Relay shun ships

The Power and Powerless

When the powerless is better than the powerful. When time stands still, perspective is key……

There is havoc, chaos and even tragedy in the storm, when the winds are so strong they have the power to knock tress down and knock power lines out too.

Last week storm Barra visited us and we had just moved in to our new home and we brought our grandson up with us for a few days.

This new house has not yet had the gas fire connected or the new gas hob so we were only left with the oil central heating for heat and the electric hob…… both of which do not work in a power outage.

So here we were in the midst of a powerful storm with no heat, no way to cook, no phone or wifi. ‘At least we have a roof over our head’ I said ‘and blankets, food and candles.

We lit so many candles that it created a nice bit of heat and we even tried to boil water to make tea from the candles. We succeeded but it did take nearly 3 hours!

The next day out we went to buy a camping stove and some battery operated lights. We stopped at the charity shop and bought some books for our grandson. One of which was a a book of Christmas Carrolls.

That night, for our entertainment we played the game, eye spy, followed by singing a few Christmas Carols and a game of ‘go fish’.

Had the power not gone, this would have been a missed opportunity. Like most people in today’s modern world, evenings are often spent in front of the TV. Our grandson loves the TV (just like his grandad!) and they both love to watch movies.

I am not saying there is anything wrong with that, it is good to spend time together, whether watching a movie at home or going to the cinema, but I just felt thankful that the power did go and that it wasn’t another night spent watching TV.

My grandson, really enjoyed the games and the singing, as did we. We all had a good laugh playing and guessing the eye spy so much that we didn’t even notice that there was no heating or all the other power filled luxuries that we are accustomed to.

To be powerless, as in having a power cut, can be beautiful. The stars in the sky shone brighter and the moon reflected in the windows and the chatter and laughter in the house was louder. It makes us more connected, more focused and more appreciative of the little things that matter more than all the other stuff. The lack of electricity brought us back, for a while, to a time when, that is how the world worked.

Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t like to be without power like in the ‘olden days’ all the time, but for just a while, it is not ‘just an inconvenience’, it can be beautiful, absolutely powerful to be power-less.

heating the water with candles….. authors own..

singing around the candlelight….. authors own….

Home = House, Place, Feeling?

what makes a house a home or who says a home is a house? Is ‘home’ a building, a place or a feeling?

Almost 3 months ago I received this card from a friend, and it was a lovely surprise to have something posted through the letterbox to my new address.

From actually getting the keys, to moving in to this new house, however, was 3 long months. So much has happened in those 3 months.

This house was to be a fresh start, our ‘grown up’ house, as the children have all finally, flown the nest and we had outgrown our ‘family home’ or it had outgrown us!

At the time between selling our family home and getting the keys for the new house my other half was waiting to have major heart surgery. He had the surgery 10 days after getting the keys and is recovering, slowly but surely.

We were worried and anxious about the surgery beforehand, which is normal, I guess, but one day before getting the keys to the new house I received the devastating news that my best friend had terminal cancer and her time was very short,

This news superceeded everything else going on in my life, including my other half’s surgery.

She was due to come here, to stay here, as she lives in another country. I was looking forward to her coming, to seeing her, as it had been two years since we last saw each other in person due to Covid and restrictions.

This will never happen now. We had been friends for 45 years. We were like sisters and her death, two weeks after being given the news of her cancer, has had a profound effect on me.

When you think of people you go through all the memories, the shared moments and experiences. I visualise things and see her/us together in all sorts of places, school, shops, holidays, hospitals, pubs, clubs and our homes. It makes me smile and it is a bitter sweet feeling, knowing that I will never see her here, in this new house, this new home that I am trying to create.

When I left my old house, I said, ‘it is just a house’ the memories come with you, and they do. So ‘home’ isn’t necessarily a house is it? In creating and decorating and getting this house ready to live in, I take all my memories with me from all the people that I love. My family and my friends.

The day I came up here, after my other half had his op and my friend died the ‘New home’ card was on the mat in the hall. As I opened it and walked into the living room there, flying around was a butterfly. To me, it was my friend waiting for me and greeting me, letting me know, that she was there.

The first thing I did when I did move in was to plant a tree for her and to put up some garden ornaments and tree spinners, to create a garden in her memory, somewhere, where I can sit and talk to her and make new memories in this home.

The sadness of grieving her is still there, but I have to carry on and continue to make this house a home for my other half and I and for our children and grandchildren when they come and visit.

I think it is the people in our lives that make a house a home, whether they are with us, near us or have passed over across the great divide. So long as we love them, cherish them and feel blessed to have them beside us and in our hearts, then we can feel at home.

Even though I have moved away, to a new area, a few hours drive away, this ‘grown up’ house will be made into a ‘home’ while we count our blessings for the life and health that we continue to have, and we will welcome old and new friends and look forward to discovering this new place, that we can come to call home.

What now?

There are no guarantees of being a success, of finding ‘the one’ of being fulfilled. No guarantees of reaching your goals, living to a ripe old age or attaining your dreams.

What is it then, within us to continually seek to try, to find, to hope and to keep going, even in the face of adversity. Is it all our intrinsic resources that push us on, or are there extrinsic factors at force?

It must be both but, even with the best will in the world, sometimes, it seems like a hard battle to fight or difficult mountain to climb, and then we feel defeated.

Then, sometimes out of nowhere it seems, that all is not lost, there is another way to climb the mountain, once rested, and not all battles need to be won in order to succeed and feel a sense of hope again.

Adapt, be absent and acceptance are the three ‘A’ s that will help pull you through the rough times. Accept that there is a difficulty, stay absent, for a while, from the usual routine or the usual people around you, and soon you will find a way to adapt to the changes that you must face.

There is no guarantee that things will always stay the same. There will be ups and downs. There will be losses and gains there will be love and pain but all will not be lost and something of value will be taught.

I lost a very dear friend recently. My heart was broken, for her, her family and for me. She is a huge loss and leaves a massive void.

We won’t grow to be old ladies together. I had never even contemplated that…. She died too young, but she had a good life and she enjoyed her life to the full. She lived with love and shared her love amongst her family and friends.

So in this sorrow, in this grief and hurt and pain there has to be acceptance and life must adapt without her physical presence. Making ourselves absent, giving ourselves time and self love, to come to terms with the loss and remember the good times is crucial in the process.

There is no time limit, there is no right or wrong way to grieve. For me, I believe she is present, all around us. I talk to her, pray for her, look out for signs of her. I keep her alive in my heart, even though I miss her and the rest of the life, she should have had. Yet I’m grateful for the time we did have….

So what now? One step at a time. One day at a time, we move forward. It’s all we can do. We live, we love, we hope, we pray, we dream. We must stay humble and grateful for the time and love we shared and for all our loved ones lost to us, live on with them in our hearts…. Until we meet again…..

The tomorrows

Though the tides will ebb and flow and the night will turn to day
The steps that go one, in front of the other
Will always carry you, along the way…..
Hearts filled with love and sorrow
Will carry over, all the tomorrows that you do not have
But live on through those left behind who will tell stories of their encounters, and we will smile, as we recall, with such joy, the love and laughter that we once shared and so, you will live on another day, and more, until we gather together again, and dance and laugh and hold you tight, in our arms…..

Authors own.. Coombe Abbey, tranquil walk

Dinner for two

I took you to dinner that night
We sat by the window
A view of the river Lee flowing past
A beautiful orchid and candle
Central on the table
I layed my napkin, carefully, thoughtfully, on my lap
I hung my head a few seconds longer
Composing myself
Before looking at the chair opposite me
Smiling, imagining you sitting there
Knowing
That sometime after dinner
We would have our very last factime
It would soon be time for you to go
You were being called home
To your eternal rest
I had to prepare myself
To face the reality
That this was it
And so, I took you to dinner
And I stared at that chair
Smiling at you, as though you were there

Toasted you, our friendship
And told you I loved you forever
I thanked you for being my friend
I told you I was blessed to have met you

45 years wasn’t long enough
I explained I would forever keep you with me
I raised a glass to you
I told you I was sad that you had to go
But I understood it was time
Acknowledged that you were tired
And ready to go
Told you how much you would be missed by us all
But you already knew that
You knew how special you were to us
I didn’t want dinner to end
I didn’t want any of it
I wanted you here
To be in that chair for real
Laughing and chatting
And being healthy and well
I wanted that, more than anything
And I know
You did too…..

Celebrity… Tosh?

I wasn’t born into royalty. I am not a celebrity. I was born free, into a family that loved me and I love them, but does that make my life perfect? Should I perceive that a king, queen, Prince, Princess has a perfect life? Should I envy and look up to a celebrity and think, they have it all sussed, they made it, they have the perfect life…. Does anyone have a perfect life. I don’t think so. What I do know, is that we have knowledge, inside knowledge, of our own lives, because, we live it. We may have opinions on others’ lives, but that is all they are, opinions. The world is divided on Prince Harry. The world has been following Prince Harry since Before he was even born… Imagine that! I couldn’t think of anything more intrusive that being continually photographed, followed, objectified, critsised and taunted… He has a voice about his own life, his thoughts, his feelings. Let him be free to speak it! This poem is in response to Jeremy Clarkson latest view calling his book tosh, and piers morgan’s usual rant over him and his wife…. Who are they to judge!

Where do they get off, so called celebrities, with their view of ‘tosh’.

Clarkson, Morgan, love to rant, but feel the Prince shouldn’t, or can’t?

A tell all memoir of his life, of course, there’s lots who’ll blame his wife!

Opinions, opinions, view points and all, but isn’t he the one, that can recall it all?

I’m neither a Royalist nor celebrity struck, but I’m sick and tired of reading such muck.

How can a celebrity think his path is right, and people should support them, in their ‘toshful’ plight?

Horses for courses in the lives that we lead. What right has a celebrity, to preach how to succeed.

Their life is their life, only they can live it. Not perfect, not wholesome, and could change in a minute!

What happened to the message that we all should ‘be kind’. Then what gives you the right, to speak out your mind?

Were you born into royalty and told what to do. A flash in your face, media following you?

From the day you were born, they just won’t relent. You’re expected to conform and you have the intent.

To do as your told, for the sake of the crown, but even the mighty have to fall down.

Break free from the chains and get out of the game, like an animal that’s wild, and doesn’t want to be tamed.

But wants to roam free, walk his own winding path, and show to the world, the life that he had.

So many will tell him what a ‘privilege’ he had, but if he doesn’t want it, does that make him bad.

He’s scorned if he does he’s scorned if he doesn’t, told to do this, told that he mustn’t.

Let the man be to live his own life, a person, a father a husband to his wife.

Who are we all to court contraversy, just let him speak, if it sets him free.

How many celebs have written a book, about their own lives and want us to look?

To see their life, from their own side, some of it shameful but balanced with pride.

We are all just people, walking this planet, born in to circumstance, we none of us planned it.

Stop casting aspirations on what he should do. Keep guarded your counsel on what YOU should do.

Stop with the shouting, the words of disdain, pointing the finger and causing such pain.

Keep your opinions in your own little minds and remember the message to ‘please be kind’

How can we know if people don’t tell, how it was for them, whether heaven or hell.

Perspective and context, only they really know. So big mouthed celebrities just ‘let it go’

You were born a nobody just like me. Be wise be humble, with an ounce of dignity!

Oblivious

Sleep alludes me, though I am so very tired. The sun cracks through the opened window, early in the mornings, and the dawn chorus awakens me. Such a contrast to the labouring snores blasting my ears as he sleeps beside me, deep in his slumber, oblivious to raucous he makes or the sound of the dogs barking from across the garden.

My mind wanders to our new house, wondering how soon before we get the keys. The start to our new life. How shall I dress this one to make it a home? Which colours and fabrics and oddments shall I use.
A blank canvas screaming for life and colour.

As I lay awake, I try to escape the noise and get lost deep in the kaleidoscope of my imagination until finally, sleep will surrender itself to me and I too will be oblivious….

This house…

This House….

When I leave this house I wonder

Will it miss me and the noise within its walls?

Will it wonder

Where did we go and are we coming back?

Will it be silent or will it groan with the emptiness?

When I leave this house I wonder

Will I miss the space and the fit of it?

All my things, in familiar places

Nooks and cranny’s

The creaks of the wood as it gets warmer then colder

Will the sound of it spark fear in the new owners?

When I leave this house will the memory of my ordinary days here

Stay with me

The view from the window as I wash the dishes

The colour of the sun as it rises and sets, front and back of my garden

The light and dark of the shadows it casts

The light and dark of the noise that the house was privy to

Family banter

The hustle and bustle of yesterday

when they were all here

When I leave this house, will it feel betrayed

Will I remember the colour of spring in the garden that I planted?

And the new light of autumn as the leaves fall from the trees

The laughter of the summer days

Children playing

Daisy chains

Will the weeping willow continue to weep?

Or will it wither and die

When I leave this house that I built from scratch

From the foundations to the roof

And filled its cavity with strong walls to bring to life

a home

Will I feel deep sadness too difficult to describe?

Then will I pretend

that it is OK

it is only a house?

Evidence

When the clutter is not really clutter, can you just let it go?

Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on Pexels.com

Evidence

It’s the final countdown

Countdown to leaving

Leaving this place

Where do I begin

To bring it to an end

How do I decide

Decades of ‘collectables’

The pleasure they derived

Stored, hoarded, and boxed away

Time to decide in the next few days

Boxed away neatly large and small

Could I really get rid of them all?

Time to let go

They are all in the past

Give them a future in

Someone else’s hands

Take the step

Shed that old skin

Wriggle on out

like a snake, Slithering

hard as it is, it must be done

the countdown is on

you’re on the home run

liberation from ‘things’ that

simply are that

but, they give us our memories

and bring us back

a time to remember

when we did this and did that

it’s not so easy to ‘just let go’

some things must be kept

just because, it is so

the trinket gift, given with love

no price would ever be enough

the child’s little drawing

given with pride

or the pottery they made

with such great strides

it’s hard to abandon or just

throw out

it’s not all ‘clutter’

I have no doubt

So time to discern and

And pick my way through

I can’t turn my back on

Evidence of you

Down through the years

We’ve gathered so much

Does it matter, if it still collects dust

Knowing they’re there

In the dark attic space

Brings comfort to me

And a smile on my face

The clothes, the bags, the furniture too

Can all be discarded

But not evidence of you

You when you were little

And all you achieved

To throw it all out,

I would be aggrieved

One day I would hope

When you go through these things

The memories come back

And your heart, too will sing.

So clutter me this, you are coming with me

To a new home to live

To be stored and to be……

Surplus to Requirements

Looking round this house of mine

Every item tells a story

Even down to the rolling pin

It all can be quite boring

The flower pots and picture frames

That hang upon my walls

Each ornament or luxury items

I can recall them all

My comfy couch and super king bed

Well, that was such a blessing

To have all that space, to sleep on the edge

And no I am not messing

The mattress is made of memory foam

And is oh so comfortable

We didn’t bank on it remembering our weight

And in the middle, leaving a massive lump!

It now resembles the Sahara

So barren with a big sand drift

And trying to change the bloody sheets

Is comparable to climbing Everest

The Kitchen scales, pots and pans

The trendy arty vase

Long have served this woman’s needs

Even when I couldn’t be arsed

So many things just gather dust

And others are stuffed in drawers

It’s doesn’t stop me going out

And bringing home some more.

Some would call it clutter, or say that I’m a hoarder

They say its best when the shops are closed

But they forget, I use mail order

I simply cannot help but buy

The things that I like to buy

Some things are very pretty

And some have made me cry

Like the Dyson bloody hoover

It cost a small fortune

I could be sat drinking in Marbella

Listening to lovely some Spanish tunes

The husband, he insisted

On getting that bloody gadget

I was happy with the broom

And spend the money on foreign magnets

It’s only now, we’re selling up

And heading somewhere new

It’s all about downsizing, but

To where, I haven’t got a clue

I want to go somewhere warm

And feel the sun upon my skin

But that would mean leaving behind

My mates and all my kin

They all moved on and are on that Wheel

The treadmill that’s called life

I’ve been there, seen it done it, and now

I want to be a fun filled wife

Pay a little attention to me and my old man

Time to relax a little bit

And do it while we can

So what do we do with all this stuff

Now surplus to requirements

Bin it, bag it, chuck it out

Or take the clutter with us

It doesn’t really matter

It served us for our needs

Just the family photos

Are the things that we should keep

And pack a bag and travel light

And see what we can find

It’ll be a great adventure

A Christopher Columbus kind

Who knows what we’ll find when we get there

Or what we might discover

But what a team we will be

Like Mel Gibson and Danny Glover

I’ll drive him nuts with my crazy ways

And he’ll keep me in check

Steer me clear of the charity shops

And I’ll say ‘what the heck’

We’ll buy us a brand new mattress

No memory foam sight

No humps or bumps between us then

Just a sweet and peaceful night