The English countryside has inspired poets and artists since time immemorial. Today we can add bloggers and photographers to that list. I was fortunate enough to spend a couple of days in the delightful Herefordshire village of Kimbolton this weekend and it reminded me of one of Robert Herrick’s short pastoral poems from his Hesperides (1648)
I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers:
April, May, of June, and July flowers.
I sing of Maypoles, Hock-carts, wassails, wakes,
Of bridegrooms, brides, and of their bridal cakes.
The Herefordshire area is famous for its orchards and beef cattle. But I discovered a wealth of superb castles and gardens too. There are miles of public footpaths, many of which I walked with my little dachshund, Dayna. One delightful walk at Croft Court led through a bluebell wood which was just magical, the ground a sea of bluebells. I stayed on a farm which grows 80 tons of apples a year, all of which goes to Bulmers, the famous cider makers.
I would love to write a poem to paint you a picture of this beautiful area and I will, but for now just enjoy some of my photos and the beautiful music.
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.
One of the songs sung by the choir I belong to at our recent concert is Perfect Day.
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
I have celebrated Palm Sunday in many different countries, Kenya, Spain, France, Poland, Italy and UK and it is a church tradition that I love. When I was at work (teaching primary children) one of our jobs was to make the palm crosses for the local church each year. It was an eagerly awaited treat for the 10/11 year olds in their final year of primary school, to learn how to weave and fold the crosses from simple palm leaves.
I have written about other Palm Sundays before and the links are below if you would like to read them. I hope you do.
This year I am laid up in bed with a very nasty case of tonsillitis on antibiotics so I have not even seen a palm!
But I did look at the Vatican website to see the celebrations in St Peter’s Square. My overriding impression is that this Pope, like Jesus, is adored by the people because of his common touch and understanding of what it means to be poor in this world. But my fear is that like Jesus, he is rattling too many cages and there will be those who plot against him. I also see in his face that after only a few months in the job he is looking exhausted and strained.
Two Haiku I wrote last year sum up my fears.
Rest not! Life is sweeping by; go and dare before you die. Something mighty and sublime, leave behind to conquer time. — Goethe
The prompt in the Weekly Photo Challenge this week is the word ‘threshold’. Looking through my photos this one of the tile frieze made at the end of 1999 for the year 2000 leapt out at me. It is hard to imagine today just what a big deal it was being on the threshold of a new millennium. There were all sorts of apocalyptic warnings about power failures, planes falling out of the sky, systems not being able to cope etc. No-one really new what would happen at midnight on 31st December 1999 and what the new millennium would mean for civilisation. So I wanted to mark the occasion with something very special and permanent for my school.
St Thomas More School was a huge part of my life. In the early 1970’s I watched the new school building rise in the middle of an open field that had once been farmland and an orchard. There was an ancient hedgerow all around the site and just one magnificent old oak tree in what would be the playing field. When it was opened in 1975, I was having my third child so was not available for teaching. But, as I drove past the school every day, I vowed that one day I would work there.
I got my wish in 1984 when my youngest child was ready to start school. I was offered a job and jumped at the chance. The next decade was a time of great blessing as I worked in virtually every class, teaching all age groups, then became deputy Head. In 1994 the original Headteacher was due to retire and, to my surprise, I was offered his job. He had been such an inspirational Head that the school was a joy to work in. Taking on his role, I tried to emulate him while making my own mark and bringing my own vision for the school into being.
Due mainly to the quality of the staff and their outstanding teamwork, the school became a strong and successful community, ‘an oasis of excellence’, appreciated by staff, pupils and parents alike.
In 1999, as the new millennium approached, the staff wanted to mark the year 2000 with a special feature. We wanted the whole school community to be involved in creating something totally unique and meaningful. We came up with the idea of making a large tile frieze. Each year group was asked to brainstorm their favourite lessons, subjects, or topics, and represent their ideas on paper.
Reception class, the youngest children were just 4 or 5 years old and had only just started school. They had their photographs taken in their shiny new uniforms, so that was their contribution.
The Year 1 class had helped to build a pond and were raising ducklings which they had hatched from eggs in an incubator, so they drew pictures of that. I have a wonderful memory of the day the ducklings hatched out ~ the local policeman had called up to the school on a social visit and he watched as the first duckling struggled to crack open the shell. When it finally succeeded and out popped this beautiful and perfect little bundle of yellow feathers, he was overwhelmed by emotion and had tears in his eyes.
In Year 2 the 7 year olds made their first Holy Communion as it was a Catholic school so they drew a chalice and host. Being the most significant event in the year, that was their contribution.
Year 3 was the first year of juniors and the children enjoyed learning about Vikings and the Human Body, so they drew lovely longboats and skeletons.
In Year 4 things got much more subject focussed so Maths was represented by a calculator and mathematical symbols.
In Year 5, Music, Dance and Art were the main features, so a pot of paint and a brush was drawn. Science too was represented by the planets.
By Year 6 the children were getting ready to move on to secondary school. In order to give them a taste of independence and adventure, it was our tradition to take the class away to Shropshire for a week to stay in a Youth Hostel. Here, in the Ironbridge Gorge, birthplace of the Industrial Revolution, we had a wonderful time. We visited the Iron Museum, The Jackfield Tile Museum, Blist’s Hill Reconstructed Village, River Severn Museum and of course the first Iron Bridge ever built. We also had amazing night hikes, midnight feasts and parties. Altogether it was an incredible opportunity for fun and learning. So naturally the Ironbridge at Coalbrookdale was the emblem of Year 6.
The staff gathered all these pictures and images together and chose the ones that would be painted on to the tiles. The Year 5 teacher, ABW, a wonderfully creative artist and teacher, took on the challenge of putting all the ideas together and creating a design on tracing paper which could be transferred onto numbered ‘green’ tiles. It was agreed that we would go to Jackfield Tile Museum to create the finished work.
A representative group of staff, parents and children spent a weekend at the Youth Hostel and were each given a small area of the tile frieze to paint. ABW had done a magnificent job scaling all the children’s artwork up or down so that the frieze would reflect the life of the school. It was agreed that the year 2000 would go at the top, as well as the 4 trees, oak, ash, poplar and beech, which were the school emblem. In the top corners would be tiles depicting the Ironbridge itself. The children’s artwork would go around the edge, and at the centre would be the Holy Spirit in the form of a dove surrounded by flames.
We painted the tiles in coloured glaze. I will never forget the atmosphere in that studio at Jackfield as we worked on the frieze. There was a stillness and peace in the room which was truly sacramental. While we worked, the Spirit moved in that place and heaven happened.
When we finished, the tiles were left at the Jackfield tile Museum to be fired. A couple of weeks later they were collected and set into a frame made by the reception class teacher’s husband.
Bishop Mervyn Alexander of Clifton RIP came in the year 2000 to celebrate the school’s 25th anniversary and he blessed the tile frieze.
This haiku is inspired by one of the creatures from from Japanese legend. Shishi is the paired lion-dogs, one male and one female, that guard the entrances to Shinto shrines and Buddhist temples. The Shishi have magical powers to repel evil.
Jp. = Shishi 獅子 or Kara Shishi 唐獅子, Chn. = Shíshī
Also known as Koma-inu 狛犬 (lion dog) in Japan
I chose this topic for two reasons. Firstly I have a cast iron garden chair which is very decorative and it has a lion head at the end of each arm rest. Secondly, one of my daughters used to be a dancer and she worked in Japan for a year when she left LIPA (Liverpool Institute of Performing Arts). She loved Japan and the people she worked for who were so kind to her. One day she went for a trip to see a newly built temple. In order to raise money to complete the temple roof tiles were being sold with a dedication on them. Knowing that my interests are spiritual she Paid for a tile to have my name and a blessing carved on it. I think it is probably one of the most unusual, the most thoughtful, and the most wonderful thing anyone has ever done for me.
This post is inspired by the February theme of ‘Pilgrimage’ on Carpe Diem
Seeking solitude
I journey into my soul
A Prayerful Pilgrim
I have written about my idea of pilgrimage before and have posted links to these posts so you can read them again if you wish. I am aware that a number of my readers have no faith or a different faith from myself. I respect that and hope you will read with an open heart and mind, and enjoy the photographs
What an amazing blog I discovered this morning. The post is so beautiful that I just had to pass it on to you x Enjoy~
“And so our mothers and grandmothers have, more often than not anonymously, handed on the creative spark, the seed of the flower they themselves never hoped to see – or like a sealed letter they could not plainly read.”
Thanks to Sherri’s blog I was led to ‘A Lingering Look at Windows’. If, like me you find windows fascinating you should take a look at the current challenge to post a photo of a window each week.
I am awed by stained glass windows especially, and have an enormous collection of photos from around the world. But very close to home there is a window that fascinates me. It is in Gloucester Cathedral. It is quite a modern window and from a distance with a cursory glance, it can appear to be simply random shapes of blue glass. On closer inspection though, this window draws the viewer in rather as an icon does. It is a meditative experience to sit and really look at this window. Soon the shape of a man appears then you are drawn to the face. It has a haunting expression of deep understanding and empathy. It represents the face of Jesus.
The window was created and installed in 1992 by Thomas Denny. It is mainly blue and white with splashes of red and yellow. It is greatly affected obviously by the light coming from outside but it does appear to be in shadow when the viewer is at a distance, then as you get closer it gets brighter and quite mesmerises me! Doubting Thomas and Jesus are the central characters of the middle window and the two side windows are a song of praise for creation based on psalm 148.
Thomas Denny, was born in London. He trained in drawing and painting at Edinburgh College of Art. One day a friend asked him to consider creating a stained glass window for a church in Scotland (Killearn 1983). So began a remarkable career that has produced over 30 stained glass windows in Cathedrals and Churches of this country. (Visit http://www.thomasdenny.co.uk for the full listing.) Tom’s love for painting and drawing, especially the things of nature, is evident in his windows. All of Tom’s windows depict biblical themes and encourage the viewer to sit in silent meditation. Look closely, feel the colours, take the time to let the details emerge, then reflect. It is a spiritual experience.
Even closer to home there is a simple parish church in Warden Hill called St Christopher’s, which has a set of 10 stained glass windows by Thomas Denny. Each of them is based on a parable from the Gospels. The windows are linked by colour too with the colours from one window flowing into the next. They are simply stunning and anyone can visit the church to see them. If you are too far away you can click on this link to enjoy photos of the windows http://www.tciwh.org.uk/index.php?page=windows
A Window on my world
The word ‘sanctuary’ comes from the Latin root word, sanctus, which means holy. So the primary meaning of the word is, ‘a sacred space’. Following on from this is the idea of a ‘place of refuge’, where someone can escape to and find safety.
In the year 2000 I retired from full time working, and spent a year seeking ‘sanctuary’ from a life so busy that it had overwhelmed me. Being too exhausted to go anywhere, my sanctuary had to come to me, so my wonderful husband built me a summerhouse at the end of the garden where I could find some healing peace.
It was 3metres by 4metres made of solid wood lined with tongue and groove pine panels with a waterproof, pitched roof and 4 doors. Each door had 12 glass panes and I was inspired to paint them with glass paints.
Knowing that the Domain in Lourdes had been one of the most inspirational places in my life, and thinking (wrongly) that I might never get an opportunity to go there again, I decided to reflect its importance in my summerhouse. Each door would have a depiction of the grotto and of water included, as well as images that I love.
I chose the 4 seasons as my theme and decided to paint the doors Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter. Before the doors were hung I measured out 4 pieces of wall lining paper and sketched my designs
For each door. I used trees, laburnum, wisteria, maple, holly, bending towards each other to form arched shapes. I then drew images from nature related to each season, mice, hedgehogs, robins and anything else that came into my mind. Once the paper design was complete I stuck the paper onto the back of each door and drew over it straight onto the glass with ‘tube lining’. This dries quite quickly so then I started to paint!
I am not an artist so the result was very primitive, but because the glaze comes in such beautiful colours, the overall effect was stunning.
Once the doors were hung we laid electricity cables to the summerhouse so that we could light it from inside or out. This meant that at night we could see the stained glass effect shining down the garden from the house. If I was in the summerhouse on a sunny day with the doors shut, the stained glass effect cast coloured light all over the inside of the summerhouse. If I was in there at night I sometimes turned off the lights and lit candles to gain a different effect.
This was my sacred space, my sanctuary, my still point, my little bit of heaven and I loved it. In my summerhouse I looked deep inside my self; I wrote (and then shredded) my life story; I restored my spirit; I emerged a different person.
Sadly, I had to move home some years ago, and I could not take my summerhouse with me. But I have the photographs and I just have to think of it to find a beautiful stillness.
Prompted by Haiku Heights theme of ‘grass’, I decided to write about the beautiful garden of remembrance I visited in London this week.
Wreathed in fallen leaves
A sea of wooden crosses
And scarlet poppies
~~~~~~~
Lawned garden of grief
A moving memorial
Heroes remembered
This week I have been in London, and I was fortunate to be passing Westminster Abbey at just the right time to see an amazing spectacle. Wreaths were being laid to mark all those brave men and women who fought and died in the service of our country. Several members of the Royal Family were there to honour their sacrifice. Movingly the Duke of Edinburgh and Prince Harry laid crosses of remembrance in front of two wooden crosses from the Graves of Unknown British Soldiers from the First and Second World Wars. Every conceivable branch of service was represented by wreaths and crosses of all shapes and sizes. This year there are 388 plots and 100,000 crosses.
There were poignant photos on some of the displays. Particularly moving were the crosses to mark those who have died in recent conflicts in Afghanistan and Iraq.
I was very impressed by the huge wreaths made up of hundreds of poppies representing our Army, Navy and Air force. My father and my husband’s father were both in the Navy during WW2. But, I spent a long time searching for the display to commemorate the Durham Light Infantry which my grandfather, Frederick Charles McCluskey, belonged to for almost 40 years. He was born in 1899 and he joined up at the age of 14 years 8 months to fight in the first world war. He was sent to France at the age of 17 as a bugler! He survived that war and went on to fight in the Second World War. He was one of the Desert Rats and fought with the Durham Light Infantry at El Alamein. He wrote an account of that battle, a copy of which I still have.
Grandad never talked about the war but he kept wonderful photo albums of the places he visited during the second world war. It wasn’t until after he died that we read in the newspapers of some of his exploits when they called him a hero:~
“Tyneside war hero, Major Frederick Charles McCluskey who played a leading role in a legendary desert trek to freedom, has died at the age of 88.
In June 1942, he and 200 men from The Durham Light Infantry‘s 9th Battalion evaded fierce enemy fire to escape after being surrounded by a division of Rommel’s desert army at gazzala, North Africa.
They travelled 350 gruelling miles to safety. Major McCluskey, who lived in Milvain Avenue, Benwell fought in both world wars.”
I am loving the totally different landscape in Cornwall. It is hilly with occasional surprise glimpses of tin mines, relics of an industrial past. There are bays and coves with caves where smugglers hid their bounty. Unfortunately our car broke down as soon as we arrived, probably due to the long journey in searing temperatures. Still it gave me a chance to explore Truro city itself and the beautiful cathedral. I was very surprised to see abandoned churches, almost derelict up for sale. Even our hotel is a former convent with a magnificent deconsecrated chapel which is now used as a great hall for weddings and conferences. Ah well, it is a sign of the times I suppose. Christianity, like old industries are being squeezed.
The first prompt “fingerprint”, made me consider how special some things are to me simply because they belonged previously to, and were held by, someone I have loved. I was reminded especially of a figure that my mum carved out of wood many years ago. The wood was hard to work with so my dad helped with the chiselling and carving. I distinctly remember them both working away very happily at this piece of original craftwork, their fingerprints ingrained in the wood.
Gradually the character in the wood was revealed. It was a particularly striking piece I always thought, but my mum thought him a little gloomy for display in the house. So he lived on a plinth in the garden for years. As he stood battered by the weather he gradually looked more and more dejected.
The second prompt word is “sand” which fits nicely into the second stage in the life of this figure.
After my parents had both died the figure came to me. He was battered, discoloured and very rough but very precious to me, having been physically created by my parents. So my lovely husband took the figure off its rotten plinth, cleaned and sanded it down, then fixed the base. He still looks very careworn and dejected ~ the figure that is ~ not my husband, but I love it so much that it now sits on a shelf in my lounge.
I would not part with it at any price.
Laughter and Lyrics Choir I’m the white haired one 7th from left and Caroline is the gorgeous one on the right of the middle
An emotionally charged post for Haiku Heights prompt word ‘crescendo’. I joined a ladies’ choir this year run by Caroline Edwards at the Everyman Theatre. It is held on Friday mornings and several of my friends including those from WI joined too. Lots of choirs popped up in the UK after the charismatic Gareth Malone appeared on TV to prove that everyone could sing by setting up choirs in all kinds of establishments. Of course in order to make a beautiful sound you need a great teacher to whip you into shape. We have Caroline for that and she is wonderful. She has moulded our lively group of women into a choir!
We have a great deal of fun, drink lots of coffee, eat lots of cake, chat a lot, and have become firm friends who support each other. caroline runs several choirs who will all get together on 15th July for a grand show at the theatre. It is a sell out concert. My heart breaks that after all my practicing I won’t actually be there on the night. However I have enjoyed every minute with our choir ‘Laughter and Lyrics’. The last song we are singing at the show is Sing ~ I know that along with a backdrop of video images produced by the fabulous Mark Kempner, there won’t be a dry eye in the house. I will post a clip after the event when it goes public, but for now listen to Gary barlow and the Military Wives Choir as you read my haiku on ‘crescendo’
Deep emotions flow To spine-tingling crescendo Heartfelt harmony ~ Together we stand Black with a splash of colour Hearts break while we sing ~ ‘Latte and Lyrics’ Choir gathers, faces aglow Singing with gusto
~ Caroline’s choir grows Along with coffee and cake Gathering goosebumps ~ Perfect performance As 5000 women sing Hymn ‘Jerusalem’
I recently went to the Annual general meeting of the WI at Cardiff Arena again. As always it reaches a crescendo when the 4000 plus women sing Jerusalem. When you are part of it the sound is wonderful. This clip is from 2010 when I was one of the women singing.
This week’s word prompt at haiku heights is the word “Chivalry”. My understanding of this word for the modern age is an honourable person with strength ~ of mind, body and soul, who is courageous and disciplined and uses their power to protect the weak and defenceless. This defines Nelson Mandela perfectly in my opinion.
Cherishing freedom
He fought with true dignity
And changed the whole world
~
With perseverance
For freedom and harmony
He gave his whole life
~
On Robben Island
Prepared to die for his cause
He rocked the whole world
My grandson, Ben, was reading a book about Nelson Mandela for his homework on Monday and it was wonderful to have the opportunity to discuss this living legend with him. Someone once said “If you can’t explain it to a 6 year old, you don’t understand it yourself”. I hope I gave Ben and Rosie a clear view of just how extraordinary and special this man is. In fact I said that in my opinion he is a living saint!
I can’t imagine a world without Nelson Mandela, I am sure it will be a poorer place. All my adult life he seems to have been in the news or making the news. I remember the protest marches, the Sharpeville Massacre which took place on 21 March 1960 and shocked the world. And how could anyone forget the fabulous song, “Free Nelson Mandela”, by the Specials. You can listen to it here and I bet you can’t keep your body still ~ you just have to dance! It reminds me of the cricket club I went to near Kisumu in Kenya with some friends in 1985. The Tanzanian band played all night until the early hours and the dancing was out of this world. I was lucky enough to go to one of the original tour concerts of Ladysmith Black Mambazo in 1987 too. I will never forget that night, especially the township jive!
So, while the irreplaceable 94 year old, is still struggling for survival in a Johannesburg hospital, I thought I would pay tribute to him in my blog. Firstly I would like to honour him by using his own name! He was named Rolihlahla Dalibhunga by his parents but was given his English name, Nelson, by a teacher on his first day at school. He is fondly known by his clan name – “Madiba” among his own people. It is from the Xhosa tribe to which he belonged.
He wrote his own story in a book called Long Walk to Freedom.
Mandela expressed his goal so eloquently from the dock in court in 1964 thus:
“I have cherished the ideal of a democratic and free society in which all persons live together in harmony and with equal opportunities,” he said.
“It is an ideal which I hope to live for and to achieve. But if needs be, it is an ideal for which I am prepared to die.”
I think that he achieved his life’s ambition and he has left a great legacy in the form of the Elders. They give me hope that the world will one day be a free, fair and just place for all people regardless of creed, colour or politics.
You can find all the facts and figures about Nelson Mandela’s life on the wonderful BBC site just click the link.
This ancient little church is a little gem which I normally drive right past on my way to pick up the grandchildren from school. It sits off the busy A417 which goes from Cirencester to Fairford. Today I decided to stop and have a look around. It was a bit drizzly but I still managed to get some photographs which I will put in a gallery for you to enjoy.
It is very ancient with the remains of a stone cross in the grounds where travelling monks would have given sermons originally. The church itself was built of local limestone rubble around 1250 and it has a very simple interior. Unusually it has a stone screen separating the nave from the chancel, or the people from the altar. It probably had a wooden screen over this with a crucifix on it in the early days. Originally there would have been no furniture or pews, just rushes on the stone floor where the people stood to hear Mass. Most of the windows looked leaded to me and one is particularly unusual as it is set in a single piece of carved stone. There is a very pretty bell tower which has a Sanctus Bell in it made about 1747 in Gloucester by Abel Rudhall. It carries the motto, “Peace and Good Neighbourhood”.
Above there is a very rugged looking wagon vault roof of oak beams.
The oldest things in the church are probably the original stone entrance archway which is now sealed up. On the outside, above this arch there is an ancient carving of a lion stamping on a two-headed serpent, representing good conquering evil. There is a griffon looking on. Apparently it is the only one of its kind in England. Inside the church there is a Norman stone font which is complete. Then there is the beautiful arched door which is ancient and solid made from elm or oak. It has the original metal hinges and handles.
Best of all inside are the remnants of wall paintings which were defaced then plastered over after the reformation. There are intriguing bits of these paintings gradually being revealed but you have to look very hard to make them out. I saw a face which I am sure is the Virgin Mary. I saw a number of saints including St Christopher with the infant Jesus. But try as I might I could not find St George and the dragon who is supposed to be depicted somewhere on the walls.
The history of this simple rural church is like a Disney story. The parish in common with much of England was hit by the Black Death in medieval times. So after 1350 the entire village with its remaining inhabitants was moved to higher ground in a nearby village. Any cottages left fell into ruins. The church was used less and less until eventually it was abandoned. Ivy grew over it until it was entirely covered, disappeared, and was forgotten. Doesn’t it have shades of Sleeping Beauty? A century ago in 1913 it was discovered again and all the ivy removed to reveal this lovely little gem of history. Since then it has been restored but with all its original features preserved.
The churchyard has a little stream running around it and a stone bridge which leads to a little wooded area. Beyond this there is Ampney Brook which was in full flow today. The ancient dry stone walls leading to the church from the brook are still there and I felt strange thinking of all those villagers of long ago who had trodden this same path to get to their little church. Some had maybe lived through the Black Death and floods which were the ruin of their way of life. Today there is a deep peace about the place and I am so glad I stopped to visit the Ivy Church.
This post is inspired by haiku heights word prompt. The word is ‘Betrayal’. It is a bit negative to be thinking about betrayal on such a lovely peaceful day, but there are always issues highlighted in the press which come under this theme. Today I saw a front page article in the Independent Newspaper about a 92 year old man who died waiting for a bed on a ward, having been left in a side room for 11 hours. This has got to be a betrayal by the NHS as an institution which is now seriously understaffed.
Unaccountable
Neglected, alone
Forgotten on a trolley
Died a lonely death
I read recently of workers in Bangladesh who died when the overcrowded and substandard factory building they worked in collapsed. They worked for little wages to produce garments for sale in our shops.
Unacceptable
In squalid sweatshops
They labour for a pittance
Dying for profit
Due to the Government’s austerity measures we are having to make lots of cuts in every area of society. But I was shocked to hear that soldiers returning from fighting (or peace keeping as it is referred to these days) in conflict zones around the world will lose their jobs when they return.
Unpatriotic
Returning from war
No thanks were they given, just
Redundancy notes
Of course the world’s problems have been largely caused by injustice and greed which in no little part has been fuelled by the big financial institutions. It seems strange to me that the ordinary people have to suffer the consequences while the rich continue as if nothing has happened.
Unabashed
Arrogant bankers
Brought their business to ruin
But took their bonus
The world’s political classes are of course most guilty of betrayal whether intentionally or not. They are the only people with the power to do something about the injustices in the world so what do they do?
Unbelievable
At summits they meet
To discuss the worlds’ starving
At black tie banquets
I could go on about betrayal of innocent, defenceless children who have been abused by their “carers”; +about animals that are kept captive or treated cruelly; about the sick and disabled who are being vilified in this country for needing benefits to live a basic existence; but I will finish with a heartfelt betrayal:-
Heavenhappens 