has got in the way a little this last couple of weeks. Not only have we had auditors in at work - but my home has been flooded with the sheer volume of surface water so the drains in my village couldn't cope!
I now need plasterers and floor fitters to get everything sorted - but getting estimates from them is proving to be rather a nighmare.
Will be back when I can!
A wordsmith - dreaming & wandering along the highways & byways off the thoroughfare called Memory Lane. Sometimes stopping to take in the natural beauty surrounding me - making "stuff", taking inspiration from others, visiting friends near & far and trying to come to terms with the greatest loss I have ever experienced.
Monday 23 November 2009
Friday 13 November 2009
Birthday Celebrations
Its Friday - - Yay - - its as good as it gets as we say where I work at present.
As you know it was my birthday on Remembrance Day - - however its not a very practical day to celebrate with friends - so this evening we went (as usual on Fridays, to our local hostelry) as my friend Heather's husband David was 65 on Remembrance Day and this year we were having a get together in honour of his retirement. We have had a lovely evening - - - though we came away to go home before many would be going out. We had lovely grub - - AND a really great chance to chat!
As you know it was my birthday on Remembrance Day - - however its not a very practical day to celebrate with friends - so this evening we went (as usual on Fridays, to our local hostelry) as my friend Heather's husband David was 65 on Remembrance Day and this year we were having a get together in honour of his retirement. We have had a lovely evening - - - though we came away to go home before many would be going out. We had lovely grub - - AND a really great chance to chat!
Tuesday 10 November 2009
Remembrance Day - -
Soft puffs of silver grey clouds - pearly and shimmering - - the rising sun paints them peach and rose - stretching his fingers of light wide so that suddenly the sky - - so grey a few moments ago is turned into mother of pearl. A quiet sky but so , so beautiful - - perfect for remembering
FOR THE FALLEN
"They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted;
They fell with their faces to the foe.
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years contemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them. "
Laurence Binyon
- - -when I was a very small girl - - -the 2 minutes silence was faithfully observed in my infant school - - and in my innocence I thought that when all the class stood up with respect and quietness - - it was just for me - - - Because you see - - today is my birthday.
I am incredibly passionate about this Charity - - I have a Poppy for everyone of my coats - I have one on my 'puter ar work and one on my cardigan as I type. These days I sometimes think that many people buy a Poppy to remember the 2 World Wars and that they forget that the Poppy is the symbol chosen to celebrate PEACE for Armistice Day 1918 - - and to encourage us to take a few minutes to remember ALL those who serve their country, THEN and NOW.
The Royal British Legion continues to support our Service Men and Women and their families and offer support for them in difficult & tragic circumstances - - we do still have boys serving in Afghanistan
- - soldiers are still paying with life & limb - -
- - and though they no longer look as youthful as my Grandfather did when he volunteered in 1915
- - many are still boys
Please think of them all at 11am on the 11th day of the 11th month.
Thank you
Please feel free to leave a little comment if you stop by.
Gura mie ayd, Jx
FOR THE FALLEN
"They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted;
They fell with their faces to the foe.
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years contemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them. "
Laurence Binyon
- - -when I was a very small girl - - -the 2 minutes silence was faithfully observed in my infant school - - and in my innocence I thought that when all the class stood up with respect and quietness - - it was just for me - - - Because you see - - today is my birthday.
I am incredibly passionate about this Charity - - I have a Poppy for everyone of my coats - I have one on my 'puter ar work and one on my cardigan as I type. These days I sometimes think that many people buy a Poppy to remember the 2 World Wars and that they forget that the Poppy is the symbol chosen to celebrate PEACE for Armistice Day 1918 - - and to encourage us to take a few minutes to remember ALL those who serve their country, THEN and NOW.
The Royal British Legion continues to support our Service Men and Women and their families and offer support for them in difficult & tragic circumstances - - we do still have boys serving in Afghanistan
- - soldiers are still paying with life & limb - -
- - and though they no longer look as youthful as my Grandfather did when he volunteered in 1915
- - many are still boys
Please think of them all at 11am on the 11th day of the 11th month.
Thank you
Please feel free to leave a little comment if you stop by.
Gura mie ayd, Jx
Sunday 8 November 2009
Glion Dhoon - - -
Wednesday 4 November 2009
Wednesday Words - - - Wind
If you haven’t already noticed I do love words – I write way too much – and maybe you think I do witter on – so if so – my apologies! I also find writers who can paint pictures with their words truly inspirational – and at the moment am finding myself remembering snippets of lines and words (and even whole poems ) more than I ever used to - - - perhaps its a sign of old age!!
The change to the more seasonal autumn weather has caused all sorts of words to come floating to the surface of my brain – things I thought I had forgotten from childhood - (this post was the first of them)
Today the sky has been stormy all day , heavy, menacing clouds pinned to the sky like a dark grey curtain, draped & looped back with tiebacks of unexpected silver light– and tonight the wind has risen - so tonight - I can’t get this out of my head - - -
Sometimes the wind has a voice like the sea,
I hear it when I’m in my bed,
Softly it sings as it scurries around,
In the chimney pots high overhead.
Sometimes it shouts like a boisterous giant,
With a blustery, flustery roar,
Then whistles and sighs as it spins on the roof,
And rattles the latch on the door.
But here inside, we are safe and secure,
By the fire all cosy and warm,
So softly it sighs, as it taps on the pane,
Won’t you please let me in from the storm?
I can no longer remember who wrote this, or even if I have actually remembered it correctly as it doesn’t feel quite right – it was in a book of “Bedtime Stories” I think – no idea who might have published it - -but am not sure. I only remember how a picture appeared in my head as mummy read it aloud to me – and I can still see the page in the book in my minds eye - - so clearly - - with the illustration of the wind , a face with huge cheeks blowing swirls onto the page. Mainly black & white with occasional blocks of colour - - - -
I must be in my second childhood - - something from so long ago still surfacing when I hear the wind outside - - but maybe not - - especially as I now have a real fire again. I don’t know who wrote this poem – but it still it paints pictures in my mind – so the writer is inspirational for me – and I am truly grateful to whoever they may be - - if my memory is at fault and you know the correct words – please let me know!!
Please feel free to leave a little comment if you stop by.
Gura mie ayd, J x
The change to the more seasonal autumn weather has caused all sorts of words to come floating to the surface of my brain – things I thought I had forgotten from childhood - (this post was the first of them)
Today the sky has been stormy all day , heavy, menacing clouds pinned to the sky like a dark grey curtain, draped & looped back with tiebacks of unexpected silver light– and tonight the wind has risen - so tonight - I can’t get this out of my head - - -
Sometimes the wind has a voice like the sea,
I hear it when I’m in my bed,
Softly it sings as it scurries around,
In the chimney pots high overhead.
Sometimes it shouts like a boisterous giant,
With a blustery, flustery roar,
Then whistles and sighs as it spins on the roof,
And rattles the latch on the door.
But here inside, we are safe and secure,
By the fire all cosy and warm,
So softly it sighs, as it taps on the pane,
Won’t you please let me in from the storm?
I can no longer remember who wrote this, or even if I have actually remembered it correctly as it doesn’t feel quite right – it was in a book of “Bedtime Stories” I think – no idea who might have published it - -but am not sure. I only remember how a picture appeared in my head as mummy read it aloud to me – and I can still see the page in the book in my minds eye - - so clearly - - with the illustration of the wind , a face with huge cheeks blowing swirls onto the page. Mainly black & white with occasional blocks of colour - - - -
I must be in my second childhood - - something from so long ago still surfacing when I hear the wind outside - - but maybe not - - especially as I now have a real fire again. I don’t know who wrote this poem – but it still it paints pictures in my mind – so the writer is inspirational for me – and I am truly grateful to whoever they may be - - if my memory is at fault and you know the correct words – please let me know!!
Please feel free to leave a little comment if you stop by.
Gura mie ayd, J x
Monday 2 November 2009
The start of a new class - -
- - Blogging for Scrapbookers officially started today – already I learned about Google reader – what a great bit of kit!! Many thanks to classmate Heather who has put together an easy way for us to keep in touch with each others blogs. Heather if you read this – YOU ROCK!
It has also been totally crazy today at work – we have had a new phone system – and it has been completely chaotic!
I felt
- stressed!!
- like the proverbial headless chicken!
- or even the Old Woman who lived in a Shoe
still I did get through the day! Too tired to do much more than get my bag ready for craft club!.
Gura mie ayd, J x
Sunday 1 November 2009
November - -
No sun--no moon!
No morn--no noon!
No dawn--no dusk--no proper time of day--
No sky--no earthly view--
No distance looking blue--
No road--no street--no "t'other side this way"--
No end to any Row--
No indications where the Crescents go--
No top to any steeple--
No recognitions of familiar people--
No courtesies for showing 'em--
No knowing 'em!
No traveling at all--no locomotion--
No inkling of the way--no notion--
"No go" by land or ocean--
No mail--no post--
No news from any foreign coast--
No Park, no Ring, no afternoon gentility--
No company--no nobility--
No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease,
No comfortable feel in any member--
No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees,
No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds--
November! - - Thomas Hood
- - here it is already – I am never quite sure where the year goes to and again it seems to have disappeared before I had time to capture it. I found this poem surfacing in my head again as I often do when November comes around - - I love its evocative description - - I remember many foggy November days that this captures so perfectly - - I grew up in an area surrounded by cotton & woollen mills – huge chimneys belching black smoke into the atmosphere, turning the sky a dirty grey, lit by the lurid yellow street lamps as darkness fell, hoarding the smoke before returning to earth the gift - - Fog - - creeping in – silent and insidious, dampening the pavements, slithering down from the yellowy skies throughout the day, so that by the end of school, as the day began to draw in, and darkness began to fall the buses were no longer running, and mummy’s were standing by the gates with scarves to muffle up to try to keep that dirty yellow mist out of their children’s lungs. We little ones who lived further away were bundled up in our coats by the teachers, hatted and gloved, scarves round our mouths, marshalled together and “crocced” up the hill by Mrs Taylor - to be met by assorted mummy's waiting at the end of side roads to collect their own little ones, so that by the time we reached Springfield Lane there were just 2 of clinging tight to Mrs Taylor's hands. We would be handed over to either my mummy or Kenneth's mummy to be taken home to our respective homes (we lived next door to each other), there to be fussed over and fed on an old fashioned high tea - perhaps of hash, boiled eggs and buttery 'soldiers'.
Its not foggy here today - - its raining very hard and very steadily - - but visibility isn't good - which is why I think the poem came into my head!
Thanks for stopping by
Gura mie ayd. J x
No morn--no noon!
No dawn--no dusk--no proper time of day--
No sky--no earthly view--
No distance looking blue--
No road--no street--no "t'other side this way"--
No end to any Row--
No indications where the Crescents go--
No top to any steeple--
No recognitions of familiar people--
No courtesies for showing 'em--
No knowing 'em!
No traveling at all--no locomotion--
No inkling of the way--no notion--
"No go" by land or ocean--
No mail--no post--
No news from any foreign coast--
No Park, no Ring, no afternoon gentility--
No company--no nobility--
No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease,
No comfortable feel in any member--
No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees,
No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds--
November! - - Thomas Hood
- - here it is already – I am never quite sure where the year goes to and again it seems to have disappeared before I had time to capture it. I found this poem surfacing in my head again as I often do when November comes around - - I love its evocative description - - I remember many foggy November days that this captures so perfectly - - I grew up in an area surrounded by cotton & woollen mills – huge chimneys belching black smoke into the atmosphere, turning the sky a dirty grey, lit by the lurid yellow street lamps as darkness fell, hoarding the smoke before returning to earth the gift - - Fog - - creeping in – silent and insidious, dampening the pavements, slithering down from the yellowy skies throughout the day, so that by the end of school, as the day began to draw in, and darkness began to fall the buses were no longer running, and mummy’s were standing by the gates with scarves to muffle up to try to keep that dirty yellow mist out of their children’s lungs. We little ones who lived further away were bundled up in our coats by the teachers, hatted and gloved, scarves round our mouths, marshalled together and “crocced” up the hill by Mrs Taylor - to be met by assorted mummy's waiting at the end of side roads to collect their own little ones, so that by the time we reached Springfield Lane there were just 2 of clinging tight to Mrs Taylor's hands. We would be handed over to either my mummy or Kenneth's mummy to be taken home to our respective homes (we lived next door to each other), there to be fussed over and fed on an old fashioned high tea - perhaps of hash, boiled eggs and buttery 'soldiers'.
Its not foggy here today - - its raining very hard and very steadily - - but visibility isn't good - which is why I think the poem came into my head!
Thanks for stopping by
Gura mie ayd. J x
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