Archive for Life

RIP

Today it would be difficult not to be aware of the three letters of my title.

Many will focus on Remembrance Services for those who gave their lives for the service of their Country and fellow man, in every conflict since the Great War.  Having married and lived with a Veteran of WW11(Burma Star) and knowing how he quietly and stoically carried his injuries for longer than the 51 years that I was when he died, I thank God for his courage, his caring and his love.  My mind and thoughts are always with those whose lives are torn, but not ended in Conflict.  The injured certainly, but also the wives, husbands, mothers, fathers, children, siblings an even on occasions the grandparents, faced with a gaping wound of emptiness.  May they find find acceptance, peace and once again hear the birds sing!

I also know a few people for whom 11th November marks the anniversary of of the death of a loved one.  They also will be in my thoughts at this time.

Our lives on this earth are but a speck of sand in the great scheme of things; and in that time many people pass into and out of our life’s journey.  Some are with us for a very long time yet leave a very light foot print, while others stop only briefly, forgeing a very deep impression never to be forgotten.

Without them the tapestry of life would be dull.

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I Wish

I wish….” are words we have all uttered at some stage of our lives.  Perhaps it is for something simple like a bar of dark chocolate or an ice cream, a new dress and the pair of the latest high fashion shoes that you saw in a shop window last week or a swish new BMW.

Some wish that christmas or a birthday will come around quickly so they can have the latest LEGO Mindstorms NXT Robotics Toolset, a Wii game, DVD or top notch radio controlled toy or if you are cold like me it might be Foot warmers!

While sitting in an office over a hot PC or laptop, or locked in the boardroom listening to someone droning on endlessly about poor sales figures, accounts diving into the red zone or the latest round of job cuts you may wish to be on a riverbank, fishing, swimming or drifting along in a punt with a cool glass of wine.  You may wish to be on a desert island walking along at the lapping waters edge, or on top of a mountain where the air is so pure it takes your breath away.

Be careful what you wish for.  Sometimes we get so locked into wishing for something that we lose all clear thought of what we are actually wishing for.  There is no such thing as a free lunch.  Each wish has a price and it may cost more than we are actually prepared to pay.

In recent months two examples were brought to our attention in the Media.  Susan Boyle spent years wishing to realise her dream of singing before a large audience.  She did achieve her dream but was not in any way ready to cope with the cost of so doing.

In an interview recently on the radio Gordon Brown, Prime Minister of the UK admitted that he could walk away from the job of Prime Minister and not miss it.  He too had yearned for years to hold that position of high office.

So think well before you wish for something make sure that you are ready to cope with all it involves.

All this because I had a song going through my head all day yesterday!

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Flight of the Bumble Bee

The discussion had gone on for an hour, quietly, with both of us putting forward the reasons why the other should not be the one to do the job in hand.  The sun was shining and the day calm.  It wasn’t an argument - we didn’t argue, we discussed.

The lid was removed and paint stirred, the brushes ready and the ladder extended, I stood with my hand out for the splash cloth.  Slowly, very slowly Jack moved to relinquish it to me.  The handing over of that cloth to me was the acceptance that his days of climbing ladders were over.  Up until that point we shared in the decorating chores of the house, both inside and out.  Jack did the climbing and I looked after anything from waist to floor level.  We were a good partnership working in contented silence.  I was never afraid of hard work or climbing ladders.

Despite being a Burma vetern from WW11, Jack never let his injuries prevent him from trying anything.  He had re-learned to walk, drive, dance and climb ladders before I was born.  He took pride in everything he did and painting was no different.  In recent months I noticed that he was not lifting the injured leg without his foot catching and I didn’t want him falling from the ladder.

The task for the day was to paint under the eaves of the bungalow.  The front of the house was easy and possible to complete from a stepladder.  The back was a horse of a different colour.  The eaves were as high as a house and the gable end on one side was next door to heaven.  Up I went with all my gear.  I am fortunate in that I have long arms and can paint with either hand, with a wide span it made for fewer journeys up and down.

Jack pottered about the garden pretending to weed but ready to come to my aid if needed.  He insisted on helping to adjust the ladder with each change of level and making it secure before I began another upward journey.  By the time I was halfway through the task he began to relax.

Deep in concentration I suddenly noticed it had darkened.  I looked skyward expecting to see a cloud hiding the sun.  Aghhhhh!  There was no cloud to obscure the sunshine, I was looking at a massive swarm of bees!  They were hovering right above my head.  I froze!

Calling quietly to Jack I sent him to close every window in the house.  I decided to stay where I was and not move, afraid that if I did move the swarm would follow and land on me.  I have no idea how long I stood there, it seemed like hours but I am sure it was minutes.  The swarm lifted and moved nearer the apex, I was about to climb down but the bees quickly moved back down to their original position just above my head.  Again I froze.

Eventually they moved upward and over the chimney to the front of the house and off at an angle of 45°.

Returning to ground level with a great sigh of relief I went round to the front and saw the swarm land like a great big circular stain on the roof of one of the other bungalows.  I was fascinated as the stain became smaller as if drawn into the roof by suction.  The couple who owned the house were at work.  I kept a regular watch at intervals throughout the day and when the couple arrived home I went to tell them.

Later that night we were entertained as a gentleman in Apiarist protective clothing worked slowly and carefully to firstly smoke and then lift roof tiles to reach the swarm and remove them to a mobile hive.  They were not your commoner garden bees, but a particular type and he even knew where they had come from - Kells in Co Antrim.

If you are interested in the process of collecting a swarm have a look at this article

Rimsky Korsakov - The Flight of the Bumble Bee Played by James Galway on the flute Pianist-Phillip Moll James Galway’s recital in Belfast, Waterfront Hall

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There are no words

Pray for my brother, his family  and all families in Melbourne.

I will never complain of being cold again

Latest message:

The toll is now 173 from Saturdays fires

The most amazing thing is when you see the pictures

While the fires are still raging  and changing direction without notice and townships are still under threat

The advice to people is

Be dressed in long natural clothing head to toe with glasses

If the fire and smoke is in your street or area it is too late

The safest place to be is in your home

Don’t expect any warning

Don’t expect any help

You are on your own

The final number of deaths for Saturday fires are now close

72 still missing (hopefully some will come home) as of 2.30 am this morning(Tuesday 10th Feb 09 local to him).

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Paddy’s Bidding

I’ve taken up the challenge of another meme from Paddy Bloggit.  He was tagged by Ramana of Ramana’s Musings and he passed it on to his harem.
Steph has managed to complete her list, and I am sure that Baino will not be far behind.  As Queen of ‘the zippy- up yoke in the corner’, I had better get a move on.

  • What is your occupation? Trying to stay alive
  • What colour are your socks right now? Brown
  • What are you listening to right now? The hum of my hard drive
  • Can you drive a stick shift? I can shift a stick and I can drive! ;)  My manual gear car is my life-line.
  • Last person you spoke to on the phone? My daughter Elly
  • Do you like the person who you stole this quiz from / tagged you? Yes, we have become firm friends in the last year and I’d love to meet him in person some day.
  • How old are you today? 61.  62 will arrive with the March hare.
  • Favourite drink? It varies with the time of day, boiled water for breakfast.  Green tea with mint to sip with my lunch, and fresh brewed black Coffee in the afternoon or to follow dinner. On the alcoholic side good wine, a G&T or a G&G and to treat a cough there is nothing better than a Hot Port with honey!  *cough, cough*
  • Favourite sport to watch? I am not really sports minded.  Since so many sports nowadays are money grabbing I find them a total turn off.
  • Pets? Toyboys.
  • Favourite food? A good home cooked meal with friends.
  • What was the last movie you watched? I cannot remember
  • What’s your favourite day of the week? The day I wake up!
  • How do you vent anger? I do some physical work to get it out of my system, as I do with frustration.
  • What was your favourite toy as a child? With five siblings toys were shared.
  • What is your favourite season? I think it has to be spring, with the promise of new life and more daylight,
  • Hugs or kisses? Hugs!  To start and end the day at least!
  • Cherries or Blueberries? I love all fruit.  Cherries, Raspberries and Rhubarb are high on the list.
  • Do you want your friends to do this quiz? I will leave it open for people to choose.
  • Who is the most likely to respond? I am sure several of my commenter’s will try it!
  • Living arrangements? Alas, it seems to be me and the spiders! :sad:
  • When was the last time you cried? Today, but they were tears of laughter!
  • What is on the floor of your closet? We call them wardrobes.  Shoes.
  • Who is the friend you have had the longest that you hope takes this quiz? Not sure I can answer that one.
  • What did you do last NIGHT? Went to bed, a girl needs her beauty sleep! :roll:
  • Favourite smells? Grilled Bacon and freshly brewed coffee..
  • What inspires you? People.
  • What are you afraid of? I gave up being afraid long ago, I see it as a waste of time and energy.
  • Favourite dog breed? Yorkshire Terrier
  • How many states have you lived in? Excitement, euphoria and contentment.
  • Favourite holiday? Denmark and West Cork

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An Answer!

Ian asked me a question on 30th March this year. He would be the first to tell us that some answers take time. This one did, but I at last have the answer.

Back then I wrote about this wonderful sculpture

At the time the only information I had was:

Brian Alabaster of Suffolk made this sculpture in 2003. His son Sam, a 15 year old boy with Downs Syndrome sits reading with his Grandpa, Dickie, who is 82, Sam’s dog Billy, age 10, is at his feet.

I received a comment to that post at the weekend. It was from Brian Alabaster, sculptor. ARBS. Sadly, he tells me that Grandpa Dickie has since died. The close bond between man and boy is so obvious in the work and I am sure Dickis is greatly missed by all his loved ones.

So to answer Ian’s question, asking if the piece was commissioned by the local council, I can now tell you it was purchased by the owners of Junction One Shopping Outlet after they saw it in Brian’s studio.

It was with great interest and curiosity that I visited Brian’s website and was fascinated at his back story. I immediately lost my heart to this piece;

If only I had a garden suitable for Lilly Luke and Rose to sport and play.

Now if you pause for a moment you can almost hear their chatter.

Enjoy!

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Muggins

I am always amazed how blog posts awaken a memory.

Lottie’s post about being mugged brought back two.

The first happened while I was on holiday in England at the age of twelve. Always underweight and small for my age I would have easily passed as a ten year old. Until now I had forgotten or buried the episode deep down in order not to remember.

While walking along a quiet country road two boys pushed me to the ground with a bicycle. They held me on the ground and although I struggled, they managed to remove my panties.

I won’t go into details but as I think about it today with a shiver, I suppose they were only checking out and testing what they had learned or talked about behind the bike shed at school. Those were days long before sex education was introduced into the school curriculum. It was a terrible experience and one I would not wish happen any girl, young or old. I was in tears when I reached my Aunts house and she called the police. There were endless interviews and questions, in a way I was glad the boys were never found because if they were I would have had to go through it all again in court. After that holiday the topic was never raised. My parents never spoke about it and to this day I have no idea if my aunt ever told them.

The second was when I lived in Germany in the early 1970’s. My apartment had a communal front entrance with a buzzer system of entry. The Penthouse suite contained an apartment and offices for the owner. A gentleman I met through friends became infatuated without reason. Our paths crossed several times at social gatherings, I was courteous but gave no encouragement. Somehow he discovered where I lived and he began to stalk me. One evening the internal doorbell to my apartment rang. Thankfully it had a peephole viewer and when I looked through it I saw it was my ‘stalker’ I didn’t open the door. It was before we had mobile phones and I did not have a land-line phone installed at the time.

Needless to say sleep evaded me that night and indeed for several weeks. He was still sitting there in the carpeted hallway outside my door all warm and cosy when I went to bed. I have no idea how long he stayed as I resisted the urge to get out of my bed to check. Thankfully in the morning he was gone. I knew the time my neighbours left for work, so I made sure I was walking down the hall at the same time. Several nights later the same thing happened. I followed the same procedure and when I returned from work that evening I made it my business to speak to the caretaker. He said he would have the owners send a note to all residents reminding them not to let anyone in as they opened the front door. All visitors were supposed to buzz the person they had come to visit and only gain access on invitation.

Originally I had gone to see about a ground floor apartment and was surprised that the owners would not let me rent it. They explained that they would not rent a ground floor apartment to a lady living on her own and showed me around an empty one on the first floor which I agreed to take. Many times later I was to feel thankful for that decision. It was a lovely compact home for me in a nice area and I walked through the park to work each day. I did not want to move and nobody was going to push me out. After the third visit I reported my uninvited guest, who had a wife, and I then discovered a history of this kind of behaviour. The last I heard he was admitted as a patient to the Psychiatric Ward of the hospital where I worked.

Thankfully that was the only down point of my time in Germany and there were so many happy times to make up for it. Like the first incident above I buried it deep and moved on.

Now that apartment living is so prevalent in Ireland, just stop for a moment and think before you hold open a door for a stranger. If they are a genuine visitor they will understand why you ask them to press the buzzer!

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What do they call you

“Did you hear wee Annie got away?” said a woman in the queue waiting to buy a stamp.

“Who was that?” asked her companion.

“Wee Annie Blair. She was Cameron to her own!”

So wee Annie Blair nee Cameron died. Wee Annie was married to Joe Blair for nigh on fifty years, yet she was still known locally as Annie Cameron.

My given name is Marie. Maaaaaare to my family, Mareeee to school pals. My mother and sister were both called Eileen. Visitors to the house or callers on the phone always said “Hello Eileen”, well two thirds of the time they were correct so why bother.

Later I became Darling, Mammy, mum and have now settled comfortably with Grannymar.

How are you known?

Is it by the name you were given at birth, a variation of it or by a name you picked yourself? If you were to change your name by deed poll what would it be?

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I Wonder

If you knew

That today was your last

Would you waste it

Worrying about

Tomorrow

I don’t do flowers! The wild stuff in the photo is from my back garden!

Comments (23)

For Jo

On my piece last Friday ‘The light went out…’ there were many comments. One in particular begged an answer.

Jo said

I know that people are meant to go, and have to go but I don’t know how we’re meant to find peace with it. I really don’t.

You are an inspiration, it’s true, your blog speaks of the pain of your loss but also so much of the joy you find in your life.

How do you stop a death like this from tinting every happiness afterwards with a little sadness?

Coming from a large family circle we had plenty of hatching, matching and dispatching. The first death that I actually remember was in 1955; our next door neighbour had a stroke and died a week later. They had no telephone so our number was given at the hospital for emergency contact. It was suggested that May the wife, might telephone every morning for a progress report (back in those days visiting was very restricted and children under 14 were not allowed). May arrived at our house every morning before 8am and we children had to stay in the dining room out of the way for the duration. May wailed like a tragic opera singer and refused to make the phone call, mammy had to make the call and pretend that she was May! My parents were loyal and supportive in every way. May died in 1992. She never stopped wailing and instead of bringing support it had the effect of turning people away. That left a mark on me.

My father was called on at times of family bereavements to make the funeral arrangements and he involved me in the practical arrangements. I learned the importance of making the ‘Lists’ they might take 10 minutes, but it saved time and hassle further down the line. I learned how to deal with, and in which order, the undertakers, the clergy, the press and the florists. Most important of all I learned how to tell people over the phone calmly that someone had died, remembering that I was giving them shocking news. That taught me to harness my emotions.

Over the years I have known and watched many people die, from elderly grandmother, parents, aunts, uncles, cousins to a baby niece who was a victim of sudden death syndrome. I have lost many close friends as well. Not all death effects on you in the same way. Some people leave a special indelible mark on your heart.

When my maternal grandmother died, mammy, daddy and I were with her. Later that evening daddy gathered my siblings and we went en-famille (sp?) to pay our respects. We gathered around the bed where granny was laid out, looking very solemn with her hands joined. We spoke in whispers. Why do we do that? Daddy told us to kneel and led us in prayer. Suddenly from the far side of the bed one of my younger brothers burst out laughing! Daddy frowned and continued with the prayer. Brother No.3 continued laughing and indeed got worse. Daddy stopped and asked for an explanation. “I keep thinking that Granny will open her eyes and say ‘Hah! I fooled you!’ said Brother No.3. That was Granny in a nutshell, and soon we were all laughing. Laughter of love not disrespect.

Jo, my husband was ill for six years. This gave us time to prepare, to say all that had to be said. Those six years were not all suffering and grief. The time was limited so we made the most of it. We had some very precious moments, the memory of which will live on in my soul. Jack was a good teacher of how to live; he had come through some difficult times in his life’s journey, I spoke about them here and here. I might not have felt like living on when he died, but I had Elly to think about and if I was to live as long as my mother and grandmother before me, I had 30 years or more to go and that is a long, long time to stay miserable. Misery breeds bitterness in my book

Those years were not all sunshine and roses either. My mother died eighteen months before Jack and Elly left the nest for University six weeks later. My good neighbour and friend faced surgery and chemotherapy I helped with her day to day care when she was feeling ill or low. I washed and creamed her feet each evening and this gave her great comfort. When we learn to wash each others feet, we peel away barriers and build friendship (I am beginning to sound like a preacher here!).

People suffering from loss or heartbreak find their body and mind reacting strangely even in normal situations. They experience mood swings. They sometimes avoid places and people that bring up nostalgic memories and can make them weep uncontrollably. Even when you can’t have your loved one back, you may still be able to move on with your life and become a stronger human being. The tragedy of life is not that it ends so soon, but that we wait so long to begin it. The best tribute we can pay a loved one is to LIVE!

“Life does not cease to be funny when people die any more than it ceases to be serious when people laugh.” ~ George Bernard Shaw

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