Unexpected

My Grandfather's story is very much a story of the unexpected and the unclear. I guess I shouldn't expect it to change now, just because I have tried to find out a few things.

My Mum always talks of him with great love and it is clear from what is said that he was well liked and respected by many. He stands tall in my families memories even though as you begin to look, there is a lack of concrete facts.

His father was a cabinet maker and I believe he died when my Grandfather and his brother were pretty young. The family was plunged into poverty and the boys spent time in an orphanage because there just wasn't the money to feed them. This is where the first hint of possible (as oppose to definite) tragedy comes in as there is the vaguest hint of possible abuse suffered in the orphanage.

The brothers grew up and my Grandfather went to war in India. He didn't talk about the war much but my Mum remembers that he said he helped build a road. The allies had pretty much finished their road building by the time the war started it seems. The Japanese however used Prisoners of War to build roads in the jungle and many, many died. The Japanese just couldn't understand that the West thought differently, it was duty to survive to fight another day whereas the Japanese committed suicide rather than be captured. The POWs were without honour as far as they were concerned and this tragedy of misunderstanding resulted in horrific treatment of the POWs.

My Grandfather met my Gran and my Gran tells a story about how she had to marry him because they went on a day trip with friends but left it too late to leave. She found herself in a position where she had to share a room with him and honour required she marry him. I don't think this was at all what she wanted. I don't think she loved him.

Two children later and my Grandfather moved to another town with work. My Mum always believed that they were to follow but the family never did. Instead a divorce came along and eventually a Stepfather who they did not enjoy living with. He was a man who liked to be alone and was best off in his garden. When we went and stayed he would manage for a day or two and then retreat to the garden. He had a brilliant smile and was not a bad chap but I can not imagine he ever wanted to live with someone else's children.

My step grandfather did something silly which caused my Uncle to spend a lot of time in hospital. Because of this my Uncle missed out on the last few years of his Father's life. For my Grandfather became ill. The added tragedy of this is he was to be married to a widower whose first husband died of exactly the same, not so common, illness. They didn't marry because he wanted to ensure my Gran carried on receiving his pension.

On a visit to see my Gran, she told my Mum and I a story. Knowing my Nan and given the way she told us, I have no idea if the story is true or not. My Grandfather was caught doing something that was still illegal at that time. It apparently resulted him losing his job and having to move and also resulted in the end of his marriage. The planned move had been a lie, told to ease the ending. It is possible from what was said that my Grandfather was gay or bisexual.

My Great Uncle didn't step in and help the family at all. In fact he was a headmaster at my Mum and Uncles school. My Mum was not academic but she had a dream to be a nurse. In his position of Headmaster, you would expect him to support them, no matter how he felt about things. He told my Mum to give up her dreams as she was not good enough and he put it in writing in her school report. Luckily she didn't listen.

So a life full of suspected tragedy, abused child, Japanese POW and society outcast... but yet he walks tall and all of these half guessed things might not be so.

There isn't many people to ask about him. My Gran is vague and not necessarily inclined to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Asking difficult questions of the lady he nearly married seems a way of just causing hurt and upset. He did however have two good friends that my Mum remembers. One I have no idea how to track down but the other is pretty well known, a celebrity.

So after not doing it for a looong time, I finallys ent him an email. I didn't say much, just who I was and why I was writing. Today I received a very nice and polite reply. Not the one I expected at all. It seems in those circles that there was another gent of the same name. The email apologised for not being of much assistance but said that he didn't really know him and suggested I look in a different circle.

I sent back a brief and equally polite email explaining that this man was not my Grandfather. I gave my Grandfathers profession and nickname as well as explaining that the eminent celebrity had in fact crafted a celebration of my Grandfather following his death but that all the information I have is second hand.

And now I wait.

It was 50 years ago after all. Could he really be forgotten? This man who walks so tall? Whose genial shadow comes down through time... My Uncle moved to the last town my Grandfather lived in and went to a pub one day. A man at the bar went into shock as he looked the spit of his father. All those years later, surely the celebrity can not have forgotten?

Expect the unexpected.... *sigh*

Rememberance

It shamed me today when I watched the proceedings at the Cenotaph that i couldn't remember what my family had done during the war. So I made some phone calls. Some things I had known but forgotten while other things I had never known. My family was lucky, it escaped the war relatively unscathed

My Dad's Dad was born in 1903 so he was not old enough to fight in the First World War. Although he was in his late thirties when the Second World War broke out, he didn't escape. He was too old for the frontline thankfully. He was a driver for the RAF based in London and he drove things everywhere and drove everything. Hampstead Heath was full of anti aircraft guns and a lorry compound. He escaped being posted abroad to North Africa due to a severely broken ankle.

His wife gave birth to my Father towards the end of the war and my Dad grew up with rationing and reminders everywhere. A family friend had an elbow that wouldn't bend because he had been shot at Dunkirk. They lived in London all through the war and survived the Blitz.

My Mum's Mum was one of those ladies who was suddenly allowed a much more independent life than otherwise she might have expected to have lived. She associated with officers and when she talks of the war, you can see it is bittersweet. Parties and fun times with friends who let go as if they might not come back and of course the memories of the ones that did not come back. My Nana was a very beautiful lady and she was based in London. The spirit of the Londoners at this time was a bright and shining thing in the face of adversity and she was one of them.

My Mum's Dad didn't like to talk about the war much at all. He was in the army posted in India. He at some point rode a horse and he also helped build a road. From this we suspect he was a Prisoner of War but we are not sure. As he and my Gran later divorced, finding out about him has always been tricky.

Family history is a valuable thing and I need to make a concerted effort to write more down... Least it be forgotten

Come Again

So here we are on Samhain. On the outside we are not going to be looking very haloweeny. We were given to signs by the police, one say trick or treaters welcome and one saying not welcome. I think we shall be sticking up the not welcome one with a little note underneath saying we have the lurgy. I might stick a bowl of sweets on the doorstep, not sure.

I will light candles for my dead. Big Dog. Uncle D who died a few weeks a go. My Gran, even though I never overly gelled with her. Her husband who I never met and know so little about because my Dad isn't very talkative about him (or anyone else). My Nan's two husbands (although she is still alive) my Grandad and my Uncle R. B who was a family friend who died of cancer when I was in my late teens. B who was a cousin's wife who died when I was very young and who was my first experience of death. I remember vaguely having that conversation with my Mum.

I think I will also do a reading by the candles tonight. I like tarot. I like reading others readings to. Eco Yogini posted hers today but blogger wouldn't let me comment....

I guess what I really wanted to write about was the dream I had last night. I dreamt I was pregnant. Very pregnant. I realised something had happened to the baby as it had not moved in some time. I told F and he took me to the hospital. We knew the baby was dead and needed to come out but we couldn't find the casualty (A & E) department in the hospital. It seemed it would appear at the time it was due to open. I kept walking around the hospital trying to find it so I could be rid of my dead baby. Shortly before I woke up, my waters broke. No one cared about finding me the A & E any more, the first nurse around was grabbed instead....

I guess my interpretation of it is that not all things that begin are meant to be. Something has begun with me that is not supposed to be and although I know it is not meant to be I have to wait for it's time to end. That time is close. There might be some pain. No caesarian for me, the department that would have done that wasn't there, not for me. I have to do it the painful, old fashioned way but the people to help are all around.

I know I don't write and remember my dreams as often as I should, only when they really want to be remembered. I have no bedside lamp so i can not write them down in the middle of the night easily. I probably should sort this. Sometimes my dreams are very.... I am convinced I had a dream warning that I would lose Big Dog.

Anyway, Happy Samhain!

Perfect Weather for Trolls

The days have changed, the circle is turning.

All of a sudden it is dark when I wake up. It isn't properly light until a little while after I have staggered out of bed.

The rain has come. After a glorious September, the weather has turned. It is still warm for the moment but there is rain and mizzle and mist. Mizzle is a Cornish word for the rain that is whipped apart by the wind and flies sideways. The roads are wet. The hill appears through the cloud occasionally.

We have had our thermostat set really low all Summer and Sunday I found the heating coming on. Time to reset it for winter. The heating is definitely on now. Temperatures are still at about 14 here but next week they are apparently going to drop below 10.

We are heading towards Samhain and Yule.

The dark is winning. I havn't even been able to see the full moon...

I am not feeling cold though. Something has changed. My metabolism seems to have sparked. I am normally the cold one, wrapped up in jumpers while others sit there with bare arms. It isn't a one off, otherwise I would think nothing of it, I am feeling warmer. I am not the cold one suddenly. I am noticing that I have to keep covered though, otherwise my joints get achy.

I have been losing weight. 8 and a half pounds since starting the new regime so i get to buy a troll bracelet now. Yay!

Trolls like dark and Winter which is why they are so common in Scandinavia. They also have no problem with the wet because many of them like to live under bridges. Very appropriate really....

Not sure I ever mentioned before but I am Troll royalty. The Troll Queen in fact...

It started when my niece and nephew were a lot younger. My niece came creeping along trying to startle me while I was in the bath. I called out 'fee fi fo fum, I smell the blood of an English gal!' She liked this a lot but got giant and troll a little mixed up and it all developed into a long running game. My Troll Boy and Troll Girl would go and find me special Troll food, dragons blood ice cream and the like. F got to be the Troll King when we met....

Rewriting History III

I am finding this an interesting theme for thought and there is a little more to come... Most of us rewrite personal history as well.

My first experience of this was with My Gran. She was a difficult lady. Widowed before my parents met and with only one child, she was never going to like my Mum, no matter how much she did... When I was about twelve, I very innocently caused a family row. My Mum, Gran, Sister and I had all been out and about. Things hadn't happened quite as my Gran would have liked and she went home stewing. By the time we next saw her she had convinced herself that things had happened slightly differently. She proceeded to complain to my Dad about what happened. I spoke up and contradicted her view of events.

It occurs to me in recounting this that she may have known she wasn't telling the truth. Who knows.... It always appeared that she brooded on things. With each telling she appeared in a slightly better light until she had the story just right, and of course, that was how it had been....

We all do this to some extent. The memory of pain vanishes, to become a memory of a memory of a memory. I think this is the minds way of protecting us. I think the same happens with things we do wrong. Imagine if we had to remember in 20:20 clarity every single wrong we had done. Imagine the weight of all that guilt. It would cripple us as people.

Thing is, I slowly rewrite the good stuff too. I just forget it. I have an awful memory. What did I do when i was 14? Where did I go at 17? How did I feel after my first kiss? Which one exactly WAS my first kiss? I am not sure everyone has quite as bad a memory as I do, but I think the principle is the same...

Shame, pain, fear, love all gone. A memory of a memory of a memory. A memory of the story I once told myself about how it happened.

Do we really want to live with the painful truth, every second?

Sometimes things happen that pierce our minds and we can't forget. A memory so strong, A pain so deep, a love so profound... Even they fade one day if we let them (or if we have a truly appalling memory). I have a piercing moment of memory from my childhood. Walking through wet grass in Autumn with flurries of Daddy Long Legs leaping out of the grass. It was a moment when I realised I was happy. When I just felt happiness and was present and there... No context, just that image.

Families write history too. Why did Grandma fall out with her sister? The polite fiction. What you tell the children. What is misunderstood by future generations. What is left out.

Rewriting History

History is written by the winners.

Nowhere is this more (or less) true than the British Isles. The 'English' version of the history of these Isles is the one that has been taught but there is a resurgence. This history is no longer seen as threatening to Great Britain and people are interested so the tales are being told more widely.

Most British people have blood drawn from the four quarters of the Isles so as the history is explored so we are able to explore some of the less English aspects of our family history. I definitely have Welsh and Scottish blood. I have a Liverpudlian branch of the family so given all this, I am likely to have a little irish somewhere in there too. Much of my English blood is fenland and Suffolk based.

Britain is a set of islands, many, many islands. This enabled the many tribes to remain distinct in many ways. Waves of invaders did not settle equally across the islands. The Celts remained strongly present in Ireland, Wales, Scotland and Cornwall. I have also read that the fenlands, being an impenetrable, undrained bog retained a lot of Celtic blood as well.

The islands remained a hodge podge of tribal feifdoms, slowly united. England, Cornwall, Scotland, Wales and Ireland emerged as separate nations of united tribes. Slowly they all came under the sway of the English. The history of this integration is not really taught in schools. A little mention of the whole Scottish Kings and Queens is made perhaps, with Mary Queen of Scots.

My Scottish ancestor was a MacDonald from the Cairngorms who moved to Suffolk to work at the Naval College, as a bursar I think. He must have been well educated for the time but all connection to his Scottish ancestry seems to have been cut. He changed his surname to Donald and married a local farmers daughter. I think he was my great great great grandfather maybe an extra great in there too. My Mum was often told that we were directly descended from Robert de Bruce. This is all I know of my Scottish Ancestry.

Nothing of the Scottish history was taught me. I learnt of Robert de Bruce in films such as Braveheart. Now there is a series on TV about the History of Scotland. I have just sat and heard for the first time, the story of how the MacDonalds and the Stewarts divided Scotland into Lowland and Highland. How the MacDonalds ascended and descended in power. How the Scottish identity became divided. How the Lowlanders became Scots and the Highlanders remained Gaels.

Cornwall is a land of forgotten history as well. I wish more of this had been taught... Good job it is never too late to learn! I am truly British, not English. I am Celt, Angle, Saxon and Dane. I am no one thing. The English didn't win in me, they are just another part... They only won in history. Time makes us complete. Things come full circle.

Celebrations and Jubilations

Yesterday was my birthday. It didn't begin as I had hoped. The alarm went off at seven because the boiler man was coming to find out why it keeps switching itself off and flashing little lights at us. I would much rather have had a lie in but hey...

It turned out to be a little corrosion on the sensor that tells it the pilot light has gone out.

After some pressies and some breakfast lovingly cooked by F, he forced me out the door and into the car. I knew he was taking me to a far away wood. It started to drizzle as we drove there. hmmm

We ate our food and then wondered over to the map. He asked me which trail I wanted to do and I chose the nice easy one the went a long one side of the river, over a bridge and back down the other side. It had easy next to it and I suspected it would be lovely and flat.

Cardinham Woods is situated in the Glynn Valley. A lovely valley that is just so beautiful. Full of little rivers carrying water away from Bodmin Moor. Steep sided valleys run into each other. Covered in trees. The woods are mostly pine because they are Forestry Commission plantations but there are some broad leaved areas here and there.

Little Dog met and socialised with a few dogs including a Collie that swiped her side for no reason leaving her with a cut. She danced in the rivers and ran backwards and forwards and was generally joyful. The only times she was bad with other dogs and even growled was when she got bitten and also when I went to stroke another dog who had jumped up at me. I think growling is a fairly minor communication really. I doubt the Collies owners even realised their dog had drawn blood.

We happily trundled along until we reached a point where another trail left our nice easy route. F pointed up the trail. And yes I do mean up. This trail snaked up the side of the valley, clinging precariously to the side of the hill. I went pale and said no. It soon became clear that F really wanted to do this and that i would feel bad if I didn't, even though I didn't want to climb hills...

I had to stop a lot. The Mistress of Pain had taught me a couple of stretches to help with problem parts of my legs. I had to stretch out my ankles most times I stopped. At the top I knelt down and leant back to stretch out some other muscles, somewhere in my legs that hurt. It helped a lot but not completely!

Once up the side of the hill, the path wound around the hills at a steady height with only minor slopes. Once I stopped glowering at F i actually enjoyed it. The only person we saw up there was a Ranger doing an annual check to ensure there were no dangerous fallen trees endangering the path. And he was driving.

Amongst the pines were other things. Many dung beetles. The occasional fungus. I could hear buzzards calling. And there were other trees, oak, beech and then, suddenly, a little cluster of Rowans. These are not trees I see very often, in fact I can not remember the last time I did. They are not common in the areas I have lived. I have often wanted a piece of this wood for different things while reading witchy things. It has always somehow seemed the last obtainable. When I thought about making a tree oracle, this was the one that was going to be hardest for me to find. It is one that is recommended for wands and stangs.

So I see a little cluster of the trees and I say to F that I want some of their wood. Neither of us willing to chance the steep slope to get to them. We continued on. And there, at a fork in the path was a cluster of them, within reach. I begin looking. It was pretty hopeless. I told F that I wasn't willing to take living wood from the tree itself but the temptation was of course huge - to break one little twig. F got bored and carried on. I spotted a cluster of berries that had fallen and was caught in a branch. I took this as a gift, even though it wasn't what I wanted. Preparing to give up, I turned to move on.

And then I saw it. It was not a twig. It was probably a little tree, or maybe a branch of a larger tree. It had somehow been broken off and a couple of the twigs had started rotting. At it's base, a section the length of a think wand dangled. I broke the thick length at the bottom off to use as a wand but I didn't want to just leave the branch. I called F and he helped me strip the the twigs. I was bemused to find that I was left with something looking very much like a forked staff. I discovered that for all it's lack of thickness and the gently bowed nature of the branch, it made a very, very good walking stick. I gave silent thanks for this gift and moved on.

We descended the hill back to the easy trail and saw many beautiful spots. It seemed that most dog walkers took the opportunity to cross the first bridge and loop back so this far section of the easy trail was deserted. We found a little path that led down to the river and here I took off my socks and boots and dangled my poor sore feet in....

We continued on, past a beautiful old fashioned granite bridge. Past cottages. Past all sorts...

My exclamation halted F. I was a bit surprised that he thought such an eclamation might relate to the siting of another dung beetle. I had seen something on the path and I knew what it was. I had never ever seen one before and this was a very special moment. We have three 'snakes' in this country. The Adder is poisonous and has a distinctive V, I once had an encounter with one and it was beautiful. Then the Grass Snake and Smooth Snake. This looked like a snake but I knew it wasn't, it was a legless lizard, a Slow Worm.

It was a beautiful copper colour and it glistened. Reading about them online, it would have been a female that we saw. We took many photos. We watched as it decided we were not a threat and moved across the road to the verge where it nimbly moved through the moss and stones. It was lovely. A real priviledge.

We returned to the car and I squeezed my new stang in before collapsing in a tired aching heap. I dreamt of nice hot baths all the way home and couldn't wait to use some Lush treat I had purchased the week before. Little Dog actually lay down all the way home.

So we pull up and F announces I have an hour and a half and then we are off out.... I had my bath and it was lovely and then we bustled out of the house.

He took me to Carn Brea Castle. I posted about the hill this castle sits on here. I have wanted to go there ever since I moved to Cornwall. It was originally built as a medieval chapel, possibly to St Michael but was later rebuilt by the Bassett family as a hunting lodge. It isn't considered to be a proper castle because it is built on top of rocks and is classified as a folly. I think most importantly in terms of last night, it is now a restaurant. A tiny restaurant but a lovely one.

We ate Jordanian food that wouldn't fit into our diet plan and later the owner played his drum. It was a lovely intimate evening. Lit by candle light in a tiny, relatively bare room with rock walls, we were snug and happy and well fed. Afterwards we walked up to the monument in the dark....

A beautiful day. all thanks to my lovely F.

Things

So many things seem to be happening right now. So many things seem to be about to start. So very much a time of change.

The weather has suddenly decided to go all summery. Beautiful clear skies. Air so fresh it tastes sweet. A beautiful gentle warmth cooled by sea breezes. Lovely. And I like it even more because it isn't Summer. There is a slight nip to the air at times that lets you know this Autumn. The night is lasting longer and longer. This is September at it's best.

The last few days I have been stuck in work of a day and to busy of an evening to make it to the beach. So I promised Little Dog we would go first thing today. And we did. 8 am found us stepping onto Perranporth Beach with a fairly low tide giving huge expanses of golden fluffy sand. And I do really mean fluffy because the beach cleaning tractor was there sifting sand for trash and laying it back like a fluffy powdery stuff.

Little Dog was pretty good and I got a better balance today between her desire to chase after the ball and her need to not run herself ragged. As we left the beach it was just beginning to get warm enough to make running risky for her. She cooled off in the stream before we headed back to the car.

A good start to the day. I then spoke to my Mum and discovered she is also trying to lose weight right now for her diabetes. She has decided to give herself a treat with every half stone. She is going to buy a troll bracelet with her first milestone and a troll bead or charm for it every one after that. We are going to do this together now because it is such a lovely idea. By the time I am thin I should have a beautiful collection of beads that I would have trouble justifying normally.

The diet is going OK. I have planned the meals for the rest of this week now which seemed to take ages. It doesn't feel easy yet. Last nights tea was a glitch though.... Now I just have to make myself cook it all and stick to it. I need to make myself go out shopping really... I left lunch to late and let myself get hungry. This is something I do and then I go and get all the wrong foods....

The new TV has arrived but I can not unpack it until F gets back. It is our first real big purchase of something new together and as such we will enjoy it's first moments together. I would love to be able to watch it tonight though... Oh well....

Work has gone a little odd in some ways but in others it is fine.

Jewellery making is now progressing at a snail's pace. I am making a bracelet for my Aunt (thankfully she has tiny wrists) using tiny delica beads sewn into tiny squares and then sewn together. The way it sits is a bit like an egg box sort of a shape. F's Mum's necklace has ground to a halt because I ran out of beads. My sister's earrings have swelled in number to three sets but I got bored of earrings and stopped for a bit. My Mum's bracelet is done. This just leaves my Neice, who isn't turning gothy after all. Of course this is only the first round - they all need birthday and Christmas presents....

On other crafting - I need to do some silk painting and some sewing (eek) and some how neither seem to be getting started. It is just a question of making myself get started really... *sigh*

Some major decluttering has been accomplished while I was safely out of the way at work. F has removed a wardrobe and now I can actually see all of the width of the window from the bed. The room seems so much brighter suddenly!

I think I am putting off going shopping....

Time Turns

Today is a quiet day (thankfully). It has all been good and fun and lovely but I am so tired now.

Today is a day off. Peace and quiet and catching up with myself.

Today is a mere breather because tomorrow I have committed to going to the races....

This week has made me realise that I use my blog sometimes to avoid doing things. Starting this blog has both opened my life up and closed it down. I spend too much time reading blogs. It isn't sustainable. It is an avoidance of doing.

I do think that sometimes I go a bit mad on crafting and wear myself out on it. The nice thing about beading is that it is a slow steady sort of a craft. Not likely to wear you out. I have started a bracelet for my Mum on my loom as we were talking about what she would like last weekend. It is in silver and grey and I am enjoying doing it.

This last ten days has been full. Over time at work. Flying around the country. Going to a wedding. Going shopping / browsing in an upmarket town with my parents. Intensive house cleansing. Walks with family to local places. A trip to St Ives by train to sit on the beach and wander round shops. A shopping trip with my sister. An outdoor production of Tartuffe (fantastically funny).

It was lovely but manic.

I also received a few early birthday pressies which I assisted in choosing... In my window is a lovely set of stained glass hearts in pink, red and purple strung downwards. I have a lovely blue glass with gold foil marble which sits on top of a bottle stopper. I have a set of brightly coloured silicon kitchen utensils. I have a lovely set of nesting kitchen things in all the colours of the rainbow including a bowl, colunder, sieve, measuring jug and measuring cups.

I think I may start posting a little less. Reading a few less blogs. Doing a little more. Time for a slightly different balance. Some things have been very much neglected. I want to spend more time on The Artists's Way. I want to finish Wreck This Journal. I am soon to start the Joy Diet. I want to make my house beautiful with objects I have made and altered. I want to finish my list of crafting obligations. I want to get started on my manic list for Christmas and the surrounding birthdays....

I will still be here but it has all been building and building and now it is time for those blossoms to bloom fully. Harvest is here. No doubt winter will see me brooding and returning more to this....

A Pause

I am sat here alone... waiting...

I have no idea how long for....

My sister should be here with my niece and nephew...

F should be here with S...

They are all coming, or at least I assume they are on their way...

But I am here, making the most of the last few moments of peace...

Oh Little Dog is going to go mad with joy!

The Fonder Heart

I am back and I had a lovely, lovely time.

I have so much I could say but I am running out of time again. Catching up is hard to do.... Nearly a hundred emails! Thank you everyone for the kind comments, which I havn't had a chance to reply to... I managed to catch up with a few blogs earlier but not many. So much to do!

But I won't get a chance. A little overtime tonight and maybe a little tomorrow and then I have three days with my sister and her kids. S and F will be available for gallivanting as well so much fn shall be had by all but little time for blogging....

Seeing my family was a shock. It made me realise how little time I have made for family beyond my very immediate family of the last while. On of them has been very ill, cancer, and is on the mend and it is the first time I have seen them in sooo long. Seeing them still frail made me realise that I am wasting my ability to spend time with these prescious people. Others have changed from children to strapping adults I wouldn't know on the street....

Having discovered the airplane, I think I might have to use it a little more. Not to often but next time there is a family do, I vow not to put it off and do the easy thing. I vow to desert F if necessary and hop on the giant metal bird. Some of my relatives are getting on in years. If I leave it another ten to see them again, I might have left it too late.

So yes, I had a wonderful time, and I want more like it... I even mentioned the word wedding once or twice... Have to get around to organizing it... But not this week!

Culture Shock!

A very quick post before bed.... Tomorrow I fly up to London for the wedding of a relative, leaving F behind due to timing and money and work. I fly up one day and back the next. I am so looking forward to it! To seeing all my family - even the ones I don't see every visit back up country, some of whom I havn't seen in a loooong time.

It also happens to be my Dad's birthday tomorrow, his 65th so being able to be there tomorrow is quite a special thing.

I guess I wanted to say a little more about my post from yesterday - I view it as a sort of culture shock. I know tomorrow I will suffer from it. Everything about Cornwall and London is different. The speed with which things happen, the danger from crime, the social conventions, sooo many things about society and community. Things are so fast and busy and full of people up there!

When F and I drive up, we have time to adjust but by flying up and going straight into one of the busiest parts I know it will hit me tomorrow. Last night was a sort of culture shock. I have nothing against tourists, they are a good thing, but I struggle with have people everywhere. I am used to emptiness and space...

Wish me luck on my travels tomorrow!

Home

Not sure if I have mentioned, but I am really, really messy. F is a hoarder and I like clutter. We are both bad at housework. We both put things off. Our house is a tip.

Add into this that my house is still a doer uper after nearly a decade. It has had so many big things done to it and there are still more to come. Still with F's new job may be we will be able to afford to get on it again a little.

Today I started gathering up rubbish in the lounge and in the spare room where I do my craft bits. I made a lot of progress and realised that we need to do a car boot. F and I have been talking about this but we really have to do it. I need to get better at emptying bins and putting things in them in the first place. I really don't have to keep everything. Letting go is a good thing...

We also have bad furniture. It doesn't match what we need or how we live. In fact this house doesn't match us either but then that is another story. I do love this house but I am not a townie. We don't need three beds, there are two of us and a dog and we tend to share the same bed although Little Dog doesn't manage to persuade us all the time and sometimes she has to resort to sneaking on once we are asleep. We need a sofa bed maybe in one room to put up the very occasional guest.

We need wardrobes but we need ones that fit along one wall with no awkward gaps, not three towering things. We need to sort out the damp. We need to seal the walls and paper them and then put all the bookcases up against them and fill them with the books that crowd the house.

The hamster cage, the clothes that don't fit, the microwave, countless ornaments they all MUST GO! I am sure we could make some money...

The old car batteries, the spare wheels, the dead TV, the old dead computers, the decrepit old computer desk they all MUST GO! to the dump for they are no use to anyone... except maybe the spare wheels...

I have no idea why I hang onto clothes. I have slowly gained weight and kept everything, just in case but would I really wear this stuff if I lost weight anyway now? Do I ever want to wear a suit again? Do I ever intend to go to a ball? Do I have to keep my bridemaids dress as mys ister has been divorced for years? Do I have to keep the things I used to wear out clubbing, long before I met F? Maybe I am protecting myself from seeing how few clothes I truly have that fit and look nice....

I have so many ideas for nice tweaks and personalised things. Things I have seen in some places and plan on borrowing. Things I have come up with by myself.

So my bedroom... (oops the family bedroom) It currently contains three wardrobes, bed, two bedside tables, a chest, a dressing table and stool and a chair. I want it all gone, except the chest, it went to India with an ancestor and a bit of metal wool and some paint and it will look lovely in our sash window which stretches almost from floor to ceiling.

I want a fitted wardrobe all along one wall, which fits everything in it and has nice storage on top as well. I want a bed with room for storage underneath and also an area for Little Dog's bed because she is always happiest going to sleep in an enclosed space. If there is thunder or fireworks or the slightest possibility of them she goes and sleeps in the wardrobe.

I want to sort our floorboards out so they are nice and flat and then I want to get newspaper and lots of paste and create a floor, all nicely sealed up. Then I want to coat it in tinted gloss. F thinks I am a little crazy with this one... What do you think? *laugh*

I have seen branches full of charms hung above beds and washing line with things pegged on and I love the idea of something like this above our bed.

I want a room which has adequate storage and space and a comfy bed, where you don't have to cling onto your pillow to stop it disappearing under the headboard and I so need a new mattress...

I want a house free of clutter.... I want a house I can truly live in... A house I can invite others to without feeling shame. I want it to look alright when my sister comes to visit. I guess in the time all I can hope for is that it looks presentable...

Glowering Grump

I am feeling a little grumpy and frumpy.

F has had a week of evenings and nights. He has been returning home just as I am leaving for work. If I have caught him at all... Today is night turned into a day and yesterday he didn't make it home in time. The worst week of his rolling shift pattern, without a doubt.

So obviously he has taken account of the fact I have been going early to bed and feeling icky all week and settled on a nice quiet evening in with me.

Wrong, we are off over to a friends for tea and TV watching. Chances are I shall leave him there when i don't wish to fight to keep my eyes open any more and they shall play Xbox to some hour I don't wish to contemplate.

I get home expecting him to be home, which he isn't, so I call to offer him a lift. No answer. He calls me back sometime later to say he agreed to work a couple of extra hours but it will run over because of traffic. Thanks for the text, love.

So no time together and then straight out. Not best pleased with him. Mostly because I just don't feel up to all this tonight. I want to snuggle on the sofa....

This isn't a 'relationship problem', this is a 'my life isn't quite as I would have planned it tonight'. So I shall go out and pretend I am not cross or put out and slink home fairly early to go to bed alone. Again.

Leader / Manager

As I have said before, F doesn't have a problem with living with a logical / mathematical / sciencey type of a woman. He may not be those things but in many ways, what he is, is far more useful. In Gardeners' multiple intelligences he would definitely come up as gifted in interpersonal intelligence. He has an easy way with him that charms people and sets them at ease.

I love it because when we are together it rubs off on me a little and people are 'easier' with me. I take time to get to know people and it can take a while before I really relax with people and with some, I never do. With him however I find myself giggling at the check outs with the shop assistants. I really value his intelligence.

What surprises me sometimes is that he values mine and knows how to make use of it. He doesn't resent it, but he knows what I enjoy, what I am good at and how to use that to help us both. He is the leader but I am the manager in this relationship. He supplies direction and interesting tangents and I organise stuff. The role of overall boss switches between us depending on what we need.

We live in a badly organised house that needs a fair bit of work. We need changes in furntiure in many rooms because a lot of it is what we inherited and doesn't work for us at all. One example is our bedroom. I inherited a beautiful matching set, bed, bedside cabinets, dressing table and stool, his and hers wardrobes - all giant and dark. We desperately want it all gone, as well as the third giant dark wardrobe in our bedroom. We want a bed, a fitted wardrobe along one wall and my old trunk in the window.... The giant double spare bed needs to go and be replaced with a sofa bed so we have room, but still have the ability to have people over, and move all my bookcases upstairs.

Now he is earning more than me, we have the ability to slowly start changing things but there is so much to do. So much junk to get rid of or sell at the car boot. So much furniture to get rid of and replace. I don't always feel like doing stuff. When F does stuff he often doesn't prioritise quite as i would like or leaves things undone that make things more tricky... but he does do stuff (unlike me, mostly). When I do something I really get it sorted but it is a slightly exhausting process....

A while back f told me to sort out how it should all be done, what order. I didn't actually think he meant it and I didn't do it. Yesterday F made it clear that he was a little narked by this, that he really did want me to write lists and prioritise and organise... The house is a delicate jigsaw and we need to make space in such and such a place before we can move that. I still havn't done it, but then he won't be home till tomorrow and I am going to go do it now....

If i tell him what needs doing, it might just get itself done.... but only because he told me to go manage...

Identity

Have you ever wondered how on earth people can be so blind to what people around them are like? Why they can't / don't see? The obvious example is the Little Princess but she isn't the one that springs to mind. Someone I know spent many, many years with someone and had a child with them. Moved to this far end of the country with them leaving an entire life behind.

And then one day the partner tells them that it is all over. The partner leave. It slowly transpires that they are having an affair. It seems they didn't settle in their new job - no one liked them, so the partner quits and after a few months of limited interest moves back in and reclaims child and the person I know, from one day to the next, finds themselves homeless.

They also find themselves reviled and slandered as if they were the one that had committed the wrong but they had no affair, left no home and deserted no child. I know you never truly know what goes on in anyones relationship but what could they have done to have deserved this?

What gets me is that they loved each other for all those years but either the person they loved never existed or they have changed beyond recognition. I am not sure which of those is most unlikely! How can someone hide who they truly are for soooo many years? What can make a person change beyond recognition? I just don't get it....

Even more bizarre, what can make someone ignore all those little signs that someone isn't who they thought, that things arn't quite right?

As a child we had some family friends. A lovely couple, one of my favourites. Then one day the lady got cancer and in time she died (I am so glad treatments have come so far since then...). After her death the man was desolate, for a time. It soon became evident that the lady had bought out the best in him. That her influence had disguised the side of him that was sometimes silly and a little materialistic. The man he was without her, wasn't the man we had all previously known....

I know F brings out the best in me and makes me a more generally relaxed and easier person. Maybe in some relations one person effects such a transformation on the other, that so many aspects get repressed... What happens when all that repression comes out in one foul swoop? Do they become the opposite of everything they were in the relationship? Is this change permanent?

I know this happens with twins, it happened in another family I know. One twin was wild and unsettled and unhappy, the other happy, settled and family orientated. The wild twin killed themselves and the settled twin took on the wild twins personality.... This turned the lives of many people on their heads overnight?

Is personality and identity actually as fixed as we think it is?

The mind has layers. My Gran would often behave atrociously. That little mental voice in her head would retell and retell the story of the events until it was a version that made her look better and she was happy with. She genuinely didn't believe she was in the wrong. Her subconscious personality took care of that. I have seen it with others to. Sometimes their motives can be clear as day to others but they seem ignorant of what is truly going on inside the deeper layers of their own heads. Most people don't like to look to hard at their motivations....

Personality is a surface chance of chemistry and anatomy. It is an accident that can alter temporarily or permanently with a pill, an event, a breath of fresh air... Sometimes for the better, and sometimes the worst. It is the oily sheen on the surface of deep waters.

Last Week at Perranporth

Last week we went to Perranporth, nice and late so it was cooler for Little Dog. I took lots and lots of photos and here are some of my favourites....





This last one is as close as this blog will get to having a picture of S and F... I love this picture though. And that is the lovely Little Dog in the middle.

Interview with a Yogini

The lovely Eco Yogini completed an interview on her blog. It seems that it is a chain interview! So now I have my lovely interview questions written by herself and I have to offer this service to anyone else out there... These are the rules...

* leave me a comment with your email address saying: “interview me”
* I will e-mail you five questions of my choice
* you can then answer the questions on your blog {with a link back to my blog}
* you should also post these rules, along with an offer to interview anyone else who emails you, wanting to be interviewed
* anyone who asks to be interviewed should be sent 5 questions to answer on their blog
* it would be nice if the questions were individualized for each blogger

1) Books... as an avid reader, are there habits that drive you absolutely bonkers? How do you feel about spine bending, page bending, bookmarks, coffee stains etc? Have you ever lent out a book that when it was returned you were so disappointed with its' state?

I am generally a pretty relaxed book owner. I personally break the spine of all my paperbacks but I never break the spine of someone else's book, that would be rude! I do however hate bent pages and coffee stains. I have never lent a book that returned in a bad way but I have lent books that never made their way home. Some of the most shocking treatment of books has been in my own hands... There was the one I dropped in the bath and many of the books in my collection are currently suffering a little from damp... *sigh*


2) Being Wiccan / Pagan, do you feel there is a difference between North American and European Wicca?

Definitely! I think Wicca and Paganism at their best are somewhat linked to the land. The folk beliefs across Europe were many and varied and often linked to the place that they were practiced. Two men became interested in preserving as much of this as possible, Crowley and Williamson. Crowley found Wicca but Williamson found the beliefs of the little people, often lacking in education and still linked to a specific place.

These folk beliefs still survive in many ways across Europe. Traditions, superstitions and beliefs have stayed in families and villages and are still related to places. Where they are being revived, they are still generally in the memory of the oldest surviving people. Paganism is still there underlying much of what we do. Some places it is further from the surface but in others, like Cornwall, that connection to the land and pagan traditions is still very, very present.

As Paganism and Wicca become more socially acceptable the things preserved in places like this are flowing back out again. It is all right here to pick back up. There are ancient churches by holy wells, on top of hills, on beaches, by rivers, in woods. These holy places are still full of.... There are pagan traditions being practiced openly by mixed groups containing *shock horror* Christians, those traditional haters of all things witch. Just as I have accepted that Christianity is my heritage, so many Christians are accepting that pagan traditions are their heritage.

Wicca and Paganism are not endemic religions to North America. The religions of the Native Americans are the folk beliefs linked to the land there, not European beliefs. As such it is often apparent when reading about such Pagan beliefs in American, that Shamanism is a strong thread, which is as it should be. The Wicca of the New Forest that Crowley found could not have had within it's lexicon the spirits of the desert...

I am not a Wiccan, I am a witch. It sometimes feels that the word witch is one that Wiccans feel only they should be able to use. Truth is a witch is both, possibly more what I am as Wicca has striven to develop it's own identity. I sometimes feel that this attitude towards those non-Wiccan witches is more prevalent amongst North American Wiccans, who have perhaps lost their instinctual understanding of the connection between witch and Wicca as they have become more connected to their new land and it's sacred power.

My personal belief is that faith is in the heart and religion is.... somewhere else and may or may not include faith. Everyone's true faith is different and this diversity should be accepted and celebrated, as long as the underlying tenents are not damaging to society - I could not for instance condone a faith that included ritual cannibalism....

Sorry this answer got a bit long and sorry if my personal views have offended anyone out there.


3) As a creative soul, where do you wish in your innermost heart, for your art to take you? Imagine the world 60 years from now, where is your art, and where would you most like for it to be?

I guess what I want is to live in a beautiful home with beautiful and functional things that have soul. I also want to spread a little of this around to friends and family (and maybe have a little of the creative soul in my home to... *laugh*). I would quite like to write a book one day, on something, no idea what.

I guess my dearest thought is that I could buy some land and build a house and a forest garden. I would want to take the best of technology and of tradition. For instance my Mum only has a small fridge, she doesn't need a big one because she has a pantry. Why don't modern homes have pantries? I like technology but I want to make it work for me. Another example, i love long hot baths and end up wastefully adding extra water. I once saw a picture of a chap watching the sun set in an old tin bath with some extra pipe work added and a fire underneath it so water was continuously heated.

Gardens are so important these days, for water conservation and food. I saw on TV a programme with a forest garden. Trees were grown for food and forage with bushes and plants inbetween. Grain was not grown. I think it was something like one acre supporting 10 people with 10 days maintenance and 30 days harvesting per year. Without constant uprooting and applications of chemicals, fertility increased and the it was beautiful and semi-wild looking.

I want to be growing old there in 60 years time. With grandchildren and children also enjoying what we began.


4) What is your first/favourite memory of magic/fantastical world?

In a book or otherwise? I remember playing my best friend. We were having a private picnic in the field behind her house. I remember we were playing the one upmanship game of all the special things we could do. The game ended when I claimed I could make all the crumbs vanish from my plate. I threw it in the air and magically they all vanished. I remember that we were both impressed. *laugh*

I guess in a book though my first fantasy image I adored was the idea of the wood between the worlds in C S Lewis' The Magician's Nephew. A wood that went on forever with little pools of water between the trees that could take yo to other worlds. I guess I loved the possibility of the place... And it's dreamy nature.


5) What would be the most perfect wedding for you, if money and family dramas weren't an issue?

Oh I could spend a loooong time talking about this one. I want to either get married just me and him with a couple of witnesses on a beach somewhere or have it just be a fantastic day that caters to the needs of my guests, all of them.

I would want everyobdy to have a good day. Not for it to be about photographers and schedules. I would want for everyone to be able to stay nearby and not have to rush off home. I would want S to send invites to all the children so that it was his day too. I would want for there to be a church wedding with me in a red dress made by Denise Stracey with a ivory crochet long jacket over the top for in the church and a fake fur ivory bolero jacket for the when the evning grows cold. I would make swarovski crystal jewellery for my neice and I to wear with our dresses and my nephew and S would be page teenagers in grey suits with red ties made by Denise and ivory shirts and crystal cufflinks. F would be similarly attired.

As we were signing the register all the children from within the church and in the mobile creche would gather round the doors and blow bubbles at us as we left the church. Rose petals would be distributed at the church gate to scatter in the sun. There would be no standing around for photographs as we would have several photographers photographing things as they naturally happen or small groups...

We would all leave with everyone bundled into coaches. We would have an English tea party in the sun with various activities for the children such as a treasure hunt. Then to marquees for feasting in the evening. It wouldn't be a formal sit down meal more of a buffet. The top table would actually be four square tables so that F and I would be heads of our table of friends, my folks would be head of a table of friends and family but also sat next to us and then F's folks on the other side with friends and family on their table to.

The children would all be on their own table with S at the head and after the three top tables they would eat next and then all go off and have some fun somewhere else so they didn't have to listen to speeches.

Roses would be a theme as would crystal mimicing the pattern of stones in my engagement ring. There would be a tier of the cake that was persian rose cake. There would be a rose petal salad and lamb coated in spices including rose. There would be mint and rose tea as well as coffee and normal tea. I would carry a small bunch of old fashioned red roses and the tables would have rose petals on them and the glasses would be decorated with crystals. All the stationery would be made with handmade paper containing rose petals too.

There would be much alcohol and music but also quiet places for people to sit comfortably and talk. Children would have play areas. It wouldn't be full of family friends and family I barely know or hardly see. They would all be there but so would all my friends, old and new, from all around the world. Come to party and celebrate. The only group photo would be one as they all stand together having just arrived, stood as a crowd with upraised glasses (containing rose flavoured beverages) and a photographer looking down...

*sigh* the chances of me affording that are slim so I am working on running away to a nice beach instead...

Today was a beautiful day. It was hot, the sun was shining and the sky was blue.

We had S and F cooked a lovely roast. We wanted to take Little Dog out but I didn't want to take her out and make her run in the afternoon unless it was windy or there was some water for her to wade in. She has a fluffy coat and the way she runs and pants.... When that ball is thrown she has to go after it at full pelt and S just can't stop himself from throwing it...

I looked up beaches that you can take dogs to. Many beaches in Cornwall have dog bans operating from Easter till October. I can understand why, the tourists don't want to get jumped on by sandy dogs or sit in dog mess. There are some beaches that don't have bans though and a nice little website told me which ones.

We decided to go to Perranporth which is a town at one end of a lovely big sandy bay. A river flows from the town onto the sands. The beach is sort of an L shape with the town at the end of the short arm. The long arm is backed by cliffs and gets cut off from the town when the tide is high. We looked up the tide as and it was hight tide at about 5pm. We decided to have our roast first. With the weather and a smaller available area, the beach would have been very, very crowded.

We headed out quite late. There were few surfers left and no bathers or sun seekers. The sun was low and casting long shadows. It was beautifully clear, with no clouds on the horizon. We actually got to watch the sun sink into the sea.

Little Dog and S rampaged around, playing ball. The only problem with Little Dog somewhere like this is she is so quick, she can be off with another dog in the blink of an eye. She has a longer range than most dogs! The greyhound in her shines through. Big Dog was even faster.... She was pretty good though....

It was a beautiful, stunning evening and the beach was lovely. How could anything be bad when you are somewhere like this.

We strolled gently back up the beach to the car after the sun had gone down. Unexpectedly, we bumped into someone we knew who works as a lifeguard here. Someone nearly died on the beach today. A holiday maker was taken from the water and resuscitated. Remarkably he was fine!

Danger is never far, no matter where you are. This beach has rip tides. The lifeguards sometimes have to move the swimming area. Sometimes things go wrong, despite all precautions being taken. You can't live your life in cotton wool though, you might be allergic to it!

Working Women....

Tonight I found myself home alone with nothing on our Sky+ box that I wanted to watch that F didn't want to watch too. So I looked to see what was on and came across a series entitled 'The Problem with Working Women'.

Oh my! So much in there kind of fits with what I am thinking and feeling! And with what friends of mine are thinking and feeling out there in blogland..... I can't say as I agreed with everything on the programme but it did explore some of the issues very well and there is more to come....

Some time ago a psychological test was done on young boys and girls. Each child was timed running by themself and then timed running with someone of a similar speed to themselves. The test showed that boys ran quicker when they had competition but the girls ran slower. On the programme they repeated this experiment and found little difference between the sexes. It seems nurture was the reason for the difference because the brain has a plasticity and adapts to the attitudes it is exposed to. Sexual difference in attitudes are largely caused by society and the differences that there are, are not as large as we might have previously believed....

Successful women make a choice. 25% of women with degrees will be childless on their 40th birthday. Women these days often can not afford not to work once they have children. They are the ones which are expected to work flexibly in order to support their family, the ones who sacrifice promotion. A male surgeon featured on the programme had five children but the female surgeon they spoke to had none and was single in her 30s.

In fact sexism is still rife, despite the efforts of the feminists. Women generally don't work on building sites. Women working as investment bankers may be excluded from meetings because they take place in strip clubs or asked to schmooze clients. Men don't often get to work as midwives...

One pioneering feminist said that she had gotten it a little wrong. The women she sees these days are a whole generation of very, very tired women. How sad is that? and how true.... In order to get freedom in the work place they have to juggle far more balls....

I think the programme missed one thing though... It should be a choice, to work or not to work and there is no reason why it shouldn't be the man who is the main carer, who has flexible working to look after the children, who sacrifices their career. But I have known men who when they did become the main carer after being made redundant, just couldn't cope - not because they weren't up to it but because society made them feel like failures for it and non-masculine....

Not all men are alpha males however. An alpha male and an alpha female both trying to work and raise a family is a recipe for disaster it seems... but a working alpha female and a beta male at home? why not.... Times need to carry on changing.... I want to be able to afford to be a stay at home Mum... Another scary stat for you - the more time children spend int he care of non-family members before the age of five, the more aggressive and the less discipline they have in later years... If I can't be at home, then I want F to be home....