Clinomania

 

I've got a mild attack of clinomania today.  Clinomania?   -  an excessive desire to lie down.

Very little will be done by anyone or anything other than my recliner chair.  I've had a lovely couple of days away, there's nothing urgent to be done, and I fancy a lazy day.

See you tomorrow - if I can get up!

How did they feel?

There are four people in this photograph.  Grandma, my mother and her brother.  And an inset of my grandad.

Mother, Nancy, is less than two years old.  Her brother, Jack, around four.  Ted, my grandfather was away at war.  He was a bandsman and stretcher bearer.  

Ted had gone away when my Nancy was just three weeks old.  Jack would have been just over two.  I doubt if either of them could remember him.

But Emma, my grandmother would.  She would have heard too about the horrors of the trenches where Ted would have  been carrying injured men to the casualty stations.  He never spoke about the horrors he saw.  

How did each feel?  I'm sure both Ted and Emma felt afraid.  Was there pride? frustration? loneliness? determination?   Emma would talk to Jack and Nancy about their father but Nancy would have no recollection of him and Jack would have very little.  How did they feel when Dad, who had just been a name, came home to the farm?

Today I am thinking about those who died in The Great War, the "war to end all wars", but I am also be thinking of the other people, living through fear and loneliness, and thanking God that Ted eventually came home.

And praying that something will indeed end all wars.

Little treats

You'll probably have realised by now that I am trying all sorts of things to make winter a good time this year.  I've even started a scrapbook called "My Hibernaculum Project" so I can record my experiments, successes and failures.  I'm recording my decluttering and I'm recording my treats.  And I'm having a treat right now!  

I have a friend who lives in Leicester and a friend who lives in Peterborough and for many years I have met up with each of them a couple of times a year in Newark.  They don't know each other so these are separate meets ups.  It's further for me to travel than it is for either of them but that's OK.

Anyway. last year I explained to both of them that it is becoming a little tiring and I asked if they would mind if I planned things so I could stay one night in Newark and see one friend on the first day and one on the second.  Both were happy with that so I tried in the spring this year.

This time I decided to make more of a break of it so I came to Newark yesterday and I'm having two nights here.  I shall do some Christmas shopping while I am here and enjoy being looked after in an hotel.

It was good to anticipate, I'm enjoying the treat as it happens and I shall enjoy looking back.  Treats are great for keeping me happy during the winter.

Two minute silence

 

This morning at 11am many people will stand silently for two minutes in memory of war dead.  It's an act which includes people of all faiths or none.

The two-minute silence wasn’t originally at 11am and it didn’t start here in the UK.  Rather, it started in Cape Town, South Africa around 1916 and there was a daily silence initiated by the daily firing of the noon day gun on Signal Hill for a full year from 14 May 1918 to 14 May 1919  It was known as the Two Minute Silent Pause of Remembrance. 

The first minute was a time of thanksgiving for those who had returned alive, the second minute was to remember the fallen.   To start the silence a bugler sounded the "Last Post", and the "Reveille" was played at the end of the pause.

A Reuters correspondent in Cape Town cabled a description of the event to London. Within a few weeks Reuters' agency in Cape Town received press cables from London stating that the ceremony had been adopted in two English provincial towns and later by others, including in Canada and Australia.

Sir Percy Fitzpatrick was moved by the idea (he had lost a son) and his local church adopted the practice.   Writing to Lord Milner, then Colonial Secretary, he proposed that this become an official part of the annual service on Armistice Day.  Milner raised the idea with Lord Stamfordham, the King's Private Secretary, who informed the King,   George V was enthusiastic and a press statement was released from the Palace on 7 November 1919.

To all my people,

     Tuesday next, 11 November, is the first anniversary of the armistice, which stayed the world-wide carnage of the four preceding years, and marked the victory of right and freedom.  I believe that my people in every part of the Empire fervently wish to perpetuate the memory of that great deliverance and of those who laid down their lives to achieve it. To afford an opportunity for the universal expression of this feeling it is my desire and hope that at the hour when the Armistice came into force, the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month, there may be for the brief space of two minutes a complete suspension of all our normal activities.   During that time, except in the rare cases where this may be impracticable, all work, all sound, and all locomotion should cease, so that, in perfect stillness, the thoughts of everyone may be concentrated on reverent remembrance of the glorious dead. No elaborate organisation appears to be necessary.  At a given signal, which could easily be arranged to suit the circumstances of each locality, I believe that we shall all gladly interrupt our business and pleasure, whatever it may be, and unite in this simple service of silence and remembrance.   GEORGE R.I.

My tree in November

30th November is St Andrew's Day so I've decided on a vaguely Scottish theme and gone for thistles.  

According to Scottish tradition, the thistle became the national emblem after a surprise attack by Viking invaders.  One night, the Vikings tried to sneak up on a sleeping Scottish army and, to stay quiet, they went barefoot.   One of the invaders stepped on a thistle and cried out in pain, alerting the Scots who woke up, fought back, and won the battle.

You may be wondering why I've added roses, the English national flower.  Simple really.  I had a birthday a couple of weeks ago and had my final birthday lunch yesterday.  One of the ladies brought me flowers, including roses.  But no thistles.

So, how's the hibernaculum?

 The hibernaculum is coming on nicely, thank you for asking.  

Fantasy hibernaculum

I've made my sitting room extra cosy with the new fireplace and "pretend" fire.  The electric throw which I bought a couple of years ago helps, and I have reduced the amount of stuff which is visible. I already had a set of LED candles and I've ordered a second set.  The overhead light rarely goes on and I rely on small lamps.   It's all very calming.  

Fantastic hibernaculum

I'm trying to get rid of stuff and had a fantastic opportunity.  One of my friends has an adult son who is autistic and who enjoys making things.  He wants to make some "borrow bags" for our local green refill shop and was very happy to take some of my surplus fabric for the purpose.  I've given him enough to make a very lot of fabric bags.  I win (the fabric has gone), he wins (he can make things) and the shop wins (they discourage plastic bags).  So it's a happy hibernaculum.  

Hibernaculum:-  winter quarters for Roman soldiers; a place for over-wintering plants; the lair of a wintering animal.

Crafty Cows

 

One of the groups of churches I help with has a social group for widows called COWs - Companions On the Wolds and although I am not a widow, I tag along as a chaplain.  Not much pastoring is needed from me as these lovely ladies take the newly bereaved under their wings and do mutual caring, but still, I am useful to have around.  They meet for coffee or light lunches, they have days out (the visit to the International Bomber Command Centre was their idea, and sometimes they have crafty times.  Yesterday they were being crafty.  So was I!  But not altogether successfully.  To put it mildly!

I didn't get the sequencing of the strips quite right.

And I made the whole thing wrong way around.

Oops!

(I have ideas how to rescue it, don't worry. It will become a basket of flowers.)

Remember, remember the fifth of November

 When I was a child I loved Bonfire Night!  The elfin satey lot would be appalled but we always had a small box of fireworks at home.   We longed for nightfall and Father’s return from work.  He would have a long and leisurely cup of tea – I think he enjoyed prolonging the agony – and then it was out to the garden for the fun.

First there would be the bonfire to be lit.  It would have been built during the previous few weeks.  I’m sorry to say that I don’t ever remember checking for hedgehogs!  

There was a slug of magic stuff, which looking back I think was probably paraffin, a strategically applied match and whoosh!  We’d stand around for a few minutes watching that and then there would be the first fireworks.  Daddy was the only one allowed anywhere near them but we would have told him the order he was allowed to let them off.  First would be the Roman Candles which my sister and I thought were very dull.  Then Catherine wheels – much more exciting as it wasn’t unknown for them to detach themselves from whatever they had been attached to.  My sister, despite being several years older than me, didn’t like Jumping Jacks or Bangers so she’d retire to a safe distance whilst those were let off.  Then the grand finale was rockets.  Aah, rockets.  Just a few seconds of pure pleasure.  Compared to the wonderful displays of today they were very dull but we thought them wonderful.

After that Daddy would rake around the ashes of the fire and pull out the old cocoa tins which had jacket potatoes in them.  As an adult I realise that they must have been cooked in the house because no way was there time for them to cook in the bonfire but we always said that bonfire night spuds were the best potatoes of the year.  There would be chestnuts and cinder toffee and we would retire to bed tired but happy.

  (This is a rehash of a post from many years ago.  It seemed to fit in with my recent reminiscing.)  

Discombobulated

 

I don't often get chance to use that word but it's how I was yesterday.

It was ridiculous.  Our swimming session was cancelled and it completely threw me.  You'd think an unexpected morning of leisure would be wonderful but I just couldn't get my act together.

I wandered into the dining room to do a bit of decluttering but I couldn't get my head around the mess.  I sorted the ironing but that's as far as I got.  I thought about making butternut soup, then I thought, "Nah". 

I managed to visit a friend to sort out an on-line identification for me.  Fortunately she did the whole thing or it wouldn't have got done.

But at least I got a good day of maulifuffing done right at the start of the week.  I can be proud of that.  

How about November?

 

I'm hoping to be busy with my Christmas preparations in November as my ideal is to have very little to do in December.  We'll see!

I've got a couple of craft sessions booked, including a clay workshop.  I don't think I've played with clay since I left primary school so that will be very interesting.

I've booked two nights away so I can meet with friends for lunch.  These two ladies are from different parts of my life and don't know each other, but I usually meet each of them in Newark which is about forty miles away.  I've managed to make dates on two consecutive days so I can stay over rather than drive back.  

My birthday celebrations continue with two afternoon teas and two lunches.  Yum.

I've doctor and physiotherapist appointments, I shall swim, and do anything else I fancy.

Can't be bad.

Friendship

 

Friendship has been on my mind this week.  I hope I can be (and have) a friend like this.

Bye bye October!

 

At the beginning of October I said I expected it to be a "thin" month with little happening.  Oops!

I dog sat eleven nights during the month.  Holly Dog and I are becoming very good friends.

I met up with friends via zoom as well as in real life.  

I took one service and preached at another.  And after preaching I went to a harvest supper.  Very nice too.  

I went to a candle decorating class and a needle felting class.

I booked a cruise!  Not happening until 2027 but it's booked.

I celebrated my birthday and will continue to do so for several weeks to come.  

I decided to create my very own hibernaculum and bought a cosy fire as a starting point.

And, all in all, I had a lovely month.  I hope you did too.  

Pru

Writing about Alzheimer's disease yesterday brought to mind the death of Prunella Scales this week.  She was a wonderful actress (Sybil Fawlty amazed me) but she has had Alzheimer's for many years.  The courage shown by her and Timothy West, her late husband, when they spoke publicly about that terrible disease has been stunning.

She and Timothy West were married over sixty years until he sadly predeceased her not quite a year ago, having cared for her for many years.  He'd noticed that something wasn't quite right as early as 2001.  

She was a wonderful narrator of audiobooks.  Her reading of "Cranford" has long been one of my favourite bedtime stories.  She had just the right voice to read E F Benson's "Mapp and Lucia" books and I also enjoyed her renditions of some of the "Fairacres" stories by Miss Read.  I'm so glad that I will be able to continue to listen to her gentle but wonderfully clear voice.

Losing a friend

I've known J since both of us were children.  My parents were friends of her parents.  She's seven years older than me (a big gap when we were children, not so much now) but we both have fond memories of childhood.  

We saw little of each other for about thirty years but when we made contact again we were able to pick up the threads and laugh about our memories.  For years we have met for lunch two or three times a year.  Last year I was a little uneasy: something was wrong.

Earlier this year she had the devastating news that she has Alzheimer's disease.  She's having treatment to slow the advance of the disease but it is incurable.  She's aware that her memory is slipping and she realises that sometimes she may behave strangely but she's OK with being "managed".  Her husband was unhappy at the idea of her driving to a meeting point (we live about forty miles apart) so I decided to go to her and take her to a pub near her village.  We've done that three times this year and it is still a thoroughly enjoyable lunch we share.

Yesterday we were chatting about old friends and members of our extended families.  She asked after my sister G and I had to remind her gently that she came to G's funeral fifteen years ago.  It was painful for both of us but after a few moments sadness our conversation carried on.

We arranged to meet again early in the New Year.  I don't want to leave it long.  I know my friend is slipping away and I want us to make the most of each other for as long as we can.  

Companions

I'm going out for lunch today.  It's one of several meals out associated with my birthday, which was last week.

Eating out is one of the things which has changed hugely over my lifetime.  My parents used to go out for dinner occasionally.  I was taken to restaurants for lunch, often on Bank Holidays, as an encouragement for good table manners.  Eating out for most people was a very definite treat, if it happened at all.  Indeed one of my friends remembers eating out as an ordeal because everyone was so tense on the rare occasions it happened.

Looking at my diary this month (OK a special month for me) I've been out for coffee and a "schmackerel" three times,  afternoon tea at a tea-room with a couple of cousins, breakfast twice, brunch once and I have two lunches out still to go.  And then there was an afternoon tea to celebrate a 95th birthday, two harvest suppers, and lunch at a cousin's home.

I suspect I eat out more frequently than most people  because I live alone and most of my friends live at least ten miles away, but the proliferation of tea rooms, restaurants and dining areas in pubs suggests I am not alone.  

I love the word "companion" which has at its root the idea of people with whom one eats bread.  Not only do I love the word, I love my companions too.  

Hibernaculum

Maulifuff is a word which has definitely grabbed me, but another word I want to appropriate is hibernaculum.  It's what Roman soldiers used to call their winter quarters but these days it also means or a place for over-wintering plants, or the lair of a wintering animal.   The web has lots of information on building hibernacula for wild animals but I want to use the word for the lair of a wintering Mary.

I've acquired a new fireplace which has certainly made my sitting room feel more cosy.  I won't be using real candles but I hope to acquire more LED jobbies.  Last year I treated myself to a heated throw which will soon be in use.  It's not only cosy, it's also a very energy conscious way of keeping warm.  

My next task will be to tackle the dining room so I can use it as a sewing room.  I'm not the only person who uses "spare" rooms as dumping ground but I am pretty good at it.  My hibernaculum can't just be pretty and cosy: come the spring I want to know that I have used the time well.  

Hail, fellow maulifuffs!

Maulifuff - a woman who appears to keep herself busy but achieves nothing

Following Saturday's flood of enrolments in the Maulifuff Sisterhood, I feel we need a few suggestions for activities.  Here's a few to set the ball rolling.

1.  Write a to-do list and then lose it.

2.    Start a blog post but don't finis

Thank you

 "Trees"

I think that I shall never see

A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest

Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day,

And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in Summer wear

A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;

Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,

But only God can make a tree.

Joyce Kilmer.

 

Thank you to all bloggers who "follow" a tree and help the rest of us to look at it.

Winter words

 

I don't think I suffer from cheimaphobia but I will plead guilty to brumation.  It happens and sometimes slips into clinomania: most of the time I resist duvet days.  I could perhaps be justly described as a maulifuff: in fact it would often be true, but as no-one around me knows the word, I am safe, as far as I know.  

Glossary

Maulifuff - a woman who appears to keep herself busy but achieves nothing

Cheimaphobia - a fear or intense dislike of the winter

Brumation - wintertime sluggishness.

Clinomania -  an excessive desire to lie down

Birthdays

Yesterday was my birthday - my seventy fourth, if you want to know.  And it set me thinking about my birthdays sixty to seventy years ago.

These days it often seems as though time flies and a decade passes in the time it took to get through a year all that time ago.  Birthdays were very special events, eagerly anticipated, excitedly prepared for. 

At infants' school there was a birthday cake.  It wasn’t edible, just a round tin covered in a white substance (plaster?) and decorated with candles to be blown out by the birthday boy or girl as the rest of the class sang, “Happy Birthday”. 

I would have a birthday party and special tea to which I could invite six friends.  Mother would buy a packet of six invitations which was a cunning way  of making sure only six friends could be invited.  My parties were usually all girls who would arrive in best party frocks with pretty ribbons in their hair.  She would bake a special cake, not the character cakes of today but a cake decorated with the appropriate number of candles and maybe "hundreds and thousands" or Smarties.

There would also be sandwiches which were cut on the diagonal as a special treat.  I have no idea why diagonally cut sandwiches tasted better but Mother had me convinced that it was so!  Sausage rolls were also mandatory as was either a trifle or jelly and blancmange. 

Then games.  Musical chairs, pass the parcel, blind man’s buff.  When Father came home from work he would come and play with us too.  At the end of the party each child would go home with a single gift, maybe a pencil or a packet of sweets, not the party bags of today.  Oh, and everyone took a slice of cake wrapped in a paper napkin.

And I would go up to bed, probably planning next year’s birthday. 

Back home

I’ve just done a couple of days dog sitting which I love, but it’s great to be back at home!  Looking around me there’s chaos, but Annie-the-home-enhancer is coming later so it will be wonderful! There’s something magical about being at home.   

There is peace in my home — no pressure to impress, no need to rush. It’s where I can recharge, daydream, and rediscover small joys: a warm blanket, my knitting, a good audiobook, or the rooks cawing in the trees nearby.

Here I can thrive.  Here is the magical place where I can hear myself think.  I can talk out loud to myself if I want to.  I can be really lazy and there’s no-one to judge.  I can get to know myself a little better and I think I am pretty good company. 

Hope you love your home as much as I love mine. 

Feeling excited

 

I've booked a cruise!  I haven't cruised since 2009 when I went to see New England in the Fall.  I'd promised my Mother that I would use some of the money she left me to take a special holiday and when I saw that one which started on my birthday and was aboard Queen Mary II, I felt it had my name on it!

And I've wanted another cruise since I retired but the finances, covid, my health and everything else, made choosing very complicated.  I can't fly/cruise because I need to take quite a bit of stuff to cope with my disability.   I saw a cruise to Canada, the North West Passage, Greenland and Iceland which I really fancied but at the time I couldn't get all the ducks into a row.  And it hasn't been offered since.

But it made me think about visiting the Arctic Circle.  And when I saw a cruise advertised to see the coast of Norway and sail to at least 78 degrees north, I decided to go.  (The Arctic Circle is 66 degrees north.)  I've lived in the tropics: now I want to go as far north of the equator as I can.  

It's not until 2027 so I have a lot of time to feel excited.  The anticipation will help my wintering.  

(And yes, I do realise that the clip art is of the Antarctic, not the Arctic!  But I liked it.)

Wintering

I make no secret of the fact that I often struggle through the winter.  Next weekend the clocks go back so winter will definitely be here.  Next Monday sunset will be around 4.40pm so the curtains will be closed against the night.

I've long had a rather negative attitude to winter.  It's been a season to be endured, the foil which makes spring all the lovelier.  "Influencers" go on about getting outside and going for healthy walks but that's not practical for someone who isn't as steady as she might be on her pins.  I'm not a great one for candles (these days I just use LED ones) and a long soak in a hot bath can't happen.  If I drank as many hot chocolates with all the trimmings as "they" advise, the cholesterol, weight and blood pressure would soar.  Not a pretty thought.

But maybe there is another way, a way even I could find.  Maybe winter could be enjoyed.  After all the Scandinavian countries regularly top the happiness tables and they have some really rough winters.  

So this winter I want to explore what I can do, rather than regret what I can't do.  What things can I do better in winter?  Are there things to be enjoyed in the long winter evenings which can't be savoured so well in the summer?

Somewhere to hang my stocking

When I first moved into this house, nearly sixteen years ago, there was a truly hideous gas fire with a huge brick fireplace in the sitting room.  It came out the first day I had possession!

I then bought a neat little electric fire with glowing pebbles to imitate flames.  That was nice but eventually it died and for the last few years I have had no fireplace or fire at all in my sitting room, just relying on the central heating.

I really missed having a fire, especially at Christmas as there was nowhere to hang a stocking!  So, I've been looking various suppliers and last week I treated myself.  

I feel it is a good addition to my hibernaculum  which will become more howffy.

(Hibernaculum and howffy are both described in this post)

Dust if you must

 

Dust if you must...

 

Dust if you must,

but it might be better,

to paint a picture or write a letter,

to bake a cake or plant a seed,

to ponder the gap between want and need,

Dust if you must,

but there's not much time,

with rivers to swim and mountains to climb,

music to hear and books to read,

friends to cherish and life to lead,

Dust if you must,

but the world's out there,

with sun in your eyes, and wind in your hair,

a flutter of snow, a shower of rain,

this day will NOT come around again,

Dust if you must,

but bear in mind,

old age will come and it mightn't be kind,

and when you go, and go you must,

YOU, yourself, will make more dust! 

Rose Milligan

 

How's it going?

 

It's four weeks since  started on the physio course so I am reporting in.

I had my third session yesterday.  I'm not doing weekly sessions but rather at longer intervals so I get more chance to do more exercise between sessions.  It was actually two weeks since my last session and the next appointment won't be for three weeks as Fay (the physiotherapist) is taking a holiday. 

And it's going quite well.  I have about a dozen exercises to do twice a day at home and they are getting harder after each session with Fay.  Yesterday she asked me to get some ankle weights to use at home and that feels serious!  It may feel daunting when they arrive.  She's been impressed with the things I have been doing for years to try and keep myself functionally fit.  

I am beginning to feel the benefit of my efforts.  I was sitting on a rather low sofa a couple of days ago and I got up fairly easily.  

But I still haven't tackled the biggest challenge - getting up from the floor!  Maybe by the end of my course . . .

Playground games

 I think I have just about finished this series of posts about childhood in the 1950's but I can't go without talking about playground games.  They were so important!

The commonest game for girls was skipping, either alone or in a group with two people turning a long rope.  Ropes were most often cut from a washing line which had been repaired just too often.  My Mother favoured plastic covered washing lines which gave a very satisfactory sound when they hit the tarmac of the playground.  There were skipping rhymes too, handed down among generations of girls (boys didn't join in, they just played endless football).  

At certain times of the year "two ball" was the preferred game.  One of my aunts was a keen tennis played and she often gave me old tennis balls.  There were so many ways to play two ball: underarm, overarm, with or without a bounce against a wall, up into the air, alternating different throws.

In the autumn conkers came to the fore and that was popular with both boys and girls.  It could get quite vicious in ways which I suspect wouldn't be allowed these days.  Collecting conkers was a popular pastime in itself.

Then two came along at once.

 Before I went to the candle decorating session on Saturday, it had been quite a long time since I had been to a craft workshop but yesterday I went to another, this time for needle felting.

I don't really like needle felting (I don't like wet felting either) but the group needed to make up the numbers so I went.  It was the usual chatty sort of thing and we all made poppies.

And we had coffee and various home made cakes.

And we planned a pre-Christmas lunch together.

And I brought home a felted poppy.  

All very lovely.

But I still don't like needle felting.

School dinners

I had a school dinner every day from when I started school until I completed my fifth form at Grammar School.  Throughout primary school the cost was one shilling - five pence in today's money!  The price increased in my secondary school days but I don't think it was ever more than 1/6. 

Most days there was some sort of meat, potatoes, vegetables and gravy followed by a pudding with custard.  That was the basic idea.

Meat could be a meat pie, or braised liver, or stew or sausages or maybe roast meat.  Vegetables would be cabbage, or carrots, or butterbeans, or tinned peas, or swede and carrots.

Puddings were often milk puddings (tapioca, sago, rice) but could also be traditional English puds like Bakewell tart, Manchester tart, or steamed pudding.  We might also have stewed fruit or fruit crumble.  

On Friday fish appeared, fried, baked or poached in milk.  There would be a salad sometime although I have still never worked out why salads included cold baked beans.

Everything was washed down with water.  And everybody had to try everything.

Considering we'd also had milk half way through the morning, I think it could be said that we didn't go hungry!

It would never be allowed today!

 I was looking through some old photographs and I found this one, taken over sixty years ago.  It shows Mother my sister and me, all at Stonehenge.  We'd never be allowed to do this today!

And I thought of so many things which were normal in my childhood which would never be allowed today.

After my first week at school aged four I used to walk there and back alone.  It would never be allowed today.

I never had a special child seat in a car and neither did my parents wear seatbelts.  (There weren't any.) I never wore a safety helmet when riding my bike.  It would never be allowed today.

Bayko

The air in cinemas and theatres was stale with tobacco smoke.  Children were often sent to the shops to buy cigarettes for their parents.  Children had sweet cigarettes.  It would never be allowed today.

We were sent out in the morning during the school holidays and told "Be home by tea time"  It would never be allowed today.  

One of my favourite toys as a child was "Bayko".  See those steel rods sticking up?  It would never be allowed today.

Come to that remember toys, cots, everything else, being painted with lead paint?  It would never be allowed today.

How did we survive?

A Short Course

 

The Lincolnshire Humber Federation of Women's Institutes has started a new monthly craft session, so on Saturday I went to a candle decorating workshop.  

One of the best things about mornings like this is the opportunity to chat.  I went alone as no-one else from Brigg WI wanted to go, but I soon got chatting to two ladies, both called Jo, from a nearby village.  The world had been set to rights by the end of the session!

This form of candle decorating is a bit fiddly.  Pictures are cut from paper napkins, then the top layer of the napkin is peeled off and melted into the candle using a heat gun.  

Many ladies chose Christmas designs but I wanted something which could be used at any time of the year so I chose a bird and blossoms.  

Best wishes to my Canadian readers on your Thanksgiving Day.

Blessings

 

You're blessed when you're at the end of your tether. With less of you there is more of God and his rule.

You're blessed when you feel you've lost what is most dear to you. Only then can you be embraced by the One most dear to you.

You're blessed when you're content with just who you are -- no more, no less. That's the moment you find yourself proud owner of everything that can't be bought.

You're blessed when you've worked up a good appetite for God. He's food and drink in the best meal you'll ever eat.

You're blessed when you care. At the moment of being full of cares you find yourself cared for.

You're blessed when you get your inside world -- your mind and your heart -- put right. Then you can see God in the outside world.

You're blessed when you can show people how to cooperate instead of compete or fight. That's when you discover who you really are, and your place in God's family.

You're blessed when your commitment to God provokes persecution. The persecution drives you deeper into God's kingdom.

Not only that-count yourself blessed every time people put you down or throw you out or speak lies about you to discredit you. What it means is that the truth is too close for comfort and they are uncomfortable. You can be glad when that happens-give a cheer, even!-for though they don't like it, I do! And all heaven applauds. And know that you are in good company. My prophets and witnesses have always got into this kind of trouble. 

Sweets

 Still thinking about childhood, I've moved on to sweets.  What child wouldn't?  

We didn't get a lot of sweets but sweet rationing ended in 1953.  It had been lifted in 1949 but had to be imposed again after just four months because demand exceeded supply.

So many goodies from those days are no longer available.   I loved Spangles in all their manifold flavours.  Recently a Blogger (Sue?) mentioned sweet cigarettes. They made us feel very grown up as we pretended to smoke them.  I'm very glad they are no longer sold!  

Cadbury's had a very wide range of chocolate bars.  The ordinary mlk chocolate was available in 1d, 2d, 3d and 6d bars.  There may have been bigger bars but not on the shelves which tempted a primary school aged me.  They also sold 6d bars in a wide range of flavours: I can remember strawberry, orange, and lemon but I think there were far more.  

I remember Milky Way being introduced at 3d, much more affordable than a Mars Bar at 6d.  They were "The sweet you can eat between meals without ruining your appetite".  

Some sweets have been renamed - I think Lion Bars were called Picnic Bars and Snickers were called Marathon.  

Come on, which sweeties can you remember from childhood?