Poetic writing

I always read Nina Bagley's blog and love her beautiful poetic words and also her use of photos. When someone one day comes to look at my computer they will find - flower photos...lots and lots of them and I want to put them in!

I want to write beautiful luminous prose about the views I see, the places I visit, I want to know how to write from the heart as she does so often. But maybe I have to write the way I do, and perhaps the poetry will come in due course. For now its enough to be writing here again, to feel the words beginning to flow, to hope that soon, very soon, I can start doing the work I want to do.

This summer..........

I had all manner of plans for this summer which disappeard the moment that Cris was hospitalised with appendicitis. I am glad he recovered quickly and am sorry for him that he had to go through the pain.

The weather throughout August was fairly desultory, warm and wet for the most part, so the countryside and gardens have been full of colour and foliage. Then, just as Cris left the UK the weather changed and since then we have had many magical days  out in various parts of Yorkshire visiting relatives, historic houses, national trust houses, some gardens, and always enveloped by the huge scenery of this county.

My favourite day out was to a reunion with Glyn's relatives high up on the moors above Kirbymoorside. This came about purely by chance. I have not met this part of the family since I remarried and always intended to go back but never did so. I don;t think there was any reason for this - just one of those things as they also said when we all met up. J and I had been out to visit Nunnington Hall which was delightful and holds a special place in my heart because it contains an attic FULL of dollshouses and little rooms furnished as shops or greenhouses or with period furniture. I really really want to do up a dollshouse before I get much older!

Anyway - we came out and I decided on a whim that we ought to go and see either Vickie or Karen (my nieces by marriage, almost as old as I am) as neither of them lived particularly far away. Vicke's home near  Kirbymoorside was the nearest so we decided to drive there and then up to Gillamoor which is a tiny village further up the hill.

Vickie herself was out but Pete was home and showed us all round the farm and took us to his claypigeon shooting range so high up on the North Yorkshire Moors that we could see most of the county of Yorkshire from there. The sun was shining, the corn was ripe in the fields and purple heather was out on the moors so the world glowed golden and purple. Pete told us who owned the land and farms around - it was amazing that so much was owned by so few people - this country is still so dominated by class! We had waited so long that it was getting dark and still Vickie hadn't arrived home, so we decided to leave without seeing her. As we drove away a car went past us  and I knew instinctively that it had to be Vickie and her daughter Helen returning home so we turned back and sure enough - there she was and we just hugged each other tightly . So many emotions, so few words to describe them!

Later, Vickie told us that there was actually a family party up at Gillamoor the following week and we said we would try to be there. We finally left at around nine thirty and were lucky enough to be served at an Indian resteraunt in Kirbymoorside (we were their last customer and ate as they were actually shutting up shop) before the drive back to Leeds in the dark.

Although we had booked to go to Cambridge before Cris was taken ill, we decided to go to see all the family up at Kirbymoorside instead.

So  J, Cris Me and Martha Dog set off for Kirbymoorside at around eleven in the morning. The sun was shining and it was actually hot. We drove up the A1 turning to climb up Sutton Bank with its huge view over the Vale of York. We stopped at Riveaux Abbey (photos to come later) which is one of my favourite places, the Abbey itself set in a deep wooded valley, its white stone gleaming against the green of the background. I still remember the first time I visited the place and how moved I was and how thrilled by its beauty.

We arrived up at Gillamoor at around three - just as everyone else was arriving too. It took a while to sort everyone out. My late sister in law had 6 children Ruth had her 3, Glyn and Sandy had their 5 (?!) Linda was there with her new husband and then my erstwhile brother in law arrived with his new wife, their children including new ones of his wifes but also of his wife's daughter.....it all became incredibly confusing, trying to match people with parents and so on. There was a mountain of food, there was a river of conversation, people grouping, regrouping. At one point I wandered into the kitchen and found Vickie Karen and Ruth in a huddle - I wondered if there was something wrong but they just said, tears in their eyes, that Cris reminded them very much of his father (their uncle). They also commented on the fact that J and I openly talk about our late partners and both of us wear two wedding rings - well neither of us got divorced so why should we?

The afternoon just glimmered in the sunshine. The fields and the moors were so beautiful, the air so clear, the views so enormous and I just loved it up there, it felt as though we were in heaven almost literally.

Just before we left I thought we had lost Martha - but no - she was just locked in someones bedroom silly dog. She had been playing with the other dogs (Vickie and Pete have 4 lovely labradors) and we thought that she had followed them down to the field where they had gone with Pete to do some work. But no...she was in a bedroom. Typical. Mind - it took half an hour to actually find her.

I had a wonderful day there - it was the highlight of my summer really. We drove back via Pickering and visited my first mother in law's grave there. The sunset that night was spectacular and I took lots of photos which I will post later - in fact it was so beautiful that we stopped in a layby so that I could get some pictures and someone else was there doing the same thing.

I have spent all this summer in Yorkshire although we had intended to make Wallasey our summer base. I thought I would miss the sea more, but maybe because I know we can get back the urge to go the seaside has largely died down. Strange because I used to just want to be at the coast. Now I know it is the open countryside, the high wild places, the big views that give me my sense of wellbeing.

Unfortunately, having Cris here somehow stopped me from all my creative endeavours! I don't know why that happened, something to do with having ones adult children around and also the shock of getting his phone call saying he was going into hospital. I need to get back to work now as the evenings begin to draw in, and maybe that has also been a part of not somehow getting going. I have felt the need to be outside as often as possible, to enjoy the warmth and worship the sun whenever it popped its head out. Maybe autumn and winter are the better times to huddle indoors, keep warm and create - for me anyway.

I have made some new friends as well over the past few weeks and hopefully they will also prove inspirational. H used to teach City and Guilds embroidery and machine knitting, her work (mixed media but with a lot of stitch) is just amazing and I am going to spend a day with her in a weeks time where she has promised - quite literally - to kick ass and make me produce something. I also met M a lovely woman around my age, also with health issues, who knits, reads, gardens, and thinks....now there's something! A thinker! We should have lots to talk about hopefully.

This week we also went up to Haworth with J's nephew and his new, dramatic and very sudden love of 3 weeks! It was all very intense, and funny as they seemed so vulnerable.  Haworth was too busy for me - there were so many tourists it was hard to get a feel for the place and the weather was too nice - it has to be cold and "wuthering" to have any true meaning to me.

We have been to lots of houses, driven down many country lanes behind tractors, we have walked up Almscliffe Crag, explored the few miles around where we live and found places that I never knew existed. But summer is turning slowly to autumn, the trees are putting on their autumn finery, golds, ruby reds, purples, pale yellows and deep browns...all my favourite colours, deep rich and mysterious. I would love a wardrobe of clothes to match! I hope I don't get depressed this winter as it gets colder and darker. I need to remember that summer does come bringing warmth and light and long days. I want to have a holiday in the longest days next year to celebrate them. And I will try my best not to give in this winter, I promise I will try.....

Reading Beethoven's biography.....

I have just spent an enjoyable reading week - I have read all three volumes of John Suchet's "fictionalised biography" of the Beethoven, and although I knew most of the story really well, I had never before put it into chronological order, and I had not realised that he moved in such high society. The sheer tenacity of the man is remarkable. Everything that could have happened to make life harder - did. A brutal father and uncaring mother, the few chances Beethoven had to better himself quickly were lost through unfortunate circumstances; his health once it deteriorated became unremittingly bad once he passed his youth, and of course his hearing loss was not only awful and painful in itself, but greatly affected the way he was able to communicate and interact with others and needless to say it destroyed  also ability to perform in public although by all accounts he was a remarkable pianist.
Nevertheless, Beethoven persisted and was somehow able to "hear" enough of what he was writing either at the piano or in his head and poured out an astonishing amount of very intense work, all highly individualistic. Beethoven would not and could not be a conformist and he strove to break the rules of the musical forms he had inherited from Haydn and Mozart. Throughout his life he believed that it was his job to be an "artist" - that he was a creator who would communicate his ideas not just for his immediate audience but for posterity. He endured a string of disastrous permiere performances and the stories surrounding them are painful reading
.
Equally painful reading is Suchet's account of Beethoven's attempt to adopt and educate his nephew, and also the account of his attempts to find a woman to love, ending finally with his letter to the Immortal Beloved which Suchet weaves a story around.

I am not ultimately sure that it is possible to write a totally convincing fictional biography sticking as closely as possible to the facts simply because one is always painfully aware of the authors voice - in this case Suchet who obviously admires, pities, is critical of or supportive of his subject. I enjoyed the books very much, and hope that they will lead me on to do more research into the life of Beethoven myself, and also into the study of the structure of his music.

Sometimes I find that fiction can awaken an interest much more quickly than academic study - well thats how I find I work anyway!

the date

Just noticed the date.....Friday 13th......

desert island discs.......

A few weeks ago I was listening to Dame Fanny Waterman who teaches piano here in Leeds talking about her desert island discs.

I have listened to these programmes for years, and it is interesting that people choose items to reflect the people they have known or to remind them of events in their lives. Sometimes the programmes are just a vehicle for people's egos - a who's who of people they have known and who are also famous. Whatever the criteria, I don;t know where or how I could begin to choose eight discs to come on a desert island with me.

Would I choose music that reminded me of people or places or times in my life?
Would I choose my favourite classical composers, or my favourite pop pieces that I grew up with?
What criteria would I choose? And would they make a convincing programme? I would love them to do this with people who are not in the public eye so that we could see what ordinary people who don;t know the composer or his wife etc etc might choose. Somedays I would choose Beethoven and Mahler, somedays I might choose Micheal Jackson, somedays I might say that the music I am listening to this minute on Chillfm is the best - I choose it to write to, as it blocks out my critical voice and enables me to type away with no inhibitions. Something about right and left side of the brain apparently.

My son sorted my Ipod out today - I have had it for years and never knew how to make it work, and he has finally given me a tutorial, so I have a great source of music now for travelling with and will surely use it. Why should the kids have all the fun!! So it is nice to reacquaint myself with some of the music I thought I had lost on my old laptop. Most of that is rubbish but it has resonances and the tracks come with their attendant memories..so we are back to desert island discs.

I think that because it would be so hard I would take nothing with me and live in silence and listen to the music of the waves. How could I value one thing over another? Some days I want Bach, other days pop music.

I used to think we could use music to bring peace into the world. How naive I was when I was young. How very naive but what a lovely idealistic thought. Now I just want it to bring peace into my world.

By the way - I can strongly recommend Chillfm to anyone who reads this blog for a very different kind of musical experience. I think its available on DAB as well.

today's the day

I have had so many thoughts about possible blog postings over the last few weeks - months - and I am not sure why I have not posted them. A feeling of hopelessness seems to have overcome me. There are many many reasons for this.
1. Politics.....the state of the nation and all of that. I can't believe we are in such a financial mess and from what I read the world is going to look very very different soon as we in the west watch our sphere of influence decline and we see another set of peoples with their very different cultures, ideas, values take over. I don;t mind that. Its just the uncertainty - the not knowing. I read tonight about how the US is $4trillion dollars in debt - that is its financial black hole, so when it loses its power, then what will happen in the Middle East and everywhere else for that matter. The rise of fantaticism means that all rational thinking people might not have a voice in the future and those of us who have wanted nothing more than a place to live out our lives in relative peace will be squeezed out - or forced into making decisions against our wills.

2. Global warming issues. This summer has proved beyond doubt that whatever this is, we are in a period of climate change and we are doing nothing to stop it. Consumption is now the name of the game, more, sooner, better, more and more......the floods in Pakistan, the fires raging around Moscow, the floods and landslides in China....even the weather here has been warm and wet and muggy. I love this kind of weather as it leaves me relatively pain free, any slight breeze being warm and the temperature generally above 19 degrees so I am comfortable. But that proves what a selfish person I am - I am thinking about myself when so many people are starving in Pakistan. I think there is compassion fatigue - when will all of this end, and when will governments and companies start a fund for dealing properly for global emergencies. I noted with interest that Tesco had donated £20,000 to the Flood Appeal. Thats like me giving 1p. Shame on them.

3. Family issues. Trying to get my head round my kids and allowing them to cause trouble between myself and J which has almost - at times - felt as though our relationship will not survive. But I love him and he loves me and we have worked it through so hopefully we have sorted things out between us, so that we can get on with our marriage at last! And of course losing my mum earlier this year was awful and brought up a lot of bad memories, and I have had to put all the skeletons behind their door again. If I write a memoir as I want to do, it means taking them out, but at least I can do a little at a time and walk away if its too much.

4. Medical stuff. YUCK! I had a nice time not going to the doctors, but they finally caught up with me a couple of months ago and called me in to get my BP checked. It had bounced very high and the kidney function tests had gone down rather too fast so I am now back in harness - more bloods, more doctors appointments, more worry. Its not fun when the GP does his little trick online to find out how likely you are to have a stroke or heart attack within 10 years and it flashes up red.......my blood ran cold. I don;t mind dying if its quick, but I dread - I so dread - a stroke, and will do what it takes to avoid one. I am hoping that this kidney function test will be better or I will ask to see a nephrologist. Its hard to deal with all the neuropathic pain and have this as well. Just keeping moving takes a lot of energy some days. It is so hard to try and do anything when you feel as though you are running on an empty battery.

5. I want to do some good writing and feel as though it is beyond my capacity to do so. I don;t know why I lost so much confidence. I would love to belong to a supportive small female writing group but whether I will find one is questionable. I might look for an Adult Ed course here in Leeds for September. I just need a kick start.

6. I have read a lot lately - I need to update my reading blog. It is so depressing as a wannabe writer to go to shops selling remaindered books, see second hand copies of books everywhere - even this is now a throwaway commodity and I find it depressing and downright daunting to think that even if I managed to get a book out of myself it would never be read - and I could not bear to do so much work for nothing. I have little to show for all the hours I put into practicing the piano and to do something again that requires so much input and be left with so very little at the end would be heartbreaking.

So thats why the long gap. Lots of reasons and they don;t feel like excuses.

todays the day..............

for what is today the day though?

Life seems to be going round and round in endless circles, I do not seem to be able to push myself into doing anything creative, intellectual, useful, domestic...anything. I don't understand this inertia. It isn;t that I feel that it is useless to do anything of these things - on the contrary. I want so much to achieve a lot of things. Maybe I want to achieve too many things and that is actually putting me off? Perhaps I should start a little more slowly this time and just aim to do a posting every other day, an hours writing ditto, and something artistic in between? Or perhaps its time to sit and stare at the summer sky, watch the clouds, and wait for what life will throw up next?

I feel that every time I have tried to get moving over the six years since Glyn died, I have ended up with egg on my face, further back than where I started. It is really dispiriting.

I will try and post something properly plus photos tomorrow.