Goodness me how can it be 2 years since I wrote 2 posts?
Watch this space.. not too avidly but keep an eye on it :)
Saturday, 19 November 2011
Sunday, 30 August 2009
My Favourite things
These are a few of my favourite things .
I have never really thought about this so it was a surprise to realise that I do not like many ‘things’ for their own sake.
I have possessions I am very fond of but it’s the story that goes with them that I treasure or what they facilitate for me in my life, not so much the item itself.
I love books and have read many in my life. I love them for portable escapism, I love the feel of a book, often the older the better, I like the idea that others have sat and turned the pages before me. I find it delightful if I find a note or a slip of paper within a book offering a glimpse into the life of the person who read it before me.As I buy my books new these days rather than second hand or borrowing them from a library I have not made such a discovery in years.
Maybe I should return to my old habits of rummage though second hand bookshops.
I too love pens and stationary. My favourite such thing was a Journal full of crisp deep cream pages bound in a velvet and silk sari. I was so captivated there was not a chance I could have left the shop without it. I used it for many years to keep a journal in Miss A’s early years which I now treasure and went back for another but at some point I lost the habit of writing in them.
I love a Ruby Bracelet I own, it is stunning and took 2 years for the jeweller to find and match the rubies in it. It also matches a ring I own so perfectly you would think them a set. In truth expensive things make me fairly nervous to wear and enjoy freely.
I love it for the memory it holds. We bought it in Gibraltar and Mr Fay made a unusual romantic gesture of dashing back to port to get in just before the ship sailed.
I Love my Globe. In truth I have 2 but one is my favourite it is in the old style with a cream background made by some famous American globe maker (apparently) to mark the millennium. I love to hold it. Wipe off the accumulated dust from its last outing, and look at all the places I am yet to go. We play a game when we cannot decide on a holiday destination of wildly spinning it and hitting a random point with out fingers. Iraq and Afghanistan come up ever such a lot with that travel selection method.
My other globe is set with semi precious stones and also a lot of fun to spin.
I love my camera, in truth I love the one before it but I upgraded and it does take slightly better photos but I still hanker for the relationship I had with the one before. We understood each other, or at least I had read the instruction manual, being the same make I am winging it with this one and it is yet to merge into my hand and feel an extension of myself.
I love my camera because it lets me capture my memories and memories are one of my favourite things.. I enjoy playing with its abilities and trying to take pics on macro or black and white. I love the artistic side of taking a picture and I love digital photography, done right with a decent camera, I have little time for the disappointing results of mobile phone cameras.
I love memories so much I find myself starting to savour them almost as they take place either in the form of noting this is a moment to put to memory or writing about it in my head during the experience.One such time was returning to a ship in the Caribbean, It started to rain and in a moment I was in the middle of a scene from an artistically directed movie. Fat rain and dust rising, the aroma of Cuban cigars. Happy grinning faces. And splashing in the puddles, of this sort of thing my memories are made.
I own some Canadian Jade attached to memories of our Honeymoon, I love the feel and weight of it.
I love candles or at least the light and atmosphere they create, I could lay in the glow of candlelight for hours, it soothes me and I love how people look in candle light, time slows somehow.
I love water, if I manage to get to the sea I love to gaze upon it. I love cruises and boat trips. I was bought up owning boats in Cyprus. I love to swim and scuba dive.A bath makes me feel better if nothing else is possible and I even enjoy letting the running water splash though my fingers from the kitchen tap.
I love an artistically filmed move. I enjoy a well-filmed section as much as a well-written piece of writing. I love words and admire people who can write, a dream of mine is to take some of my life experience and put it into a book one day.
I love Art. Especially discovering an artist new to me. I love the smell of oil on canvas.
I also love my laptop for reasons you can probably imagine.And finally is time too abstract to be included? I love freedom of time to lose oneself to think and dream, to explore :)
I have never really thought about this so it was a surprise to realise that I do not like many ‘things’ for their own sake.
I have possessions I am very fond of but it’s the story that goes with them that I treasure or what they facilitate for me in my life, not so much the item itself.
I love books and have read many in my life. I love them for portable escapism, I love the feel of a book, often the older the better, I like the idea that others have sat and turned the pages before me. I find it delightful if I find a note or a slip of paper within a book offering a glimpse into the life of the person who read it before me.As I buy my books new these days rather than second hand or borrowing them from a library I have not made such a discovery in years.
Maybe I should return to my old habits of rummage though second hand bookshops.
I too love pens and stationary. My favourite such thing was a Journal full of crisp deep cream pages bound in a velvet and silk sari. I was so captivated there was not a chance I could have left the shop without it. I used it for many years to keep a journal in Miss A’s early years which I now treasure and went back for another but at some point I lost the habit of writing in them.
I love a Ruby Bracelet I own, it is stunning and took 2 years for the jeweller to find and match the rubies in it. It also matches a ring I own so perfectly you would think them a set. In truth expensive things make me fairly nervous to wear and enjoy freely.
I love it for the memory it holds. We bought it in Gibraltar and Mr Fay made a unusual romantic gesture of dashing back to port to get in just before the ship sailed.
I Love my Globe. In truth I have 2 but one is my favourite it is in the old style with a cream background made by some famous American globe maker (apparently) to mark the millennium. I love to hold it. Wipe off the accumulated dust from its last outing, and look at all the places I am yet to go. We play a game when we cannot decide on a holiday destination of wildly spinning it and hitting a random point with out fingers. Iraq and Afghanistan come up ever such a lot with that travel selection method.
My other globe is set with semi precious stones and also a lot of fun to spin.
I love my camera, in truth I love the one before it but I upgraded and it does take slightly better photos but I still hanker for the relationship I had with the one before. We understood each other, or at least I had read the instruction manual, being the same make I am winging it with this one and it is yet to merge into my hand and feel an extension of myself.
I love my camera because it lets me capture my memories and memories are one of my favourite things.. I enjoy playing with its abilities and trying to take pics on macro or black and white. I love the artistic side of taking a picture and I love digital photography, done right with a decent camera, I have little time for the disappointing results of mobile phone cameras.
I love memories so much I find myself starting to savour them almost as they take place either in the form of noting this is a moment to put to memory or writing about it in my head during the experience.One such time was returning to a ship in the Caribbean, It started to rain and in a moment I was in the middle of a scene from an artistically directed movie. Fat rain and dust rising, the aroma of Cuban cigars. Happy grinning faces. And splashing in the puddles, of this sort of thing my memories are made.
I own some Canadian Jade attached to memories of our Honeymoon, I love the feel and weight of it.
I love candles or at least the light and atmosphere they create, I could lay in the glow of candlelight for hours, it soothes me and I love how people look in candle light, time slows somehow.
I love water, if I manage to get to the sea I love to gaze upon it. I love cruises and boat trips. I was bought up owning boats in Cyprus. I love to swim and scuba dive.A bath makes me feel better if nothing else is possible and I even enjoy letting the running water splash though my fingers from the kitchen tap.
I love an artistically filmed move. I enjoy a well-filmed section as much as a well-written piece of writing. I love words and admire people who can write, a dream of mine is to take some of my life experience and put it into a book one day.
I love Art. Especially discovering an artist new to me. I love the smell of oil on canvas.
I also love my laptop for reasons you can probably imagine.And finally is time too abstract to be included? I love freedom of time to lose oneself to think and dream, to explore :)
Wednesday, 5 August 2009
After the rain
Having been imprisoned for days finally the rain stopped if only for a short while.
I took my Children out for a walk, for no particular reason, other than to escape the four walls of home.
I made up a mission to get the ingredients for a cake and to get the all Important local paper.
We took the long route to the local shops. The streets were deserted more filled by puddles than people.
The few People I did pass, I smiled and if offered eye contact ventured a good morning. No one smiled or spoke.
Undeterred we took in the sights of our neighbourhood washed clean by the rain looking shy in its fresh colours.
The flowers in the Haphazardly tended gardens looked brighter, even the puddles thought about reflecting the sky. I smiled to myself lost a little in my own world at the eccentric typically British gardens and tried to imagine the thought processes and conversations that went into the gnome garden complete with waterwheel and fountain.
Arriving at the shops more people were waiting for a bus. The mother of a neighbour gave me a smile and a wave. We waved back. It was nice to know I am not invisible.
We walked with purpose to the corner shop. Shopping list driving us forward.
As we entered the owner sat by his till, smiled and said good morning, I have been popping in here for nearly 6 years now and over the years I have on a number of occasions, out of boredom as much as anything, engaged him in various conversations.
From another broken window and his feelings of victimisation to the possibility of youth noise deterrents and the need for youth clubs, we have discussed the merits of polish bread especially as toast and the language of a mother from the school I am trying to converse with.
He is in short a charming man and I have no idea how he stands it sitting by his till all day.
We proceed to the aisle we need and Amy takes charge with the shopping list. Cocoa powder, sugar and milk. We are going to make brownies.
We go to pay, My Son is waving and smiling and the shopkeeper smiles back. He rings up our purchases and I pay. Then he offers a bag. I accept asking if I need to pay for it. He says no and I add I never know which shops charge and which don’t. He rustles the bag and mutters oh we charge but it is OK you do not need to pay. Do I imagine it? Or is he blushing at his own impulsive extravagance?
We leave smiling and waving. I am touched by the gesture.
In the newsagents we get the paper we want and glance at the headlines of the nationals, I use a large dose of salt during this viewing.
As we come to pay the lady greets my son and we discuss the overheating of the shop by all the fridges in there and the impossibility of this endless rain during the summer holidays.
We set off for home. I would like to walk for miles but my daughter is reluctant so we just take a round trip home.
A friendly neighbourhood Tomcat greets us and down the road, round a corner we meet his illegitimate offspring.
We pass a house with pooh bear in the window. My Son wants me to get the bear for him so I spend most of the trip home promising-Pooh dear, at home, in a minute, to ward off a toddler tantrum. He seems to understand.
I decide to open all the doors and windows when we get home. I really need to clear my head.
We arrive back home and I have to try to air the house while not allowing my 2 year old out into the street, something has to give and before long I fail.
Watching him waddle about the house hugging his over sized pooh bear I realise, I do not really mind.
I took my Children out for a walk, for no particular reason, other than to escape the four walls of home.
I made up a mission to get the ingredients for a cake and to get the all Important local paper.
We took the long route to the local shops. The streets were deserted more filled by puddles than people.
The few People I did pass, I smiled and if offered eye contact ventured a good morning. No one smiled or spoke.
Undeterred we took in the sights of our neighbourhood washed clean by the rain looking shy in its fresh colours.
The flowers in the Haphazardly tended gardens looked brighter, even the puddles thought about reflecting the sky. I smiled to myself lost a little in my own world at the eccentric typically British gardens and tried to imagine the thought processes and conversations that went into the gnome garden complete with waterwheel and fountain.
Arriving at the shops more people were waiting for a bus. The mother of a neighbour gave me a smile and a wave. We waved back. It was nice to know I am not invisible.
We walked with purpose to the corner shop. Shopping list driving us forward.
As we entered the owner sat by his till, smiled and said good morning, I have been popping in here for nearly 6 years now and over the years I have on a number of occasions, out of boredom as much as anything, engaged him in various conversations.
From another broken window and his feelings of victimisation to the possibility of youth noise deterrents and the need for youth clubs, we have discussed the merits of polish bread especially as toast and the language of a mother from the school I am trying to converse with.
He is in short a charming man and I have no idea how he stands it sitting by his till all day.
We proceed to the aisle we need and Amy takes charge with the shopping list. Cocoa powder, sugar and milk. We are going to make brownies.
We go to pay, My Son is waving and smiling and the shopkeeper smiles back. He rings up our purchases and I pay. Then he offers a bag. I accept asking if I need to pay for it. He says no and I add I never know which shops charge and which don’t. He rustles the bag and mutters oh we charge but it is OK you do not need to pay. Do I imagine it? Or is he blushing at his own impulsive extravagance?
We leave smiling and waving. I am touched by the gesture.
In the newsagents we get the paper we want and glance at the headlines of the nationals, I use a large dose of salt during this viewing.
As we come to pay the lady greets my son and we discuss the overheating of the shop by all the fridges in there and the impossibility of this endless rain during the summer holidays.
We set off for home. I would like to walk for miles but my daughter is reluctant so we just take a round trip home.
A friendly neighbourhood Tomcat greets us and down the road, round a corner we meet his illegitimate offspring.
We pass a house with pooh bear in the window. My Son wants me to get the bear for him so I spend most of the trip home promising-Pooh dear, at home, in a minute, to ward off a toddler tantrum. He seems to understand.
I decide to open all the doors and windows when we get home. I really need to clear my head.
We arrive back home and I have to try to air the house while not allowing my 2 year old out into the street, something has to give and before long I fail.
Watching him waddle about the house hugging his over sized pooh bear I realise, I do not really mind.
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