Month: April 2016

The Gift

IMG_1134She bought me this gift, a witches ball.
Just when she got it, I don’t quite recall.
It remained so long in the box,
Found it again when looking for socks,
Put it to the back of the cupboard for sure,
Hadn’t a clue of the things in store.
It is said that you fill the vessel with scent,
It sends spirits away, they came and went.
Hanging up there in the light,
They can’t get in, try as they might.
They bounce off the window, tumble and fall
It offers me protection from them all.
It brought a pivotal change in my life,
When I found out it was made in Fife.
Not far from where we go off to hide,
Off up there in the countryside.
The place where our thoughts we gather,
Oh to be there, whatever the weather.
A place which has me bewitched,
The life I have here would be switched.
Off where future thoughts are rife,
Where we have a different life.
To when where I can make and toil,
A home, with soft garden soil.
Where things will grow, be abundant,
Herbs and foods, self sufficient.

Well my friend, she knows me well
As she weaved her magic spell.
Around the space it would drape,
As the dreams began to shape.
The places about they’d start to drift,
As they began a momentous shift.
To create someone refreshed anew,
Stopping to sip in this unusual brew.
Perhaps a life was better spent,
Doing the thing of which you’ve dreamt
Herbs and spices in the mix,
You think she’s up to her old tricks.
On a journey and make haste,
In to the country you have chased.
Now and then her power to surge.
A moment to Thank her for the urge.
A well thought gift that she would send,
Protecting me, her very dear friend.

The Tractor

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The tractor was hiding down a back street when we went to view a house in Scotland, in a field at the top of the road near to the beach.  It was owned by an ex-headmaster who has it just sitting there in his garden.  He was about 80 years old and stopped for a chat, as curious people do out in the countryside when confronted by out-of-towners’.  He told my partner that he would be pleased to let me have it, we just have to go and collect it and visit for tea. It hasn’t turned a wheel in years, but I thought it was a fantastic piece of machinery and I simply had to photograph it.  We didn’t buy the house for several reasons, it just wasn’t right for us. I’d love to take the man up on his offer, but getting it home would be a real mission and restoration of such a wonderful machine a challenge that might be beyond my capabilities.

Deliriously Deluded Ramblings Vol 2

Jolted awake from her sleep, by the bitter taste rising in her throat. She had no idea of it’s sudden cause. The taste acrid, it burned inside her throat. She was certain that she saw something in the darkness, laying on the edge of the mattress. It looked like a furry caterpillar, or some strange sort of plant life and she watched as it moved away and disappeared. Had she dreamt it, she searched on the floor, but it had gone. Her breath was awful, had she swallowed something in the night, an insect perhaps? It felt as though something had died in her mouth and she felt the soreness within her throat. Had the infection from her ears travelled there? The thunderclap in her ears just a week before had left her dizzy and disorientated as though her head was under water, she was not able to hear properly.

Looking at the clock she was wide awake. Three hours had passed since she had hit the sheets, exhausted and craving sleep. Was it a reaction to the stress? Acidic plasma filled her mouth, she hauled herself to the bathroom resisting the urge to be sick. Minutes later her tongue sore from scrubbing with the toothbrush as she tried in vain to rid her mouth of the bitterness she inspected her mouth for signs, the now familiar white lumps had appeared again at the back of the throat. she hoped that she would not suffer with another outbreak of ulcers to join them, but feared that it may already be too late. In recent years, they had become her body’s first deep distress signal. Her mouth swollen and sore, her lips feeling as they were on fire…
The past month has been rather dark at times. Don’t get me wrong, it is not all doom and gloom, I have had moments of Happiness thrown into the mix and clarity at times, but I have been suffering with a physical illness which really took a hold of me, causing infections, delirium and fever to ravage the body and manifest in so many ways. It has rather taken me out the way of my path to Happiness, which I had decided to journey onto and up until then I had felt that I was doing quite well.

It always catches me out on how illness can affect the brain as well as the body. I should be prepared for it by now, after years of illness with Endometriosis caused havoc upon my brain and eroded the person that I was going to be, there was so much that needed to heal. It is logical that when the mind or body is under stress, then it has to come out somewhere. But I often feel that they are seemingly unconnected it can cause your worst feelings to come up to the surface, fear, loathing, depression etc and memories you had buried from the past all racing to the fore.

Once the illness is gone, you start to rebuild what you know and try and return to your normal self. Sometimes it is easy, other times difficult, at the moment, the feeling of what I have been going through for almost a month now is still fresh and raw in my mind and I am not yet over it. I guess I am trying to rush the process, having felt that I should be much better by now, my creative juices have dried several times during this, although there have been spurts of writing, it has not exactly been the flow which I had experienced prior.

It changes you though, you feel things are never quite the same again, when you have experienced the ravages of the fever demons tormenting your mind and body and starving you of sleep when you are wracked with pain. Whatever the hell this was, I certainly don’t want it back. I will be glad when it is over and wave it goodbye. It’s a proven fact that people are getting more sick, it can‘t always be avoided I know, but it knocks you for six when it hits. I also make a mental note to stay well away from anyone who is unwell and boost my natural vitamin intake wherever possible.

Up on the Roof, Thinking Space

I recently read a wonderful page which mentioned being up on the roof. and in a flash of inspiration I returned for a moment to my favourite place in our second childhood home.

When I was ten years old we moved away from school and the friends that I had come to know and travelled to a new place. I was full of hope, finally getting away from the children that had terrorised me up until then. This would be the chance for a whole new existence. As the youngest child at the time, I was happy to have the smaller bedroom, it overlooked most of the garden, had a nice window and I used to climb out of the window and sit on the bathroom roof. It had a small brick ridge to the pitch where it joined the house next door and it was just big enough to perch along it. I loved sitting out there, when things had all got too much, after arguments with my brother or friends at school, or my parents. It was my thinking space and I loved to take time out to be there. I always was told off if my parents found out that I had been up there, but I took the risk on so many occasions. It was slightly less dangerous once they had the new roof fitted after which I could see no real reason why I shouldn’t go there. Falling was never considered since I was always careful.

A couple of years later, my sister arrived and I very reluctantly had to move into the larger bedroom, having previously had the small box room for the first ten years of my life I always preferred the smaller room. Years later, when my brother was away, I asked to borrow his room and regularly ventured out up on the roof, much to the surprise of the new neighbours when they moved next door. From up there you could see both up and down the road in the gardens, I could also wave at my friend down the road, from his roof windows, when he was home.

I liked the height and the inaccessibility of a roof, most people I knew would not venture out there and as I grew older I later chose homes which were high up wherever possible. I felt somehow safer there. The balcony flats where I lived for 13 years, were fantastic for the views and I feel truly at home living up high, it also kept unwanted visitors out and I could enjoy the view, looking out over the rooftops and letting the imagination run wild once again.

The Brain Dump, Where does it come from?

It’s been happening again, what can only be referred to as a Brain Dump. Every once in a while, my head feels like what happens to a computer, right when there is a blue screen and it begins a crash dump.
Hopefully at this point your disk drive doesn’t fry aswell. On occasions it has, that is NOT a metaphor. It has actually happened. Note to self, I may need some new technology.

Meanwhile, for those who are blissfully unaware, the brain dump wakes you up, but not quite. So you feel that you are sleeping, but you are actually aware of your surroundings.

It starts to dispose of random things in your head, clearing out what may, or may not be rubbish and you are not in control of what it may select. At times, I have found it rather disturbing, since you never know when it is coming your way, how long it may last and sometimes, there will be a real gem in there, which afterwards will be gone forever. You see, you are not awake enough to write it down, or record your thought in any way, it remains totally illogical, a collection of random thoughts which go through your head and upon fully waking you cannot recall most of it.

I noticed previously, that it used to happen most on a Saturday morning, when I did not have to rise early for work, and arrived usually in the early hours after a particularly stressful week. At times, it has given me the freedom from upset, a release from a distressing situation, which up to that point my have been ruling me. Other times, it can be memories from the past, which have returned to haunt or delight. I usually feel refreshed after this happens, but I cannot help but wonder how many people get it. In conversation with a lady who is a counsellor a while ago, she told me it might be my way getting rid of things which I cannot cope with. I rather think that it is a coping mechanism, but it has only manifested in the last couple of years.

Since last week was a prolific time for my writing things, I am hopeful that what spurred me on to write, was not short-lived and so must not allow my fears to conquer me. Tomorrow is another week and with it, brings new thoughts, experiences and excitement.

So, where does it come from? Answers, on a postcard, email, or comment. I’d love to be enlightened.