cannot wear metal next to the skin, so these offer an alternative.<br />
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My handbags are knitted from traditional wool, and shrunken to felt in a washing machine - this gives them more 'body' than knitting usually has. I line them with fabrics salvaged from charity shop garments, giving the material a whole new life!<br />
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You can see more at my Folksy shop. <a href="http://www.folksy.com/shops/Mwmyn">www.Folksy.com/shops/Mwmyn</a>Moominhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14308705214707002165noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5903152620192255861.post-7753576360733800902010-12-09T13:58:00.000+00:002010-12-09T13:58:19.901+00:00Protest and EducationThere is much kerfuffle going on in the Uk at present about the Government's proposal to increase University fees. It has been made quite clear that no money will have to be paid up front - student loans will be available to cover these fees at the time they become due, and graduates will not have to start repaying these loans until their earnings reach quite a high threshold - certainly far higher a level of income than we ever had, even while bringing up 4 children! <br />
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One of my children did go to University, and came out of Bradford with a very respectable degree - despite her dyslexia, and very little financial support from us. None the less, I am, personally, very irritated by this wave of anger on the part of many students and their supporters. They clearly don't realise that Higher Education, or even basic education, is not a right, but a privilege, that in many parts of the world, for millions of people is no more than a dream. Also, while many degrees can lead to their holders adding greatly to benefit of the nation as a whole, many more certainly do not - we all know of graduates working in burger bars! <br />
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Higher education, like everything else that is wholly or partially funded by tax revenues, needs to demonstrate that it is not taking from those with very little in order to benefit those who are already comparatively privileged, and is of benefit to the nation as a whole. We have a tendency in the West to be in awe of academic achievement to an inordinate degree, yet anyone in the working world with any experience and understanding is all too aware of graduates who have got positions of power and caused much trouble as a result of their lack of wisdom - which is a quality no University can teach.<br />
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I had some further education - I trained in Dress & Design, and got a very good pass - when I then went into the working world (in Savile Row) I discovered that all I had worked so hard to learn was useless, and my experience is far from unique. My husband has been in archeology since the early 1970s, on and off, is extremely experienced, and has been highly valued by much respected archeologists. He is now working under young graduates with little field experience, who frequently seem unable to recognise the difference between naturally disturbed soil, and evidence of human occupation. He is seeing destruction of evidence and appalling archeological practice of all sorts, but he is not listened to because he has no degree, and the bosses all do. The work is paid for partly from public funding, as was the education of those who run the company - in my view, and all-round waste of public money.<br />
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At the same time as this is going on, old people and the disabled, who have limited capacity to improve their situation, no matter how willing, are seeing their support systems cut back, and their tax bills going up. I hear 'It's not fair' from many of those protesting about increased University fees, well, I have news for you, life isn't fair, and the already privileged should not benefit at the expense of the weaker members of our society. If you have a place at University, be deeply grateful, most of those who went before you in this world didn't have the chance - at any price.Moominhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14308705214707002165noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5903152620192255861.post-4695946482392106312010-09-02T13:31:00.000+01:002010-09-02T13:31:10.622+01:00An eye opening weekend<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNhACzWKpx3vhX0yQrG9skvcqxDl8P7-Wx-3PKN7WdrZxE3HJdsnA1AL_WxyNCE2KzKgarMTZBiwAmEkjenfAjNIbGo1J-XDC5ZRUn0qDXfii2xKvSzx-APocC17VtWsxPrFoqlHZxoLFw/s1600/29082010089.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNhACzWKpx3vhX0yQrG9skvcqxDl8P7-Wx-3PKN7WdrZxE3HJdsnA1AL_WxyNCE2KzKgarMTZBiwAmEkjenfAjNIbGo1J-XDC5ZRUn0qDXfii2xKvSzx-APocC17VtWsxPrFoqlHZxoLFw/s320/29082010089.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>The last weekend was a revelation. My son has spent a couple of months converting a high top transit van into a mobile coffee bar (whilst also working full time in a big department store at managerial level!) The last weekend of August was his first booking, and we went along to offer support, as Jeffery had been helping with the actual conversion and installation and might be needed in an emergency!<br />
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This first outing was at an event known as 'The Gathering', a large meeting for Live Action Role Play fans (known as 'Larpers' for obvious reasons) The Gathering is held near Derby, in the grounds of an elegant Stately home, and takes up a large proportion of the grounds, as it is attended by thousands of enthusiastic players of all ages. We had never had any close interaction with Larping before this weekend, although Nick has been involved for a long time, and many of his friends are vigorous Larpers, and this is where the revelation lay. To see thousands of people, from small children under school age, to our contemporaries and people in wheelchairs, dressed up in costumes that could have come straight from 'The Lord of The Rings', engaging in complicated military and magical manoeuvres in one part of the estate, while yet more took the opportunity to have a snack or a coffee, and more searched the traders marquees for improvements to their outfits - well, it was quite astonishing! <br />
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What was even more impressive was the overwhelming sense of friendship, community and support coming from almost everyone, even the busy Stewards, Referees and Marshals were tactful and supportive to obvious fish out of water! As an ex-craft fair trader, I was VERY impressed by the quality of workmanship in the Traders area, especially the leathercraft. There were plastic (but very convincing) weapons of all sorts, and they were vigorously wielded, too! <br />
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Wandering around were Romans and Greeks in full armour, with enormous crested helms, 18th century and later regiments of Highlanders, in full tartan rig, with perky Glengarry caps and Claymores, and hordes of fantasy characters. Elves in silver wigs, some with blackened faces, others sporting pointed ears, strolled in company with wizards and Camelot-style knights in armour, others were clearly tree spirits, with leaves and blossoms trailing across their faces and clothes, and everywhere there were swirling cloaks in every colour and fabric imaginable! <br />
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Most delightful were the children, all dressed up, and with lots of places to go and things to do! Can you imagine how wonderful it must be, as a child, to have parents who not only let you dress up in costumes and play with swords and axes, but who join in with you, and take to camping for a long weekend playing with thousands of other grown ups doing the same thing? Where a child who knows the rules, and is clever enough, can defeat a 6 foot adult in full armour?! What a way to stimulate a child's creativity and imagination, and ally that fun with applied maths, history, tactics . . . . magical, in every way!<br />
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Best of all, Nick's first outing was a great success, despite a few teething troubles - he couldn't make coffee fast enough! Now we have to help him tweak his systems to be more efficient, ready for the next exhausting event - and find out how to become Larpers ourselves!Moominhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14308705214707002165noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5903152620192255861.post-6588476920004073952010-08-03T12:45:00.000+01:002010-08-03T12:45:37.648+01:00Communities, tribes, friendship and the Net.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3bpd0yuYcyvzXTZT-q3VvAZryw-u-xg3T6iXcphsSMblKEO3OmhSBL5oSxf6og0l5ng8hzCjXmo55_uAKNw_0CeHZc6eEYQiR0WhL0ZvS-EdnV4shzFivTjlEtTiRgjlTjJF5DIgjnqCN/s1600/Easter2010.2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3bpd0yuYcyvzXTZT-q3VvAZryw-u-xg3T6iXcphsSMblKEO3OmhSBL5oSxf6og0l5ng8hzCjXmo55_uAKNw_0CeHZc6eEYQiR0WhL0ZvS-EdnV4shzFivTjlEtTiRgjlTjJF5DIgjnqCN/s320/Easter2010.2.jpg" /></a></div>Communities. Tribes. There is much discussion about these, both online and in the traditional media - many of the latter being very disparaging about those who spend much time on online social media, implying that they are some kind of social misfits, who can't make friends in the normal way. This is out-and-out bigotry. <br />
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Online, in particular, there is much talk of 'Tribes', and the modern use of the word is not so different from the original, meaning a group of people bonded through common interest. That common interest may, originally, have been basic survival, but that's not to say that it is no longer so, in a more amorphous sense. With the explosion of human beings on this planet, small, village-style communities have become rare in the developed countries - physically, they still exist, but the inter-dependant survival mechanism no longer functions in the same way, as we have become so much more mobile, we can go elsewhere to meet our needs. Thus we have lost village shops and pubs, and even the church, once the heart of communities of this sort, no longer has such a hold on our identities.<br />
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However, humans are communal creatures, we were once prey animals, deep in our past, and survived and became strong by working together for mutual benefit, and by adapting to changing circumstances not just as individuals, but as groups. Those who were not part of a community of some sort were always more vulnerable, not just physically, but mentally. Put simplistically, if we don't share our map of reality with others, it becomes more and more distorted until we become mad. We need to compare our picture of the way things are with others' pictures, to learn from others' experience and adjust our picture accordingly.<br />
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With the density of population, and the increasing variety of experience, finding commonality with those physically accessible becomes harder, the denser the population, the more likely isolation becomes - and with it, distorted pictures of reality. Throw in physical disability to the equation, increasing the likelihood of isolation, and the web becomes a vital lifeline. <br />
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I spent many lonely years, surrounded by people and responsibilities, but with no one I felt commonality with, and the strain didn't do my sanity any good! It's a cliche that the loneliest place is in a crowd, but the truth of it should not be ignored. We need to recognise the vulnerability of the lonely, and be grateful for the doors that the net can open. I have been on Facebook now for about 3 - 4 years, and I was very nervous about it at first, with all the prejudices that ignorance produces! It took me many years to overcome my technophobia, and like many converts, I am now a technophile! (though still a very ignorant one, but now the search for understanding is exciting, rather than scary)<br />
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Facebook, and more recently Twitter, have enabled me to reach new communities and new tribes. I am no longer lonely, so long as I have my Macbook and an internet connection. This doesn't mean I have no friends that I interact with physically - quite the reverse, the net has helped me keep in touch with people I might have lost touch with as our lives have taken us far apart, physically. Of my 4 children, only one is physically close, so Facebook, in particular, has become a vital tool in maintaining contact - and even in improving our relationships, in some ways, as we have never been brilliant at writing letters, or picking up the phone! Messages on Facebook can be read, and answered, at a time convenient to the recipient, which may not be a good time for the person who wants to communicate initially, and contact is easy to keep up with acquaintances through their status messages. This is not a 'puff' for Facebook, but a recognition of the value of online social networks. Many of my generation are afraid of such things - their lives are poorer, and they are lonelier for their fear and prejudice.<br />
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This is not to turn a blind eye to the risks posed by unwary social networking - but are they really any worse than those of face-to-face relationships? We hear about terrible online scams - are they any worse than 'cowboy' builders, or the con artists who fleece old people of their savings going from door to door? Of course they aren't, you have to be a bit streetwise, whether that's a bricks-and-mortar street, or the information superhighway! The Net is a very sophisticated tool, and is as useful, or dangerous, as the skills of the person using it, just like any other tool. Would we throw out hammers because someone could use them to batter people to death?! Or even castigate them as dangerous, to be tightly controlled? I think that's paranoia. <br />
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If you're reading this, you're obviously a net user, what's your experience of online friendship, tribes and communities? How do they compare to your physical ones? Does one lead into the other? Can you help other, less technologically comfortable, people find their online tribes and communities?Moominhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14308705214707002165noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5903152620192255861.post-75691345812137534232010-07-21T12:40:00.000+01:002010-07-21T12:40:31.839+01:00There is a person who visits this caravan site almost everyday, and my heart is lifted every time I encounter him!<br />
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He is the Postman, a beautiful, young, black man, with gorgeous ebony skin. However, what lifts my heart, and is his true beauty, is his smile. We rarely exchange any words, but he always smiles at me, and it's a smile that lights up the world! He doesn't just smile with his mouth, but with his whole being, and I feel empowered and energised every time.Moominhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14308705214707002165noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5903152620192255861.post-73938447459266949262010-06-14T12:36:00.000+01:002010-06-14T12:36:51.931+01:00The role of arithmetic in fashion!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF-yGQu59x7U544_qquC9lNzgN0TNTAhN0vfhsRDPYHpYPaTjDLrs7wBUrc7CwAu4ZzFhVhB3DYhwbL9n80OjK5MbTt52OnJ3MUpKFFCWUq9AA1OSOO7RuUqmTFDc-W9tJQjtqlph7_570/s1600/NoroJack2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF-yGQu59x7U544_qquC9lNzgN0TNTAhN0vfhsRDPYHpYPaTjDLrs7wBUrc7CwAu4ZzFhVhB3DYhwbL9n80OjK5MbTt52OnJ3MUpKFFCWUq9AA1OSOO7RuUqmTFDc-W9tJQjtqlph7_570/s320/NoroJack2.jpg" /></a></div>Over the weekend I managed to do the right front and the first sleeve - which just goes to show that I don't have much of a life! However, I do have a sense of achievement, which is also highly desirable and not always easy to have.<br />
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When I sewed the first sleeve in, I discovered that the shaping was slightly out, but I shan't worry too much about it as I have made a generous size, and with future patterns from the same book, I shall have had a heads-up that the shaping of the sleeve head doesn't translate readily to other yarns. Once I have washed the finished jumper, I am confident I can shape the damp garment well enough. The shaping of a sleeve head can be tricky at the best of times, and was a job I really struggled with when I was at College in the mid 60s. Pattern drafting involves alot of mathematics and that really isn't my subject! As a result of changing schools so often (after my father died when I was 5, we travelled alot, going wherever my mother could find live-in work) my arithmetic skills were patchy, at best, and if it hadn't been for my headmistress at my last school, Miss Conrady, I would never have understood any of it at all! Bless her, she seemed very stiff and starchy, but there was a caring heart in that rigid bosom, and she devoted many hours of one-to-one tuition in her study to my enlightenment. Thanks to her I managed enough understanding to cope with most of the numbers that have been thrown at me over the years, and to gain my pattern drafting qualifications (though I wouldn't trust myself to draft anything too complex these days.)<br />
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Weather permitting, I hope the next post will be of my finished jacket - weather being crucial, as I like to wash, rather than press, my finished work, and I need good, dry and warm weather to dry the jumper! I have never liked the result of pressing knitwear, even with the lightest touch, it tends to flatten the yarn, and, while it may look neat and professional to the eye, my experience is that the result is less comfortable in wear. Maybe it's just me, but there it is - I'm fond of doing things my own way, and don't have much time for rule books! Like Elizabeth Zimmerman, I like to 'unvent' things (for non-Zimmerman addicts, that's her word for inventing your own way of doing things and achieving the result you want, based on your own understanding of the techniques involved, rather than doing things 'parrot fashion') <br />
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What is your passion? Do you 'unvent' things in your own life, too?Moominhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14308705214707002165noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5903152620192255861.post-6728733097541475052010-06-09T09:58:00.000+01:002010-06-09T09:58:05.720+01:00First Knitting blog!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-5ws1RbTZE7UEH0o4_TxTa045grJyfvdYrh8d6RjrKMg9_hzvh-zB2pt_g8F9J_tlnogr45mLOrnKLau4REOjjcKJoOuxon6I4hULMLeFNWpyQmaoYFbvngHxZX30hQLRlVWogwKDdWe3/s1600/NoroJacket1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-5ws1RbTZE7UEH0o4_TxTa045grJyfvdYrh8d6RjrKMg9_hzvh-zB2pt_g8F9J_tlnogr45mLOrnKLau4REOjjcKJoOuxon6I4hULMLeFNWpyQmaoYFbvngHxZX30hQLRlVWogwKDdWe3/s320/NoroJacket1.jpg" /></a></div>This jumper is for me! It is based on a pattern by Jane Ellison, in her book 'Knitting Noro'. However, much as I love them, I can't afford Noro yarns - they are hand painted, in Japan, and absolutely gorgeous, but aspirational for most people. I also have a certain ethical discomfort with spending alot of money on extravagantly beautiful yarns, when most charity/thrift shops have either lots of odd balls of unused yarn and/or knitwear that can be unravelled and re-knitted. At the same time, I am aware of the cost to the environment of synthetic fibres, so like to buy new wool, or other natural fibres, whenever I can afford to. (Especially as sheep farmers are struggling not just to sell their wool, but to get enough for it to even cover the cost of shearing!)<br />
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About 6 months ago the low-cost supermarket, Lidl, offered for sale some all-wool sock yarn at a ludicrously low price, so - I went slightly bonkers and bought lots of it! Not that I intended to knit lots of socks (though I'm doing that, too) but I have long been in the habit of mixing finer yarns in combination to create thicker yarns of my own colour and texture choice - it's a bit like being able to 'paint' with yarn. The sock yarn was marked as 'Machine washable', sadly this turned out not to be the case, as it felted easily, and it was withdrawn from sale, many purchasers choosing to return it for a refund. I decided to keep it, make what I could with it for myself, and wash the results carefully by hand - after all, it was pure wool, in lovely colours, and a little care would give me quality garments to keep for many years.<br />
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I have already made several jumpers, and only one has shrunk - spectacularly. I made a cabled jumper for my husband, which turned out to be very difficult to dry in a small space! Since the wool in it had cost about as much as normal wool for a crop top would have cost, we decided to take the risk of washing it in the machine, accepting that it could well be a total loss. It was. By the time it came out of the machine it was too small for my 2 year old granddaughter!<br />
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I am using 3 strands of the sock yarn knitted together on 5.5mm needles for this jumper, blending 5 different colourways to create a tweedy, subtle stripe. I am, as I almost always do now, using circular needles (Knit Pro Symphonie) as they support the weight, instead of creating leverage on my slightly arthritic hands, and they mean that I can never lose one of them, no matter how disorganised I am, since they are attached to each other! So far I have made the back and the left front, and sewn them together at the shoulder. I am now working the right front. It is all in garter stitch - very simple, but I love the texture, and the result is very warm (if a little bulky) as it has lots of air trapped in the fibres, like a duvet.<br />
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Further progress reports soon!Moominhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14308705214707002165noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5903152620192255861.post-26612258659504523192010-06-08T13:23:00.000+01:002010-06-08T13:23:46.568+01:00Finding a way forward?!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCvOeVjZdgXO9ymDHmrenKRyne3_fiCTprsDYhOXZK2AnuFOMLA-i64sQBRGwDzyypu5CXct5h_SI0B_yL3ORjspg6vlJwbGKmPGZUAb7ODrLMX_VjUGuwQ6lQ6hv_In2LDD88SJjCZ1X7/s1600/ShadowHearts.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCvOeVjZdgXO9ymDHmrenKRyne3_fiCTprsDYhOXZK2AnuFOMLA-i64sQBRGwDzyypu5CXct5h_SI0B_yL3ORjspg6vlJwbGKmPGZUAb7ODrLMX_VjUGuwQ6lQ6hv_In2LDD88SJjCZ1X7/s320/ShadowHearts.jpg" /></a></div>I gave myself quite a headache, yesterday. I have been thinking for some time of selling my knitting online, but haven't been impressed with the usual suspects - ebay, etsy or folksy - as none of them really seem to be pitched at the market I want to reach. Also, i've been unsure of what product will best have a market and be something I can reliably produce - I'm not thinking of trying to run a full-blown business, but I do want to run things in a business like way. As I have problems knitting large garments (between arthritis and a replacement elbow, my body isn't always that strong or reliable!) I had thought of making quality baby clothes in machine washable yarns, that are both stylish (to appeal to young Mums, rather than Grannies!) and practical (for the same reason) so, I decided to do some serious online research of what's already out there, how it's getting to the market, and what the pricing is like.<br />
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After some 4 hours of intensive surfing (Google must have been fed up with me!) I had an intense headache and a severe attack of despair. The web seems to be awash with baby clothes (especially quirky hats - what's that about?!) mostly in nasty colours and yarns, or very pretty, but not terribly practical, vintage style knits in horrendously expensive yarns. Those seem to me to be rather turbulent waters into which to deep my toes - far too crowded with other craft, not very well steered! So, I thought, what's the situation with adult hand knitwear?<br />
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Again, I could find quite a few sites, but while I could find wonderful traditional Fair Isles, Arans and Ganseys, or the kind of arty-farty knits that shriek "Look at me, aren't I clever?! Look what clever knitting techniques I can do!" or even the kind of In-Your-Face brightly coloured, so-called 'Ethnic' knits, there seemed to be no simple, wearable and modern hand knits at all! Now, while I'm an experienced knitter, and have got my needles round quite alot of techniques (I do enjoy learning - just learned to do 2 socks at the same time, pure delight!) I see no point in designing a garment around a particular technique. Clothes are meant to be practical, first and foremost, and stylish. The technique should be a means to an end, not the end in itself, and while fashion is exciting, style is more personal and important.<br />
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When I studied Dress & Design at college in the 60s, I rapidly realised that a garment that is uncomfortable, difficult to keep clean, or in any other way impractical for the wearer is not going to earn its place in the wardrobe for long, and the purchaser is not going to return to that source for further purchases, either! Classic designs last because they work, but they need to be re-assessed in the light of current life, so a style of garment that worked well in, say, the 1940s, is going to need tweaking more than a little to work well in the early 21st century! However, it would be foolish to throw out the baby with the bathwater, the shape of the human body, and what it does, don't change much.<br />
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So, I'm thinking of making One-of-a-kind knits, and blogging about each one as I create it, from design, through yarn selection etc to finished garment, then making the result available for sale, so it will be more than just something nice to wear, it'll be a story, too.<br />
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So far, so good, but then we have the issue of a website. In about 5 hours of surfing, I didn't see one site that I found satisfactory! I have to start from scratch. It must be easy on the eye, not too business-ey, but business-like. It must load quickly, so my potential customers don't get impatient (it'll be picture heavy, so that's crucial) It must have a youthful feel, as my potential customers will be young and stylish (not easy to get my head round that, as I'm no spring chicken) and not take itself too seriously. Uuuuum! <br />
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I think I shall experiment by blogging about one or 2 garments on here, and ask anyone who reads this to give me feedback, please! And I don't mean compliments, but serious 'this is rubbish' type comments where needed, please!Moominhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14308705214707002165noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5903152620192255861.post-26504454748939084412010-05-18T15:36:00.000+01:002010-05-18T15:36:48.925+01:00Changing climates<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSn8BwcJI5D9j6M6IG_JjK3ByWlq7-8NV88pZtNmygL8p17TxrISKEBP1kx-P79YFaDH1G69YR5tP2KWAQdV31RQAt1A3gtK-AYQXp_b_JxMmp8tTIpWDD-6oQuaEXVJGTE1K4JdK-Koz8/s1600/HolmleaSet1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSn8BwcJI5D9j6M6IG_JjK3ByWlq7-8NV88pZtNmygL8p17TxrISKEBP1kx-P79YFaDH1G69YR5tP2KWAQdV31RQAt1A3gtK-AYQXp_b_JxMmp8tTIpWDD-6oQuaEXVJGTE1K4JdK-Koz8/s320/HolmleaSet1.jpg" /></a></div>When i started this blog, we were moving on a regular basis - Sod's Law, now we move comparatively rarely, since Jiffy seems to be getting longer contracts in the same area. Employers don't seem to be able get a handle on the idea that because we have a postal address in one place, doesn't mean we can't up sticks and work anywhere in the country! For 18 months we have mostly rotated around Gloucestershire, predominantly near Tewkesbury, now near Cheltenham, maybe he'll get a job in the office of his present employer, and we'll push the boat out, go somewhere really new to us - all the way to Cirencester!!!!<br />
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Strangely, even though we don't seem to be moving much, my dissatisfaction with stationary, bricks-and-mortar living seems to be appeased by ever more downsizing! The more 'stuff' we get rid of, the smaller our home-on-wheels becomes, the lighter and more lissome life feels, like we could release ourselves from the bounds of the earth, and float away to wherever we fancied! I know we can't, but it FEELS like that kind of weightless liberty. Yet, at the same time, this small, cosy space also feels so much more secure and safe than an immovable building, with so much more internal space, divided up into claustrophobic portions (known as 'rooms') One space, with thin but well-insulated walls, so that one is always aware of the background of life all around, part, even, of the outer world, seems to me much less enclosed, and restrictive, than thick walls and larger spaces full of furniture and the detritus of many years of living.<br />
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Received wisdom tells us that security lies in a job, an 'owned' house/flat, promotion, etc, yet it seems to me that such things are a velvet prison. In a rapidly changing world, once more the gift that brings security (what an illusion!) is what made humans so powerful in the first place - adaptability. The days of 'jobs for life' died long ago, but still we are encouraged to aspire to that, and to all the badges of such 'achievement' - the biggest TV, the latest model of car, the newest fashion, the brand names that the media dictate are the most desirable - I beg your pardon?!<br />
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None of these things can be taken with us when our time comes to go - and go we all must (Immortality has always seemed to me the most frightening of nightmares, can anyone explain to me why so find it appealing?) All that we can take with us is our memories and our conclusions on the quality of a life lived. When that time comes, we will be alone, for no one can approach that transition with us, and whatever deceptions we may have wrought upon ourselves will be exposed. <br />
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My security lies in the knowledge that I have always done the best I could, in the understanding I had at the time, and that where I have made mistakes, and caused pain or damage to others, I have done my best to make reparation. There is no safety, life isn't safe, never was and never will be. The desire for safety is the desire not to live, for the dead are the only ones with nothing to risk, whom life's vagaries can no longer impact upon. As my bodily frailty increases I know I am increasingly less adaptable, physically, but I believe my mind is becoming more so, as I let go of the fear of disaster. Disaster is only something for which we have not prepared - as in the saying that there is no bad weather - only the wrong clothes! We cannot, metaphorically, all have a wardrobe to cater for all weather, but we can learn to adapt as the climate of life changes, and that's about being willing to learn and to let go of that which is no longer valuable in the new climate.Moominhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14308705214707002165noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5903152620192255861.post-48807452532704728752010-05-14T11:32:00.000+01:002010-05-14T11:32:03.973+01:00Can we stop history repeating itself? Do we want to?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNyxRuQVul_Rb4qTGpDEEKPQcng3OX27HdL-toSem2G4yUs67n9oG0SvNSqvYCDc2XdnkhuzoBA4J30o4By-Cm5NWiupb3OyO23Q5sY2IC5sjCrgal7WDPcKJQIFBAJaEPYkjOeg6NeKD-/s1600/SeeNoEvilBears.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNyxRuQVul_Rb4qTGpDEEKPQcng3OX27HdL-toSem2G4yUs67n9oG0SvNSqvYCDc2XdnkhuzoBA4J30o4By-Cm5NWiupb3OyO23Q5sY2IC5sjCrgal7WDPcKJQIFBAJaEPYkjOeg6NeKD-/s320/SeeNoEvilBears.JPG" /></a></div>If we don't know, and understand our history, we will be doomed to repeat it. I was tickled to find this quote in the blog of one of the several young, inspiring bloggers I read. He recognised the truth of it, both on the global scale and on the personal, but I know I didn't at his age! <br />
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When we are young, all is fresh and new, we feel love, and so many other powerful emotions, for the first time, and their intensity can be overwhelming, totally wiping away any other view and making rational decisions quite impossible. The joy, and pain, of young love is unrepeatable - thank heavens! When I look back to the see-saws of emotion that I underwent when I was younger, I am deeply relieved I am no longer subject to these gales and tsunamis of perception, but also grateful to have had my senses so exalted. The calmer seas of age are no less enjoyable, but sailing on a gently rippling sea, in the shelter of the headlands of experience is alot more relaxing, allowing one to savour experiences more deeply. <br />
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Following the General Election here, in the UK, a little knowledge of history also brings a calming perspective! The election of 1979, when Margaret Thatcher swept to power with an overwhelming majority, began a new era - one that most of us who lived through it regret deeply. Such a majority meant there was very little tempering influence over the actions of a group of people who were rather like religious fundamentalists, they believed utterly in their version of truth, and imposed it rigorously. As one gets older, one realises that no one has 'THE Truth' and that such a belief results in bigotry, and bigotry leads to oppression.<br />
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Thatcherism lead to an enormous increase in the gap between the 'Haves' and the 'Have nots', which was perpetuated by Tony Blair and his 'New Labour" (which to most of us bore no resemblance to any kind of socialism) I am not particularly Left or Right wing in my political stance, it seems to me that both extremes have some truths, but also have some bigoted, emotional misconceptions in their world views. <br />
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I am extremely heartened to see the Right wing and the Centre of British politics making a sincere attempt to work together for the good of the country - this seems to me real patriotism, which is a different beast from from the Jingoism so often seen in the media, and I hope they can make it work. The media keep reminding us that this is the first Coalition government since the War - but omit to recall how well that Coalition worked! Conflict makes excitement and therefore viewers/readers for the media, but it's not good for a healthy society. Perhaps the cynics/sceptics who keep decrying the stability of this new government would be wise to take a step back and realise that if this doesn't work, their bank balances, along with the rest us, will suffer? Take the medicine, folks, before we all go to hell in a handbasket.Moominhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14308705214707002165noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5903152620192255861.post-53226180307515766582010-04-26T10:26:00.000+01:002010-04-26T10:26:35.312+01:00What kind of geek are you?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0aHsQ_ljX_Cy7gox_Tjgxg-DeX7vhbCIDb0PQXo1pYTHEy_-ksl6SZG3xxz8Cj0YDm4BGrvRxdggA00WI1aOWqa7SGNn5cfNaKGIgoGxXiWGSULx4DORzFqNVZy7AUzj_UjvzBcIezMLO/s1600/Scruff1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0aHsQ_ljX_Cy7gox_Tjgxg-DeX7vhbCIDb0PQXo1pYTHEy_-ksl6SZG3xxz8Cj0YDm4BGrvRxdggA00WI1aOWqa7SGNn5cfNaKGIgoGxXiWGSULx4DORzFqNVZy7AUzj_UjvzBcIezMLO/s320/Scruff1.jpg" /></a></div>Anyone who is not a geek for something is boring, so keep that in mind and find something worth geeking about."<a href="http://exilelifestyle.com/%20"> Colin Wright</a> (In 'How to be Remarkable' a <a href="http://exilelifestyle.com/lifestyle/free-ebook-remarkable/">free e-book</a> that I heartily recommend - he is remarkable, so it's from the horse's mouth, as they say!)<br />
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"Geek' has become a derogatory word for many of my generation, implying a young person who wastes their life on dead-end techno games and and other pastimes such as Warhammer or LARPing. I'm with Colin on this one - just because someone's geekery may not be yours doesn't mean it has no value, if you reject their geekery, you are demonstrating (a) you have a closed mind and (b) you are afraid of life! <br />
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If you haven't a clue about someone's geek subject, this is a great opportunity to learn. 5 years ago, my son was working for<a href="http://www.games-workshop.com/gws/"> Games Workshop</a>, running big events for them, I really didn't understand what it was all about, and thought it was a dead-end job that was all about an escapist pastime, and was worried that it would disable his ability to make a good life for himself 'in the real world' - poor, unimaginative woman! I care enough about my son that I decided to take part in this table-top wargaming hobby, to find out what it was all about (know your enemy!)<br />
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Well. am I glad I did! I never got very far, to do it well would have required a level of time and commitment I simply didn't/don't have, but I discovered that there is much to learn about strategy, tactics, psychology, sociology, bonding, art, hand-&-eye co-ordination, creative thinking . . . . a long list of skills, from these guys (and girls!) and their hobby. I met some lovely people (alot less judgemental than many of my own generation!) who are still adding much joy to my life, and learnt to question my own assumptions at every turn. <br />
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There's also an old saying that if you're bored, you're probably boring! This experience certainly proved the truth of that to me - these young people (mostly) rarely complained of boredom, there were models to make & paint, if they had no one to actually game with, magazines, events (massive ones, the kind of organisational skills my son acquired still blow me away!) art work to create and admire . . . . . always something to keep the mind active and enthused, and a fine opportunity for those who are socially isolated, in any way, to make friends and develop social skills. <br />
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Geeks? They're wonderful! Being a geek is about being excited and passionate about life, and I'm an unashamed geek, though my passion isn't for Warhammer 40,000, great though it is! My passion is about the quality of life, rather than the standard of living, my passion is about acquiring and sharing skills and knowledge, my passion is about doing all I can to empower everyone I come into contact with to be the most they can be - to be glorious GEEKS! (Oh yes, and I'm also passionate about knitting and 'artist' bears and , and, and . . . . . loads more!)<br />
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What kind of geek are you? If you're not a geek, why not? <br />
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You can follow Colin on Twitter , he is @colinismyname, and he points you in the direction of excellent reading!<br />
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If you liked this, please spread the word in whatever way suits you! Thanks for reading, please comment and give me some feedback.Moominhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14308705214707002165noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5903152620192255861.post-37794536803650854892010-03-26T17:56:00.000+00:002010-03-26T17:56:07.793+00:00Letting go<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYNURwKV0ksqbrF8gJQ_MD9S4drp0L8nxmWpMJfe7-f3iIALr1vt6RTnuKGKpTEZe_amlRgVuHqhN0sqGa6HjR6cUzEo52Z-LbT6t7B6Df2ZE2LKMoUg459jBMpEPHib5qfsdeDCaCygMn/s1600/Seasalter1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYNURwKV0ksqbrF8gJQ_MD9S4drp0L8nxmWpMJfe7-f3iIALr1vt6RTnuKGKpTEZe_amlRgVuHqhN0sqGa6HjR6cUzEo52Z-LbT6t7B6Df2ZE2LKMoUg459jBMpEPHib5qfsdeDCaCygMn/s320/Seasalter1.jpg" /></a></div>Many a year ago ( in the mid 1970s, to be accurate) I married a man whose parents lived in Whitstable, Kent in the family home where he had grown up. Suffice it to say that it turned out he had ALOT of mental/emotional problems, and I eventually fled to Orkney with my children, in order to get as far away as possible from him, without actually leaving the country! Consequently, it's a place I have very mixed feelings about, especially as we used to go to Seasalter quite a bit when i was a child - so I have 2 different layers of happy memories of dog walking etc on the shingle beach, all tangled up with some corrosive feelings of betrayal and fear, swilling around to make some very confused ghosts in the machine that is me! Today, my present husband, the delightful Jiffy, took me back there.<br />
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The ghosts are no more, I have walked the shingle anew, and left all my pain on the beach. Moreover, I have filled their space with contented memories of sharing a wild and beautiful place with my Jiffy and Sioni (our ageing but doesn't-believe-it terrier) The gusty spring wind blew it all away, and we wandered past my ex-in-laws' house on the way into Whitstable, and I was glad it was still there - even though new houses have been built on the garden that 'Papa' loved so much.<br />
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We found a lovely restaurant for lunch (the 'Samphire' if you're in Whitstable any time!) and had the best fish pie in years, then wandered around taking pictures of new memories. It's good to go back as a visitor to your own history, sometimes, once you have enough distance to get perspective. It helps you let go of 'stuff' that can be a millstone round your neck, even though it's as ephemeral as memories that haunt your present - they can be surprisingly weighty and cumbersome, and their loss is truly liberating.Moominhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14308705214707002165noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5903152620192255861.post-72351508199106781472010-03-22T17:50:00.000+00:002010-03-22T17:50:09.247+00:00Easter meanderingsThis blog is entitled " A Wandering World" but there hasn't been alot of wandering over the past year! (apart from holidays, which don't really count) I'm glad to say that we'll be doing a little bit of wandering in the next few weeks, not quite holidays, more by way of a change of scene, as life has not yet offered us work to take us somewhere different.<br />
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Tomorrow we head for The Smoke, well, close enough! We will spend a few days near Dartford, in Kent and visit with family, then return to Gloucestershire, but to a different site, one where we stayed in a much smaller caravan, in much more uncertain financial circumstances, when we first made Gloucestershire our base in 2004. It's near Cheltenham, and we shall be there while our granddaughter, Bethan comes to stay over Easter. We are greatly looking forward to her stay, and taking her to share all sorts of lovely places that we know - let's hope she enjoys it as much as we expect to!Moominhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14308705214707002165noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5903152620192255861.post-13002696828055898392010-03-12T13:11:00.001+00:002010-03-12T13:26:02.604+00:00Memory Lane<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipCzIvX1Jq4Zc7aEiB7qEfivHqtk7PPstwwnCJvEetZbdPjbuxnPNLDjJ30k4V6PAORKOfEu_n9p3I1KOFf6e-y5w-chiLXFiTXfpYbRZ5DzY1bcaO_97WciHaZmU-fW9l5IUBOkvh4fbF/s1600-h/RuthJiffSlideswing.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 132px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipCzIvX1Jq4Zc7aEiB7qEfivHqtk7PPstwwnCJvEetZbdPjbuxnPNLDjJ30k4V6PAORKOfEu_n9p3I1KOFf6e-y5w-chiLXFiTXfpYbRZ5DzY1bcaO_97WciHaZmU-fW9l5IUBOkvh4fbF/s200/RuthJiffSlideswing.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447737946580274770" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh62hn4XGp8BB0jo72BWpXXW0T3QvqgVO1A_LprqTTaeE8p2Jl7vo98wW3H7FttSk_1sUXjYbIufHj0QmdF5FnRmDo3kMP6TXPMqoPEy27fGRsr4SIs1HliICbnkBFs3eiaH3FBPNryju_p/s1600-h/Nick@AberedwDoor.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 152px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh62hn4XGp8BB0jo72BWpXXW0T3QvqgVO1A_LprqTTaeE8p2Jl7vo98wW3H7FttSk_1sUXjYbIufHj0QmdF5FnRmDo3kMP6TXPMqoPEy27fGRsr4SIs1HliICbnkBFs3eiaH3FBPNryju_p/s200/Nick@AberedwDoor.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447736876615269458" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirTTdfbdzeT9tgWIlfXI3RY7VqSL_l88_hXOdt5KLG_jwoAj7S166qTVrGoL4CeC3uu6iFfkaVbW3K21W7j2xpoa1OTdtFpxbG6m739UGIsVcxSmKPzOAHuxK6TM_7MQEEE9FlIAbqeu5S/s1600-h/JiffNickLlandod.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 138px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirTTdfbdzeT9tgWIlfXI3RY7VqSL_l88_hXOdt5KLG_jwoAj7S166qTVrGoL4CeC3uu6iFfkaVbW3K21W7j2xpoa1OTdtFpxbG6m739UGIsVcxSmKPzOAHuxK6TM_7MQEEE9FlIAbqeu5S/s200/JiffNickLlandod.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447736872225797234" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEQlFaGzWXs4Y6vy1veY9N_UDGsdXos-L50MIGS23Rr4N591blebHYz26M6J9tr8pl7FtWkRkPd9Eo6ilVGhbCHNsyn3CkplaHvmcW9dE3vR1naEn1s4rxCkVfOZT7HhEQRLYlu0nMSuHo/s1600-h/CarysBabyMooBelle1.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEQlFaGzWXs4Y6vy1veY9N_UDGsdXos-L50MIGS23Rr4N591blebHYz26M6J9tr8pl7FtWkRkPd9Eo6ilVGhbCHNsyn3CkplaHvmcW9dE3vR1naEn1s4rxCkVfOZT7HhEQRLYlu0nMSuHo/s200/CarysBabyMooBelle1.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447736864752474434" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPX88uuoVD4jmYANaYi4opYFXkAYq1oX1Sc8SNFRQ6jeGSoGSk247izDQhBdn2CnqaAc81jturyccVNqEz6lPYSJ8BUJPe0vlCi3Xt6rlo0ZOQ5RNLXDU-WxaRqHeWraeenS7MNs7M2aOj/s1600-h/AnchorInn2.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 136px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPX88uuoVD4jmYANaYi4opYFXkAYq1oX1Sc8SNFRQ6jeGSoGSk247izDQhBdn2CnqaAc81jturyccVNqEz6lPYSJ8BUJPe0vlCi3Xt6rlo0ZOQ5RNLXDU-WxaRqHeWraeenS7MNs7M2aOj/s200/AnchorInn2.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447736856265616226" /></a><br />We not only live a mobile life, we try to live as minimalist a life as we can, so I've been scanning in the scads of hard-copy photographs that we own, so they are digitally stored (and take up less space) and the originals can be given into the care of my children, who are not so enamoured of the mobile/minimal life!<br /><br />This process has, of course, resulted in many trips down Memory Lane, which could have been seen as time-wasting, but which I've found to be deeply positive and affirming. As we go through life, it's all too easy to stand in judgement on oneself, specially if others express their dissatisfaction with you! I have finally realised that storing up other peoples' assessments of you in an archive of judgement is the road to madness and depression, not to mention a life that is wasted! Any mother will tell you that you're on a hiding to nothing - everyone, parent or child, could do it much better than you! This archiving process has given me a new perspective on my own mothering.<br /><br />The 'static' between myself and my children has sometimes led me into believing that I was the worst mother in the history of mankind (no, I'm not exaggerating) and I half expected, despite the wisdom of hindsight, to find many pictures of sad, lost-looking children. Instead I found a treasure-trove of laughter and joy, pictures of giggling faces, families fooling around on the beach, picnicking in parks and generally enjoying life together.<br /><br />I found, too, reminders of how beautiful my children always were, how they all have a family resemblance in one way or another, and they have handed down the generations. All of us have a resemblance as tiny children, and 2 of my daughters have grown to look remarkably like my sister as they have grown into women, while my son and middle daughter have retained the 'Black Welsh' look that I have (my father's family came from a farm near Lampeter)<br /><br />I have still only scanned in about half of our store of photographs, which date back, in some cases, to the early years of the 20th century, so I still have many adventures in Memory Lane to look forward to!Moominhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14308705214707002165noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5903152620192255861.post-37485724015823920132010-02-26T08:19:00.003+00:002010-02-26T08:27:32.659+00:00A Crystal Palace with wheels.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdYA7dSYFPWY7rs8QdDGhmmyvBqeU_kr0_y_Q5bB_ALbZwb7AR8yKasuVJaU_LpfUeNd7IykZQvFYv8q6paSANVNO4l6vO34eeXH2d3hzwijbYUf82W8a_T3ilmUT06ku4lU7dHhqte0j3/s1600-h/Moho1.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 226px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdYA7dSYFPWY7rs8QdDGhmmyvBqeU_kr0_y_Q5bB_ALbZwb7AR8yKasuVJaU_LpfUeNd7IykZQvFYv8q6paSANVNO4l6vO34eeXH2d3hzwijbYUf82W8a_T3ilmUT06ku4lU7dHhqte0j3/s320/Moho1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442465717741910738" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuBTBIAzOXZR7ZmhM3km9Mhtrro4ayg3RP7AG3X2aL54P9Rgg3nkREk-k3xjqZZfCT4-aNB1gXIo0JL8LHAr0zyfFvEMfJ2xLCbiN0RaEkDfCqe1xazbQs6JiJ4qJQ1dAd4zAVgBniZ3aQ/s1600-h/CrystalPalace4.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 228px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuBTBIAzOXZR7ZmhM3km9Mhtrro4ayg3RP7AG3X2aL54P9Rgg3nkREk-k3xjqZZfCT4-aNB1gXIo0JL8LHAr0zyfFvEMfJ2xLCbiN0RaEkDfCqe1xazbQs6JiJ4qJQ1dAd4zAVgBniZ3aQ/s320/CrystalPalace4.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442465715078314914" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtRKywA8aEePTGkcTgor6NBzD36OfuVp_uhBovQgILY3UUSre28EqqYrTjdKzQjeSyhxAXWcuQ4eQIoAM3XgyvPCMe4CQOfsl2Yj2wsFfI-WxNtN8ZAozsWYsIgR9f3CZ-SzYjuPa_K-Xd/s1600-h/CrystalPalace3.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 230px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtRKywA8aEePTGkcTgor6NBzD36OfuVp_uhBovQgILY3UUSre28EqqYrTjdKzQjeSyhxAXWcuQ4eQIoAM3XgyvPCMe4CQOfsl2Yj2wsFfI-WxNtN8ZAozsWYsIgR9f3CZ-SzYjuPa_K-Xd/s320/CrystalPalace3.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442465709177909218" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPwd2NUb-eBnnk7TxUkoQSVoaAH-gzTSxgSHFQLMRr2FfWFFPHGOCMtXkVBhwcOV8ZTw-2KQUfdZuQ53_f_jf08ieUaZYx4qGWRlc__vhFnkdvGc3_3jwmre0uuIbWmJqE_L1RyYvGx-Li/s1600-h/CrystalPalace1.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 230px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPwd2NUb-eBnnk7TxUkoQSVoaAH-gzTSxgSHFQLMRr2FfWFFPHGOCMtXkVBhwcOV8ZTw-2KQUfdZuQ53_f_jf08ieUaZYx4qGWRlc__vhFnkdvGc3_3jwmre0uuIbWmJqE_L1RyYvGx-Li/s320/CrystalPalace1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442465703351789986" border="0" /></a><br />In1990 we started out on our 'mobile living' adventure. Jeffery's father had recently had a heart attack, and, as his home was on the south coast while ours was in mid Wales, visiting him had been difficult - we could not afford a car as well as a mortgage and 3 children! Becoming mobile was clearly important, but so was having a home - how to square this particular circle? At this time i was home schooling the children (the eldest of the 3 had become school-phobic, following major bullying, and the 2nd had specific learning difficulties which were neither acknowledged nor supported) so staying close to school was not a problem, the only tie was the house and my husband's job.<br /><br />So, we asked ourselves, could we combine home & transport? To cut a long story short, we decided that a large American-style motorhome would give enough space and conveniences, and give us independent transport, too. With the dubious support of the Bank, and putting our house on the market, we invested in a 'Camp Mate' RV on a Chevrolet base vehicle. The next year or 2 were a VERY sharp learning curve! Over the past 20 years we've had an eclectic collection of vehicles, ranging from our swank RV through a converted ambulance, a bus we converted ourselves and a real Gipsy Vardo (20th century style!) to our present, brand new caravan.<br /><br />It really has been an adventure, or rather, a succession of them! Nor have they ended yet, the comfort our present home has offered us through the recent, harsh winter has far surpassed any previous home - with or without wheels - so we are not tempted to return to bricks and mortar. We have survived losing a wheel at speed from our caravan while towing (I recommend Al-Ko's safety hitch!) many snowy winters when house dwellers shivered in cold, disconnected houses, and lots of trying extrications of large vehicles from small spaces (e.g. tiny Welsh country lanes!) We have enjoyed spending nights in many glorious locations, such as a lay-by overlooking Jura, where we watched the sunset over the Paps with amazement, or another where we had no tv, phone or radio signal, but were lulled to sleep by the rushing of water flowing down the granite cliffs on the opposite side of the glen.<br /><br />Our gipsy caravan was probably the most spectacular of our homes, with its glittering chrome, mirrors and glass everywhere - including engraved windows! Tasteful it may not have been, but glorious it most certainly was - if it hadn't weighed so much, we'd probably still have it, but it simply took way too long to get from A to B, and climbing a hill was a nail-biting affair!<br /><br />Our present, luxurious Abbey Spectrum535 will certainly remain home for some time (barring disaster) and I am confident it will be our window on many new, exciting aspects of Britain, and possibly further afield.Moominhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14308705214707002165noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5903152620192255861.post-67484559692406473642010-02-19T12:18:00.003+00:002012-05-24T09:24:55.511+01:00Southwick farm, a very special place.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT6GRVTvMWZDm0U7qGnYFAPp6nsXZ2rcNqoiOSUvUkjDbYAq5y2YANAY6-hgfeqDgcSJ_gnyi9ee_NSrluIODTR-7AB9yG4UNx1a6ztL4nbRx-t5xluam0fO2dWe5AiE-tmSbCsZ2qrm-a/s1600-h/SthwckSunsetB.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT6GRVTvMWZDm0U7qGnYFAPp6nsXZ2rcNqoiOSUvUkjDbYAq5y2YANAY6-hgfeqDgcSJ_gnyi9ee_NSrluIODTR-7AB9yG4UNx1a6ztL4nbRx-t5xluam0fO2dWe5AiE-tmSbCsZ2qrm-a/s320/SthwckSunsetB.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439929807061700338" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK2kfyaVtAPYmyTaAh8jRylitIi7A2GiBiRs6Cb8BPIz2x_QnEzoWmr1OK6fedhCOVThprzdVK52AOn2E6rk8r8mlUYuwILhcEdKXiCsajK0RwdvULsgXVfYYxzo1Gqz5CRFcd9o0v0lvw/s1600-h/Sthwk7.1.10a.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK2kfyaVtAPYmyTaAh8jRylitIi7A2GiBiRs6Cb8BPIz2x_QnEzoWmr1OK6fedhCOVThprzdVK52AOn2E6rk8r8mlUYuwILhcEdKXiCsajK0RwdvULsgXVfYYxzo1Gqz5CRFcd9o0v0lvw/s320/Sthwk7.1.10a.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439929797851810210" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0939ld4yabT2M1AePjMYuQRpfvg4DfsIeXjiV8wEwPOS5QHL5VFTQOJJcr3GiyURvyHvQO11h2qG3rfL9kDuXeIAEtXRi8KQ7BYROPZpHEdpxLk1L9anYnmicnnqRtpSusxQKkXfmt7EH/s1600-h/SthwckSnow33.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0939ld4yabT2M1AePjMYuQRpfvg4DfsIeXjiV8wEwPOS5QHL5VFTQOJJcr3GiyURvyHvQO11h2qG3rfL9kDuXeIAEtXRi8KQ7BYROPZpHEdpxLk1L9anYnmicnnqRtpSusxQKkXfmt7EH/s320/SthwckSnow33.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439929310476325218" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilaxVz0ydm4FVaCkkA2e4pc7GBVd7uoBuGVJp0abaxtBOnnlAYWiSfec2ktsE3fnnK8jNPFdnEymicPy8YHg5iDqshJUH1_8tgaPcZsk3RdASyjKKTGWifV_P4V-sBpsK88HqM7Byo4rhA/s1600-h/SthwckSnow7.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilaxVz0ydm4FVaCkkA2e4pc7GBVd7uoBuGVJp0abaxtBOnnlAYWiSfec2ktsE3fnnK8jNPFdnEymicPy8YHg5iDqshJUH1_8tgaPcZsk3RdASyjKKTGWifV_P4V-sBpsK88HqM7Byo4rhA/s320/SthwckSnow7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439929302399419170" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimLhaFoKf9aiQGjV-9nTvlLFUY1AfGKhf39UHuK7GBM3fss3OVjr5QeQPI4uWIofqRIEqYaFJLRUlm6LOyBteC07F0h1dAT_SUPSj9Lm3UFPFPz7WWsmdtPwXFOsH7QtaHt78FIv5ErG89/s1600-h/Frost4.1.10D.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimLhaFoKf9aiQGjV-9nTvlLFUY1AfGKhf39UHuK7GBM3fss3OVjr5QeQPI4uWIofqRIEqYaFJLRUlm6LOyBteC07F0h1dAT_SUPSj9Lm3UFPFPz7WWsmdtPwXFOsH7QtaHt78FIv5ErG89/s320/Frost4.1.10D.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439929295986772770" border="0" /></a><br />We are coming to another time of change, a nexus point in our lives. Jeffery's contract in Bishops Cleeve comes to an end a week today, and, as yet, he doesn't have another one to go to - a chance to step back, take a breather and assess our life. This is not unusual in our lifestyle, and, while we may feel a bit insecure financially for a while, it is one of the pleasures of our way of life - we don't so much 'get off the treadmill' as the treadmill/rat race leaves us alone for a while!<br /><br />However, this is a very different nexus point for from any we've had for a good few years, because this is the longest contract jeffery has ever had - 14 months. To be in one geographical area, let alone one place, has not been the norm for us for 5 years or more, and has been something we have actively avoided, we have itchy feet! This time, we will leave where we have stayed for the best part of a year with great sadness, and will return when life gives us the opportunity with delight. We have spent as much as possible of this last year at Southwick Farm, a Caravan Club 'Certificated Location' ( ie a small site licensed for 5 'vans under a scheme run by the Caravan Club, usually a farm or someone's back garden!) These sites supply a place to site your van, water, drainage and rubbish disposal, and most now supply electricity, too. Some are very basic, and in small spaces, you can feel very much that you are treading on the owners toes, but others are spacious and easy going, and make you feel like you can treat the place as home - with respect for others, of course. Southwick is very much one of the latter, with an added dimension that, once you are a regular, you become accepted as part of the farm's community.<br /><br />The Southwick community is special, there are houses on the farm, let to tenants, and several small businesses operate from here, as well as the farm's own business. This multiple use means that there is always something happening, people to talk to and a general feeling that you will not be on your own in time of need - but neither is it noisy, intrusive or wearing. It is a sizable farm, growing fodder & bedding for horses, with strong social connections with the country community through hunting and Young Farmers, as well as links through the nature of their business. Through the year there are many social events happening on the farm, from enormous, glorious parties in the farm buildings (truly, the best barn dances ever, from what I could see!) to pony club-type gatherings, barbecues and the Hunt itself, of course.<br /><br />As well as all that, though, Southwick is a place of beauty. It has big skies, with glorious, mind-expanding sunsets, it has traditional hedgerows sprinkled with venerable trees - many hung with a rich mistletoe harvest this past winter, as the weather changes, Southwick shows a new face - and each one has its own beauty. Even the mud that afflicts us at present has the rich, thick quality and colour of melted dark chocolate! In the snow, Southwick has an ethereal grace and glow, the utilitarian shapes of agricultural machinery and debris are lent a soft, sparkling new shape, sculptural and inspiring, putting one in touch with the long history of the place. In the snow, it's easy to imagine how it must have been in past centuries, the fields and hedgerows, the way of life have really changed only superficially, the link with the earth and nature is still strong in places like this.<br /><br />Both the people and the place here at Southwick have made us feel at home, in a way we never have before, and we will be very sad to leave, though, as always, excited by the next challenge!Moominhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14308705214707002165noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5903152620192255861.post-90649375256787128402009-05-08T11:37:00.001+01:002009-05-08T11:39:32.319+01:00Revolution in the ChurchOn Wednesday I was lucky enough to take part in a revolutionary event - a woman Bishop celebrating Communion in the ancient Abbey at Tewkesbury for the first time in history. To many, this will seem totally unexciting - even boring! However, to anyone who takes an interest in the history of the Christian movement, it is extraordinary, especially to any woman who has had any involvement in the process of social change commonly known as 'Women's Lib' (which is actually all women, as those have gone before have created freedoms for us in the present that we tend to take for granted!) <br /><br />Because of an accident of birth and geography, I grew up in the Anglican Church, (though I spent nearly 30 years as a 'Quaker') and can easily remember a time when the idea of women being ordained was virtually heretical. The role of women in the church was of cleaners, flower arrangers, cooks and general dogs bodies - granted, the institution couldn't survive without their contribution, but give them the right to stand in the place of Jesus' disciples? No chance! Men were the authourities in society, and that was that. Granted, by the time I was born, women were no longer regarded as the property of men (by most people in the West, anyway) but they were still regarded as of less value, power and importance - as they still are in many pockets within our society. When I divorced my first husband, it was under much freer, more female-friendly, laws, which respected the relationship between women and their children, and their right to run their own lives and take responsibility for themselves. Only a few years earlier, I would almost certainly have lost custody of my daughter, and had to prove appalling misdeeds on my husband's part - instead of a few years of living separately being allowed to demonstrate that we were incompatible. It was not necessary to be overly antagonistic towards each other, to slag each other off in public and fight over our daughter and money - a certain amount of that happened, but that was about personal pride, not a result of the way the law was set up, as it had been, to disempower women so that men could get their own way.<br /><br />We still have no women Bishops in the UK, but I believe it is inevitable, and look forward to time when women represent a serious proportion of the upper hierarchy of the Church of England. Not because I have an axe to grind, but because I believe women are particularly well suited to Pastoral work. The Church was created as a political body, it's structure was developed in a patriarchal context, long before women had the freedom of choice that birth control gave us, before medicine and science enabled the majority of women to be fairly certain of surviving childbirth on a regular and reliable basis. The New Testament, as it has come down to us over the centuries, is a carefully censored collection of writings, chosen to support the views and interests of the men running the church in the first few centuries after Jesus' lifetime, and to help empower them in the social context of their times. Even so, careful reading of the Gospels shows that Jesus himself was certainly no denigrator of women, even though his formally chosen disciples are recorded as being men, the place of women in his life was clearly important, and he valued their contributions, and respected them deeply. There are many examples of a generous attitude to women, and several individuals were obviously as close to him as his disciples, not to mention more faithful to him! Many contemporary writings were suppressed, and some are beginning to surface and expand our picture of Jesus and his followers, showing that his teachings have been interpreted in a mind bogglingly wide range of ways and truth is a very slippery commodity!<br /><br />Many have a perception that women who gain power in the Church are pushy, out for power and kudos, to oust men, have chips on their shoulders . . . . etc, etc! Bishop Mary Gray-Reeves of El Camino Real, in California, was clearly none of these. Obviously she is a very capable administrator and communicator, but she is also, pretty, soft-spoken and clearly has great compassion. No doubt the medieval monks of the Abbey's early days would have been spinning in their graves at the idea of a woman Bishop, let alone one celebrating the Eucharist in their Abbey! But I like to think that some of them were as wise and compassionate as bishop mary, and will have rejoiced, instead, at this evidence that the truth of Jesus' teachings and his love and compassion continue to spread 2 millennia after he trod this Earth. Communion on Wednesday evening was a welcoming and moving occasion, I was privileged to be part of it.Moominhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14308705214707002165noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5903152620192255861.post-43661981523811583652009-04-14T15:42:00.003+01:002009-04-14T15:49:41.758+01:00An Example to the Planners<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguotQukP9izCaOjClIyTGKY3HIb9rEWSEFE8uy3Ae2_o0s1c80bsavFFGyKIghv9yH0uwjkYksZIeQuRM0mX4A97iS7NcWPiRcPXNbXW_lDxMShUp-c_A0pYTGrOc4IpjQrBoUR4f5tvfh/s1600-h/HayCastle2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguotQukP9izCaOjClIyTGKY3HIb9rEWSEFE8uy3Ae2_o0s1c80bsavFFGyKIghv9yH0uwjkYksZIeQuRM0mX4A97iS7NcWPiRcPXNbXW_lDxMShUp-c_A0pYTGrOc4IpjQrBoUR4f5tvfh/s320/HayCastle2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324558920323862914" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMljyqE7mpYe41D7b8VHvCK-ZUOh1u7s8_hOQyyv1346LCNos095ox1pJ8Iss4k_1eqZ-FJJY6spaOFg6-OhKI7QVQoPUV-ay2VLQl91_-h4UXFc5BWfLpyO64B-tq4qYlrJmHOu-GvpjR/s1600-h/Gardens2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMljyqE7mpYe41D7b8VHvCK-ZUOh1u7s8_hOQyyv1346LCNos095ox1pJ8Iss4k_1eqZ-FJJY6spaOFg6-OhKI7QVQoPUV-ay2VLQl91_-h4UXFc5BWfLpyO64B-tq4qYlrJmHOu-GvpjR/s320/Gardens2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324558917335130834" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOIJ3sfEl0M68-JhWvh7JXZ5urTlweUShVApUUV7LEDAjutrfu6u_0vP-9AXOGU7Es_-C5FuVLOeLcOtxj96PPN0mLyRUh_HWkhMkCMTMqf-hN3bHRxO00x17xAaGhfRYzINB47XrzXXGb/s1600-h/Booths3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOIJ3sfEl0M68-JhWvh7JXZ5urTlweUShVApUUV7LEDAjutrfu6u_0vP-9AXOGU7Es_-C5FuVLOeLcOtxj96PPN0mLyRUh_HWkhMkCMTMqf-hN3bHRxO00x17xAaGhfRYzINB47XrzXXGb/s320/Booths3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324558911953757986" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9fnddBpTGW4_GZ-oRqQzS3zgIXqOzCG7r0ZpuozTKmwxUdKkQRO3JWgWIJuq3uYaX_AK6i-oH-qNDDNFli1iFUrXCS6op2ZmG4rgwtLkWBPh_Y6XpAY5tLzdgojxx4cyfe5bClxB31_xl/s1600-h/Booths2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9fnddBpTGW4_GZ-oRqQzS3zgIXqOzCG7r0ZpuozTKmwxUdKkQRO3JWgWIJuq3uYaX_AK6i-oH-qNDDNFli1iFUrXCS6op2ZmG4rgwtLkWBPh_Y6XpAY5tLzdgojxx4cyfe5bClxB31_xl/s320/Booths2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324558905563915010" border="0" /></a><br />In 1981 my life got fairly turned on its head - I met my present husband (yes, he had several predessors - well, they didn't actually die, but the marriages/ partnerships did, painfully) I won't go into too much detail (too embarressing) but I ended up unexpectedly staying with him in his little 2-up 2-down terraced cottage in Hay-on-Wye for 10 days or so, leaving my usual life behind for awhile. I don't need to tell you that was only the beginning, but not only that, we now can no longer keep away from Hay, it's like we are attached by an insistent elastic band.<br /><br />Therefore, inevitably, we spent Easter in the general environs - he can't get enough of the nearby mountains, I can't get enough of the creative buzz in Hay, so we do both. Hay is a thriving town in the Marches of Wales and England, built on a commanding crag above the river Wye, surrounding a castle that dates back to Norman times. Only recently has it suffered the stifling hand of Planners, so it's a complex of wandering alleys and lanes, full of tiny, character-full buildings and people. It just added bits on to itself as the residents needed or wanted, thus creating a community that works, rather than a Plan that doesn't! (No, I don't like 'Planners', how did you guess?) Anyway, being a rural town, out in the sticks, it was suffering a bit of a crisis in the 1970s, as there was less and less work to keep the population going, and it was bleeding people to the cities. Cometh the hour, cometh the man . . . . in this case a second-hand bookseller with a gift for publicity, by the name of Richard Booth. His ideas for publicising Hay, and thus his business, were legion, including crowning himself King of Hay, and declaring independence!<br /><br />Today, Hay is known as 'The Town of Books', has an annual Literary Festival sponsored by The Guardian newspaper and is one of Britain's prime tourist destinations - well done, Richard! Though some of the original residents still feel it's all a bit much, and who can blame them, at Festival time, or Bank Holidays, even residents can find it impossible to park! Not only are there more bookshops than you can shake a stick at, the tide of visitors has brought a following surge of small (and not so small) businesses to service their other needs, so there are wonderful places to eat, shops full of clothes to die for, and craft and gift outlets galore, as well as a rash of antique shops and B&Bs. But the town remains a true community, and the new shops have not been allowed to shove aside the butcher, baker and greengrocer, let alone the deli!<br /><br />This is beginning to sound like an advert for the British Tourism Board, or whatever they call themselves these days! Seriously, it's an example of how towns can thrive in any economic climate, and the multinationals and Planners have nothing to do with it, it's all about individuals sticking to their own knowledge of what is right, and putting it into practice. Hay still supports, and is supported by, its surrounding rural community, and the world beats a path to its door. Is anybody up there listening?Moominhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14308705214707002165noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5903152620192255861.post-42510039455272138892009-04-06T12:29:00.002+01:002009-04-06T12:33:22.636+01:00On the 4th of April, 2007, I fell from the step of our new motorhome and completely destroyed my right elbow. The recent 2nd anniversary of this life-changing event set me thinking about anniversaries, and how we, as individuals and as a society, adjust to dramatic changes - especially in this current time of economic uncertainty. It seems to me (from the perspective of 62 years of a well turbulent life) that it is very hard to make rational, considered decisions about the changed situation, unless one lets go of one's previous sense of identity and beliefs about reality - this may seem obvious, but this means grieving for the self, and world, that has passed, and we seem, on the whole, reluctant to do this. Western, particularly Christo-centric, society seems very unwilling to face the end of anything, to let go of what has been (be that life itself, or merely a possession) and move on into a new context for being.<br /><br /> This 'letting go' is what grief is for, but we seem to regard grief as embarrassing, a weakness that we should not be subject to if we're 'real adults'. This attitude is more than the British 'stiff upper lip', as we Brits are not alone in this phenomenon, it is part of Western discomfort with uncertainty, a deep-seated social insecurity that has seen us comforting ourselves with more and more 'things' to make us feel safe, and an ever increasing effort on the part of those at the head of our society to control as much as possible. This is, of course, a complete waste of effort and resources - as they say in the classics 'stuff happens' and we just have to find a way to come to terms with it. Grief, unresolved, can be very damaging to those who refuse to grieve and let go - not just for people who have died, but for anything lost irretrievably that was valued. Some years ago I was briefly involved with a wonderful organisation called Cruse, with helps those who are berieved to deal with their losses. Though brief, my experience was enough to show me how vital it is to recognise one's loss and to grieve for it, I saw many stuck in fear, indecision and depression because they could not, or would not, face their loss and feel it - and let go of what had been lost, instead of trying to carry on as though nothing had happened.<br /><br />Over the past 2 years I have been discovering (a) how much of my previous identity relied on my ability to do things, reliably and with skill, and to be independent, and (b) how different my picture of myself now has to become. I still struggle to let go of much of my previous picture of myself - in my head I am still the capable cook and provider, but my body tells me otherwise. I may still have all the knowledge, theoretical skill and body knowledge, but I can no longer put much of it into practice. Now I have to rely on the support of others to a degree I am still enormously uncomfortable with, I can no longer simply prepare vegetables, put things in and out of the oven - some days I cannot even spread butter on a slice of bread! To woman who has not just run a household and brought up 4 children, but run cafes and guesthouses, this is a big shock! In addition, I have always made things - sewing, knitting, crochet, embroidery . . . . . this requires dexterity and strength I cannot now rely on, and while i still do as much of it as my arm allows, I keep finding myself up against challenges where once I would have done the job almost without conscious thought. I am still grieving for the 'Me' I once was, and groping for a new 'Me' that feels like someone I can live with. This new 'Me' is not just a struggle for me - I am now no longer the person my husband, my children and my friends thought they knew, the ground has shifted underfoot for them, too.<br /><br />Sometimes i just need to sit and weep for who I used to be, who had so many skills that she took for granted and now has to find replacements for - many would be uncomfortable with this, so I tend to do it alone, those i love, and who love me, have their own grieving to do, and their own adjustments to make - not just with reference to me, I don't mean that, but changes in their own lives - promotions, job losses, family break ups and reformations etc. It's hard to let go of what has been treasured, or simply taken for grated, for a long time, but we cannot control much in life, really, it's appalling arrogant to believe we can. All we can truly control is how we deal with what happens to us, and much of that is about letting go and grieving for the space that is left behind - then finding something else to fill it! I love the truism 'If you love someone/thing let them go - if they come back, they're yours, if they don't, they never were." It's important to recognise that very little is ever truly ours, and to let go freely, and be open to accept whatever gift life offers next. I'm not sure what life is going to offer next, i am due to have a replacement elbow fitted, will that lead to a return of some of my dexterity and strength, or a return to greater pain and debility? I don't know, but I'm ready to tackle either - though I won't deny I'm scared, It would be foolish to go forward in life with my eyes shut, just as it would be foolish not to grab opportunities with both hands - and to do that, I need to let go of some of the ideas/things I no longer really need.Moominhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14308705214707002165noreply@blogger.com1