Twelve years ago

... today, I became the owner of half a former English inn ... it was 400 years old, behind which, were old Tannery buildings, some had been demolished but others were renovated as storage, garage or workshop. I employed my best friend to renovate which he did exquisitely!  That house was my pride and joy apart from the fact traffic vibrated the living accommodation on the second floor in the loft space!  The pavement in front of the house was not really wide enough for a wheelchair or pushchair. One could almost reach out and touch the buses! I have some regret leaving that beautiful home which was haunted and I only discovered that in the last week.  The stained glass window on the front door was my design, representing the town and common, painted beautifully by my friend's daughter. One of our cats, Little Feat, used to greet Neal Powell, an author, almost every time he walked through the back yard. He adored her when she rolled over his brown polished leather shoes.

I must find photos of interior and exterior. It is one of my jobs to trawl through a lifetime of photos, paper, framed and unframed, and those on CD and on iphoto........ help!

My house was by the river, not far from Elizabeth Jane Howard's island. I always thought she was a most beautiful woman but when I lived near her I was too busy to read her novels. I enjoyed the recent BBC radio 4 serialisation of The Cazalets, always thinking that I could hear “her” speaking, then to my surprise I discovered that much was based on her own experiences.  I could sympathise and empathise with her somewhat Bohemian lifestyle, failed marriages, affairs of the heart, passion, mooning over men, mistreatment yet she'd had a good life …such ambivalence is there in love and passion. I know bohemian but not all her traumas, thank goodness!

I had the enormous privilege of meeting her in her kitchen. I remember being served tea and cake,  being in awe of her very simple lifestyle which reminded me of my grandmother, being allowed to wander onto her very own island. What joy to be on that piece of land that I had coveted and marveled at just a few years before, when, not knowing the future, I had stood on The Common and decided that I wished to live "over there". Unwittingly, unknowingly, I completed my dream in 2002.  It was several years later that the memory of the incident returned. 

What a wonderful thing for her to have lived where she lived and to have written from her heart.

What a wonderful thing for me that I met her... just the once and I can write from my heart.  She was a great authoress.  In Memoriam.

In memoriam

In memory of dearest

  Avril   

a  sincere, trustworthy friend

who took her own life.

 No one knew her disguised mental anguish.

Now she lies where she arrived

on an island 

off the coast of Germany.

Unknown to her,
her disappearance caused long lasting bereavement to those who loved her.
She is greatly missed.

Peace and Understanding

Peace is essential for living. Not only do we try to remember those who without dignity died fighting in the most dire conditions that you would not even expect an animal to endure but also we try to remember that they died struggling for peace, understanding and acceptance of the differences between different lands, cultures and peoples.  Sometimes perhaps we should try and forget past aggressions and wars so that inner peace within us has an opportunity to develop and bring harmony to the world as well as to our inner soul, our family and friends. 
For many years I upheld the Catholic faith to the best of my ability which was never good enough and I knew that.  But what is perfect? Before that I had my own beliefs which I continued to believe with modification and despite loving much of the Catholic faith especially the songs and hymns which I used to play every day on the piano, I never became a Catholic in the 23 years that I worked within the Catholic environment.  Two more years and I would have been eligible for a Papal medal if the secretary was awarded one after 25 years service to the establishment!   I made mistakes but I did my best not to be hypocritical (yet I think I probably was) and I did my best to keep the peace and to teach children that respect between people is a gift and is something to be valued in our attempt to acknowledge that people are very much the same despite differences in appearance, faiths, beliefs and much more.
When my father died this is the song that came spontaneously and which I sang all alone in a Church in Spain where there was no other family member except my daughter.  He saw terrible atrocities in the war and told me about some on the very last day I ever met him. It was as if a burden had been lifted for him because he said he had never ever told anyone this part of his story.  His only sibling sister was dying and he knew he would never see her again.  Tragically, he died soon after from a traffic accident and lost the power of speech.  He made his own decision not to burden anyone. 
This is the song I sang spontaneously today just after 11am on 11th day of the 11th month of the year 2011 as I sat in my garden listening to the clock strike the hour, as I sat and with my own reflections with hands covered in dirt and imagined those who fought in trenches, those who fought for the Fair Winds of France and England to bring freedom from fighting, to give those who came after Peace.  Each verse is repeated but Peace is replaced with Love, Joy, Hope.

Peace is flowing like a river,
Flowing out through you and me,
Spreading out into the desert,
Setting all the captives free.

On another note:
Today I was speaking to a friend about the larger pansies which compared to the diminutive ones seem to have a disappointed attitude as they bow their heads.