In praise of old people's homes

I took a lot of photographs on my trip to Bristol with the intention of making my next blogpost a pretty, witty travelogue.




                                                                     florist in Clifton

And for some reason,despite the weekend being a truly lovely interlude in the busy stuff of life, something about my reportage just did not gel.
I felt like I had lost my voice.
Quite a strange feeling.
Don't know why it happened.
Just kind of felt that the great time that I had was not what I was supposed to share.
Don't ask me who is making these rules??
But it is a pants feeling.





                                              hip light by Pipilotti Rist at Durslade Farm

Tonight is Christmas Eve and I am kind of home alone.
Ramblin' Randall has retired to bed with what may be the beginnings of a not very festive lurgy.
Hairy Hebert senior is comatose due to an overindulgence of festive fodder and The Dusty Muppet is equally out of it because he just likes it that way.
The older two legged boy is at his in-laws......very new feature.....and, the younger two legged boy is out at the pub on his annual reunion.
Always a bit of a lottery as to his condition on return.



So I find myself disengaged from Skyfall and pondering what I experienced today.
Just another vignette from the home where Aunty now lives.
But one that reinforces what I have believed for so long.
Love is all we need.
Love is always the answer.

They get a bad rap; old people's homes.
But Aunty's is a home in the full sense of the word.
Often, in the lounge, members of staff, like the cook, or staff's spouses and or children can be found doing things like singing that song from Frozen or reading the paper and engaging residents in chat and comment.
It always strikes me that surely if the cook is not cooking then the cook should be at home.
So very glad that they choose not to be.

Today there was a group of staff and residents sat at the table preparing the veg for tomorrow's lunch.
Just like families do, or used to do.
Then the sherry went round.
Or tea.
And cake.

If you really wanted to you could find cause for complaint.
Sometimes the tea is not hot,hot.
And sometimes it is a bit gnats.
But, it comes, always with kindness.

Earlier in December the same staff and residents were making wreaths to sell to raise money for the activities fund. There was much hilarity. And the wearing of baubles as earrings seemed de rigour. Staff, residents and visitors all joined in the activity, all shared in the fun, all working to the same end.
These moments almost make me want to hold my breath.
I feel as thought I am in the presence of the ineffable. In the presence of something truly wonderous and not so commonplace in the hustling bustling lives of us young uns; loving kindness.
I sit with this wish this Christmas Eve that loving kindness will flourish and spread like a virus because it is the only thing that matters. The only hope we have.



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

After a cloudy start.....

As you know my week started under cloud and threat of rain.








My wise psychotherapist friend pointed out that the insights that came through these recent events and emotions would inevitably fade. And perhaps that was just as it should be. Return to all that was normal was the order of the day.
And for once, surprisingly, I disagreed with her.

One of the insights that I had was that in the main I liked my life.
All the component parts. Including to my amazement " the skills that pay the bills"!!
Call me contrary.
I can take it.
I would prefer to re-jig the balance a bit.........quite a bit.
And indeed I think I should.
But in the main. Things are dandy.







Especially dandy when I get uninterrupted time in the studio.
Great tunes on the iPod and no cloud on the horizon to dampen my joy or impede my imaginings and playful experimenting.









Making Christmas frippery.















And colourful trinkets.























On Saturday a rather lovely lady bought this yo-yo bouquet to wear in her hair.....minus the vase of course. Tho she was the sort who could have carried the vase off with great style! She ignited my curiosity because she had a calm spirit carried in an exuberant exterior.
Accompanied by her friend we three had a long chat.








A chat that revived the idea of workshops.
Or more accurately, creative gatherings.
Small gatherings. An extension of what I do with my monster making friend and the young chap.
Just to hold a space where a small group can come together and share in,and exchange some, creative energy. Working on their own projects with help if they need it. Pooling resources and ideas.
The impact of the last fortnight leads me to consider all the reasons why this is a good idea and blinkered to all the usual misgivings and doubts that usually surface and prevent progress.

So, any local readers who might be interested please put your hands up.

Lumps and bumps

This post went out earlier in the month but if felt all wrong for it to be hanging in the ether to be seen and read by passersby when none of my family had a clue what was going on. And actually I wanted it to stay that way until I had an answer. 

It was just a cathartic reaction committed in panic so I deleted the post then kept it as a draft copy and ran it like a diary.

It explains a little of what has preoccupied me over the last two weeks and why it  may have appeared that I had fallen off the edge of the planet.

 Let me start by saying that today, the 18th of November, all is well.



5th November 

Something is not right with leftie.

We are talking boobs here.

So I took her along to the docs.

Very much hoping doc would dismiss me as time wasting neurotic old bat.



Disappointed then to find that she agreed with me and is sending me off to the breast clinic.

She was very kind, very reassuring, and gave me the impression that she was not overly worried.



But to the clinic I will go within 2 weeks.

I write this in an attempt to lessen my anxiety.

And as importantly to try and mine this experience for all it contains.

Because it will pass.



Truth to tell I am a little scared.

I feel as though I may have just buckled myself into a roller-coaster ride when I had actually gone to the theme park with candy floss in mind.

On the other hand luck might be with me and after a mammogram I will be ejected from said ride.



Here's hoping.

7th November

I am having to stay my hand from googling myself into full on hysteria.

And I am trying to breathe and to examine what this current situation is telling me about my life as I live it.

I have been in places like this before where darkness threatens or actually descends but in the middle of it, if you look, there is much love and light.

14th November. Day 11 in the waiting game.

I won't lie I am scared witless at times.



I have googled every known cause of breast lump and conclude that my age and post menopausal status shift the balance less in my favour.

Compleltely dismissing the facts that I  have no family history, am generally healthy, not on HRT, breast fed my babies which all count as positive factors.



I have prodded and palpated lefty and convinced myself that things are less lumpy.

And more lumpy.

Lumpy in a different place.

More uncomfortable.

Less uncomfortable.



Why do we torture ourselves at times like these!?



Other times I can be quite sanguine about it.

After all, whatever it is.....it already is….. or isn't…...and no amount of worrying will change that but will only rob me of peace and pleasure.

And there is plenty of peace and pleasure to be had.



What sweet joy and contentment there is to be found in the very simple pleasures of being warm and cosy, eating good wholesome food, reading, making frippery and walking the dogs.



Weavers Down,where I walk most often, has been my sanctuary for a long time now.

I always take a long while just gazing and absorbing the views. But now there is a piquancy to those sights.

I am aware of the exquisite blending of life's events and made breathless by the sheer beauty and delight in being here in this imperfect messy life.

I want to hold those images and the feeling of space and tranquility and to hold tightly the feeling that things are just exactly as they should be.

Despite suggestions to the contrary there is order in the universe.



This will be my security blanket when I go for my appointment on the 18th.

I've done it before. Many times. Retreated in my mind to my 'happy place', shielding my heart from fear.

18th November



My appointment is for 2.03!!



The military precision of the timing is intimidating.



As was the letter I received from the hospital….." you are welcome to bring someone with you but the waiting room gets very busy"

Encouraging?

I am not encouraged.



In this state of mind where I am calm but in a surreal bubble I am apt to find solace in housework!!!

And there is an inordinate amount that I can occupy myself with this morning.



Or on the other hand I could go to my favourite craft superstore and lose myself in all the possibilities that are on offer there…..hmmm.

Choices!?



No doubt at 2.03 I shall have my heart in my mouth and butterflies the size of eagles in my stomach.

And now….



I leave you to guess whether the housework or Hobbycraft won out.





The waiting room was indeed busy.

Busy and efficient.

And lot of waiting went on in that waiting room.



Having had both lefty and righty brusquely manhandled 3 times today and squished beyond the point where I thought it was possible to squish I was elated to find that all is well.



I left, clutching my information about evening primrose oil and instructions to cut back on chocolate, caffeine and wine!!!!!, feeling, what must be akin to, survivors guilt.

I felt sad leaving the lady to my right, with whom I had shared two torturous hours, still waiting to see the Dr and planning to get the bus to Asda once she had done so.

I felt sad for the lady to my left who  having had a biopsy  had a further 7 days to wait for any conclusive answer. She looked miserable. Understandably so.

I felt so lucky as  I wished them well, turned my back and walked off into the sunset…..well the car park actually to text and phone and say that



ALL IS WELL.

Pistachio shells as mulch.

It grieves me to throw things away.
To the point where it is almost pathological.
I need to find a creative use for the unloved, worn out and discarded items that come my way.
As yet, using pistachio shells to mulch my pots is as creative as I can be with them.
Thoroughly washed because I am guessing that winter jasmine is not a great lover of salt.
But anyone with creative suggestions..........I would love to hear from you.

As you can see I need to eat a few more which is no hardship.
Nothing like a glass of vino el collapso with pistachios after a hard day at the orifice.
Today was not a hard day.
Today was a playful day.
Colour, fabric, buttons.
Autumnal shades.
Frippery making to my hearts content.

I believe.....

A long time ago my brother gave me a tape recording of ' I believe' by Sounds of Blackness.
It is the most uplifting song I know.

 'nothing is impossible if you believe'.

I am quite sure that when he gave it to me he didn't know how many times I would listen to it through the course of my life and how rousing, affirming and motivational I would find it.

My brother loved to dance and when I listen to this track I usually shake my booty and he is there with me.
 Across time and space and that ridiculous divide between life and death we dance.

I believe.
Specifically I believe in my dream.

That negative inner voice, responsible for so much misery, is being drowned out with the song.
 And I am dancing my way through doubt.
It might not be pretty but it feels good.

tree trinkets

I had a wonderful day in the shop yesterday and sold a lot of work.
So........I believe.