Shorter days, longer shadows . . .

Good Afternoon Dear Friends!

Welcome to the study at Myrtle House at just a shadow before 3 pm . . . following a rather damp and drizzly morning, a splendidly sunny day is gracing proceedings, albeit with a decidedly autumnal feel and so soon despite the sunshine, flames will lap and lick at coals and the scent of ginger and orange oil will float through the air and suffuse the later afternoon with the spice and promise of the coming seasonal occurrences . . . and so here I sit with tea at my hand and write to you, wherever you may be, which is not here.

Living in the Victorian Quarter in autumn is a very sensual experience nasally; I'm sure I have mentioned before about the wonderful fragrance of the local Santus mint ball factory which wafts gracefully around the environs . . . this Sal and I usually pick up on our way to the Parish Church Gardens - one of our daily constitutionals - it walks with us, protecting us from unpleasant odours, until it hands us over to the waiting arms of the Allgates Brewery, whose warm hoppy mash wraps us in invisible fleecy cotton wool until the gardens are behind us and the familiar figure of Uncle Joe is encountered waiting patiently at the stepped exit to the gardens, with the backdrop of railways behind him . . . all very À la recherche du temps perdu ! This morning our walk took us along the streets of the Old Duchess' childhood and through the still lovely Mesnes ( pronounced mains!) Park where the photograph above was captured in the Pagett Rose Garden . . . I do feel I am so fortunate to live in Myrtle House; so close to the centre of the town and yet so peaceful  and only a few minutes away from access to the local countryside . . .

So what has been happening since last we met? Well, the counselling practice I mentioned before is officially up and running - you can see details of it at our website here which is, I hasten to add, still in it's early days and not yet as swish as it could be, but the practice itself is really quite sweet - we're deeply involved in the process of putting together all the promotional literature etc which seems to take an age but we will I'm sure get there eventually.  We are located in a little backwater just off Wigan Lane - the website has a map and directions - far enough away from the hustle and bustle of everyday life to be a sort of little oasis of calm and serenity . . . you can expect a few photographs of the interior to follow shortly; I may even pop one or two in this post if I can get them back from the chemist in time . . . that was a joke for my older readers naturally! 

Meanwhile the year turns and all things autumnal come to pass at a rate which seems swifter each year - before you know it Halloween will be upon us, then Bonfire Night and then it's a swift slide in the snow to Christmas . . . oh hum where does the time go?  When thoughts like this invade my bonce I try to remember to slow down and stop if possible; and to taste and savour each moment and live in it rather than speed ahead and miss the now . . . not always easy but often very profitable . . . I think the world of retail is very much to blame for this chronological confusion with its propensity to advertise Halloween in September, Christmas in October and Easter eggs in November - madness! Even though I can buy lovely German Christmas biscuits and enjoy them now - which I do, of course - it still feels somehow wrong; unseasonal maybe, like winter strawberries . . .

And so with those musings I shall put down my pen figuratively speaking, take up my cup and head to the kitchen for a refill  . . . the choice of activities awaiting me could be a good read by the fire or, as has been haunting my mind over the past few days, a hour or so in the company of the delightfully sweet and batty Margaret Rutherford  - there was only ever one Miss Marple and it was she!

I hope you all are happy and glad to feel the pulse in your veins; may the rest of your weekend be filled to the brim with love and happiness, and may there be enough to slop over into the saucer of the week ahead.

'til next time

Be Seeing You !

ॐ

In Memorium

Steve Jobs  1955 - 2011

I'd just like to add my voice to the many millions around the world who are mourning the loss of a very talented individual.  I didn't know him or ever meet him but I am, as you know, an Apple fan - though much to old and staid to be a fan-boy!

I use an iPhone4 and this blog is being written on a MacBook Air - the ease of use and sheer joy which these objects bring into my life would be reason enough, in my book, to want to remember him. I have never enjoyed interfacing with technology as much.

I know that, if you aren't a card-carrying member of the crew like me, you may wonder what all the fuss is about; well, that's fair enough.  As I wrote in the early hours when I heard the news, let's just remember that a family have lost someone today, as have many families around the world.  I'm choosing to remember them all but think of one in particular.

'til next time

Be Seeing You !

ॐ

Painting: The art of protecting flat surfaces from the weather, and exposing them to the critics . . .

Good Morning Dear Friends . . .

And welcome to the study at Myrtle House, just slightly before breakfast, on a quite unseasonable first day of October from where, I am glad to say, three white rabbits - the usual suspects - clad somewhat bizarrely in bermuda shorts, send their familiar monthly welcoming greet!

What a bizarre few days we have had: whether the little summer of St Luke (October 18th) beginning slightly early or perhaps, in a more Mediterranean frame of mind, Veranillo del Membrillo or the summer of the quince as they call it in Spain,  it has certainly been welcome; definitely a season of Magosotos rather than mist and mellow fruitfulness!

I have spent these glorious dog days not basking and topping up my non-existent tan, but being heavily involved in a rather exciting and yet terrifying project; along with a good friend - and excellent counsellor and hypnotherapist - I have decided to take the leap into the unknown and set up a private practice!  Now whilst this sounds like something off Young Doctors or some other antipodean drivel, it in fact involved a long slog around lots of unsuitable premises until one was found that fitted the bill as closely as time and money would allow - I had in fact used this place in a previous life to edit and shoot film, bizarrely enough!  Since then it's been one long giddy social whirl of undercoat, and overcoats and gloss and emulsion and lamps and chairs and - well, I'm exhausted and probably need counselling but we are more or less ready . . . in between all this I've been putting together a simple web site - with much guidance and head-shaking from the kindly Sam @Gecko  with the result that we should be launched onto an unsuspecting world on or around October the 10th - eek!

I shan't pre-empt the launch by hinting at anything as mundane as the name and address of the practice but can reveal that it will act as an affiliation of practitioners and will provide facilities for other therapists seeking space to practice, so if you're one of them keep your eyes peeled too !

Sal has been a tad grumpy as her walks have been relegated whilst the dreadful but necessaries on the practice have been completed; to be honest though the heat does not sit too well with her where walks are concerned and so early mornings and evenings fit the bill much better . . . this does not stop her sitting at home in grumpiness, very kindly opening and shredding my mail for me . . . I sometimes, in a bout of forensic activity, manage to read some of it too.  Still, today is a Saturday and other than a bout of retail therapy later, it is a day to chill and relax ( note: not chillax  - whatever that may be!) and dismiss my already very forgettable and deplorable painting skills until at least tomorrow; the front door does need another coat, ah me . . .

With all this swirling around my bounce there has been little space for the old writing compartment of my life and less for wondering what can possibly be happening on the Isle of Jura with my prize winning story . . . today is the official 7 monthaversary of the announcement of my winning this coveted prize - surely, as gestations go, that is long enough? I could have walked, caught and individually flayed the deer population of the island (c 5000) and used their pelts as a cover for a limited edition version publication in less time . . . call me impatient but I'm impatient! I can feel an (other) email coming on !

However, that will probably wait until I have breakfasted and had a matutinal meander with my micturating mammal - mate before the the sun gets too high in the sky . . .  Have a delightful day and a wonderful weekend filled, once again, with sunshine and love.

"til next time

Be Seeing You! 

ॐ

C'est un chanson qui nous ressemble . . . *

Good Evening Dear Friends . . .

I'm so glad you decided to pop in, despite the weather which, whilst certainly worth complaining about as per usual, is at least somewhat seasonal . . . we are fast approaching Autumn  - only eight more days to go - and the weather is sufficiently gusty and wet to allow us to cast our minds back the the heady days (counted upon the fingers of one hand probably) of "Summer" - you remember? That week in May, wasn't it?  Anyhow, here you are in spite of  the squalls, so take a seat near the fire, I shall rustle up a pot of tea and we shall see where the evening takes us . . .

First of all it has been an inexcusably long time since I last posted; at that time the first white rabbit of the month had just revealed the tips of its snowy ears; now the only thing remaining is the tail and the oink as it were - not that rabbits have an 'oink' obviously, but I use this phrase as it is a much belovéd remnant of my childhood and one that I rarely get to utilise these days . . . so what has been happening in the intervening time since the last posting here? 

Well, now that I am sitting in the study in front of my lovely little Book of the Air I have to be totally honest and say not a great deal at all - but I suppose a little goes a long way and takes up much time in a quantum kind of way . . . I am, by the by, a big fan of science even though I understand very little of it; I especially love the weirdness that is the quantum world and, as it says in Maggie McKee's Introduction to Quantum World:

Quantum objects can exist in multiple states and places at the same time, requiring a mastery of statistics to describe them. Rife with uncertainty and riddled with paradoxes, the theory has been criticised for casting doubt on the notion of an objective reality - a concept many physicists, including Albert Einstein, have found hard to swallow.

Now how did we get onto that subject? Hmmm . . . Well, I suppose it's because I seem to have been thinking a lot about thinking really; I've been trying to understand why I think the way I do and therefore why I make the decisions I do  - and why I have made those I have have made in the past.  I suppose the way we think describes and dictates who we are and the way we behave: I think, therefore I am, as old René D was oft want to say . . . I do find it strange that something like thinking which takes up all of our conscious and unconscious time is something that lots of us rarely consider;  we tend to block it out by being busy or by anaesthasising ourselves in some way, yet spending time considering it, asking some seemingly simple questions, can give some fascinating insights into our very own world, the quantum world that is our inner self that is often "rife with uncertainty and riddled with paradoxes " too 

And so, along with this reductio absurdum, come thoughts for new works and revisits of old ones; I can see patterns in the way I write that show I've been asking the same questions over and over again, just using different words . . . some of these examples are to be collected together for the first time in "Ex Libris Somnia" a collection of shorter short stories and poems which I could have sworn I'd already told you about but, flicking through the last few posts, can find no mention of . . . all this thinking is causing a few of the old circuits to burn out perhaps! Anyhow, it's a wee anthology of stuff and of which more later - perhaps!

Last week saw the first  birthday post-mortem of the Old Duchess; I thought perhaps it might be a sad time but was pleasantly surprised to have only happy thoughts.  Whether this is because of the amount of time I spend dealing with bereavement or, more likely I feel, that I am convinced that she died when she was ready to and that there was nothing else left for her to give on this particular plane . . . Anyhow, the day was spent with Sister Cate - my other sister being waterlogged and unable to attend - we did some very mundane things; had tea and cake, shopped etc and, alongside these everyday activities that constitute Life, remembered her with happiness - which, I believe, is all one can ask. A small notice was placed in the local rag, along with a copy of the poem I wrote for the funeral service (not my idea I hasten to add) along with other memorials from the OD's sister and her family.  One aspect I found interesting was that I know that some of my clients have had issues with graves; some really need somewhere to go to talk to their loved ones or to place flowers; others avoid such places as though death is, in some way, catching! May's ashes were scattered onto the sea and so there isn't anywhere to place flowers or to go to talk to her . . . and I find, to my relief, that I really don't mind; I don't need to go to that place as it is already within me.

So that being the time before what of the time that will be? What joys await yours truly in the forthcoming days? Well, I'm doing a little secret planning for a venture into the world of mind bending with a lovely chap who I had the very good fortune to meet a couple of years ago; we are planning a meeting in the coming days to take the idea to the next stage which is exciting.  It has taken some time to put together but, thanks in no small part to the absolutely fantastic support of the two dearest friends I have in the world - you know who you are - I am ready to go for it . . . intrigued? Ah, don't be, it's not that exciting . . . well, it could be !  Another meet with Sister Cate is also on the cards - we are slowly working our way through repairing our senses and this week should see new eyes ( or glasses at least) for her whilst I very seriously need to consider getting some kind of ear-trumpet as I am becoming more and more deaf! Last week I visited a Buddhist Centre in Cheshire for a study class in meditation; it was over subscribed and I was seated about ten feet away from the monk who was leading it.  He was quite softy spoken, as one would expect, but even so I was applied by the fact that I picked out about one word in twenty if I was lucky! my friend who was with me had to tap me on the hand to tell me when the meditation part was over . . . so it's off to see my trusted Dr Liam and see if audiology will do anything for me. Whenever I get together with Cate I am reminded of May and her brother Derek; they were both exceptionally deaf and would have long conversations of "Eh! What? Who?" etc  a bit like the three old dears out for the day: one says "Oh it's windy today" the second says "No, it's Thursday" to which the third replies "So am I; let's have a cup of tea" !

Talking of which, there's me blathering on and I haven't even poured the tea . . . Goodness me is that the time? Well, maybe you would be better getting back and having one in the comfort of your own home? I expect so too . . . Thank you for dropping by again, so lovely to have you here in Myrtle House; I hope the rest of the week is an absolute joy to behold for us all and that you are forever burdened like a donkey with an unending load of love and happiness!

'til next time

Be Seeing You !

ॐ

* What about a competition? Can anybody see the connection between the title and the subject matter of this post? If so, let me know by email for a chance to sieze the glittering prize! :) 

Let the Dog See The Rabbits . . .

My Dear Friends . . .

First of all a somewhat tardy but nevertheless well intentioned "White Rabbits x 3" to you one and all, as we slip seamlessly from the torrid rain of August to the blistering heat of September . . . well, for today at least . . .  I hope you all enjoyed the Bank Holiday and that the sandbags worked as well as expected; although Irene wasn't due to call over here I got the impression that she at least left her Carte de Visite for us to consider!

So here we tumble, like many-hued leaves subject to the vagaries of the zephyr's breath, blown headlong into Autumn and the thrill of the changing year . . . For some of you that may mean the excitement of a new start in the hallowed Halls of Academia, for me it signals, for the time being at least, an end to such fancies; my portfolio is finished and submitted and is such stuff that reams are made of! Eighty Three blood, sweat and tear soaked pages . . . they'll never accept it in that state! Anyhow, the deed is done and the picture above shows my last view of platform two for a wee while . . . I shall miss my evening permabulations around the park though; they were a godsend and a source of quiet inspiration.

In other news I'd quickly like to send the hugest possible best wishes to my dearest Lambkin who has managed to secure a position ( Oo-er, Missus!) which could be the start of a whole new life - Well Done to You ! And on the flip side of that hugs of commiseration to Miss Shepherd who has looked after the flock member in question most ably  - I hope that opening the gate of the fold and saying goodbye is not too painful . . .  I had to say goodbye this week to some rather unpleasant and uninvited guests when it was pointed out to me that a neest (rhymes with east) of wasps (rhymes with clasps) had taken up residence in my attic; their comings and goings were causing quite a stir in the otherwise tranquil environs surrounding Myrtle House and so the relevant Ninjas were summoned and in four minutes had completed their task - the sting in the tail (Ho!Ho! Ho!) being the accompaniment of the famous Hefty Bill . . . ah well, it had to be done although being of buddhist (with a small bee) leanings it did perturb me to have to perform waspocide on such a large scale!

Looking out of the study window I can see the inky darkness of another night has descended - and it isn't even eighty-thirty yet! Another twenty days and Autumn will be upon us . . . The Famous Sally Dog and I took our matutinal meander around Mesnes Park today and I was amazed at the number of leaves already turned and fallen, yet the air was as warm as Summer - actually warmer than it had been so far - we could be in for a Little Summer of St Martin, you just never can tell, they will certainly be Dog Days in any case - especially if the canine in question is you know who . . . and as if by magic the ears prick up and the stirrings on the study sofa convey silently but eloquently the next job on the list of things I must do before I even consider a brief rest . . . yes, I must accompany her on her evening outing . . . it really is a dog's life.

I'm sure there were many more things I meant to tell you but I shall save them for another day and another thrilling episode in what passes for life in these parts.  I hope the coming days and weeks are brilliant for you all and that the only burden you suffer is how to carry around all the love given to you!

"til next time

Be Seeing You !

ॐ

Barred in Stratford: A Bit of a Big Dig!

Good Evening Dear Friends . . .

 . . .  and welcome to yet another Thursday evening in the study at Myrtle House; I am, as you can probably tell returned from foreign parts and relatively sound in mind and body, so please feel free to pull up a seat and rest for a few minutes while I regale you with tales of my travels in the shires of Hamp and Dorset!

The reason for the journey was, of course, to re-unite the Old Duchess and her brother in the swirly swishing wishing well waters of the sea just off Bournemouth in a rather swell location called Sandbanks.  My original plan had been to pop over to a nature reserve called Brownsea Island a little further west in Poole Harbour to do the deed but, on the day, the weather was just a little too grey and tending towards squally rain so I made an executive decision and deposited her, as requested, in the briny from the end of the groyn pictured above.  The picture was taken about a minute after I had done it and the weather changed perceptibly so perhaps she was insisting that I listen to her - for once at least!

The task having been completed - and photographs taken, shells collected as momentos it was then time to explore further afield.  So it was all aboard the chain ferry to the Isle of Purbeck (which, of course, isn't) and the lovely Olde Worlde charm of Swanage where a most lovely repast was had in the company of good folk. It really is quite a lovely little watering hole and somewhere I had never been before - I can thoroughly recommend it, not too crowded but quite picturesque.

Then it was over to a rather sad and forlorn place called Tyneham Village; in a remote valley and reached by traversing Army Firing Ranges  - when the big guns weren't looking - its population was evacuated on December 19th 1943 because the army needed the space to practice wars or some such silliness . . . they were told they would be allowed back but this has never happened and the tales of bitterly disappointed people are posted throughout the village which now stands as a monument to uprooted lives.  It is a bit of a trek to get there but well worth it, and certainly worth more time than I had allowed for it . . . it is, indeed, somewhere to explore more fully in the future.

On the way back up north I elected to visit somewhere I, as a writer, should be making a monthly pilgrimage to . . . I refer, of course, to Stratford Upon Avon and, if you can possibly imagine this, it was my first ever visit! I was very impressed by the number of places that Old Father William had lived/owned/walked past at some point in his life and was intrigued to see one with an archaeological dig in progress . . . access was allowed (for a fee, naturally) and so I entered the building and peered around the corner to see the extent of the dig at which point a curator positively bellowed at me from behind a desk that I could go no further without payment.  I said I was merely looking to see the extent . . . I got no further; who did I think I was to be allowed to walk around without paying? I did point out, in somewhat vociferous terms, that I had been on the point of entering but now would require the strength of several equines of inflamed temperament and possible mental instability to force me to stay! He was so rude!  

So I have no hesitation whatsoever of recommending that, should you be so foolish as to attempt to visit the dig at Nash's House, you either throw your purse in first or simply punch whoever happens to be behind the desk before they get a chance to insult you! it really quite spoiled my day there, despite the charms of the theatre which could have persuaded me to linger longer into the evening . . . ah well, maybe someone involved with the preservation and presentation of the nations most treasured properties will read this and "have a word" perhaps?

Anyhow, I am returned and so is the Famous Sally Dog; freshly bathed and smelling momentarily sweeter than normal thanks to the ministrations of the good folk at Talbot House who she loves dearly. There was a good deal of excited scampering about and licking at our reunion but they are quite used to me by now  - Sal was equally excited and watered each and every tree in sight in my honour; I was very proud.

And so here we are, in the study with the light fading and my keyboard glowing; work is cantering on a pace and may even be finished by next week's deadline; tomorrow is a day for meeting counsellor chums and so much and many tea and cakes are to be consumed with glee and by me.

I hope you have a fun Friday and - if a Tweeter - remember to #FF me; have a lovely weekend and may you be swathed in riches of kisses always!

'til next time

Be Seeing You !

ॐ

Nostalgia . . . *

Good Afternoon Dear Friends . . .

. . . and welcome to Saturday in all its silentness and solitude; I sit in the study and listen to various pieces of music that I have loved over the years and think of all the associations they bring with them ... Listening to Elgar I am reminded of the time I used to spend in Barryfield, a very large Victorian house in the depths of Stockton Heath, where I would sit in the music room and compose on the (rather poor) piano some twenty plus years ago . . . when the strain of creativity would get too much for me I would resort to listening instead to some of dear old Sir Edward's stuff that fitted the surroundings so well; the house had rather nice grounds including an orchard and looking out at this with the sound of the Enigma Variations or Serenade in E in the background summoned up the essence of the Edwardian period very nicely for me - a sort of pre-war innocence which, with the gift of hindsight, was already tinged with the sadness of premature loss.

As the music continues and the sounds of Vaughan Williams' Fantasia on a Theme by Thomas Tallis fills my head and heart - for it is one of my most favourite pieces ever - I am transported, not as one might expect to Tudor England, but to its filmic counterpart A Man for All Seasons with the inimitable Paul Scofield as the doomed Thomas More dying for his faith . . . it also starred a practically juvenile John Hurt as the arch-betrayer of both More and Fisher, Richard Rich. The music has a rich lusciousness and also a stark, bare harshness reflecting beautifully the themes of the film - faith and betrayal and, subsequently, of life and death. 

It has been quite a day for nostalgia really; and, although obviously still August, the stillness of the air reminded me of the turn of the year with its inherent beauty and sadness . . . in fact, the memories have been flooding over me quite a lot recently; I've spent some time driving around Cheshire and re-encountering places like Great Budworth where I once wanted to live - there was a house I adored there; it had French windows there and it was always my dream to have a study with such windows where I could place my piano (grand, of course!) and look out into the garden as I played! - and all the twisty lanes and byways of rurallity . . . the fantastically named but ultimately disappointing Antrobus, and a number of places dotted around on the banks of the Weaver . . . 

Talking of venturing abroad, in a few days I am leaving the shire and journeying south.  It will be a holiday of sorts but the main purpose is to take the Old Duchess on her last outing; one of her requests was to have her ashes scattered near Sandbanks in Bournemouth that they might mingle with those of her brother who she loved dearly and so I am off to stay in Winchester and spend some time exploring that wonderful and historic city before slipping the thirty miles or so to the coast and saying a final farewell to her earthly remains  . . . and as I type that sentence the music has changed to Nimrod which we played as she entered the chapel at her funeral, very apt and moving . . . the plan is to take the boat over to Brownsea Island in Poole Harbour and say goodbye there.

This, of course, also means that Sal is off to spend time in her favourite hotel, the really quite splendid Talbot House in the wilds of Worthington . . . she actually loves the family who own the kennels and so I can leave her there for a few days without feeling too guilty . . . but before all that though I have lots of work to do on my portfolio in order to actually qualify as a fully-fledged counsellor; my colleagues on the course have received their certificates and are now "proper" . . . to be honest, I am sadly lacking motivation for such things but it does seem a waste of four years hard work if I don't do this final task - a mere six thousand words or so; if it were fiction it wouldn't be more than a couple of days work . . . so I have to buckle down to it next week before the outing, oh hum!

Anyhow, I still have a breathing space before Monday and so I shall leave you to your weekend as the music  - An Oxford Elegy by Ralph Vaughan Williams, an enduring masterpiece and all time favourite - swells and breaks like waves of memories over my head until I am drowning in images and times gone by . . . have a wonderful weekend liberally bespattered with sunshine and love

'til next time

Be Seeing You !

ॐ

* The word is a learned formation of a Greek compound, consisting of νόστος(nóstos), meaning "returning home", a Homeric word, and ἄλγος (álgos), meaning "pain, ache".