Monday, 20 February 2012
Take this as my attempt to get start blogging again..... in 2012.
Tuesday, 25 November 2008
I arrived at my destination just after dusk and shared the welcoming embrace only true friends can share. The next few hours were a ping-pong of chatter attempting to fill the voids that our time apart had created. Finally and exhausted from our eager attempts to up date each other on life’s events, we headed for our respective retreats and welcome slumber.
The next morning I was treated to the delights of tea in a china pot, to be served in a matching cup and saucer, such simple delights enhanced by the view across the autumnally coloured Cheshire plains.
Later we visited the Willowpool Garden Centre and Baron Antiques, an eccentric collectors paradise (my description not the official one).
A trip into Northwich followed, where I purchased more walking accessories (socks, gloves and trousers protectors) all I need to do now is WALK!
Sporting our matching PJ’s which Joy had kindly provided for us all we began our evening in high spirits, and laughter ensued……… put three 50 something women and a digital camera together and listen to their individual suggestions on how set the timer!!!
Wednesday, 19 November 2008
Above: Inside the Palm House
On our way back to our salubrious (tongue in cheek) B&B we checked out the local eateries in preparation for our evening meal. Decision made Indian cuisine it would be, which was no disappointment, shame we could not say the same about the bed..... like Edinburgh it felt like it was built on extinct volcanoes!!!!
These works are part of the Bridgewater Collection, which has been on loan from the Duke of Sutherland to the National Galleries of Scotland since 1945. It is the most important private collection of Old Master paintings on loan to an institution in the UK, and forms the core of the National Gallery of Scotland’s world-famous displays of European art.
The Galleries now have the opportunity to acquire Diana and Actaeon and Diana and Callisto, thereby ensuring that the remainder of the Collection will continue to be on public view for many years to come. To that end, National Galleries of Scotland and the National Gallery London are now working together to secure the long term future of these paintings.
Henderson's motto: Eat Better Live Better
For 40 years Henderson's has been at the forefront of healthy eating in Scotland's capital city. The Farm Shop at 92 Hanover Street and the conversion of the basement into ideas on whole foods picked up by Janet Henderson during her European travels during the 30s. Like Arthur's Seat and the castle, Henderson's just seems to have been there forever. It is difficult to imagine Hanover Street without it. Through good communication with our customers and keeping abreast of international trends Henderson's have tailored their fare to suit changing lifestyles. However, Janet's philosophy is still the mainstay of the business: to nurture, energise and heal the body by eating and drinking for health.
Monday, 22 September 2008
Since August 2007 I have had a release of new energy in a new direction, my previous life has been preciously stored away, not lost, not buried, just rested. I have started a new life, something that I am still grappling with, still a little lost, confused, and uncertain. My true beginning will take place only after I have come through the wilderness and am ready to perhaps make the commitment to do things differently than I ever have done before
Like any organic process, this beginning cannot be made to happen by a word or act. It will happen, just as fruit follows flowers, it will be natural and not subject to anyone's will.
But if I am unable to force this beginning, I can encourage it, support it, and reinforce it. I cannot turn a key or flip a switch, but I can cultivate the ground and provide the nourishment. For myself and others who find themselves in this 'wilderness' perhaps we should ask ourselves: What is my purpose in this life? What do I want my future to look like? What has to happen to make this picture a reality?. . . . . . . .then when these questions have been answered, take responsibility to guide our lives in the direction we wish to follow. Alternatively, we can sit in the wilderness..... and wait!
Friday, 29 August 2008
Because of the untimely and unexpected death of my husband I was left with an overwhelming feeling of anger and guilt. My car became my personal space and an instrument of torture, every time I journeyed alone I would scream, shout, cry and blame the world for how I was feeling. I began to dread getting into the car alone, but I needed to get out of the house and would during the first arduous phase of my bereavement regularly visit my sister and her husband. It was during one such visit that my brother-in-law lent me a book, The Smoke Jumper - Nicholas Evans (the author’s name a pure coincidence), I remember little of the book as I remember little of many things at this time, except for a poem within the book which I will always remember as it provided me with some solace. I kept a copy of it and would read it when grief attempted to fall upon me:
If I be the first to die,
Let grief not blacken long your sky.
Be bold yet modest in your grieving.
There is a change but not a leaving.
For just as death is part of life,
The dead live on forever in the living.
And all the gathered riches of our journey,
The moments shared, the mysteries explored,
The steady layering of intimacy stored,
The things that made us laugh or weep or sing,
The joy of sunlit snow or first unfurling of the spring,
The wordless language of look and touch,
Each giving and each taking,
These are not flowers that fade,
Nor trees that fall and crumble,
Nor are they stone,
For even stone cannot the wind and rain withstand
And the mighty mountain peaks in time reduce to sand.
What we were, we are.
What we had, we have.
A conjoined past imperishably present.
So when you walk the woods where once we walked together
And scan in vain the dappled bank beside you for my shadow,
Or pause where we always did upon the hill to gaze across the land,
And spotting something, reach by habit for my hand,
And finding none, feel sorrow start to steal upon you,
Close your eyes.
Listen for my footfall in your heart.
I am not gone but merely walk within you.
In August 2007 whilst travelling to Lancashire alone in my car the pain of bereavement struck me again, I cried the kind of cry that comes from the depth of your stomach, I screamed as I had not screamed since the early months following Nicholas’s death, then slowly and calmly I felt something lift away from me and it was as if Nicholas was letting me go and saying,