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The Spirit of Our School

Rest not! Life is sweeping by; go and dare before you die. Something mighty and sublime, leave behind to conquer time. — Goethe

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.

Although most of the staff who worked at the school have retired or moved on now, the frieze is still there in the school hall.  And with it is a little piece of all of us who made it.

Staff, Parents and Children helped make the tile frieze at jackfield Tile Museum
Anne Bate Williams Teacher and Artist was responsible for the whole project
Almost ready to paint with glaze, the design has been drawn onto the tiles

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Sunflower season

Golden Sunflowers

Yearning for enlightenment

Turn to face the sky

The sunflowers have been washed out this year in some parts of the Cotswolds due to the dreadful wet summer.  At Snowshill most of the young plants died as their roots rotted in the rain=soaked earth.  But there are still some sunflowers around and I delight in them.  The ones in my garden have just come into bloom and they are magnificent.

In Cheltenham ladies College there is a beautiful stained glass window depicting sunflowers ~ in Victorian times they were considered a symbol of faith in God as the sunflowers appear to be turning their heads to face Him.

I painted sunflowers on my summerhouse doors as for me they signify the arrival of Autumn, my favourite season.

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The power of powerlessness

One of my favourite blogs is “writingyourdestiny.com” and a phrase struck me in one of her posts, “I’m finding that even within chaos of a big move, we can create a sacred space by our attitude”.

This got me thinking and remembering one of the most significant and memorable meetings I have ever had.  It was with a young catholic priest called Tino from Lashio in Myanmar (Burma).

I met Tino while he visited the UK in 2010.  He was staying with my friends C&D.  At the time Burma was still in turmoil.  The 2010 elections were considered neither free nor fair as the people were too afraid to vote for any of the opposition parties, and the popular choice, Aung Sang Sui Kyi, had been sidelined.  The majority of people in Burma were living in abject poverty with few mod cons, and even the basics were difficult to get.

Tino himself grew up in poverty, repressed by the state, and trying to live his faith with all the odds stacked against him.  He lived 36 miles from the nearest Mass centre and would often walk for hours to get there.  As a child he had sometimes been carried there on the shoulders of the local priest who is now the Bishop of Lashio, Philip Lasap Za Hawng D.D.

Tino depended on C&D who sponsored him, for long term practical, financial and emotional support and along with aid from the church, for his continuing education and training to become a Priest.

When I was in the garden of their home I was overwhelmed by the aura of peace, contentment and holiness that Tino exudes.  He has the gentlest countenance I have ever seen on a man, yet strong, unafraid and self-assured; filled with compassion and love.

Tino was feeling unwell that day due to the unfamiliar and rich food he had been eating, but he showed no sign of irritation with visitors.  He just made himself quietly available to bring the love of God and his own peace to all who came near.

It was a wonderful experience and a great privilege to meet such an inspirational man.  Who would have thought that in the last few months things have changed so much in Burma.  Aung Sang Sui Kyi is now a free woman.  She and her party won a landslide vistory in the April 2012 elections.  She was able to travel to Oxford to be reunited with her family, friends and colleagues.  Tino is able to continue his studies in Rome.  And I am able to write this post knowing that Burma has just ended censorship of the press:

 http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2012/aug/20/burma-ends-advance-press-censorship

Tino and Aung Sang Sui Kyi have a serenity common to many Burmese which seems to come from a place deep within.  They have the ability to keep a still heart and a quiet mind regardless of what goes on around them.  It is impressive and reminds me of Meister Eckhart‘s words:

“The most powerful prayer, one well nigh omnipotent, and the worthiest work of all is the outcome of a quiet mind.  To the quiet mind all things are possible.  A quiet mind is one which nothing weighs on, nothing worries…”

 

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Getting to know Dayna

My little Dachsund, Dayna, is settling in quite well after a few minor hiccups!  As soon as I picked her up from her previous home last Thursday, I popped into the Pets At Home Store.  There I rashly bought 3 very large bags of a good quality dog food, one chicken, one beef and one vegetable variety, which she flatly refuses to eat.  I also bought a canvas cage for her to sleep in ~ which she absolutely refuses to get into.  I bought a lovely red extending lead to match her very sparkly red collar, which she chewed through during her first walk.

My wonderful dog-loving daughter in Vermont had sent me 3 books packed full of guidance on training your dog:

How to Raise the Perfect Dog by Cesar Millan

How to be your dogs Best Friend by The Monks of New Skete

Dog Stories ~ Everyman Pocket Classics.

I found these books insightful and very helpful, but obviously Dayna has previously read one called How to Get your Owner to Do Whatever You Want, so she wins hands down.  One week and three leads later we have got to know each other a little better and Dayna has got me trained.

Dayna loves pouches of lamb and rice with vegetables or tins of expensive dog food ~ not dry food ~ 3 large bags of which will now be donated to the local animal rescue centre.

Dayna will walk for miles very happily with a short chain metal lead.  She has no interest in being on a long extension but prefers to be within a couple of inches of my feet ~ preferably between them so I am in danger of tripping.

Dayna has no intention of ever sleeping in a cage, however sofly padded or confortably den-like, whatever the Monks of New Skete say!  She prefers to sleep within licking distance of my foot in a soft bed with a fluffy cushion.

Today has been wonderful for both of us.  She has been with me for every minute.  First, we went back to the Pets at Home store and bought a supply of the food Dayna loves;  We drove to Pershore for the Plum Festival and sat outside a cafe in the sun; We took Gerry to the dialysis centre and went for a walk; We cut all the Lavender bushes and bundled up the fabulous smelling lavender to hang up and dry, then went for another long walk;  Lastly we drove back to the dialysis centre, where Dayna scrutinised every man who came out as she waited for the one she has designated the ‘leader of our pack’.

How can something so tiny have so much control?  I don’t know but she gives me everything I wanted from a dog:

Loyalty, trust, companionship, healthy walks, fun, and bucket-loads of love.  I think she is worth her weight in gold.

 

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Sanctuary ~ a Sacred Space

My Sanctuary

At WI I received a lovely gift in the lucky dip.  It was a silver bag containing a little silver and diamanté heart and 2 bottles of Sanctuary; a brand of luxury bathroom products.  It was lovely, although as I only have a shower, it may be passed to someone else!

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 exhausted from full time working, and spent a year seeking ‘sanctuary’ from a life so busy that it had overwhelmed me.  Being too ill 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.

At the time I was reading “Landmarks”, An Ignatian Journey, by Margaret Silf and the book inspired me to consider my faith journey.  Knowing that the Domain in Lourdes has been the most formative place in my faith life, and thinking (wrongly) that I might never be well enough 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 Lourdes and I loved it.  In my summerhouse I looked deep inside my self; I wrote my life story; I restored my spirit; I emerged a different person.

Sadly, I had to move home 3 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.

Glass-Painted Summerhouse Doors My sacred space in winter
Winter Glass-Painted Summerhouse Door
Spring and Summer Glass-Painted Summerhouse Doors
Glass-Painted Summerhouse doors My sacred space in summer
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Dayna the Long Haired Dachsund

Dayna, my new companion

At last my new forever friend has found me.

When I was a child there was always a dog around; Rip, Aunty Gracie’s dog; Peter, my Grandad’s dog, then Patch and Smudge at home.  When I first started teaching and lived in a flat with my much loved and mourned friend, Pat, we got a Basset Hound called Henry.  He was the greediest dog in the world and we just could not keep him, so he ended up living in the lap of luxury (and drinking pints of beer I heard), with Pat’s mum and dad!

I have had two faithful dogs in my life since I got married and had children.  The first was Nellie, a Miniature Wire-haired Dachshund, (blind in one eye hence the name Nellie from Nelson), that I got when she was just 10 weeks old.  I chose the smallest dog I could find as my young son was wary of dogs.  Having always loved dogs I wanted to introduce him to a breed that would be smaller than he was and therefore non-threatening.    Nellie became our adored family pet through 3 more children, two house moves and a divorce!  Nellie had such a distinctive character; funny, cute and with an intense devotion to the children.  When I was at work and the children were at school, Nellie would squeeze under the gate and take herself off to my mum’s for the day to wait for our return.  Mum lived in the same road as us and people were always amused to see this tiny dog trotting along purposefully as if going to the office!

In the record-breaking hard winter of 1982 when we were snowbound for weeks and Nellie couldn’t go out without disappearing into a snow drift, we were adopted by a cat called Sommy (after Somerton Lock where he was fished out of the canal as a kitten).  Nellie and Sommy became inseparable and we were never sure whether Sommy thought he was a dog, or Nellie thought she was a cat!  Whatever it was, Nellie adopted the cat and for the rest of their lives they slept in the same bed.  When Nellie was 171/2 years old she died of old age. Within a month Sommy died too, leaving an enormous hole in our lives.

After a gap when our only pets were hamsters we acquired our second faithful friend.  It was in 1993 when my much loved dad died, that Jenny and I went with my mum to help her choose a puppy as a companion.  She chose a beautiful black and white pedigree Cocker Spaniel which she called Tess.  While my mum and I were focusing on Tess, Jenny had been chosen by another of the puppies, a blue roan cocker spaniel.  This puppy followed jenny everywhere so, needless to say, as Mum went home with Tess, we went home with Blue.

Blue was the sweetest, most gentle and loving dog we could have had.  Living opposite a park she got plenty of exercise but the one thing she hated was the car.  It was hopeless trying to take her on journeys as she just cried from the minute we got her into it.  However she had a lovely life, adored by all the family.  She looked like a puppy all her life until she became very ill and sadly the vet advised us to let her go peacefully, which we did.  She was a grand old 141/2 years.

By the time Blue died all my children had grown and flown (literally in 3 cases!), so I did not feel the need to get a new dog.  I was happy taking Jenny’s dog, Frank, for walks while she was at work.  But since Frank died at a ripe old age I have really missed having a dog to walk and love.

I have been searching the rescue and re-homing centres for weeks with no luck; until yesterday!   Gerry was searching the internet at the hospital for puppies in the Cotswolds, and I was searching the internet from home.  There were so many adorable puppies available and I did ring up for one or two, but then I spotted Dayna.  She is not a puppy at 5 years old but she needed a new home.  Something about her eyes appealed to me and I rang up and arranged a visit.  From the minute I walked in I just knew she was the one.  She is quiet, gentle and loves to be near people.  She really knew how to get me hooked, sitting on my lap with her eyes looking deep into mine.  Knowing how easily persuaded I am, I decided that I needed a more objective view ~ Gerry would have to meet her too!  It was with some trepidation that I drove him to meet her straight from the hospital.  But I need not have worried; she totally won him over too!  We took her home there and then.  We were given a lead and a raincoat for her but no bed, blanket or toys which surprised me.  We bought new ones on the way home but sadly she had nothing familiar to comfort her.

Last night was difficult as she was in strange surroundings and she was a bit restless during the night.  I probably did all the wrong things, putting her new bed right by my bed so she was near us, but eventually she fell asleep.  She woke me ridiculously early ~ 6.30am!  And totally untrue to form I got up and took her for a walk!  She walked beautifully but did not wee until she got home!  Bit of a hiccup there as it was in the hall, but fortunately there were towels and blankets down which saved the carpet!

Today she has eaten well and drunk her water and is still peaceful and adorable.  Any advice on how to help her settle in smoothly will be gratefully received!  And especially any advice on how to encourage her to wee outside!!

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Argentine Tango at the WI!

It was such an exciting evening at the last WI meeting.  There was passionate, fiery and exotic music, rare footage of filmed tango, a fascinating talk and beautiful dancing demonstrations.  Janet Earl and Adrian Barsby, who teach together but are not regular partners, did a double act chatting in a relaxed fashion and inviting members to ask questions or interrupt whenever they wished, rather than wait until the end.  The talk was so informative, explaining the background and history of the dance as well as describing the different types of tango.

They explained that Tango is a social partner dance which originated in South America.  In spite of its name, ‘Argentinian Tango’, Uruguay and Chile also lay claim to originating it. Argentine Tango should not be confused with ballroom tango which is a sanitised version of the dance developed in Europe in the 1920s and 1930s because the Argentine brand was considered a little too steamy.

Salon tango (the most social version) is a fully improvised dance, though it clearly follows rules which give it its appearance. The leader, who is usually the man, expresses himself by interpreting the music in his own steps and those which he invites the follower, usually the woman, to make. Historically, there is an element of “showing off” the woman by making her dance well. Their classes are generally based around this style of tango.  There is often a tragic story being danced out!

Another style of tango is called Canyengue, which has a slightly higher stepping characteristic (possibly due to its having been dance in the sawdust and blood on slaughterhouse floors).

Tango Fantasia is a show version of the dance which is more likely to be choreographed and includes aspects of jazz and ballet dancing.

Socially, dancers also dance Milonga, which is more uplifting and happy, and Vals (Waltz) which is more graceful. Tango is danced in bars of two beats each but phrased in two lots of two bars, giving a phrase of 8 beats. Milonga is also in bars of two beats each, but phrased two bars at a time. Vals is in bars of 3 beats (though usually fast enough to be in 1), where the first beat of each bar “corresponds to a whole beat in tango”.

Janet and Adrian explained the instrument used in tango traditionally is the Bandoneon which is rather like an accordion.   They played beautiful recordings of Tango music on the instrument.  They delighted us by showing a clip of Rudolph Valentino and Alice Terry dancing in “the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse” in 1921.

They explained how Tango spread to USA and came to Europe in the 1920s, mentioning lots of very famous singers, dancers and musicians whose names I cannot spell ~ Carlos di Sarli, Asto Piazzolla among them!

Janet showed us her beautiful dance outfits and her exquisite shoes, which she buys in Argentina.  They finished by recommending several performances of Tango that members may wish to see locally:-

Tango at the Music Festival on 11th July, Tango, Tango at the Roses Theatre in October, Midnight Tango in Oxford and Bristol in July etc.

A fabulous night out!

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Bus stop Brenda

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I woke up very early one morning to the sound of a pickaxe pounding the pavement opposite my house.   Being naturally curious as well as a member of the Neighbourhood Watch scheme I got up to see what was going on.  And there they were, two men, one ‘little’ and one ‘large’, digging holes in the pavement right opposite my front window!  On the back of their white flatbed truck they had an assortment of tools and what looked suspiciously like a bus shelter.  Since no-one had contacted us to inform us that this might be happening I rushed out in my pyjamas to find out what authority they had for the work.  They told me that we should have been contacted, but their orders were to put up a bus shelter right there.

Now as you can just see from the photo my house is right opposite a lovely park with a stream and a small wood which is a delight throughout the year.  I simply could not allow an ugly bus shelter to block my view.  Yes I am a NIMBY!

‘Large’, who clearly underestimated the power of a woman in pyjamas,  said there was nothing I could do about it as they had their orders.  I said well you can’t carry your orders out if I am sitting in the hole, which I promptly did ~ yes …. in my pyjamas.  At this point ‘little’ got into the van to have a smoke and ‘large’ very gallantly offered me his fluorescent yellow jacket as it was starting to rain.

Knowing me well and realising I would not be backing down any time soon my long suffering husband brought me out a cup of tea and a telephone to ring the council.  Pah!  The same council who had not even bothered to inform, never mind consult, the residents, I would not be wasting my time phoning them – anyway it was far too early.  I would phone my MP direct.  Fortunately I had his number as this is not the first protest I have been involved in.  Poor ‘large’ was completely thrown when my call was put straight through to the MP’s mobile as he was at the House …. of Commons that is!

By now ‘little’ had started to get edgy and asked how long I was planning on sitting in the hole.  I informed him that I could stay there as long as it took to get the decision reversed, so he called his boss.  At this point passers by on their way to work had started to notice and one even took photos.  I began to realise I was causing a bit of a stir – and so did ‘little’ and ‘large’.  They reported this to their boss along with the fact that I was on the phone to my MP.  ‘The Boss’ immediately ordered them to fill in the hole and abandon the site.

Quite bewildered but in very good humour the two men did as told and tarmacked over the holes.  They never did come back and to this day there is no bus stop opposite the house, just beautiful views.

As a postscript to this I will just say that the next day I was taking my elderly mother to the cemetery to put flowers on dad’s grave when we passed the local newsagents.  Mum looked at the display of newspapers in the window and said – “you’re in the papers!”  To my horror on the front page was the not very fetching photo of me sitting in a hole wearing my pj’s and a yellow fluorescent jacket!

The world and his brother have seen it and that is how I came to be known as “bus stop brenda”.

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Illuminating Blogger Award

Being a relatively new blogger and naturally inclined to need feedback from more experienced bloggers, I am thrilled to receive The Illuminating blogger  award from Karen Wan.

I know not everyone enjoys receiving awards as they involve a bit of an effort, but being a Leo I need all the praise I can get!  So thank you Karen  http://writingyourdestiny.com

The rules for the Illuminating Blogger Award are simple.

You just need to share one random thing about yourself and thank the person who recommended you.  The one random thing that I’m sharing is that I am off to London on Thursday to the National Federation of Women’s Institutes Head Office. I am really looking forward to this as there will be lots of interesting and inspiring women talking.  It also gives me a chance to promote the wonderful book Coin Street Chronicles written by Gwen Southgate.  I don’t know Gwen and have never met her but her book deserves to be widely read.  It was very well received in the USA, where Gwen lives now, and I really want to promote it in UK where it is set.

My nominations for the Illuminating Blogger award are also other blogs that I enjoy reading.

illuminating posts: http://myhappinessexperiment.wordpress.com

http://fivereflections.wordpress.com

http://patcegan.wordpress.com

I hope you will visit them, they will enrich your day x

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Crocodile Water Spout

I mentioned the crocodile water spout in my last blog but forgot to attach my photos so they are below.  I love the fact that a respected cotswold stone builder from the nearby village of Hazleton built this feature in the 19th Century.  Presumably some local landowner paid for it.  The spring water has been gushing out of the crocodile’s mouth ever since.  Some days, like yesterday, after lots of heavy rain, it is a truly spectacular sight.

Yesterday, as I took photos of the crocodile from every angle, a  young boy was walking with his father to St Oswald’s Church, which is set on the hill right above the crocodile.  He is clearly used to jumping the stream to save walking all the way along the road.  I don’t know whether it was his desire to show off or his amazement at seeing a ‘mature’ lady photographing water coming out of a spring, but whatever distracted him he landed right in the fast flowing water.  I had to smile as he walked up the hill to church with soaking wet shoes and very soggy trouser bottoms!

I wish I could capture the sound of the pure rushing water for you but my photos will have to do.  I marvel at the fact that nature produces a constant supply of fresh water for us here.  Would that other parts of the world were so lucky.

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Summer Sunday

Sweet the skylark’s song,

Over fields of lavender,

Where tireless swifts soar.

The sun shone today for the first time in ages so I went off up the hills above Broadway to Snowshill and the Cotswold Lavender Farm.  The wonderful aroma of lavender fills the air here, it is a heavenly place.   I could hear a skylark singing his heart out although I could not see him.  But the sky was filled with the swifts; ceaselessly hungry they swoop and soar for flies.  They had to share the sky with a bi-plane which was looping the loop and doing wonderful aerobatic tricks, leaving smoke trails between the clouds.

On the way home I was brought to a halt so many times in farm gateways by the beauty of the Cotswolds.  I was mesmerised by a sloping field full of hares!  I have rarely seen hares in the wild but today there were whole groups of them feeding happily in full view and occasionally jumping for joy.  It was a privilege to watch them and take photos.

I meandered through Compton Abdale so that I could see the ‘crocodile’.  This is a very old stone carved to look like a crocodile which covers a natural spring so the water gushes out of its mouth.  It looked strange today dressed for the jubilee with a flower crown on its head!  There is a tradition of well dressing in England which apparently stretches to springs too!

I could not resist taking a photo of a typical Cotswold stone house complete with roses by the door and wisteria round the gate.

I will post my photos below for you to enjoy.

Field of Rapeseed
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Field of Rapeseed

Rapeseed 18

For those of you who enjoyed the photos of the poppy fields in the Cotswolds I thought I would post a photo I took last month of a Rapeseed field.  There is something new every month in the Cotswolds.  Before the rapeseed there was blossom everywhere from the fruit trees and before that there were the magnolias, snowdrops and daffodils.  Maybe I should do a month by month pictorial journal of Cotswold Flora with a side order of lovely buildings and scenery!  So let’s start with January when we get Hellebores quickly followed by snowdrops, crocuses and aconites.  I took this photo of  wild snowdrops in the woods ………

In February I spotted daffodils at Lindors Country House which is a retreat centre and hotel in the Forest of Dean and at Prinknash Abbey which is my favourite place in the whole world …….

In March  the weather was good and the Magnolias were out early…….

In April the fruit trees were covered in blossom.  The apple blossom is in my garden where I have 2 apple trees and 2 pear trees, 1 quince tree and a cherry tree so I get a good variey of blossom! ………

  In May the rapeseed fields brightened up the fields high up in the Cotswolds………..

Of course the most beautiful time in the Cotswolds is lambing time.  Here are some very happy sheep at hailes Abbey …..

 

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Poppy time in the Cotswolds

Cotswold Countryside,

Golden harvest, honeyed stone

Punctured by poppies

It is hard to  describe the beauty of the Cotswolds in June or the joy I feel when I suddenly come across stray poppies in the hedgerow, clusters by the roadside or profusions swamping a field of corn.   But a picture paints a thousand words so enjoy my photos!

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Finding the still point

Cast off by the sea,

Sandstone, beauty concealing,

Pure quartz lies entombed.

Just back from a holiday on the Jurassic coast of Dorset (www.jurassiccoast.com), I am reflecting on how much I enjoyed the break.  Being by the sea in lovely weather is such a joy,  and May in Dorset is especially magical.  The rhododendrons, azaleas and camellias are in full bloom; the young swans are hatching in their hundreds at Abbotsbury Swannery, and the national collection of water lilies at Chickerell is breathtakingly beautiful.

We stay in the simplest of log cabins in an area of total peace and quiet with awesome views.  It certainly raises the spirits and clears the mind when you have no network coverage on your phone, no TV, no internet and no computer to distract you!  I planned to do lots of writing but I didn’t.  Instead I read Thomas Hardy’s poetry, and, taking inspiration from the natural world around me, I did lots of drawings and zentangles – yoga for the brain!

Going on holiday gives us opportunities to open our hearts and minds to wonder and beauty.  We have time to notice the lamb sleeping by his mother; the blue tit helping itself to the crumbs from your picnic; the poppies growing by the roadside and the cygnet trying in vain to hide under the mother’s wing.

I realise that these small beautiful moments are happening all around me all the time, the difference is I take notice when I am on holiday.

“Two men looked out through prison bars,

One saw mud and the other saw stars”

I don’t know where or when I first found this quote, but it is so relevant.  Life is not on anyone’s side ~ it just goes on ~ and we make of it what we will.  Whatever happens to us we have choices about how we feel and what we focus on ~ is it the mud or the stars?

The Haiku is about a very ordinary stone I found on Chesil Beach.  It is a type of sandstone, roughly shaped by the sea over millennia.  But on turning it over I saw a deep hole, like a cave in the stone, filled with quartz crystals.  The beauty of it seemed to reveal the sacred hidden in a most unexpected place.

When I worked for a time at Prinknash Abbey I used to share the chores with a wonderful old monk.  He was always so happy, building up the fire, sweeping the floor, even scrubbing out enormous pots and pans.  His philosophy was to treat every task as a gift to God, not a sacrifice.  He fully immersed himself in each task, doing it with reverence and radiating peace and stillness.  I suppose today we would call this “mindfulness”, I called it the sacrament of the moment and I try hard to follow his example.

On holiday in Dorset I think I succeeded in seeing the good in everything I did as my photos below will show.  I hope you enjoy them.

Lovers for life
Thomas hardy’s house in Dorset
Sunset on Chesil Beach
Water Lily
Bleeding Heart Flowers
Footprints on Chesil Beach
Abbotsbury Swannery
Chesil Beach
Lily in Dorset
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Coin Street Chronicles

Having just celebrated the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee and been amazed by Her Majesty’s strong constitution, sense of humour and resilience, I have been reflecting on all that her generation have lived through.

This led me to a book, beautifully written by Gwen Southgate, called Coin Street Chronicles, which was recommended to me by an American friend.   Gwen was born in 1929 into a very poor but caring family, and grew up in the Waterloo District of London.  By the time she was 10 the World War had started and Gwen, along with all her classmates was evacuated to the Dorset countryside.  Gwen moved six times over the next few years and grew in maturity with a very positive attitude to life, despite its hardships.  Gwen was a very intelligent girl and devoured books.  Her teachers were amazed that, although she spoke with a strong cockney accent, she wrote in beautiful prose.

Eventually Gwen managed to get to London University where she studied Science, and met her future husband!  She taught Science in high schools for many years.  She married and had 2 children before moving to Chicago.  She had two more children before moving finally to Princeton, USA.

When Gwen retired from teaching she started writing her memoir as a legacy for her children.  It took her 15 years. Her remarkable memory and the ability to recall every detail from a child’s perspective enabled her to write vividly and with humour and sensitivity.   She published her book herself in America through iUniverse and gave readings for friends and book groups.  Her book was passed from friend to friend and grew very popular through personal recommendation.  In fact it became so popular that it was an Editor’s Choice book from the beginning and won a Star award!   On the American Amazon site there are 23 wonderful reviews and everyone gives Coin Street Chronicles a 5 star rating.  It has been read by academics, editors, reviewers and has twice been likened to the writing of George Orwell.

My review of Coin Street Chronicles

Coin Street Chronicles was recommended to me by a friend who lives in London.  We both thoroughly enjoy wandering the streets of London and finding out about the buildings, streets and boroughs, and what life was like for the residents in years gone by.

The houses in Coin Street are long gone and the area is now part of the very glamorous South Bank with its wonderful riverside walk.  But reading the book transports us back to how it was before, during and after the Second World War.  The book also covers parts of Wales, Sussex and Dorset where Gwen and her little brothers spent years as evacuees.  It is a snapshot of a 20 year period when life was so different from today.

But having read the book, devouring it would be more accurate, I can’t stop thinking about it.  This book is so much more than a memoir, although as a memoir it is brilliant.  All of life is here in its pages.  There is history, humour, pathos, tragedy, wisdom and truth revealed, which is almost Shakespearean.  The book is simply written, in a conversational style, but it deals with issues that are relevant to us all whatever our age or personal situation.

There are complex family relationships, childhood confusion and misunderstanding, education problems, teenage angst, marital difficulties and the problems of living with family members with a range of physical, emotional or mental difficulties.

It is fascinating to read a firsthand account of coping with air raids, bombings, food rationing, evacuation, homelessness and poverty.  Beneath all that there is the gradual revelation of how misinterpretations or misunderstandings between family members can lead to alienation and lifelong estrangements.  My heart breaks for Bertie and Derek and I think Gwen should write another book just about them!

But the part of the book that will stay with me is the complexity of the parent/child relationship.  For a variety of reasons Gwen and her mother had a difficult relationship and it was only when writing the book that she felt she truly understood what a wonderful woman she had been.

I think everyone would gain from reading Coin Street Chronicles: the elderly for the memories of a time gone by, the middle aged to truly appreciate what their parents lived through and the young to help them understand themselves and their parents.

I think it would make a wonderful radio play or TV programme and it should be required reading in schools as part of History lessons.

Brenda Kimmins

It is available in the UK to order from various bookstores, or to buy or download online.

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Acquainted with the Night

Following on from an earlier post about how the Artist’s Way and journalling helped me when I was feeling very low, I thought I would pass on another tip for beating those dark night’s of the soul ~ walking.  I revisited a poem that sums up how I felt then and I thought I would copy it here for you.  I used to walk 3 to 6 miles a night, regardless of the weather, while it was dark and quiet  so I could think my own thoughts.  The fresh air and exercise is a great way to aid sleep as well as soothe the mind.

Now that I am well I still walk ~ but in daylight and looking outward at the beauty in the world around me ~ not looking inward at my cares and woes.

It may seem obvious, but it may help others to know that the bad times pass.  Life is so short, it is worth living to the full.

Acquainted with the Night

I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain — and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.

I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.

I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,

But not to call me back or say good-bye;
And further still at an unearthly height,
A luminary clock against the sky

Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night.

Robert Frost