Grandchildren

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Fresh Lead

As always I found this week’s photo challenge fascinating in where it leads me.  If you manage to read to the end I think you will be as amazed as I was!

The word ‘Fresh’ immediately led me to photographs I had taken of my adorable granddaughter picking fresh fruit and vegetable from my garden.  I love to do this in season and then cook with the children, soups, pies and crumbles.

Rosie struggling with her produce
Rosie with her harvest of fresh fruit and veg

But then yesterday was rather special in many ways, not least for a solar eclipse!

solar eclipse from my house
Robin sang his heart out during the darkest part of the solar eclipse

It was also officially the first day of Spring yesterday here in the UK; a fresh season with fresh delights.  This is when I switch from sauntering through the Gloucestershire countryside seeking out snowdrops, to heading for the Herefordshire borders hunting out wild daffodils.  The best place to see these beautiful fresh flowers is in what is known locally as the ‘Golden Triangle’, namely the villages of Dymock, Kempley and Oxenhall.

wild daffodils native to the golden triangle

I have mentioned before that snowdrops were picked commercially by the local women and children of Sherborne to be whisked off by train to London and sold for 6d a bunch in flower markets like Covent Garden.  Similarly, daffodils were picked commercially in the golden triangle.  You can read about the daffodils and see some beautiful photographs on the Glos Oracle website if you would like to know more.

And enjoy this poem by A. A. (Alan Alexander) Milne (1882-1956), famous for his stories about Winnie the Pooh and Christopher Robin, Tigger, Piglet and the rest, who wrote that, ‘winter is dead’ in his poem Daffodowndilly

Daffodils in my garden

She wore her yellow sun-bonnet,

She wore her greenest gown;

She turned to the south wind
And curtsied up and down.

She turned to the sunlight
And shook her yellow head,
And whispered to her neighbour:
“Winter is dead.”

As is often the way on my days out I got totally sidetracked and ended up in a fascinating little place called Upleadon.  Named after the river Leadon, this is a small village with a fascinating history and some superb buildings.  But what struck me as I drove over the hill in glorious sunshine was what looked like snow covered fields in the distance.  As I got closer I realised it was actually a vast expanse of farmland covered in polytunnels.

polytunnels in the distance at Upleadon
other side of farming in Upleadon

Having explored, investigated then googled I discovered that Upleadon has been a fruit growing area for hundreds of years.

Cider orchards were cultivated next to many of the farmsteads including Middletown before 1700. In 1627 a garden was known as the cherry hay and in 1678 an arable close was called perry grove field.In 1739 it was reported that Thomas Hammond’s estate included several thousand fruit trees from which one tenant had made 100 hogshead of cider in a year and in the late 1770s it was said that the fruit from orchards in Upleadon made excellent cider. Among orchards planted in the corn fields by the early 19th century were several of squash pears and in leasing Lower House farm in 1817 the landowner James de Visme reserved pear but not apple windfalls. Both apple and pear trees were also cultivated at Middletown which was one of the farmsteads with its own cider mill.

(Victoria History of Gloucestershire XIII, draft text by John Juřica: © University of London 2011)

I was really struck by the juxtaposition of the ancient church of St Mary the Virgin which has a thousand years of history, and the really modern cultivation methods.  It appears that polytunnels have caused some controversy as they can be rather unsightly when they cover large areas of farmland.  However, as a consumer I have to say I am delighted that I can buy (or pick) fresh local strawberries, raspberries, gooseberries, Victoria plums and blackcurrants from mid-June to August and different varieties of apples and pears from September to Christmas.  An added bonus is that growers use much less herbicides and insecticides on fruit grown in polytunnels as they are not as prone to rot or disease.

Church of St Mary the Virgin, Upleadon

Now here is the bit that just took my breath away literally and gave me a fresh lead in my family history search.

As I was searching online for the history of Upleadon I came across a fascinating document held by the Gloucestershire Archives.  It was the file of documents re: Thackwell Roche estate.  The former Roche estate at Aghada (in county Cork, Ireland) came into the possessionof the Thackwell family in the second half of the 19th century.  The Thackwells were related to the Roche family of Trabolgan.  Another document describes how the Thackwell Roche estate comprised Norman’s Land estate near Old Rock, Dymock, (here on the Gloucestershire/Herefordshire border in the Golden Triangle) as well as lands in Ireland.  Believe it or not my great grandfather William Roche was the son of James Roche and he comes from that very area.  I have searched for years for information on his family.  I know his mother died when he was young so his father remarried and took his new wife and the other children to America in the second half of the 19th century.  William, being 15 was old enough to join the Royal Navy as a boy sailor so he was left behind.  he joined a training ship, HMS Conwy in 1855 and spent the next few years rising through the ranks.  By 1861 he was sailing on the Victor Emmanuel, and thereafter he sailed the China seas on tea clippers as First Mate.  He never saw any of his family again and I have searched for clues as to their home and their destination.

Who would have thought that a trip to take photographs of daffodils in Gloucestershire would throw up a fresh lead for me to follow in the archives.  It is just amazing and I am thrilled.  You can see Normanstown just near Kempley on the map of the Poets’ Walks by clicking on this link Poets Paths

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Reward ~ Weekly Photo Challenge

I enjoyed this Weekly Photo Challenge!

Fry's Five Boys

Fry’s Five Boys

I was what was known as a sickly child in the 1940s and 50s.  It turned out that I had Rheumatic Fever which left me with a variety of problems and no appetite (how times have changed!).  Because of this I was often unwell and my mum would get me Lucozade and a bar of Fry’s Five Boys Chocolate with Five Centres.  I guess it could be called a reward because 60 years later I remember every sensory detail!

Five Centres was produced from 1934 to 1992.  It was similar to today’s Fry’s Chocolate Cream in that it had a dark chocolate coating, with fondant inside.  But instead of peppermint cream there were five different flavoured fondant centres. In the early days they were strawberry, orange, raspberry, lemon and pineapple, all of which I loved.  In later years coffee, lime, and blackcurrant replaced strawberry, lemon and pineapple but I don’t remember ever having those.

The wrapper was deep blue and it had what looked like 5 boys’ photos on it.  But really they were just one boy in a sailor suit who was photographed with five different facial expressions.  The photo was taken in 1885 and the boy was called Lindsey Poulton.  He was, appropriately, 5 years old.  His father and grandfather took the photos and Fry’s chocolate company in Bristol paid them the considerable sum of £200 for exclusive use of the set.  The photos appeared in adverts and in shop windows for years.  As my grandfather had a little general store in Newcastle on Tyne in the 1950s the enamelled metal sign on the outside wall was very familiar to me.

I’m very grateful to pocketbookuk for explaining the facial expressions and I would urge you to take a look at their fascinating blog.

The five faces of Fry’s Five Boys chocolate on an enamelled metal sign. Desperation – no chocolate, Pacification – the promise of chocolate, Expectation – the prospect of chocolate, Acclamation – happiness at receiving chocolate, and Realization – eating the chocolate, and discovering that it is a Fry’s milk chocolate bar!

 

I can’t really leave out a couple of photos of my grandson and his rewards.  He is such an active lad, 11 now and always busy so he is used to getting rewards for his labours.  He is a boy scout and his uniform is covered in the badges he has earned.  He also plays football for his school team and a local team.  He sometimes plays in goal and is often man of the match, receiving cups and plaques as his reward.

Silver backed Gorilla
Robin taking mealworms to his fledgelings
My first catch, a nice carp
Rewarded by a a basketful of apples

Being a nature lover I have to include a few photos of rewards in the natural world.  Firstly there is Jock, the silver backed gorilla who lives in a family of 6 at Bristol Zoo and is a very popular animal.  He is so magnificent and such a good role model for his youngsters that he deserves lots of fruit as his reward.

The robin created a grand residence in a large plant tub in my garden.  He and his made laid one egg then disappeared.  I was really worried that they had abandoned their nest with this egg in it.  But weeks later they returned and more eggs appeared.  Apparently this is quite normal and the first egg hatched out with the others which surprised me.  I was so pleased to see the robins back that I overcame my squeamishness and rewarded them with a daily quota of live mealworms.

The beautiful carp was the first fish I ever caught ~ reward for my hours of patient fishing

Lastly the basket of apples were a reward for finding a beautiful open orchard in a church yard.  No-one seemed to be collecting these gorgeous fruits so i helped myself to as many as I could carry after checking with the vicar!

I have to say one of my favourite rewards after a day out is a whippy ice cream.  I share this passion with my husband and grandchildren!

Reward for walking all day in the heat at Bristol Zoo

Reward for walking all day in the heat at Bristol Zoo

 

 

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Wet and Windy in Wiltshire

Weekly Photo Challenge ~ Rule of Thirds

Ben and Rosie set out on a treetop adventure

Ben and Rosie set out on a treetop adventure

 

This week was half term for the local schoolchildren.  As often happens, the weather, which had been mild for February, decided to turn nasty, wet, windy, and very cold.  Now I know from my daughter who is snowed up in Vermont that we have nothing to moan about in the Cotswolds, but I did feel sorry for the families who had planned to have days out during the holiday.  As I take my grandmother duties very ‘seriously’, I had planned all sorts of exciting things to do with my own adorable grandchildren.  There are lambs being born at the farm park, there is a baby rhino at the wildlife park, and the woods are full of snowdrops.  Oh what fun we could have ~ if it would only stop raining!  Undeterred we opted to go to Lydiard Park early to see if we could have some fun.

Having never been there before I decided to let the SatNav direct me.  This caused great hilarity as I had set it to stay off the motorways and we ended up on some of the tiniest country lanes with the weirdest names.  We made up a game of seeing who could find the funniest or strangest name.  I kid you not we found a house called Tadpole cottage, at the end of Tadpole Mews, in Tadpole Lane in a place called Tadpole Garden Village!  It is a new village built on the site of… you guessed it…. Tadpole Farm!

At last, and in a very cheerful mood, we reached our destination.  Lydiard Park is a beautiful historic estate in Wiltshire.  Back in medieval times, there was a deer park and manor house on the land as well as St Mary’s Church.  The estate as we see it today dates back to Elizabethan times and was owned by the same family for over 500 years until 1943.  There is a beautiful Palladian House, the medieval church and a restored walled garden, set in 260 acres of parkland.  In the grounds there is a lake, woods, sweeping avenues which are great for walkers and cyclists, and a superb ice house.

Despite the rain we had a great time.  The children braved the treetop adventure course which has over 50 hair-raising activities including zip wires, cargo nets, Tarzan swings, see-saws, rocket slides, wobbly logs, and tree trekking.  We warmed up and drip-dried in the café drinking hot chocolate before setting off to take photos of the snowdrops and the ice house.

 

I wanted to use my photos for the Weekly Photo Challenge but I really am not sure that I have the skills.  I could blame the weather, or my iphone camera but really I just haven’t understood the Rule of Thirds.  I took some photos of my garden hellebores and tried to crop them to the rule of thirds. Did it work?  Do let me know how I could improve.

 

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Am I the ‘lunatic fringe’?

Alex Polizzi says I belong to the “Lunatic Fringe”.  Little old me?  Really?

I’ve been called many things in my time, drama queen and nervous wreck spring to mind and I hold my hands up to both.  But this week I fell into a whole new category ~ the Lunatic Fringe!

Now if you know me, or think you do from reading my blog, this may come as a bit of a surprise, so let me explain.

I watch very little television as a rule, although I have to say currently I am spoilt for choice.  I could not miss Wolf Hall, Broadchurch or Mr Selfridge!  I am also tempted to watch anything with George Clarke, the restoration man in, as his beautiful Sunderland accent reminds me of my Geordie roots.  Another presenter I admire is Alex Polizzi.  She is the sort of feisty, intelligent, successful, call a spade a spade businesswoman/celebrity, I enjoy watching.  On her programme she goes into failing businesses, be they hotels, cafés, shops, or entertainment venues, and gives practical help and advice on how to turn them around.  It makes for fascinating TV.

This week Alex visited a children’s play barn.  These are the sort of places I frequent with my grandchildren when it is too wet for the park! Of course these businesses are not so popular in the summer when children can play for free out of doors.  I have to say Alex did not suggest the improvements which to me were blindingly obvious.  I would install air conditioning to make it inviting on hot summer days and dedicate an area to sand and water play with a whippy ice cream maker nearby!  It would be like going to the seaside but without the sunburn and crowded motorways.

Alex’s suggestions of course were practical, doable and great ~ new space-themed murals and paintwork, a much needed deep clean, and more nutritious, appealing and varied menu options.  I did think that with the owner’s love of baking he could have been a bit more adventurous.  My daughter makes wonderful little cupcakes for her son with grated vegetables or fruit in as well as mini tortillas packed with goodness.  They are so cheap to make yet much healthier than the sugary cakes and biscuits the owner was lovingly preparing.

It was then that Alex explained that ‘normal’ customers who are dissatisfied don’t complain, they just never return!  She said only the ‘lunatic fringe’ bothers to complain.  What?  Is this true? If so I am definitely a paid up member of the ‘Lunatic Fringe’.  Who knew?  Well just maybe Pets at Home, Greene King Inns, Gloucester Royal Hospital, the County Council and our local MP did.  These have all been the recipients of complaints from me over the last few years.  And, I have to say my complaints all achieved positive outcomes.

I could tell you about the explicit posters that were displayed outside our local pub advertising a ‘ladies night’ with male striptease.  My complaint was that children on their way to school would see these posters, which I think is inappropriate.  I also felt that a local pub was not the place for male strippers!  My complaint succeeded because the landlords did not have a license for this type of entertainment so the posters were removed and the event cancelled.

I could tell you about my rather embarrassing but successful run in with the council over their attempt to site a hideous green bus shelter right outside my front window. (Does that make me a NIMFY?)  I won’t go into detail about all of my complaints but if you read my blogpost Bus Stop Brenda you will get my drift.

If something is wrong in my opinion, I will usually write a letter of complaint in the hope that the person, company or service will put it right.  I am polite, I use nice cards or paper, and I often search the internet for the name of the person at the top who makes the decisions.  Is that lunatic?

My current grumble is with Sainsbury’s.  I dread to think how much of my hard earned cash has passed through their tills over the years.  I don’t have time to shop around, I never did, and so Sainsbury’s has fed my family and kept my household going for as long as I can remember.  But they are risking all this loyalty for points worth pennies, and vouchers which drive me insane.

I have a Nectar card with Sainsbury’s and for every pound you spend you get points ~ so far so simple.  You save up the points which equate to cash off your shopping.  But recently the value of the points has been halved.   You now need to jump through all sorts of hoops to get ‘bonus’ points or double points.  This just takes you back to where you would have been originally but they pretend it’s a great deal for the customer.  Next there are the confounded vouchers which come through the post or pour out of the till.  They are not just simple money off vouchers, they are date restricted, product linked or just for fuel.

I also get vouchers from Pets at Home, Waitrose and M&S, sometimes for food, or clothing, pet stuff, or for household goods.   It’s a nightmare trying to use them.

Nowadays, no-one calls me a domestic goddess, organised I am not.  I used to be.  When I was younger and working full time, a parent of 4 children with a dog and a cat to consider, I could manage to work efficiently for 60 hours a week, ferry my children to their various activities, attend to most of the domestic chores and provide nutritious food on a regular basis as well as keeping the animals happy, fed and exercised.  But since I retired my organisational skills have dwindled to the point where cutting out and collecting the relevant vouchers and actually taking them in my purse to the right shop for the specified items between the appropriate dates is totally beyond me.

Bemoaning this to a couple of friends who still qualify as domestic goddesses they advised me to:

  1. a) sort out vouchers into date order
  2. b) buy a plastic zippy pouch to keep vouchers in
  3. c) keep the zippy pouch with your purse in the reusable shopping bags
  4. d) take the bags, purse and pouch to the shops
  5. e) go through the vouchers at the checkout and present the relevant vouchers

So I tried this last week and failed miserably.  Going shopping with a 2 teenagers, a small child and a baby in a pushchair may have been difficult but it was a doddle compared to going shopping with a 6 foot hubby currently in a wheelchair, which goes something like this:~

  1. Convince hubby that shopping needs to be done
  2. Explain to hubby that he needs to get out of the house
  3. Find his shoes, coat, scarf, hat, wallet, hanky, drinks bottle in case he gets thirsty, sweets in case he gets dry throat
  4. prise hubby out of comfy rise and recline chair
  5. help him on with previously mentioned items
  6. use indoor, 4 wheeled mobility aid to get to front door
  7. use outdoor, 3 wheeled, foldable mobility aid to get to car
  8. help hubby into car
  9. put outdoor walker in garage
  10. get wheelchair out of garage
  11. fold up wheelchair and lift into boot
  12. drive to Sainsbury’s
  13. dodge the car washers who want to charge me £8 to put wax on my driver’s window with a dirty rag so that I can’t see out of it
  14. get wheelchair out of boot
  15. help hubby into wheelchair
  16. ask staff to unlock store’s mobility scooter
  17. help hubby into mobility scooter
  18. take wheelchair back to car, fold and lift into boot
  19. do the shopping, carefully adding a bit extra because we have vouchers
  20. find a checkout wide enough for mobility scooter
  21. unload all shopping onto conveyor belt
  22. look for reusable bags, purse and zippy pouch bursting with vouchers worth £12 and hundreds of nectar points
  23. Realise they are still at home on the indoor mobility aid
  24. Ask hubby for his wallet
  25. Pay for shopping
  26. Replay 1 to 18 in reverse order
  27. Go home and have a little cry

Now the end to this tale of woe is that I kept my receipt and went in the next day with the voucher for £12 off having fulfilled all the criteria, but the computerised till would not accept the voucher because it ran out at close of business the night before.  My complaint is that my shopping was done within the specified time so the voucher should be honoured.  What would Alex Polizzi say?  Would the shareholders of Sainsbury’s rather I acted like a ‘normal’ customer and just voted with my feet or would they prefer to get a letter giving them the opportunity to honour my voucher and keep my custom?

Answers on a postcard please …

pothole-protestjpeg

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Frozen in Norway

Sculpture by Gustav Vigeland in Oslo park

Sculpture by Gustav Vigeland in Oslo park

One of the many joys associated with having grandchildren is that you get to watch the most beautiful films at the Cinema, or enjoy Disney videos at home, without feeling silly.
Recently I have been captivated by Frozen which I watched with Ben and Rosie. In the film Elsa the Snow Queen sings ‘Let it Go’, which is one of the songs our choir sings. It really is a most beautiful song, but when the children and their parents sing along together it is truly moving. This weekend we are performing it in a concert at the Tuckwell Open Air Theatre.

The film, Frozen, is based on Hans Christian Anderson’s tale of the Snow Queen.  When my daughter, Anna,  was young she played a part in a local production of the fairytale so it has a special place in my heart.  Also, the dramatic landscape of Norway was the inspiration for the setting apparently and I had a wonderful holiday in Norway some years ago.

If you have never been to Norway, I hope this film will inspire you to go. In July 1999 I flew to Oslo then travelled by train across Norway. Trains and boats are really the best way to travel for seeing scenery I find, and in Norway there is so much to see. The countryside was truly spectacular and very rugged with snow-covered mountains, icy glaciers, breathtakingly beautiful fjords and waterfalls, wildflower covered meadows and lakes so still that it was hard to tell what was real and what was a reflection.

Reflections in a still lake

Reflections in a still lake

There is a real port called Arendal in the South of Norway which becomes Arendelle in the film, Frozen. But it is in Bergen that you find the exquisitely preserved old buildings of Bryggen which feature in the film. There is a fish market in Bergen just opposite these ancient timber buildings. I was a bit shocked to find whale meat for sale alongside fabulous salmon.

Shopping for Salmon in Bergen Market

Shopping for Salmon in Bergen Market

Also in the film you will see Stave churches. There are many of these beautifully preserved churches in Norway. They were built mostly of wood during the middle ages. The largest is Heddal near Notodde. It is a beautiful fairytale church which dates back to the 12th century. There are several of these Stave churches around Bergen and we decided to visit the Fantoft Stavkirk on St Olav’s day. I caught a bus with my husband from Bergen and we had a very pleasant journey to the church. As we went to enter the church my husband realised he had left his wallet with all our money, tickets and passports on the bus! Fortunately I had a mobile phone with me and I managed to find the telephone number of the bus company. I rang them and sadly explained our situation. Imagine my delight when they said the driver had found the wallet and was finishing work for the day soon. He offered to drive back to where he had dropped us on his way home and return the wallet to us! He would not take any tip and seemed surprised that we were so overwhelmed with gratitude. Call me an old cynic but I just can’t imagine this happening in the UK.

Stavkirk

Stavkirk

My husband and I intended visiting the church on the way to the house at Troldhaugen where Edvard Grieg lived. I say the house but actually it was like an estate with a very impressive villa which is now a living museum. There was an island where visitors can enjoy free lunchtime concerts of Grieg’s music in the summer months. There is also the cabin where he worked. By the time we got there we had missed the concert and only had time for a rushed visit.

There are several fjords which could be the setting for Arendelle but it is claimed that it is Nærøyfjord, an arm of the Unesco-listed Sognefjord. I can believe that as it is so spectacularly beautiful. We travelled on the famous Flam railway passing huge waterfalls to reach the fjord. Along the way we could hear beautiful operatic singing and we could not work out where it was coming from. The train stopped under a waterfall and from there we could see a woman standing on the very top of the mountain. She was producing that magnificent sound which echoed around the fjord. From there we travelled by boat to one of many little villages dotted around the fjord.

Village along the fjord

Village along the fjord

Also in the film, Frozen, Elsa flees across a glacial landscape which resembles the Folgefonna glacier. It could equally have been the Hardanger Glacier, which we saw, and flew over. It certainly is a bleak and barren place when viewed from the air.

Frozen Norway Norway from the air Hardanger glacier seen from plane

Watching Frozen brought all this back to me so I fished out my photos. Enjoy!

 

Scenic Norway

 

Fountain in Oslo
Park Statue in Oslo
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The Joys of Cornwall

Derelict mine building at Wheal Coates3

Old tin mines stand tall

Telling stories of the past

On Cornish coastline

I recently spent another lovely week in Cornwall. I wanted to be near the sea while still being near Truro for my hubby’s regular dialysis sessions, so I opted for a cottage in St Agnes. St Agnes is a beautiful, unspoilt little town on the North Cornwall coast. It is full of fascinating relics from the days when tin and copper mining was the main industry. It seemed strange to me to see derelict tin mines visible from behind houses and forming the boundary walls of gardens. In fact tin is still produced in St Agnes at the Blue Hills Mine, the only place in the UK that still produces it. St Agnes is an area of outstanding natural beauty and it has been designated a World Heritage Site. I can certainly see why. I just loved the rugged land and seascapes. Even in our state of unfitness we were able to walk some of the coastal path. This leads to sights that can never be appreciated from the road. One of these is Wheal Coates Mine. It is truly amazing when seen from a distance with its three shafts and its spectacular position on the side of the cliffs. In fact the mine goes all the way down to the sea and at high tide you can hear the waves crashing against rocks through a grid in the ruins. It was possible to get into this mine via a large cave at a nearby beach. There is a local legend that says Wheal Coates is haunted by the spirits of the miners who died there. I expect the eerie sounds of the sea account for the legends.
I’ve always been interested in industrial buildings. I guess this is mainly due to my father’s influence as he was a steel man from the age of 13 and he developed in me a passion for ships, bridges and buildings. The other reason could be because of where I grew up. I lived in the Felling, a shipbuilding and mining area in the North of England. I skipped past the railway station and shipyard every day on my way to school and there was a derelict engine house complete with winding gear at the end of our street of 2 up and 2 down back to back miners’ cottages. These were our adventure playgrounds. Children were never allowed to play on the grass or ride bikes in the municipal parks in those days! Parks were for floral displays and grown-ups to walk in and the park warden was fierce.
Being a traditional and romantic sort of person I regret that industrialisation almost destroyed the crafts of blacksmiths, weavers, spinners, millers and grinders. But I find there is great beauty to be found in the derelict buildings, in the machinery that drove the mines and the mills, and in the engines that turned their wheels and moved their goods

Around St Agnes there are beaches, bays and coves with caves where wreckers and smugglers, no doubt, once hid their treasures. We visited a pub reminiscent of Jamaica Inn. The pub is called the Driftwood and it has a fascinating history. It is a 17th century building which in its time has been a warehouse for the tin mines, a ships’ chandlery, and a sail maker’s loft, before becoming a characterful old pub. It is built of Cornish stone and slate and ship’s timbers and spares. Behind one of the fireplaces in the pub there is a tunnel which was uncovered during restoration. It is said that this was the secret escape route for the wreckers and smugglers of the area as it leads all the way to the beach.

The cottage we stayed in was perfect and my joy was complete when my daughter came to stay for a couple of days with my adorable grandson. He just loved the sea and sand, the horses in the paddock and the trampoline in the garden. We took him to Lappa Valley Railway, which is kiddie heaven in my book. Built on the site of yet another ruined mine, there are castles and treehouses and adventure equipment to satisfy any age. There are also 12 steam engines giving rides on trains which Stanley really loved. There is also a boating lake, café, shop and everything you could want for a fun day out. I loved it.

Home


Sadly it will be another year before I can go away again due to the shortage of holiday dialysis spaces around the country. But until then I have my photos to remind me of the fun we had and the beauty of Cornwall. Enjoy!

Covering mine shaft in Cornwall
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It’s The Simple Things

IMG_1352

Reflecting on the week ahead of me I am delighted but a little daunted by the prospect of amusing 3 children under 10 while their parents work. These are my adored grandchildren and I love them to bits, but will I have the energy to keep them all amused?
Chekhov considered the work of an artist/writer, to be “the proper presentation of the problem”, so I tried to analyse the root of my anxiety. It became clear that I feel bound to stimulate and educate the grandchildren, while feeding them nutritious meals, sticking to their proper sleep patterns, keeping them clean and safe, and ensuring that they are happy and having fun at all times.  When I consider these goals, I see that they are idealistic and possibly unrealistic given a) the British weather and b) my age and situation.

So I cast my mind back to the things they have really enjoyed in the past and I realise that it is the simple things that bring the most pleasure.  So we can put away the Ipads, Xboxes, Dvds and electronic games and instead get out the wellies and walk!

Dodging the raindrops dressed in wellies and macs,

Jumping in puddles to make a big splash

Picking up pebbles to throw in the stream,

Peeping through fences, who knows what you’ll see

Goats, cows, pigs and hens abound

Sheep in the fields with their lambs all around

Watch a man in a red tractor cut grass in the park

Ring grandma’s doorbell and hear her dog bark.

In the sky there are seagulls,  helicopters and planes

As we walk past the airport along country lanes.

The roads are too busy with vehicles galore

Lorries, trucks, buses, police cars and more.

Popping into the pet shop to see what is new

Stanley climbs up a ladder to get a good view

Of fish, bearded dragons, geckos, rabbits, snakes too.

Reaching the playground we ride the model train

Taking trips to the seaside and then back again

Eating our picnic in the playhouse was fun

The day passed too quickly but now it is done

Walking back was an adventure, we walked on the walls

Spotting birds, trees and flowers, ladybirds and snails

I can’t wait for tomorrow to do it all again.

Splashing in puddles is fun
waiting for the Thomas the Tank Engine to arrive
curious goats
playhouse in the park
model train for adventures
going for a walk
red tractor cutting the grass
walking on walls is fun

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Grandma’s Angels

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She’s 5 going on 25 with long red hair that gets tangled in the shower. She has a smiley face and the loveliest nature. She lives with her brother who’s 8. He has the same red hair but short. He’s cool with a cheeky grin and a mischievous nature. They live in a small market town in Wiltshire with mum, dad, 2 guinea pigs and a whippet-cross dog from the rescue centre.
She loves to copy her mum; her hair, her makeup, her clothes, and especially her jewellery!
She would love to go horse riding, but it costs too much, so she goes trampolining instead. I watch open mouthed as she bounces; doing front drops, swivel hips, back somersaults, straddles and turns. She is fearless.
He loves to copy his dad; playing football, tennis and golf; soaking up anything sporty. 2012 will be his best year yet, Olympics in Great Britain, what a dream! He is already collecting commemorative 50 pence pieces. He knows every design and every sport. He has collected 15 so far with 14 to go. I could order him a complete set but there’s no fun in that. It is far better to search in pockets, purses and change.
I love it when they come to stay for the weekend to give mum and dad a break. All thoughts of housework fly out of the window as our home is transformed into a tiny version of Disneyland. We do beading and baking, chalk patterns on the patio, create fairyland in the shed, tie imaginary horses to the gazebo and sail pirate ships on a gravel ocean.
He wanders off to find grandad. She sits on my knee and we chat. Tugging at my gold cross and chain she asks,
“Grandma, why do you always wear that?”
“My mummy wears pretty necklaces. She changes them all of the time. She has lots.”
I’ve heard this question before and I usually say,
“I wear it to remind me of my dad because he bought it for me a long time ago.” And that’s true, but today I will tell her the whole story.
A long time ago before your mummy and daddy met, your daddy lived by the seaside in Somerset in a fisherman’s cottage. The cottage was 200 years old and it was a wreck when he bought it. It had pine panelling all over the kitchen and lounge. When he took the panelling down he found 57 types of mould growing on the inside walls. It was very colourful mould, some of it quite pretty, but not healthy to live with, so he had to pay someone to come and treat it. The cottage roof leaked, the windows didn’t open, and the walls were damp. But bit by bit he repaired it and made it beautiful. He put on a new roof, damp-proofed the walls, sealed the floors, replaced the windows and doors, and put in a new white bathroom. He did all this quite cheaply because he searched through scrap yards for things he could use. One day he found an old church window in a scrap yard and he bought it for his bathroom. He knocked down part of the wall and put in the beautiful stained glass window. It was full of colour, rich red and blue, and it had angels on it. When the sun shone into the bathroom it glowed with a heavenly light.
Now he was happy with his cottage and he decided to invite the whole family down for the weekend to celebrate the end of the work. Grandma and Grandad went of course, and your daddy’s three sisters. They were teenagers then and they had a little mini car which they shared.
It was a perfect weekend, sunny and warm. We scrambled on the beach and hunted for bits of pink quartz washed out of the rocks by the tide. I still have them in the garden.
I had my cross and chain on then too, it wasn’t long after my dad died. I felt that when I wore it he was close to me and he would watch over me and keep me safe.
It was a long and tiring day so we all went to bed early. I took my cross and chain off and put it on the cabinet beside the bed. We slept really well then got up early to go home. I had a shower in the bathroom and I was fascinated by the coloured lights shining through the stained glass window. It was so beautiful that I said a little prayer before we left. I said thank you for my beautiful family and thank you for a lovely weekend. Then off we set for home.
On the way back home I realised that I had forgotten to pick up my cross and chain. I was a bit cross with myself for forgetting it, but I wasn’t worried because I knew it would be safe. The girls were staying for another day so I guessed they would bring it home for me when they came. There were no mobile phones in those days so I couldn’t call them!
The next day was Sunday and the girls were sharing the driving home after a lovely weekend. They had found my cross and chain and remembered to pop it on the dashboard before they set off. They were very happy driving along, listening to their music and singing. They reached a sharp bend in the road just as another driver was speeding along. He misjudged the corner and crashed right into the little mini. The car was dreadfully smashed up and my 3 precious girls were taken off to hospital in ambulances.
The policeman who came to the crash shook his head sadly thinking the girls would be badly hurt. But at the hospital they were absolutely fine, just a few bruises and a bit shocked. The girls did not want to tell me about the crash as they knew I would be really worried and upset, so they phoned their brother to come and collect them. He got into his car and drove along the same country roads that his sisters had travelled. When he reached the bend in the road he saw the mini being towed onto a breakdown lorry. He got out to watch and was shocked to see the damage to the car. Just then he noticed something glinting in the road. It was my cross and chain. He picked it up and put it in his pocket, then drove on to the hospital to pick up his sisters and bring them home.
When I saw them and heard the whole story I knew that my dad and the angels had been watching over my girls as they travelled in their car that day. They protected them from harm. That is why I always wear my cross and chain. It reminds me how blessed I am.
One day I will give my cross and chain to her, my angel.

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Grandma’s Words of Wisdom

I have been trying to think who my ideal readers would be ~ apart from your good self of course!
I thought maybe my blog would be appreciated in the future by my much loved grandchildren, the ones I know and any who come along later. It may be that I am not around when they are adults and they might be as curious about their ancestors as I am. My blog would be a useful resource for them in finding out what my life was like and what type of person I was. It would certainly give them an idea of what I believe in and how I feel about things. So I decided to do a little series of tips or words of wisdom that I have gleaned over my lifetime so far. I can always add to it if I do manage to get any wiser!
Another exercise on Zero to Hero is to customise your site with some of the widgets and technical wizardry available on WordPress. I must admit I found that very difficult but I am learning how to put text onto photos so that is what I have done with my tips!

Always treat others gently, you never know what they have endured, or what they are going through

Treat others as you would want to be treated if you were in their shoes

Treat others as you would want to be treated if you were in their shoes

Be friendly to other people and be part of a supportive community

Be friendly to other people and be part of your community

It is a beautiful world. Appreciate it and protect it

You live in a beautiful world. Appreciate it and protect it

Do something that makes you happy every day.

Do something you enjoy every day.

If you know someone who has a problem be kind to them and try to help

If you know that someone has a problem be kind to them and try to help

be polite and courteous to others always

be polite and courteous to others always

When someone speaks to you give them your whole attention and listen to them

When someone speaks to you give them your whole attention

Realise that people are all different in their shape, size, colour, beliefs, education and circumstances. Try to see beyond the differences to what you have in common

People are all different in their shape, size, colour, beliefs, education and circumstances. Try to see beyond the differences to what you have in common with them

If you can't say something positive about another person, don't say anything negative

If you can’t say something positive about another person, don’t say anything negative

Know that you are perfect and precious just as you are. Respect yourself and expect others to treat you with respect

Know that you are perfect and precious just as you are. Respect yourself and expect others to treat you with respect

Know that you are loved

Know that you are loved

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Its a Perfect day

Stanley finds pegs fascinating

Stanley finds pegs fascinating


One of the songs sung by the choir I belong to at our recent concert is Perfect Day.
Laughter and Lyrics Choir

Laughter and Lyrics Choir

Today has been just perfect. It is usually called Grandma day as I look after Stanley on Wednesdays and Thursdays. But today it was Turtle Day as I had bought a turtle shaped sand pit for him to play in.
Stanley really is a delight in every way and just spending time with him makes me feel wonderful.
It was especially good today for two reasons
1. We have both been feeling very unwell until today, with chest infections followed by throat infections
2. The sun was shining in a clear blue sky and it was lovely and warm.
Stanley usually arrives at 8am to be greeted by my little dachshund, Dayna who races out of the front door to greet him. They both then race in to get to the best armchair ~ Dayna, and the Chuggington corner ~ Stanley. Now when my children were little it was all Thomas the Tank engine and I do feel a bit disloyal saying this but Chuggington is just so much more exciting! I have collected all the trains ~ wooden and die-cast, some track, two carrying cases, a hard back story book and a floor layout for imaginative play. Now Stanley is only 16 months old but he plays with Chuggington things for hours. He ‘rides the rails’ around, across and under furniture whether or not the dog is sitting on it, he builds tunnels with mega bricks (or grandma’s legs), and he drives the trains in and out of their sheds in the carrying cases endlessly. He just never seems to tire of it. At lunchtime as a special treat he gets to watch an episode of Chuggington which I have pre-recorded while he eats what I have prepared. I have 78 episodes recorded now so that pretty much guarantees peaceful lunchtimes until he starts school!
I jokingly say to my daughter that if I were to go on Mastermind, the BBC high brow quiz show, my specialist subject would be Chuggington ~ I know so much about it I have started creating new storylines as I watch. I also make pictures for Stanley by cutting out the card trains which come with each new toy and building a scene around them with the train names written on. I then laminate them. Stanley loves these and it is how we both learned all the names.
But today, even Chuggington came second to the TURTLE sandpit. I sited it on the patio near a gazebo so that Stanley would have some shade and Grandma would have somewhere to sit. Having forgotten to buy buckets and spades etc., I gathered old plastic containers, a colander and a jug, spatulas and wooden spoons, which worked almost as well. And then the fun started.
When Stanley had enough of that exercise he thoroughly inspected the garden. Being his first Spring at an age where he could make sense of his surroundings it was a joy just to follow him watching and listening. But the highlight for me was sharing the discovery that two of the birdhouses my daughter made for me are occupied by nesting blue tits. Stanley adores watching birds in the trees and bushes, in the sky or on the ground, at the water table or on the feeders. So to show him where they are nesting was a joy.
After that he toddled up to my shed. Now anyone who has read my post “Windows” will know that my sheds are very special places for relaxation and meditation and usually no-one else ventures in there. However, today Stanley looked at the shed, pushed at the locked door and said, “Open, Yea?” in a voice that would totally melt the polar ice cap. Of course I said yes and in no time at all the nicknacks in my sanctuary were all rearranged. There was a moment when I looked at him, ancient toy car in one hand and orange wooden rosary prayer beads in the other and the happiness I felt took my breath away. And I realised that at that moment Stanley and I were both in that place where ‘heaven happens’.

Blue tits are nesting in the boxes my daughter made
What shall I play next?
This is new, is it for bouncing on?
Let’s spread the sand around
This bird is not moving
Can I climb in?
Reading the labels already?
“Open shed yea?”
Can I climb up here?
Ooh its so sunny today
Can I make the wind chimes sing?
The stars of Chuggington, Koko, Wilson and Brewster, the traineers
Dayna the adorable dachsund
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Comings and Goings

Mothering Sunday

Mothering Sunday


It was Mothering Sunday in the UK yesterday and I had a wonderful day. Having accidentally dropped a hint on ‘What’s App,’ my three children who live abroad remembered to send me cards, flowers, text messages and most importantly, their love. I am very fortunate though to have my youngest daughter and my adorable grandson living very near me. They came round for lunch bearing flowers and a beautiful gift that little Stanley had personalized. It is a ceramic train that he painted red and it has his little finger prints all over it ~ I will treasure it always.
As usual Mothering Sunday brings a mixture of feelings. It is less than 30 months since my mum died and my emotions are still very raw. My mother lived in the same road as me, which was great when I was caring for her. But now that the house is empty and up for sale, I find it sad to go there and deal with its disposal.
The house is on a corner plot. At the front there is a lovely park with a stream and woods beyond where my children played when they were young. In the distance there are the beautiful Cotswold Hills. After my mother became unable to move around, she sat at the front window literally 24 hours a day. She loved her views and the constantly changing scenes being played out ‘over the park’. The sequence of events has varied little over the years, although the main characters grow, move, die and are replaced.
Early in the mornings there is the noisy clatter of the milkman who still delivers pints in glass bottles to his customers of many years. When my son was a teenager he used to get up at 4am to help the milkman with his round to earn his pocket money, before going to school.
This is followed by the dog walkers who go out in all winds and weathers to exercise their dogs before going to work.
Next, the many locals who work at the Government Communications Headquarters (GCHQ) pass by. GCHQ is a major local employer and is housed in a magnificent building nicknamed ‘The Doughnut’, because of its unusual shape.
Sometime later, the mums, dads, grandparents or carers taking children to the nearby schools pass by, the children happily skipping and chatting as they rush along the pavement. The parents are usually struggling with pushchairs, schoolbags, toys and umbrellas. It is noticeable that no-one seems to use prams now, just very complex buggy systems.
Later the local retired men gather on the corner of the field having collected their daily newspaper. They sit on the bench, put there in memory of a previous resident, and put the world to rights.
Once the children are settled in school, the dog walkers come out in force. Some are on a mission and walk briskly from one end of the field to the other. Others gather in little groups to chat while the dogs run about, sniffing each other warily before chasing each other and playing boisterously together. There are professional dog walkers who bring 4, 5 or even 6 dogs at a time to get their daily exercise. Then there is the dog trainer, a very serious young man, who displays an impressive control over his beautiful sheepdogs as they sit, lie, wait, come or fetch at the sound of his voice or a brief series of whistles. His praise is their only reward.
Much later the local postman, Gary, comes and parks his little red van opposite the house. He must walk miles in a day but he is always cheerful and concerned for everyone on his round.
Occasionally, in an ageing community, there will be a paramedic’s car or an ambulance outside a house. News of this travels fast, usually via the hairdresser, which is how most local news is carried round the estate.
There have been a few dramas and terrible tragedies on the park in the past. Some years ago a distressed young man sat in the local pub talking to himself and having a pint of beer alone, with a rope beside him. Although people thought this was strange no-one thought to interrupt him, get involved, or get help. Later of course he was found hanging from a tree in the park. I do wonder if a well-chosen word, a friendly face, or an offer of help might have saved him. But people don’t like to intrude on others’ privacy.
Another young man was found dead in the playground after an apparent accidental overdose of drugs. Such a waste of a life, and so sad. The night does strange things to people and young men seem to be particularly at risk I think.
But most of the time the park is a happy, friendly place and the scene of a lot of fun and games.
Four years ago it was noticed that there were daffodil stems growing in a strange pattern on the grassy field. Now virtually every grass verge in the Cotswolds is covered in daffodils each March, either wild or cultivated. In Cheltenham it is the first thing that greets visitors to Cheltenham races. In the forest there are so many wild daffodils that there is a dedicated daffodil walk.
But it was very unusual to see them growing in this spot and they had appeared so mysteriously. As I walked my dog each day I noticed the pattern growing but it was not until the flowers appeared that the message was clear. The daffodils spelled out “MARRY ME”.
The local newspaper begged for details of who the romantic person was who planted this unusual proposal and eventually a young man owned up. He also revealed that his girlfriend had said “Yes”.
I walked there last night and the words are still visible. Isn’t that a lovely way to propose? I find it very touching.
I have lived opposite this park for 30 years and I never tire of it. It brings me a great deal of comfort to know that in her later years when she couldn’t get out and about, my mum was able to sit and enjoy this bustling and beautiful little corner of the world.
The house is empty and silent now except for prospective buyers being shown around it. No doubt they will renovate the whole place with new bathroom and kitchen and decor. My mum’s home will be unrecognizable and the past will be obliterated, every trace of the lovely couple who lived there will be gone. But they will never be forgotten.

If you still have parents, or anyone who is special to you, do tell them before its too late.
This poem was included in the funeral sheet for a dear friend of mine who used to travel ACROSS to Lourdes with us on the Jumbulance. I have written posts about our trips to Lourdes before. The poem was written by Susan M Greenwood of North West Hosanna House Group

If with pleasure you are viewing
Any work that I am doing,
If you like me, or you love me, tell me now.
Don’t withhold your approbation
Till the Father makes oration
And I lie with snowy lilies o’er my brow.
For no matter how you shout it,
I won’t care so much about it,
I won’t see how many tear drops you have shed.
If you think some praise is due me.
Now’s the time to slip it to me,
For I cannot read my tombstone when I’m dead.

More than fame and more than money
Is the comment warm and sunny,
Is the hearty warm approval of a friend.
For it gives to life a savour
And it makes me stronger, braver,
And it gives to me the spirit to the end.
If I earn your praise bestow it,
If you like me, let me know it,
Let the words of true encouragement be said.
Do not wait till life is over
And I’m underneath the clover,
For I cannot read my tombstone when I’m dead.

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Grandma’s House

our tiny bungalow
Grandma’s house is very small
Just 2 bedrooms off the hall
A tiny kitchen, shiny-floored
A larder where my treats are stored
A shower with a seat inside
Wardrobes where doggy and I can hide
An archway leads into the lounge
Where furniture gets moved around
To make a station for my trains
Or an airport for ‘copters and planes
Sometimes it’s a racetrack for my cars
Or a farmyard with tractors, paddocks and barns
Grandma puts blankets over the table
To make a den, a forest or a stable
In the garden there’s gravel that scrunches when I walk
And a patio where I can draw pictures with chalk
In granddad’s shed there are drawers full of tools,
Boxes of nails, tubes of glue, jars of screws
A little mouse is nesting inside the wood store
While outside live birds, bees, hedgehogs and more
Grandma says her shed is a magical place
It’s furnished and carpeted and curtained with lace
Lavender hangs drying from the painted ceiling
While pine shelves are covered in things that have meaning
Like Icons from Finland, and medals from Lourdes
Calabash from Africa made out of gourds
Matrushkas from Moscow, maracas from Spain
I can’t wait for summer to play there again
Grandma loves it when I come to play
She makes indoor picnics we eat off a tray
She has lots of photos all over her wall
The best one is my mummy when she was small.
tunnel of love