Flower show

I cut my collapsed Paperwhites

and put them in a pressed glass jug 

in the sun

at Rachel and Jane's behest.

The sun breaks through

I have seen the sun break through

to illuminate a small field

for a while, and gone my way

and forgotten it. But that was the pearl

of great price, the one field that had

the treasure in it. I realize now

that I must give all that I have

to possess it. Life is not hurrying

on to a receding future, nor hankering after

an imagined past. It is the turning

aside like Moses to the miracle

of the lit bush, to a brightness

that seemed as transitory as your youth

once, but is the eternity that awaits you.

The Bright Field by R.S Thomas

All photos taken from a moving car,

on our house quest.

Triumphant

The fisherman's float

'She slept till very late the next morning -

a lovely sleep,

all the time she felt as if

she was sliding

between glass

and water.'

From The Rising Tide - by Molly Keane

Photo taken from my archives,

since light levels and energy levels

rather too low for photography.

An important decision re house was taken today

and I am relieved but tired.

Thoughts being marshalled.

New avenues being explored.

Enthusiasm being rekindled.

Now I must sleep on it.

Circular

I had cold feet all morning.

The Gas man came,

switched the central heating back on,

 I stood well back.

'Running sweetly,' he says.

'Must've been an airlock'.

'That noise was the pressure building up.'

Lloyd, the missing electrician rang.

Came and put a temporary fix on the kitchen lights.

'There's a live earth in your lighting circuit,' he said.

'You're not protected.'

Offered to return late February.
I thought we should move more quickly.

The opticians rang twice.

The estate agent rang.

No decision from second vendor.

Rang again while I was wielding a red hot wok.

 The offer now accepted.

They'd like to move quickly.

The pressure is building up.

I had cold feet all evening.

Can't see the way forward

even with all the lights blazing.

I need to take a step back.

Here's my temporary fox.

Sleeping sweetly.

Doldrums

meaning listless, despondent, inactive, stagnant, 

in a slump.

The cure for this?

Empty one kitchen cupboard,

decant all useable comestibles into clean jars,

throw out, reluctantly,

anything with a sell by date circa 2006,

clean the shelves,

put everything back.

...

We interrupt this post to report 

a sudden terrifying roaring, rumbling

thunderous, house-shaking cacophany

emanating from the airing cupboard.

With a pounding heart and shaking hands

I have just managed 

to switch everything off in there,

all the while expecting to be

sprayed with exploding fragments of copper pipe 

and scalding water.

The Emergency Home Care service

which we pay through the nose for

has offered a visit sometime between midday and six p.m

tomorrow.

They lack the sense of urgency that 

this plumbing calamity warrants.

I will never complain about the

doldrums again.
I have allowed myself two Youtubes
to settle my nerves.

On a more positive note,

someone did come to switch all our lights off in the kitchen.

We can't switch them on now,

but I feel this is less wasteful.

Just the interesting days

When my eldest son was three years old

I was telling him the names of the days of the week 

and explained that there were just seven and

that they went round and round.

'When does it stop?' he asked.

'It doesn't, they just go on while you grow up.'

'It's too long. I want it to stop.'

'But you'd miss your birthday and Christmas!'

'Well let's just have the interesting days.'

Was my day interesting?

Well let me see...

We can't turn any of the kitchen lights off.

I have lost the electrician's phone number.

There is some black mould underneath a window.

The amaryllis has three buds.

I converted three bags of unwanted books into a £10 note.

A friend recommended Julia Cameron's The Artist's Way.

I put an offer on a house.

I ironed a duvet cover.

I felt a painful twinge in my toe and wondered if I had gout.
I made a Sicilian sausage and lentil casserole.
I was able to answer some questions on University Challenge.

Have you had an interesting day today?

The Leek harvest

I decided to make a chicken and leek pie for lunch,

but had no leeks.

And then I remembered an exciting thing.

Hadn't I planted some leeks as an experiment

back in the hopeful days of last Spring?

I went to have a look.

There they were, all six of them,

standing bravely, patiently, in a neglected row,

waiting for their moment.

I even found a song to celebrate the glut.

But I think the compulsive You Tube linking must stop soon.

How to Handel money

'What right have you to take the word 'wealth' 

which originally meant 'well-being' 

and degrade and narrow it by confining it 

to certain sorts of material objects measured by money?'

John Ruskin

A question remains about the validity of a particular acquisition -

 where, if anywhere does one draw the line 

between self-indulgence and potential need? 

To take but one example, is it justifiable to spend money 

purchasing a recording of Handel's Oratorio Theodora, 

or to invite a group of friends to dine 

in a relatively expensive restaurant?

There is no easy answer to this puzzle -

simplicity is about acceptance of limits, 

yet it cannot exclude the enrichment of music 

and the celebration of friendship. 

Both are rich in ends. Both contribute in subtle, meaningful ways. 

So the answer depends on motivations and frequencies, 

priorities and budget as well as the maintenance of balance between 

kindling the spirit and living the virtues of a simple life.


From Timeless Simplicity by John Lane.


It is better to have fewer wants than to have larger resources.
St. Augustine.

(I want to be able to sight sing-along
to Handel's Oratorio,
but no amount of money is ever going to make that happen.)

Catching the rays

Every minute counts
when the sun shines in winter.

It was worth taking a detour off road for this.

Blog soup

(Nigel's Pumpkin and Lentil soup from his Diaries

and Monty and Sarah's Savoury Bread from Home Cookbook.)

That new Global knife is very sharp.

One of these days I'm terribly afraid it's going to 

be responsible for a mystery ingredient in the soup.

Colour chart

You're my Wordle.

Gracious living

'Basil and I will meet you at Oxford. 

Could you bring a box of Charbonel's chocolates - chiefly No.9's.

Put it down to Mother. I'll pay her.'

But Easter has forgotten them.

'Well what was to be done? 

A thousand times over would she have exchanged 

her new dressing-case 

for a brown papered parcel of chocolates.'

No matter -

'If I wire for them,' Easter thought,

'they'd be here in the morning.' 

from Mad Puppetstown by Molly Keane.

Then of course I had to know -

what flavour is a No.9?

And Victoria Leadbitter at Charbonnel et Walker

was happy to help.

It is the Café Charbonnel a coffee flavoured dark chocolate.

Is it still available and what are the other flavours?

She wrote again from her splendid address:

1 Royal Arcade,

28 Old Bond Street,

London.

'The chocolates are not really numbered anymore,' but

Many of them are still made today; 

we just tend to refer to them as their names rather than their numbers. 

Although plenty of our customers who have been shopping with us 

for many years still refer to them in numbers. 

We often receive handwritten notes

 from customers requesting boxes filled with 

certain numbers to be sent to their homes.

 We still custom fill boxes for our customers all the time. 

Customers can call, email and drop in store 

to have a box filled with whatever they prefer.

 We can keep a record of your purchase and preferred chocolates 

so you just need to give your name and ask for a repeat order.

We pride ourselves on our personal service

and remembering our customers by name.

Our most popular chocolate today 

is our Pink Marc de Champagne Truffle.

Although this one is only six years old.

Our most popular traditional chocolates are our English Rose

& Violet Creams which we have been making 

since 1875, to Madame  Charbonnel's original recipe.

As soon as the list arrives I will place my hand-written order.

The large crocodile dressing case with gold fittings from Asprey

with its legion of gold-topped boxes

 may be a superfluous accoutrement these days

but chocolates will never date.

Tea towel swatch

I'm inordinately pleased with these tea towels,

because the green one 

(just visible, as they say so annoyingly in magazines)

is exactly the shade of green I have been searching for

to paint a kitchen wall.

First seen here but not easy to memorise,

I will be able to take this to be scanned and 

 mixed up for me at Homebase.

The blue one exactly matches my Le Creuset pan.

Huzzah!

All Passion Spent

All is best, though oft we doubt,

What th'unsearchable dispose

Of highest wisdom brings about,

And ever best found in the close.

Oft he seems to hide his face,

But unexpectedly returns

And to his faithful Champion hath in place

Bore witness gloriously; whence Gaza mourns

And all that band them to resist

His uncontroulable intent.

His servants he with new acquist

Of true experience from this great event

With peace and consolation hath dismist,

And calm of mind all passion spent.

John Milton Samson Agonistes

Car park camouflage

Hokusai* at the car wash

How to derive mild entertainment

from mundane chores.

(An occasional series.)

* The Great Wave off the Coast of Kanagawa

by Hokusai.

What am I?

This post had me thinking,

not for the first time,

about the quandary so many of us face 

when asked to put down our occupations on a form.

I have in my time been occupied (and sometimes paid)

 as a painter, illustrator, archivist,

photographer, archaeologist,

gardener, teacher, nurse, 

mother, book editor, researcher, 

writer, special needs tutor,

cleaner, cook, furniture restorer, 

driver, decorator

and blogger.

Of course I haven't always been paid,

and there's the rub.

Does the question on the form want to know

what my skills are worth in monetary terms?

Does it want to know where I rank

 in an employment hierarchy?

Does it want to assess how interesting and important I am?

Certainly, in social situations, 

it often serves as a shorthand;

a box to put you in. 

Indeed it is usually the first question 

you are asked by strangers.

(Are you more or less interesting, important,

well paid, than me?)

But for most of these forms it is utterly irrelevant.

They might just as usefully ask you for your shoe size.

 Even if I could quite legitimately write,

opera singer, obstetrician or oligarch,

baker, broadcaster or ballerina,

it would only represent a snapshot,

a tiny fleeting sample

of all the occupations,jobs and careers 

that make up many lifetime's experience.

Leaving that space blank though -

well it allows for some ambiguity,

a refusal to be boxed,

but it also feels self-effacing

and slightly stroppy.

I'm not yet of retirement age

so retd. won't wash.

I quite like the idea of being

a bon viveur,

in its literal sense.

Perhaps lifer would be less self-congratulatory

but has the criminal overtones of a mal viveur.

Pah!

Well, hungry is what I am now.

Luckily I have no forms to fill in 

or I would have to write 

sandwich maker in the box.

I leave the last word to the inestimable

Matt Pritchett.

  

Sugar high

My new camera is sticky.

I must be getting more used to it.