Thinking of Mum...

Today the sun shone, at least for some of the day. It was the sort of day my Mum would have pottered in the garden saying 'there's always something to do!'. I am struggling to see her beautiful garden beginning to fade. I know this time of year every garden looks a bit drab but the last 6 months have seen the weeds creeping across the borders and made me realise just how hard Mum worked to keep it all in check, even just a few weeks before she died. So today I headed over there and spent a few hours tackling the worst of the grass and dandelions that were choking the perennials and rose bushes. 

Several hours later...

There are crocuses and snowdrops in swathes. Make the few scattered flowers in my little patch of courtyard look paltry!

Mum always wanted a pond. I think she had the idea she would be able to relax beside it and watch a range of wildlife. It was a sort of work in progress for years and then last year it finally got almost to the way she wanted it. The edging never got finished and this winter we didn't get around to netting it but the water is clear and last summer we had newts and lots of water bugs. Cleared as much of the leaves and weed from it as I could and hope the plants all grow again this year. Just wish she could see it. 

One last look back at the sun sending ling shadows before heading home...

I miss Mum more than I thought was possible. Make the most of those moments with your loved ones. Laugh together and encourage the generation above to tell stories. There is so much more I wish I knew that I didn't know to ask about. I have lots of good memories but the sadness at times is overwhelming. This garden is just not the same without her presence in it.

Sx

In the footsteps of pilgrims...

I've been captivated by the recent short series following the route of the Via Francigena pilgrimage. Not because of the 'celebs' that feature (didn't know who half of them were and wasn't overly interested whether they had any kind of spiritual epiphany!) but because of a combination of a fascination with Italy and the idea of centuries of people treading the same path. The televised group completed the Italian stretch of the pilgrimage, from the Swiss Alps down through Italy to Rome. I hadn't realised until I started looking at it that, in fact, the route stretches 1800km from Canterbury to Rome. Thats a 3 month trek. So whilst there is a bit of me that would love to take that sort of time and undertake the physical and mental challenge, in reality I can't imaging ever being able to do so. But I am tempted to have an aim in mind, at some point, to do the route in sections and complete the 3 week Italian stretch - particularly as I am learning Italian at the moment so maybe, just maybe, I might have got to grips with the basics of the language by then!

With the prospect of a 4 day bank holiday weekend on my own and the forecast of good weather, on a whim I decided to head for Kent and do the Canterbury to Dover bit. I lived in Kent for a couple of years as a small child but had very little memory of it and although I must have been to Canterbury couldn't remember it at all.

I headed down mid afternoon on Friday, having plucked a late booking off the internet for a room at the Rose and Crown, in a village called Elham about 8 miles out of Canterbury. Always feels a bit of a lottery booking accommodation online (I have had a mixed bag over the years!) so I wasn't expecting much really. So imagine my surprise when I was shown into this room...!

Lovely spacious room, decent sized en-suite and the best eggs Benedict I think I have ever had the next morning!

I woke early so got up and had a wander round the village before breakfast. Blue, blue skies and pretty streets with views across the Kent Downs made me wonder why I have never felt inclined to walk here before.

After my delicious breakfast, a short drive to Canterbury and this was my first view over the city, across Dane John Gardens towards the cathedral in the distance...

And at the Christchurch gate from the cathedral on Burgate the signpost to Rome...

Even at 10.30 in the morning the sun was very warm and it felt like a midsummer's day. But as I left the city boundaries the countryside was a reminder that it is still quite early in the year - bright, fresh greenery still opening on the trees and hedgerows, bluebells just beginning to open...

 

I'm not sure I completely followed the official Via Francigena route, rather stupidly I didn't take a map so I ended following roads for the most part. Some of them pretty little tree-lined lanes, others much less pretty A roads! 

The countryside was beautiful. Very 'English' somehow. Although not obvious in the photos, there is quite a bit of up and down, with undulating rolling hills stretching as far as the eye can see.

This was my spot for a rest and a bit of lunch, about halfway, 9 miles to go...

At one point I joined a stretch of the North Downs Way...

...and for a little while, picked up the official way marks again!

The last few miles into Dover were a bit tedious - my feet were hot and sore after 18 miles, much of it on tarmac - so it was a boost to see the castle appear...

...closely followed by water, coffee and spicy, cinnamon bread pudding!

It was a short train ride back to Canterbury, then a wander round the cathedral grounds in the early evening light...

My last minute booking for last night was less impressive - tiny room, no breakfast and nearly twice the price! But, to be honest, after walking 23 miles in total I was just ready for a bed!

This morning it was beautiful again and, although my feet were suffering a bit, I wanted to walk round the city, starting with the tranquility of the riverside walk through Westfield Gardens...

I wondered how old this amazing gnarled tree is...

Gorgeous spring flowers...

The cathedral spires are striking as you approach. This was from The Friars, in front of the Marlowe theatre...

There are a number of sculptures outside the theatre, including this rather forbidding mask...

There is a real sense of history about Canterbury. So many ancient buildings, many in the centre of the town now home to the usual medley of shops and cafes, others not much more than ruins with lovely open spaces around them. But I had a sense that there is another side to Canterbury too. So many of those open spaces are daubed with graffiti, even on these beautiful walls and all over the seats in Greyfriars Gardens, formerly the home of a 13th Century Franciscan friary. I know graffiti can be artistic in its own right but this felt destructive and disrespectful to the history of these spaces. 

Before heading back to Norfolk, I thought I'd drive through the countryside to the village I lived in years ago. I was a bit taken aback by the flood of memories - I recognised the road and the house we lived in instantly, although it all looked slightly smaller than I remembered (why does childhood memory do that?!). But the field at the end of the cut-de-sac looked just the same, I can remember getting scratched ankles in the stubble there. I remembered being stung on the sole of my foot by a wasp after it flew into my flip flop whilst I was on a space hopper! I remembered our cat having a litter of kittens in the garage. But oddly, I had absolutely no recollection of this view from the village hall and park...

Lots of time for reflection. Lovely to have some warm sunshine to accompany it.

S x

'Lest we forget...'

I don't feel I have words this week...too much emotion in the air. But a little bit of Tunisian crochet for Remembrance Day tomorrow, since my paper poppy is looking a little crumpled.

For love, loss and remembrance...

S x

Moving on - how and when??

I have had good intentions of writing a number of happy posts about stuff I've been up to or pictures I've taken. I'm really conscious that all things considered I have a lot to be thankful for and I do try to look at things in a positive light. But I just haven't managed to engender enough enthusiasm to write things down lately. 

Three years ago, my ailing marriage of 25 years fell apart. Spectacularly quickly in the end. No rows, no major drama, lots of tears and sadness. I moved out to give us breathing space and time to think and that was that. Its not that there is anything to regret really - we met very young and had some great years growing up together and enjoying seeing three wonderful sons turn into capable, caring men. So how is it, that three years on the odd thing can still completely floor me? Today, I inadvertently wrote his name in a Christmas card. I guess its habit of a lifetime, best part of 30 years as a 'unit' when I always wrote all the cards. Now I don't know how to sign them - just me, me and the boys, me and the youngest who is still living at home? When do you stop adding everyone's names? I put it off as long as I can each year and then the conventional part of me kicks in, spurred by the looming 'last posting date'. What struck me today was how ridiculous it is that every year I write cards to people I haven't seen for years (but feel connected to because we shared friendship at some stage and I still want to maintain that connection - I still like to hear what they're doing) and yet the man that I lived with for all those years and who, despite divorce (and all the anguish that brings), I will always be connected to because we have children (they're still our kids, even grown up) I can't speak to, or see at all or even send a Christmas card to.

He, of course, is completely entitled to move on in whichever way he feels best and if (as is the case) he wishes to have no contact with me at all that's his prerogative. We forgot how to care for each other in the last few years together and I'm not sure we could make each other happy any longer. From what the boys say he is much happier now - he's living a life he never wanted to do when he was with me and I'm glad he's been able to do that. But I can't shake off this feeling that it should be possible to be on friendly terms. How can you want to pretend half your life never happened? I value those years - even the tricky ones - we learned about life together, we share special memories of our children that no-one else can quite relate to in the same way, we became the people we are at least in part because of each other. I wish we were still able to enjoy sharing things the boys are doing.

Mostly, I feel ok about life. I keep busy, probably too busy, and things tick along. But I think I'm just treading water. I don't know how make forward progress. And just now and again, like today, I think I'm drowning. 

Moments that make you think...

This week has been a bit mad. In addition to the usual manic work stuff, a few 'old house issues' becoming apparent (leaking drain, damp, condensation...) and the general day to day stuff of living, I've had 2 trips to London. Work related rather than pleasure exclusively, as a result of which I've decided a 2 hour plus each way commute is really not for me! I love going to London, but really, I think, because I like to be able to soak up the atmosphere and people watch. Running on and off the tube and negotiating crowds of people when you actually have to be somewhere at a given time not so much fun.

But I did sneak in a few little bonus 'moments'... On Friday evening after a full days meeting, we took in the Royal Ballet's Manon at the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden. This did not disappoint - the music was beautiful and the dancing defied what you think a human body can do. How those dancers manage to make something so physically demanding look so graceful and effortless is beyond me. Although in many respects the lead character doesn't exactly encourage your empathy (she's a bit shallow, flirts between love and riches with giddying fickle-mindedness) the story was told with such emotion that by the end of the second act I was reaching for a tissue... not that it takes a whole lot to reduce me to tears these days! 

Obviously, couldn't take pictures in there so this is copied from the ROH site. The sets and the costumes were stunning and the setting of the opera house beautiful (another first for me, had never been in there before). Several ballet 'newbies' in our group, who had come along with a healthy degree of scepticism, were completely converted - if you are not sure if you like ballet, this is one to see. Lovely way to spend the evening.

Then before heading home on the Saturday, I made the effort to go and see the poppies installation at the Tower of London. Over the summer this stunning sea of poppies, each representing service personnel that died during the First World War, has spread across the moat around the Tower. Lots more about the installation here - I was keen to see it before it is dismantled in November.

It was heaving with people, but even so, no less impressive to see this flow of red that certainly focuses the mind in terms of the scale of wasted lives. Very powerful image.

Something of a reminder of the value of life.

There have been a number of sobering things this week, most not for mention on here, but this little waif touched my heart too...

My middle son's girlfriend is a vet nurse and found this poor little lost soul curled up in the road, cold, blue and very nearly history. He is about 6 weeks old and, she is pretty sure, dumped. I don't understand how anyone can do that. I had said I wouldn't have cats in this house - no garden, too near a busy road, out all day...  but was seriously tested here!! Fortunately, within a day a kind home had been found for him so I'm sure he'll have a happy life now.

So, enough dallying, back to the tedious business of 'day off' activities - chasing the water authority re the drains, washing, ironing, cleaning... though have to confess to a degree of obsession with what has become something of a scientific exercise monitoring the relative humidity and checking the dehumidifier. Should this house ever resemble something less than tropical levels of humidity (without the warmth!) I shall be putting flags out!!! 

Sx

getting out and about...

I know the weather has been pretty grim, especially for those in the South West, and I can't say it has felt particularly nice here - cold winds and bursts of rain but when I looked at my camera for the last few days actually there was quite a bit of blue sky. Got me wondering about whether we capture what we'd like to remember as much as a true record of life? Or is it just that when its really grim I have a tendency to hibernate indoors?!

Anyway, at the weekend I got up early and walked into the city beside the river. I love that I can be at the market in just over 5 minutes and love even more that I can take a variety of routes in and out. I appreciate the novelty may wear off but for now I'm enjoying my wandering.

Whichever way I go I pass churches. On Saturday the blue sky was stunning...

The riverside area has been redeveloped over recent years - it used to be old industrial sites but now is the site of modern housing developments.  Norwich had a thriving brewing industry for many years and I love that distinctive remnants of those old buildings remain...

This rather ornate gateway leads through to the riverside path. I presume the letters relate to the industrial past but no idea what.

The walkway looks very modern now and I'm not sure if I really love it but I do like that this area has been given a new lease of life; it seems entirely appropriate that cities evolve and are reinvented to meet the needs of the current population, provided that the character of the area isn't lost. 

On Sunday I took a very different trip out. I was awake at silly o'clock (for some reason I seem completely unable to sleep properly at the moment!) so I got up and drove to the coast with no particular destination in mind, just a desire to see the sea. I ended up at Happisburgh (pronounced haze-bruh in case you wondered!) which was a regular haunt when our kids were small. It has a striking lighthouse on the 'high' point...

Anyone remember Challenge Anneka?!!! This was one of the subjects of her programme when it got a makeover in 1990 (having just looked that up, I am slightly reeling at how long ago it was!!) - unfortunately, it seems the wrong paint was used and the 200+ year old lighthouse had to have a complete repaint a few years later. It is real landmark; you can see it a way off on a clear day as you approach the village.

The village has been in the news repeatedly over the last 20 odd years as the sea has eroded the coastline by huge chunks, swallowing up coastal properties as it goes. The beach is unrecognisable from that I remember taking the boys to. The original road to the beach has vanished and there is now a mud ramp down to the beach...

There used to be a long line of original wooden constructed sea defences which provided great shelter for small boys to dig in the sand. Now there are a few piles of rocks, dropped in an attempt to stave off the power of the sea a bit. 

It is a beautiful bit of coastline and at 9am it was just me and a few hardy dog walkers, bliss.

The erosion is starkly obvious though. It looks a little like a mini Grand Canyon, with the top end of the beach covered in sticky mud that has slid down from the overhanging fields. Apparently well over 120 metres have disappeared since the early 1990s, which is a huge amount when you think about it.

I wonder how safe the lighthouse is as the sea creeps further inland?

I think this is probably all that remains of the old sea defences...

Something quite poignant about the debris of houses that have gone 'over the edge'...

...and the warning signs on the attempts at sea defences...

The blue sky is deceptive - after an hour walking I was absolutely frozen! Nothing for it but to head home for a cuppa and a bit of Sunday baking!

Peanut butter and chocolate cookies with lunchboxes in mind...

This little rose on my windowsill has replaced the daffs that were a bit past it. It makes me chuckle every time I look at it - it arrived beautifully packaged from a florist. Goodness! Who could possibly be sending me flowers?! (this just about never happens in my world!) 'Have you got a secret admirer?' Tom wonders... And the answer is...? No! Turns out these were from the estate agents that sold the house to me!! How bizarre! I can only assume they took a handsome fee and thought they could spare a bit! Anyway, its a pretty rose, so I will enjoy!

And for a bit more randomness...a bit of crochet...

I had a fancy for making something useful. This cardigan was dead easy, if a bit boring, and I think I quite like it. Only I have to confess to not being quite sure about crochet clothes. They always seem a bit sort of 'boxy' somehow. And even though I added extra to both the sleeves and the body, both are just a teeny bit short. Hoping it may 'relax' a bit when I wash it...

This afternoon was beautiful again with more blue skies. This church is on my alternative route home...

I have a bit of a thing about skies and clouds and almost walked into someone looking up as I walked...

And finally, my clock is going again! The nice man that repairs old clocks came and worked magic with a bit of oil and tweaking and this is ticking away so contentedly in its new spot. I so love the sound, the question is, will we hear the strike all night?!!

Off to bed to see now...

S xx