Perfect?

 

I keep having a little go at painting and drawing bits and pieces.  This piece was from a WI  session a while ago.  It was supposed to be Perfect - Not! but I like my wonky version better.

I think the modern phrase for this is "winging it".  I like that as it reminds me that I get through only by the intervention of angels!  

I've never got my life together and I doubt if I ever will and that's OK.  Thing is though, that I give myself full permission just to do my best with the housework, cooking, blogging or whatever.  And sometimes my best really isn't very good.  So I give myself permission to do what I can.  People seeing me might think they are looking at the blooper reel of my life but I know that they're looking at the highlights!

So, I invite you to raise your half empty coffee mug (forget the messy ring you left behind): raise it to the beautiful chaos that is being human.

Here's to you and me in all our wonderful imperfections!

Is tha one o the frim folk?

 

If you’re not a yellow belly, you’re one of the frim folk, in other words you are from somewhere other than Lincolnshire.  Or as my grandad would have said “Tha’s from t’other side o Lincoln”.

In a few minutes I’ll be having my daily phone call with Jack and some people would find it difficult to know what we are talking about.  You know already that Lincolnshire ducks don’t quack.  But did you know that you too could be a duck as it’s also a term of endearment?  And maybe I would have to duck if that’s what I called you and you fetched me a clout!  And then I might end up beeling (crying). 

It's been ower 'ot bi aife (it’s been very hot lately) and in the absence of a pool to dive into, I’ve been diving into Lincolnshire dialect.  It seemed a better idea than being as mardy as me bum (sulky).  Don’t get frit, though.  (Margaret Thatcher once used “frit” in the House of Commons to taunt an opponent whom she accused of running scared.)

But that name “Yellow Belly” which we Lincolnshire folk proudly use of ourselves, is actually a mystery.  There are many theories about its origin, but no-one really knows.

Living alone

 

I wouldn’t have liked to be Robinson Crusoe.  I like my own company but I’d prefer to share it with a freezer full of wonderful food, a comfortable chair and a sanctuary of a bed.  Truth to tell, I think solitude is luxurious!

Alone is a neutral word, neither happy nor sad, but loneliness is horrid.  I like solitude, alone-ness freely chosen and embraced.  Many days I see no-one, but I have up to two regular phone calls so I am not totally alone.

I talk to myself quite a lot because I get the best answers from myself.  I don’t want to argue with anyone and when I am alone there is little danger of that.  I can do what I want when I want: I had two lovely snoozes yesterday and spent a couple of happy hours listening to Radio 4 podcasts whilst I crocheted. 

My diet is, to put it bluntly, idiosyncratic.  All I fancied for breakfast was a toasted cheese and chutney sandwich and I enjoyed it so much I had the same again for lunch.  And both went down well with a P G Wodehouse short story (audiobook).

I live in a state of chaos.  Honestly.  I’m very untidy and the cleaner’s main function is to spur me on to make the place moderately tidy.  She comes once a fortnight so I can still have twelve days of chaos between visits.

If anyone phones to say they’re on the way I have a well-rehearsed dash-and-stash routine but it may take me a while to find the bed before I retire.  That’s OK: I enjoy visits from friends: happy to see them come and happy to see them go. 

Anybody else like their own company best?

Did you just call me Twinkle?

 It used to be the custom for our local newspaper to include an article about anyone celebrating their hundredth birthday.  But no centenarian ever said anything: according to the reporters they always "chuckled" it.

The last time I went to our local chemist's with a prescription the assistant persisted in calling me Twinkle.  Eventually I called her Petal which caused amusement among the other older people in the shop but the assistant was none too pleased.

According to The Guardian yesterday, this is "benevolent ageism".  The speaker means well but is unwittingly patronising when s/he uses "elderspeak".  

It's not always easy.    In some places calling a stranger Love is elderspeak but around here you can be Love at any age.  Disability also brings verbal discrimination and people with disabilities often find themselves being treated like children.

There is no malice intended and usually the speaker is trying to be kind and show him/herself willing to help and "make allowances".

But I still don't like it.  How about you?

Down the Rabbit Hole

 

Long time readers of this blog will know that I love going to Brigg.  It's about nine miles from home and it's fully pedestrianised so once I have parked my car I can wander where I like on my trundle truck.

Thee are quite a few shops belonging to national chains like Tesco, B & M, and Boots but there are also independent shops.  

Here's my butchers shop.  Brigg still has four independent butchers which I find amazing.  Newells sells local meat as well as cakes baked locally and a few vegetables.  

Just along the road is Brian's Hardware which sells everything to do with hardware, DIY and gardening!  I even bought my mobility scooter there and they maintain it for me.  

Across the road is Jaylaur's Sewing Studio.  It's been extended quite a bit since this photo was taken but it's as elastic as the Tardis!  They sell fabric and haberdashery, run courses and are happy to give advice.

But it's The Rabbit Hole which is the most fascinating.  Wouldn't you want to go into a shop with a name like that?  It's the local independent bookshop.

Like most High Streets, Brigg is struggling but I for one appreciate the quality of the goods, the expertise freely offered and the sheer quirkiness of our independent shops.

And there are far more like this in Brigg.  

Do you aestivate?

 

I did, last weekend.  Everything was just too much so I aestivated with just about everyone else.  It felt like the only thing to do.  Aestivation is essential for quite a few invertebrates but this vertebrate favours the idea too.

Aestivation is the summer equivalent of hibernation.  It's an adaptation for survival in high temperatures or drought conditions to stop desiccation (drying out) of the animal.  I just use the word for getting through a heatwave!

There are lots of wonderful words associated with summer.  It's the time of frondesence when leaves and plants are in full bloom.  It's a season to long for zephyrs, those lovely breezes.  (Am I showing my age too much when I say that zephyr makes me think of cars?)

I think I might be aestivating again by the end of this week

5th July 2014

 

That was the date I started this blog.

I'd been reading other people's blogs for some time before I decided to take the plunge.  Many of my favourite blogs from those days have disappeared - Frugal Queen (I watch her videos on YouTube now), Mama's Mercantile, Baroness Prudent Spending, $12 a day to name a few.  I think the blog I have been reading longest is Tracing Rainbows, where the incredible Ang writes a post EVERY day!

I've met a few bloggers: Ang as mentioned above, Elizabeth from Small Moments, Flis from An Englishwoman and her Dog, and several others who are no longer blogging.  I've had correspondence both email and snail mail with bloggers all over the world.

I've never done a post every day except sometimes in December.  My lowest annual post count was 38 and my highest 149.  I've shared my hopes and dreams, my friendships and my struggles with disability, my delight in little things and my musings about life in general.  

So now I'll start my twelfth year of blogging.  If I can think of things to write about.  

Better than being at school.

 

When I was at school I was rubbish at sewing, art,  and "sporty things".  Always bottom of the class.  Never sewed a thing of which I could be proud.  Forget painting.  Always last to be picked for a team.

But I've been free of school for fifty five years.  And the great thing is, I don't need to compare myself with anyone else.  My body is a weird shape following a severe motor cycle crash and a bilateral mastectomy but I've found somewhere to swim without feeling self conscious.  I can sew adequately and take really pleasure in being creative with a needle.

So that leaves art.  Shame about that.  I'll never be able to paint or draw.  Or can I?

One place where I have found inspiration is Kirsten's blog "A letter from home".  Kirsten does some lovely little sketches on her blog.  I don't think she'll mind if I say they aren't great art but they are fun and they have inspired me to have a go.  They are so appealing and immediate.

Then the WI has an on line drawing club.  This little drawing (poppies before you ask) was this month's picture and the instructor takes us through it step by step.  We use felt tips which must be the most unintimidating medium ever.  The instuctor is a primary school teacher who has our measure!

And I've just bought my first paint box since I left school and I'm planning on having a crack at water colour painting.  I've found on line classes on painting flowers.  

Maybe I'll find courage to put a few attempts on my blog.  

Ice Cream

 I'm a Companion on the Wolds (COW)!  This is a group loosely organised by the church to offer companionship to women who have been widowed. (I'm just a pastor for the group.) There are about fifteen members and they meet roughly monthly.

Last month we had a very interesting tour around a beehive making factory.  Yesterday we met at a local ice cream parlour where the ice cream is made on the premises.  They have a small cafe where we had soups and sarnies and then we had a talk on ice cream making.  Even better we sampled about eight ice creams.  There was coconut, wold gold, mango, fruit of the forest, tiramisu, rum and raisin and I can't remember the rest.  

I'll be going back!

The fruits/flowers/vegetables of his labours

 Jack came yesterday.  I had to go for a rest!

He sorted my vegetable plot and planted my winter broccoli.

We had the first few tomatoes with our bacon butties.

He brought vegetables in for me to use.

He checked the runner beans.

He's given me permission to pick my sweet peas. 

He brought me some roses from his garden.

He checked the roses in my garden and approved of the "Strulch" I bought earlier in the year.  I am allowed to buy more. 

He must have been in a good mood as he allowed me to keep my poppies.  

And he took a dozen savoury ducks home with him.

Hi July!

 

A whole new month!  

31 days of blessings!  

744 hours of possibilities!

44640 minutes to live!

And by the end of the month I will have lived through 2678400 more seconds.  

There are fun things on the horizon.

I think I'm going on a tour of an ice cream factory tomorrow.  I say "I think" because the factory hasn't conformed they can cope with us but I can't think of a better place to go in this weather.  

I'm booked to take services three Sundays.  The last Sunday of the month I am going to a farewell service for a local vicar who is moving on.  She has been really good and she will be missed. 

I'm going to a birthday lunch for a friends, a farewell lunch for the vicar I mentioned above and another meet-up lunch with a friend.

My car has its annual check and service which might not sound very interesting but I have a tradition of going to a nice hotel for breakfast with one of my cousins which is lovely.  

I'm hoping to get my Christmas cards made.  I've been hoping to do that since February!

But the month starts with a visit from Jack.  I have savoury ducks waiting for him and bacon butties are on the menu.  

Goodbye, June

June, the month of strawberries and cream.  Flaming June.  June roses.  I've managed the strawberries and cream, June definitely flamed and I treated myself to a bunch of roses just because.  

In my mind Wimbledon starts in June but it has only just snuck in as it starts today.  Not that I watch it but it is a familiar background to summer.  

For me, June has been a month of ups and downs.  I don't really do hot, but retirement means I can sit next to a fan and read so the heat doesn't bother me.  I made and froze a huge batch of sandwiches so on very idle-making days I can be truly idle.  They also come in very handy when I have "painful days" which also happened in June.  

The month started with a few days in Worcestershire visiting my nephew and having a bit of a holiday.  I've had various meals out with friends and even a couple of occasions when I've cooked and entertained here.  I went on a tour of a factory where beehives are made, had a spa day and did some doggy day care.

I also completed my application for Permission To Officiate.  Unless I am very naughty I will always be a priest, but I'm not allowed to take services without my Bishop's permission.  The permission has to be renewed every five years.  There's such a shortage of clergy around here that I will be very surprised if he says no.  

What to wear?

Today's quick answer to that question is "as little as possible"!  However, I was taking a service and trotting into church near starkers wasn't an option!

So I took all my usual gear with me but when I got there I asked the churchwardens if they would mind if I just topped off my ordinary clothes with my stole.  Bless their hearts, they thought that was a great idea.  

Alb and girdle

The "usual gear" in this case would also have included an alb and a girdle.  The white robe shown here is an alb.  It is a symbol of baptism, of being cleansed and dedicated to Christ. 

Then the girdle.  I have to confess that its primary importance for me is to stop me tripping over the bottom of my alb!  Albs are rather voluminous.  And that is also linked to its liturgical significance which is being ready to serve and I first wore a girdle when I was a deacon, ie a servant.  

Stole as worn by a deacon

And finally the stole.  This is the symbol of authority given at ordination.  Deacons wear the stole over their left shoulder and fasten it at their right hip .  When the deacon is ordained priest s/he wears the stole around the neck as shown.  

Stole worn by a priest

The colour of the stole is dictated by the theme of the day.  White stoles denote  joy, light, glory, and resurrection and are worn for the really important days like Christmas and Easter.  Purple is for penitence and is worn for the preparation times of Lent and Advent.  Red is for blood and fire and is worn at Pentecost and for remembering Christian martyrs.  And green is for growth, and ongoing spiritual renewal and is worn for most of the year.

Today we were remembering the life of St Peter who was a martyr, so I wore my red stole.  

And I reminded the congregation that of the three events normally remembered in my liturgical gear (baptism, ordination as a deacon and ordination as a priest) baptism is by far the most important and neither of the other two could take place had I not been baptised.   

Look what arrived today!

About eighteen months ago I read a post on somebody's blog about Conqueror Challenges.  The challenges allow you to walk around wherever you like but compare your step count to making the same effort on a rather more interesting route.

So I decided to have a go.  I signed up for a five hundred mile virtual walk around the north coast of Scotland.  It has taken me nearly eighteen months of plodding around the house, garden and anywhere I happen to be, to do it.  En route I have had small rewards in the shape of e mail postcards of sites of interest along the way.

And now I have finished the route and I got my medal!  To be honest it will just get tucked into a drawer.

I think I chose the wrong challenge for me.  Five hundred miles over eighteen months was too far to keep my interest.  I shall wait a while before (if!) I buy another challenge.  And it will be well short of five hundred miles!

A picture which has brought me joy.

 I haven't mentioned Jack much recently but this picture has brought me great joy.

He's ringing the bell at the cancer unit to celebrate coming to the end of his radiotherapy treatment.  

And he's coming to sort my garden next week.  Bacon butties and savoury ducks planned.

What's in a name?

 My sister hated her name!  Officially she was Gillian but she preferred Gill.  Anyone who met her after she was about eighteen knew her as Gill but in the family she was always Gillian.  I don't think I've met many Gillians who are younger than me (although I've heard of some) and I think of it as a name of the 1940's.  

I can't imagine having any name other than the one I've got.  Mary.  I don't know any Marys younger than me, or rather I don't know any younger women who use the name Mary.  I baptised several girls who had Mary as a middle name, often because that was Granny's name.

I came across a fascinating site recently where a researcher had asked people what characteristics they associated with various names.  Here's the word cloud for the expectations of a Mary.

Does it match your expectations?  I'm happy to be thought of as dependable and happy rather than confrontational and grumpy.

If you fancy checking out your own name, here's a link.  The list is rather limited but you could look for family and friends.  

The Terrorist and the BBN

 

Holly.  Hungry and Hopeful.  

I've written about my canine friend Holly before.  She's a border terrorist who lets me into her life when Gilly, her regular staff is going something away from home.  She used to have an older sister called Hiccup, but Hiccup, alas is no more.  

She has a "cousin" though, a Havanese Cross, who runs the life of Gilly's daughter.  S is away at the moment.   I refer to this dog as The Bouncy Black Number because that's what Scout is.  Completely black and incredibly bouncy.  And just as loveable as Holly.  

Hasn't Scout got a wonderful tail!

Christmas in June

 Why wait to have Christmas in July?  Let's have Christmas in June!

Last Christmas my friend E and I decided to have a special day out rather than give each other Christmas presents.  We both have more than enough "stuff" so it seemed like a good idea.

One of the great things about it is that we gave each other the gift of anticipation.  For six months we have talked about our day, thought about it and come up with great ideas.  

We decided to go to Eden Hall, a day spa in Nottinghamshire.  It's many years since I went although E went a few years ago with one of her daughters.  It's about an hour's drive from home.  We decided that a little pampering wouldn't come amiss.  

Neither of us would have spent £119 on the other's Christmas present but this seemed worthwhile.  £119 was the basic cost of the day but I also treated myself to a massage and we each had drinks.  

Will we have a treat as our Christmas presents to each other next year?  Absolutely!

Trying to get off the naughty list

 Back in March I said I would report on my Christmas projects on the twenty fifth of each month.  April came and went.  May came and went.  I reported nothing.  

But I wasn't idle - honest!  I decorated some candles by sponge dabbing them with paint and then using (home made) stencils to create a design.  (The mottled effect looks better in reality than in the photograph!)

And I used paper napkins and PVA glue to decorate some shells which I then edged with a gold nail polish rim.  All these are now in my Christmas present drawer.

"She hasn't got a family"

 

My nephew on one of his vintage Minneapolis-Moline tractors

I've just had a few days in Worcestershire visiting my nephew.  I decided that it would be too risky for me to stay with him as his house has a lot of stairs and, sadly, my legs continue to deteriorate.  Instead I booked into a hotel and just spent Saturday and Sunday with him.  Saturday he cooked a lovely barbecue and Sunday I took him out to lunch.

Carrie and I over sixty years ago

Today is my cousin Carrie's birthday.  She lives about half a mile from me and two or three times a year I need to phone her for urgent help.  Last month I took her, her brother and another cousin out for lunch as all three of them have birthdays in May or June. 

My Father (centre) with his parents and siblings

Several of my cousins are generous with their help and support.  I'm really grateful for each one of them.  I've heard people say of me "She has no family" but that simply isn't true.  Originally I had twenty nine cousins (my father was one of eight siblings, my mother one of four) of which sixteen remain and I had one sister who left one son (my nephew).

My Mother (left) with one of her brothers and her sister

I value my family.  I work hard to stay in contact and good terms with them.  I send them all Christmas cards although several never respond.  I have no brothers, sisters or children but, when the chips are down, I have family I can rely on.

Thank you, each one of you.

May is out!

I remember my parents and grandparents saying, "Cast not a clout till May is out" and being totally confused as "clout" usually meant a thump or slap!  Here it means an article of clothing, often a vest and the saying was a reminder that even after May begins, cold weather can still return.  "May" can also be the hawthorn tree, which flowers in late April or early May. When the hawthorn blossoms are "out," it signals the end of spring's cold spells, making it safe to leave winter clothes behind.  Either way, May is definitely out!

On the whole, it's been quite a good month.  I had a few days dog sitting, but not as much as I had hoped as my legs suddenly became very painful.  (Things are improving again.)

I've been out for meals with quite a few friends.  I'm going to have to try and do this a little less often as I like to consider meals out to be a treat.  I need to think of a way of doing this less often and maybe inviting friends to eat at my house.  

Jack has been three times and my garden is definitely showing the fruits of his labours.  I'll show you some photos soon.  

And I ended the month having a few days visiting my nephew.  When I have visited previously I have stayed with him, but I decided this time to stay in a nearby hotel which has facilities for disabled people but spend the days with him.  That solution worked well.  

Rural retreat

 I was supposed to be dog sitting for six days starting last Sunday but Holly Dog had to go to another friend until Wednesday.  Anyway, Thursday I went to my rural retreat.  

Here's Holly Dog welcoming you to my blog.  She likes me to go as I take treats, especially carrots.  We still have to renegotiate each night as to which one of us has most of the bed but we rub along OK.

This glorious sight is the view from the front porch.  It was warm enough a couple of times to sit out there and knit.  

And here's the village post box. 

The notice reads, "Birds are nesting in this postbox. PLEASE DO NOT USE!" followed by details of a nearby box.   

Who wouldn't want to stay in a village with something like this!

My Mass Observation Report

I thought you might like to now what I wrote for Mass Observation.  This is going to be a really dull post but the brief is to write about just this one day in my life and 12th May was really dull!  

"Today I am feeling a little bit sorry for myself.  I was supposed to be taking care of a friend’s dog at her house but I have a lot of pain in my legs so I can’t do it.  I enjoy doing that particular favour as my friend’s house is high on the Lincolnshire Wolds and has magnificent views.  I regard it as a holiday with self-catering accommodation. 

 Instead, I am at home in my bungalow.  I am a tenant of The Church of England Pensions Board and the Board is an excellent landlord.  I am disabled (but usually in better nick than I am today) and my bungalow has ramped access front and back, a wet-room and an accessible garden.  Many older people have gravitated to the cul-de-sac where I live and we keep an eye on each other.  My housing situation could not be better. 

 As today is the twelfth of the month my pension for the early part of my working life arrived in my bank account.  Although I finished my working life as a vicar, until I was thirty, I worked in local government and the civil service.  These last few years have been a period of high inflation and I have had to economise, cutting down on car usage, food and energy bills.  The rate of inflation has started to drop and the latest consumer price index is 3.25%.  

 I wrote a post for my blog: indeed, I wrote about Mass Observation!  Blogging is a declining activity and seems to attract only older people but I enjoy it.  I have met a few fellow bloggers “in real life” and have written letters to a few overseas.  I read blogs about ordinary, everyday life, and people’s hopes and reflections.

 I’m very sleepy today, probably because I am taking pain relief.  The great joy of retirement is that it doesn’t matter how sleepy I am!  However, I can’t be bothered to do anything which is rather unpleasant.  I just keep nodding off. 

 Whilst I’m not able to do much I have had a few video calls with friends.  I think video calls are great.  The idea of being able to see friends miles away seemed like a fantasy only a few years ago.

Normally I enjoy cooking good food for myself from scratch but I don’t feel up to that today.  Breakfast was a sandwich which I had in the freezer and lunch was canned tuna, canned sweetcorn and mayonnaise.  For an evening meal all I could be bothered with was mashed potatoes from the freezer with a scattering of cheese.  I’ll survive.  But I shall be glad to eat properly again.

 This is probably my most boring day of the year!  I can’t move far, I feel “spaced out” on pain relief and my get-up-and-go has got-up-and-gone.  But it’s an honest record!"

In case you are feeling concerned, life is looking better today and the only way is up!

Mass Observation Day 2025

 

I really enjoyed the film "Housewife, 49" with Victoria Woods as Nella Last, an ordinary housewife living in Barrow in Furness.  She contributed a diary from 1939 to the mid sixties, detailing the events of her life and how she felt about things.

Earlier than that, on 12th May 1937, people were invited to record the events of that day.  Why that date?  It was the coronation of George VI.  

In August 1939 when war was already seeming inevitable, Mass-Observation invited members of the public to record and send them a day-to-day account of their lives in the form of a diary. No special instructions were given to these diarists but 480 people responded to this invitation and their diaries are now held in the organisation's archive.

The original project ended in the mid-sixties but was revived in 1981.  These days it is not day-to-day diaries which are requested but responses to specific topics.  The spring topics are post-pandemic reflections, VE Day and Good News.  I am an observer and am writing about all three.

But 12th May is very special each year.  Today is the day everyone is invited to record and reflect on the events of their day.  

And one of the events I shall record is that I posted an entry on my blog!

May I?

This last week has made me feel as though summer is definitely on the way!   I have a few plans.

I'm going to stay with Holly Dog for a week.  That's a bit like going on holiday!

I'm taking the funeral of an old friend.  I feel very privileged as she left explicit instructions that she wanted me.

I am hosting a cousins' lunch.  The other three cousins who come all have birthdays in May and June so a rather nice pub meal is my gift to them.  

I have a lunch out and an afternoon tea planned.  These catch-ups with old friends are such a pleasure.

The Monday Mermaids will be splashing.

Jack is coming again before long so that we can get the garden in the best order possible.  

Those are the definite plans but I also have dreams.  I want to sit in my garden and do some crafts.  I want to try some new recipes.  I want to increase my walking.  And I want to dream dreams.

The delights of April

 

April went undercover as far as this blog is concerned.

I did courses on "MacBeth" and "Dr Faustus".  And my usual monthly sessions on drawing and journalling.  

I led a gloriously noisy service at Easter.  And several other not quite as noisy services throughout the month

I celebrated a friend's birthday with lunch at a local pub and very nice it was too.  

I had my Trundle Truck serviced so I will be able to go places this summer.  

I went swimming with The Monday Mermaids three times.  

I did some doggy day care.

Jack and I made a start on decluttering the garage.  Just a start.

In disgrace

 I don't suppose it's a surprise to anyone that I am in disgrace with Jack.  He came yesterday.

His first complaint was that I haven't written anything on this blog for a month.  As you can see I have remedied that. 

Then he moaned about the number of plants I had acquired.  There were carrots, beetroot, rocket, tomatoes, mimulus, sweet peas, gazania, salvia, begonia, antirrhinum, geraniums and African marigolds.  So he sorted all of them.  Except the geraniums which I have been growing on and they are still a bit small.  

And anyway he added to the quantity by bringing me a daphne, a cotoneaster and something he couldn't remember the name of.  Fortunately I like surprises.  

He planted up my vegetable garden but we have plenty of room for other crops.  The "snake" is a porous hose.  It's the easiest way for me to water the garden.

He filled pots and beds so that I will have a glorious show in the summer.

And he went home with six portions of home-made soup and twelve savoury ducks.

He can't complain about that.  But he'll find something else.