Today ...Tonight

Neither Cava, nor Champagne

So I open a bottle of Cava (can't afford Champagne) and my dear husband, who has been moody for days, asks me why I should be doing this. "Three reasons," I say: 1. To thank him for all his hard work on renovating the kitchen ...

"No," he says - "1. because we have it." 

"O.K" I reply, "four reasons." 

1. We have it, waiting to be opened; 2. all his hard work on the kitchen, which seems to be extending beyond all reason (with a new fashion for speckled everything where paint has descended as in an unseen atomic cloud and shelves, pans, cooker, surfaces, even his specs,  are as you would not wish to see - keep calm, Ann, it doesn't matter); 3. my long stint of work deadlines, complicated features on a divers range of topics, is completed ahead of schedule (I can take a deep breath); and 4. it is ST.VALENTINE'S DAY.

"What's that?" he asks. Oh oh oh oh - the romantic in me feels a shrivelling of the heart. But somehow, and I do not understand why, for my turbulent self will normally vent aloud feelings that are not worthy of who I believe I am, I feel this inner calm. I cannot berate, or retaliate, or do other than just be so very relieved that he is coping with his 80-years-plus 'old age' and whatever he does is better than not attempting to get out of bed in the morning.

'Wild Somerset Child'

I cannot explain my change from normal explosion and former descent into a black abyss. But one thing I realise, is that my heart is his, and that is all that matters. And within that premise, I can survive. Though I do need a quiet time everyday to be myself, to write and create, and to remind myself that no matter what, I am still a somewhat selfish being. This feeling of calm does not sit easily. He sleeps, and I will read late into the night; too tired to do anything else. Tomorrow is another day, and we never know what bombshell will fall; what new problem will surface.

Memories

So long ago ....

Words are not needed I think to describe today, or this pictured of 55 years ago. But if you want to find out about why I am posting them, please visit my new 'Spilling Word' blog where I now post my poetic offerings.

Tightly holding my arm, back in 1958 as we began
our married life together.

So long since I posted

It's been over to months since I wrote anything on this blog, though I haven't been idle, but ill for most of the time, and struggling to complete tasks and assignments that needed, and still need, attention - even so, not all have got done. And even today, I am working in bed on my laptop. Those of you who kindly follow me on Facebook will have heard much of the story. Only those to whom Raymond and I send our four-page Xmas newsletter ill have more detail than has been posted already. So to update you (and my apologies for my absence, and not even following blogs I love, here are the first paragraphs from the printed version.

Truly showing its age - cracks appearing everywhere

"It has been a frenetic and fractious year, almost an ‘annus horribilis’ for us both in different ways, or as Charles Dickens wrote, “It has been the best of times, it has been the worst of times”.  Glancing through my daily journal, written each morning in bed whilst drinking a hot mug of tea, I discovered both – for Raymond had just reminded me that it was time for our usual Christmas newsletter. At which point I inconveniently had one of those ‘senior moments’ and could only remember that we seem to be continually busy without achieving anything memorable! Two hours and reading the journal from cover to cover, and I had re-acquainted myself with what we have actually accomplished. Certainly a lot of problem-solving.

Raymond tackles one of the first leaking roof

The house is now truly showing it’s age – beyond its years! Continual heavy traffic is causing cracking and subsidence, and so many of the materials that we have used over the years in the conversion of what was once a derelict 16thC farmhouse are now showing signs of wear and tear. Flat roofs (our additions) are bad news. Both developed serious leaks; one over the kitchen, the other over the hall, with the ceiling collapsing one day onto Raymond’s beloved (open) piano; plasterboard everywhere and water in it and all over the floor. The repairs are still ongoing; temporary roof covers are in place, but it’s not as easy for him to be clambering up ladders lifting heavy stones as it was years ago when we bought the place. The piano still needs some t.l.c.

Poor old greenhouse, too - such neglect (I have actually started to clear the mess

Advancing years do not make it any easier – we both celebrated special birthdays this year – Raymond was 80 in August and I reached 75 in October. In January and not having been too well for a while, Raymond was diagnosed with type-two diabetes, and I seem to have been checking my blood pressure for most of the year, and spent a day in hospital. Coming to terms with a total change in lifestyle has not been trouble-free for either of us; but the good news is that we are both now ‘signed off’ for twelve months and can concentrate on progress in the house and garden." And so were were, and then after writing that I took sick again and was told to stay in bed and rest.

In the caravan (studio) for Warwickshire Art Week

It isn't all gloom and darkness however, and I have found time (or made it) to progress my sketching and mixed-media paper and textile creations. I was pleasantly surprised at the reception to my work when I exhibited in my caravan studio in July (Raymond's suggestion to use it) and want to participate again this year. So I need to create lots of new stuff to show and sell and started yesterday, spending a full day on the first pages of a 'Quilted Garden' textile book. My sketchbook notes are already scanned but the journal notes await paint; and whilst I can laptap in bed, jars of water and coloured inks are not quite so easy. When ready, I'll update my Journaling blog, and I plan (hope?) to keep all of my blogs updated at least once a month. Happy New Year and here's to good times in 2013.

Madness

moments of madness

I have a streaming cold, should be working, can hardly see the laptop screen but am being cosseted by my dear husband. So why not play? And I did, and the results can be seen here, at Dilemmas & Delights. Do please visit.

Dark thoughts ....

Oozing black thoughts

I feel somewhat embarrassed to be posting what follows, for I wrote it in rough as I awoke at 6.00am this morning - on the campsite in Birmingham at the Motorhome and Caravan Show at the NEC (National Exhibition Centre) - intending to post it when arriving home. At which point, the usual rural broadband issues; and when much later I was able to re-connect, I discovered so many kind and thoughtful greetings on Facebook that I felt it would be churlish to continue with this entry. The mail arrived also, and with it family cards and greetings, too. And a text on my idiotic smartphone. 

And yet, I believe we all have dark personal thoughts from time to time; and so here is my diary entry - the Facebook greetings were all the more special when what follows had been in my mind: "Today, potentially so special, has been a long time coming. It began on 18.10.1937 - and yet many times over recent years I thought it might never be. Predicted ill-health intervened ... unexpectedly ... but that is not the cause of prompting me to post an image of juicy dripping black toadstools. For today I am 75 and am just plain sad and feeling such frustration.

For I have relinquished a job I really cherished (even though it took over my life for the last 18 months and made me ill). I loved my 'Discover Touring' editing work and will never see the like again. But other loyalties and obligations tear at my restless mind. And so, instead of birthday flowers, decaying fungi invade my soul and break my heart. I slide into a nothingness."

My dark 'Othello' rose

I guess this early morning entry resulted from tiredness and a feeling of uselessness. It is not as if I do not have plenty to fill my workaholic days, but to step back voluntarily is not in my nature. So all the sweet good wishes lifted my spirit; (thank you so much to those who posted on my Facebook timeline). Oh, and the NEC blog post of yesterday from the Press Office is here, if you click on this link. 

And now to move on to other things: garden projects, house reclamation and much more ongoing de-cluttering (I can hardly bear to part with all my beloved books). Writing, art and more art, creativity, textiles, word-whispers, illustrated journals and other flights of fancy.

And an attempt to be a housewife again, even if only intermittently! 

Change of Direction

Me !!

There have been many occasions in my life when I have felt the necessity for a change of direction, but never so much as now. I have whinged and whined all summer about what has been troubling me, sometimes in veiled word-whispers; oftentimes just pure frustration. Last week I made a decision, and yesterday I acted upon it and wrote my letter of withdrawal from a project which over the last 18 months has taken over and consumed my whole life. You would think I would feel elated, a sense of freedom. But I don't; just sadness, and a weariness of spirit. No doubt clarity will emerge, but it will take time; mental recuperation, and more of those wretched structured plans which are self-imposed and have bedevilled me all of my life. Can you change track as you approach 75? Of course, but my fear is that this might be the thin end of the wedge. P.S. The image above is taken from one of my art-journal pages, and you can see it in its entirety and read the accompanying post on my Journaling blog.

The beginning of the end ??