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Photo Dump

The importance of being present, but also when looking back can be a good thing ……

authors own…. two admirals on the buddleja… it’s a sign!

Don’t you just love holidays, and that holiday feeling. Whether you are going away or staying home and having time and permission to ‘opt out’ of the usual routine.

About 10 years ago we went away for 5 weeks to Spain. Myself and the two younger ones were there for the entire 5 weeks. My other half and the two older ones (17 at the time) came for the last two weeks. My mum and my niece, also came for the first couple of weeks.

The sun was hot, the pool and beach was fun and the evening entertainment was always something to look forward to. Karaoke on tap, and one of the young ones, loved to sing!

I always take lots of photos on holiday, whether home or abroad, in fact, I always take lots of photographs, full stop. I take photos of anything and everything in nature and of my family and friends.

I love looking at my photos as they are a reminder of a specific time and place with specific people. During the 5 week holiday I had taken probably a thousand pictures on the camera. The two eldest girls were getting their exam results whilst on this holiday, so we found an internet cafe to access the school portal to get the results. As a result of my putting the camera on the table beside the computer, and in the excitement of getting their ‘results’, someone stole my camera. When I turned to pick it up, it had gone.

I placed a sign in the internet cafe for them to even just give me back the memory card, to anonymously post it through the internet cafe letterbox and they could keep the camera. I was so upset at having lost the pictures, the memories of that holiday with my family. I offered a reward, but no one ever returned the memory card and so, I have no pictures to look back on, of that holiday.

Since then I now take most of my photos with the camera on my phone and so I make sure to photo dump all my pictures onto my facebook account, that way, I can be sure that if ever I loose my phone, at least my pictures will always be there, somewhere in facebook land and I can access them at any time from anywhere.

The other good thing, that I love about that, is I get a yearly reminder of what happened on that particular day the previous year (s) and it fills me with joy as it takes me back to that time and place.

Over the years we lose people, for one reason or another, friends, family, work colleagues etc. It is nice, to look back and remember them and the time the photo was taken and re live the moment, or talk about it, laugh about or even cry about it.

I am surrounded by physical photos of the people I love most in the world, my family and friends, in my home. This past year my best friend and my dad died, but I love looking at their photos I have framed and displayed. They are happy smiling photos of a time I was with them and I am either in the photo or have taken the photo and they are smiling at me as I take it. Every day, my heart lifts at seeing their smiling faces, even though I know, there will be no more memories to be made with them. It makes the memories I did have, even more special.

So I will keep taking photos, of everyday things, and every day places or holiday photos, with family, friends and nature, and I will continue to photo dump them so that I can keep going back to that time and place that made me smile, or made me feel joy and laughter and when I am old and forgetful (if I am lucky enough to get old and forgetful) I can look back at them, and they will be my reminder of a life lived and what I deemed was ‘the best things in life’ (which are usually free), like the love of family and friends, shared experiences and of course, nature, which gives and keeps on giving in abundance

Westlife Concert Cork 12.08.2022 with my big girls….

I read, he fishes….

Light and shade….

The Foreigners….

Do you ever notice how we behave in any given situation. How treat, react and respond to people and things. How, at times, we have a sense of entitlement and ownership and will do whatever is necessary to get what we want, no matter how big or small, or who we may trample on. Even the silly things, can turn us into competitive monsters!

authors own…

The shuffling, the whispers, eyes flitting, one way then the other. Hushed voices. Observing each other with the suspicion of a Russian spy, and with such curiosity that it could well lead to what happened to the cat!

Contemplation of their own moves, their own tactics. I can hear the cogs turning in their minds, even my own, guessing which one will succeed. Some look up, heavenward, some look away, trying to be nonchalant, undeterred, unaffected.

They pretend they are not playing the game, but i’ve been watching them closely. It’s easy when you’re on the other side of the fence.

Human behaviour…. Sure don’t we think we are civilised, superior, dignified and righteous? At times we are. Just see how we meet and greet our neighbour, the local shop keeper, the milkman, the priest. Look at the great deeds some do for others. So caring, so selfless, so civilised.

But, put us amongst the different nations, put us in a different country, a hot country. A hot country with a pool! Well, civilisation is at it’s finest….There, early in the morning the queue forms. People waiting anxiously for the man with the key. They are beginning to twitch and sweat under the heat of the sun and the weight of their towels, their many, many, many towels, which they are going to relieve themselves of when they lay claim to THEIR sun loungers, poolside, shade side, sunny side.

Just where the hell is the man with the key to the door, the door to paradise, the key to the sacred sun lounger area beside the pool?

Ahhhh, here he comes, eyeing the growing crowd, he slows his step and looks at them with confusion, fear, horror! They inch even closer to the gate, muttering and mumbling, elbows at the ready to nudge their neighbour out of the way, trample on them if they must, in the stampede that is about to erupt…

But, key man, the keeper of their focus and desire stands there bemused, confused, belwidered, not knowing what to do next. The energy is electric, the tension is palpable but like any brave solder, he ploughs through the malevolent crowd, makes his way to the front, unscathed and watches, in jubilent amazement and wonder at the idiotic, half-witted behaviour of the foreigners……

Photo by Pavel Danilyuk on Pexels.com

Father’s Day

There’s a first time for everything. Sometimes its very difficult, other times, not so bad. It is inevitable that special occasions, also have a 1st time, with or without….

Soon it will be father’s day and it keeps popping into my mind.  It is only 6 days away now and usually by now I would be looking in the shops, looking at the cards, carefully choosing which one to buy.

I don’t like one that is too sloppy, or ones with a picture of golf clubs or racing cars on them.  My dad was never into golf or racing cars.

Choosing a card is often very difficult when you are choosing it for someone you love, because you ‘know’ them.  Their likes, their dislikes, their little idiosyncratic ways, so getting the right card, must reflect that, right?

Sometimes the right picture has the wrong verse and sometimes the right verse has the wrong picture, but still, I keep looking, if not in that shop then another and another until, I get the one that is ‘just right’.  Like goldilocks with the porridge and the bed.  It has to feel right.

The gift, was always easy….. Smokes, fags, ciggies, cigarettes; and money inside the card to buy more cigarettes, or scratch cards, where the excitement would be mighty if he only won 2 euro to get yet another scratch card and say ‘ah I might win the big one on that one’ and he would laugh.  

The kids would usually give him scratch cards, but I would give him the ‘few bob’ to go buy more ciggies.  Sure he’d been smoking most of his life, since he was 5 he said.  Picking up his parent’s butts off the hearth and drawing in the toxic smoke, deep into his lungs till he coughed and spluttered and coughed some more.  It wasn’t a deterrent, he kept going, till he got himself rightly hooked.

At 29 he collapsed with pneumonia and was taken to hospital.  I was about 7 years old then.  Gosh, that is 50 years ago!  ‘’If you don’t quit smoking, you won’t see 40” the doctor had told him, but what did he know?

Ah, he tried quitting a few times, that I remember.  He tried the pipe.  The smell was nice, I remember that, it was a bit like smelling food cooking on a bar b q, you want to eat it and the smell of the pipe, would make me want to ‘taste’ it.   I thought he looked funny, like Sherlock Holmes, puffing away on it.  It didn’t last, gave him headaches he said.  Back to the cigarettes it was then.

The doctor was wrong.  He did see 40, and 50 and 60, 70, 80…… but at 81, I guess it was his time to go.  He died 9 weeks ago, unexpectedly.  He had got pneumonia again, like he did last year also and the year before.   This time though, it was his heart that gave up on him while he was in hospital.  We were expecting him to come home again, after being pumped with antibiotics and steroids for the pneumonia and make another full recovery, but it wasn’t to be.  For him I am glad it was quick.  He always said he’d like a nice quick ‘belt in the chest’ when it was his time, and so his wish was granted.

As I type this, a photograph of him, smiling at me, I will wish him peace and blessings and tell him, that I miss him, and that I am glad the doctor got it wrong when he was 29. 

So this year, there will be no browsing or buying a father’s day card.  No cigarettes or money to be given.  No scratch cards to excitedly scratch in anticipation of ‘the big one’.   So instead of cigarettes, I’ll light a candle for him and watch the smoke as it flickers up to the heavens…….

Wellbeing….

When going for a walk is more beneficial than you may have realised…get off the couch and get out in nature

authors own.. ‘take off’ me and my shadow

What does a walk in the park do? Clears the head, calms the soul, fragrance lifts the mood and the sight of the flora and fauna bring a sense of peace, no matter what the stresses of daily life.

I read a couple of books called ‘The Salt Path’ and ‘The Wild Silence’ by Raynor Winn a couple of years ago. Her husband had been very poorly, they had lost their house and their income. They decided to go walk the South Western Coastal Path, about 630 miles of coastline starting in Somerset and finished in Cornwall or Dorset.

They pitched a tent, where ever they could and lived on very little means. These books inspired me so much, and made me realise that really, we need very little in life to be happy and free.

A good realtionship, one, where one trusts that the other always has their back, two, that money doesn’t really matter that much, it just buys things and, three, how looks are deceptive and how we are viewed and judged by others.

During their walk, once other walkers realised they were actually ‘homeless’ and not just walking a bit of the ‘path’ for recreational reasons, they looked down upon them and viewed them as vagrants…. how rude!

What they discovered, along the way, was that her husband’s health was actually improving. His mobility and mind (you will have to read the book !) all much improved and much better. So what was it? Well, in the book (the second one) she refers to a small study that a university lecturer spoke about where ‘Secondary Metabolites’ that plants emit to protect themselves from the environment’ may be the reason why there was a CHEMICAL CHANGE in people who exercised in the natural environment. Facinating!

So we all know that going for a good walk can reduce stress, lower blood pressure, soothes our pain and restores a sense of balance and well being , but knowing that whatever it is that is emitted from the plants, may be responsible for the Chemical change, is more reason why we should get out more often, and look after our well being.

The first image is a picture of me and my shadow, Banksy style, holding on to the Red Robin to help lift my spirits as well as the sound of the actual robin as I walk by the lake, in the wonderful grounds of the Lough Rynn Estate..

Voices from the past

We don’t have to see them, to know they are there, beside us. But when we still hear their voice, it makes the heart sing.

They say you forget, after a while, what someone looks like or sounds like, after they have passed away. Photos are always a reminder of their faces and in this day and age, we all have so many photos, thanks to our smart phones.

Voices are another matter, unless we have voice messages or video clips to physically hear them. However, today, after unpacking more of my boxes since my move I came across my old letters.

These letters are one my prized possessions. I have had them since I was 14 years old…..quite a long time ago. I knew they were packed away safely in storage but whilst they were there, my dear dear friend Jackie died. We had our last facetime in September, the night before she passed, and said our goodbyes.

Today I re-read her letters which she had written to me back in 1980. As I read them I could hear her voice, her expression, her tone, her giggle, her humour and her warmth. It was truly wonderful. In reading them she brought me back to my teens when we were full of angst, emotion, humour, confusion, sorrow and love….pretty much the same as I feel now, so nothing changes!

To Dear Jackie,

I still miss you, but thanks for it all. Keep talking to me.

Love you always x

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Months mind thoughts….

Authors own

Hello God, remember me
I used to write you, when i was wee
A little child so innocent,
I write to thank you, and to vent.
You were my friend when i felt afraid,
You kept me going whenever i strayed
I couldnt see you, but knew you were there
Listening and watching and answering my prayers.
So now dear God ive a favour to ask,
Take special care of my dear dad,
He’s left us now, gone back to you and its hard to feel happy when I feel so blue.
I know i miss the sound of his voice
And all the times that we’ve enjoyed
Please dont let him feel afraid
And tell him that the love has stayed.
Thank you dear God, for always being there
Even when life,, just doesn’t seem fair…..

Jackdaw

Creatures of habit, the birds build in any chimney, nook an cranny and return year after year., until someone or something gets in their way, it creates a loss and a gain for all involved.

gathering…. authors own

Persistent in the building, the jackdaw

Searched and found

The twigs, the moss, the leaves and tuft

All settled on the ground

He swooped and gathered and up he flew

To place them in the pot

Chirping merrily and proudly

Preparing to weave his lot

His stash, lined bricks and mortar

A home to build his nest

Only to find he’d been locked out

When off he went to rest

The cowl they placed upon the pot

His access had been denied

Not merrily chirping any more

His dreams for ‘home’ had died

No more the morning singing

Inside the house could be heard

Now only a strange quietness

Oh how they’ll miss this intelligent bird

But off he flew, quite undeterred to build

Another nest

A home, a house a habitat

Of where his chicks can rest

authors own

Resilient is this little bird, he’ll seek and he will find

a tree, or steeple, a nook or cranny

he will not be confined

for he is ever working, with tenacity and grit

he will not be deterred, he will just get on with it

and so the chirping will stay with him as he sings

his sweet sweet tune

and where the chimney has been blocked

no twittering lifts the gloom……

Rain

When the downpour comes it may change how we feel….but it doesn’t have to be bad

Photo by Matheus Oliveira on Pexels.com

I don’t like the rain. It makes me feel cold and miserable. I don’t want to go out when it is raining. I hear it lashing off the windows and it makes me shiver and shudder at the thoughts of having to go out in it.

I have to go out. I need to go to work, or to the shops or to do some other errand. I grab my rain coat, pull my hood up over my head and run to the car, holding onto my hood and keeping my head in the downward position.

Quickly, I hop into the car and start the engine. The windows are all steamed up and I turn on the fan and the heater to demist them and warm up the car. Wipers come on, by themselves, smart car! As the rain gets heavier, the wipers get quicker and I wish,more and more that I was back home, in the house, in the warm, cuddled up on the sofa, with the fire on, listening to the rain instead of being out in it, or driving in it.

When I am in the rain, I try everything to keep it from hitting me. I have a rain coat. I have an umbrella. I wear a hat and sometimes gloves. I wear my boots to keep my legs dry and free from the rain touching them.

Sometimes, I get caught out in the rain and am not ready or prepared for it and then, it falls, on my head, my body, my legs, my face and then I remember…..

I remember when I was young, a child, and I loved the rain, especially if it was really really lashing down hard and pounding off the ground. That would mean my friends and I could stay in and play and dress up, pretend to be like ‘grownups’ wearing our mother’s clothes and shoes, clippedy clopping around on the lino floor, face full of make up and a couple of oranges shoved up our tops to give us our ‘bossom’. It was hilarious. There was lots of laughter.

I also remember the feeling of the rain on my face, because sometimes I would run out into it, arms outstretched, mouth open and I would let it soak me to the skin and drink it in until I was completely drenched. Then, after dancing in the rain, I would go back into the house, shimmy the wet clothes off my squeaky wet skin and step into a nice warm bath and soak in the luxury of the bubbles, feeling like the Queen of Sheeba.

It’s funny how the rain can make us feel.

It’s funny how we view the rain.

It’s funny that we forget how much fun we can have if we learn to dance in the rain…..