Category: memories

Dali v Gaudi

I do feel the need to explain. For those die hard art fans out there, it is simply my own opinion and fighting my own inner thoughts why I had no desire to go and see Salvador Dali’s work whilst I was in Barcelona. You see, I have never felt entirely comfortable with what little of his work that I have seen.  My mother said it quite succinctly “Well, he was totally mad!” and thankfully she didn’t want to go either. I know there are lots of “mad” people out there who are great artists, however I have always felt more than slightly uncomfortable with his work. Yes, he was probably a genius.  But very little of what I have seen makes me want to see more.

The same could certainly not be said for Antoni Gaudi.
Although I only recently came across his work, I have an absolute thirst to find more of it, he was brilliant in his architecture.  I don’t know what it is about it, but I am in awe of the colours, textures and patterns and the skills that were used.  It was a later arrival to my Barcelona wishlist, once I knew that I was going there and I certainly did not want to leave without visiting at least one of his projects.

Casa Batllo, on the Passieg de Gracia was the place we settled upon visiting whilst we were there.  Well it had to be once I saw the front window alone. It’s curves and frontage pleading me to venture there and see what else it would show me, I was little prepared for it and as it turned out we were in for one of the biggest surprises of our trip.  I walked around the place in absolute awe, listening to the pre-recorded tour, eyes wide from what I was seeing and was totally besotted with the house. Mr Josep Batllo was a very lucky man to live and work there and commissioned Antoni Gaudi in 1904 as architect to create a fine home for his family.  In 1906 it was completed and over 100 years later, it is a celebrated Unesco world heritage site, which is privately owned and the upkeep and restorations now financed by the admission fees.

I can quite honestly say that I have never experienced anything like it before.  My eyes were drawn to the colours, the shapes and wondering how on earth they managed to do it all.

I probably took about 300 photographs whilst I was in that building, possibly even more.  I could easily split them into monochrome and colour sections but I will not, I think there will be some stills and also a slideshow for here.  There was so much to see, a glorious assault upon the senses, which left me dizzy and eager to see what was around the next corner, or in the next room.  I adore the place and have happily dreamed of living in a building like that, if only I were lucky enough to do so.

The sitting room holds the most beautiful windows I have ever seen. Being very keen on architecture this is quite an achievement and deservedly so. The large bay windows are cavernous and have stained glass sections in multiple shades all around the top, as have the doors within this section of the house. It is simply breathtaking to see it for the first time and my photographs do not do it justice.


We walked around the house loving the design, it was a touchy feely building, your hands are drawn to the curves everywhere and the warmth created by the honeyed tones of the wooden fittings I think that this place brings a whole new meaning to the term “love handles” here are just a few of them here and they were exquisite.


The handrails of the stairs strong yet smooth where possibly millions of people have done the very same thing grabbbed the rail in eagerness to see what is next.

This is a place to reawaken your creativity. It is exciting, both in it’s form and humour. Likened to a dragon, it is a great beast of a building, fascinating and makes wonderful use of my favourite colour throughout.

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The light well is central to the building and which houses the entrances to the various apartments, the staircase and elevator is something to behold and the colour blue deepens the higher you climb, being the darkest at the roof. It occurred to me that it must hold every shade of the spectrum in that one building.

If you like ceramics or glass in any form then you will probably love this place after all, What’s not to love? 

As the tour continued upwards throughout the building, I felt that the clever architect brought a new feeling of calm as I walked through the rooms.

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The staircases, the curves in attic bedrooms of the servants quarters were welcoming and I think at the end of a long day, I would feel safe and secure being looked after within it’s walls. Everywhere we went, the light was wonderful and so cleverly used throughout. There was no dark cramped attic rooms in here, they were white and bright and yet had such softness, it must have been the curves and the clever touches throughout for storage. Not as flamboyant or colourful as the main quarters but just as lovely.

The sunny terraces were at the rear of the building and up on the roof.  I remarked upon the similarities to the enamelled ceramic colourful plaques in the rear garden and the artwork that my mother had produced years earlier in art college. She said that at the time, she had no idea as to what was possible and this had opened her eyes to it. I have quietly hankered after one day owning a particular piece of her pottery from that era. The rooftop also housed the highly decorated chimneys and the amazing roof which curled around the front of the building like a sleeping dragon its multicoloured scales at the front.

 

I think that my hardest task was to capture photographs without people walking across them. But I have to say the other visitors were very accommodating and would wait if you were poised for a shot. All these photographs I took on the iPhone I will ensure that next time I travel I will take a battery bank or two as my only complaint was that it ran out on me too early in the day. I decided to purchase a book, it was not hugely expensive and the photography was lovely. It also gave a potted history of the house which I could show my partner upon returning home.

We walked out late afternoon elated from the experience, so pleased that we had been able to see it on our last day, the sunlight on the building casting yet more glorious shadows upon its curvaceous form. I felt that if God took me now, then I would die with a smile on my face feeling as though I’d lived and grateful for the experience.

The Daily Post – Interior

I knew it…Someday I’d get there

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So, how would I feel when it finally happened and was it different to how I expected it to be? 

Yes, totally.  I clearly did not know what to expect when I arrived at the place which I had longed to see.  It was my reason for wanting to visit Barcelona in the first place. To visit and pay homage to Ludwig Mies Van der Rohe’s Barcelona Pavilion.

For those of you who do not know, it was the German Pavilion first built in 1928-29 for the International Exposition in Barcelona, Spain it was demolished in 1930 and later on, they figured that that was a bad idea. It was an important building and pivotal in the architects career.  So the foundation set about reconstructing the building on the original site, in 1983 and in 1986 work was completed.  It is now open to the public and can also be hired for private events.

At this news, I thought what a wonderful place to have your wedding photographs taken. I felt that the clean lines, beautiful chrome and glass and exquisite stonework, would only enhance the photographs from the best day of a woman’s life.

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We had tried to find it for three of the five days which we had planned for Barcelona and yet, it was not easy to find at all.  We went past the signs for it on the bus, but still couldn’t find it. I had seen photographs of the place, but I didn’t know what surrounded it, something to look out for and three different maps didn’t show us.

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Once we were inside, you could see the iconic Barcelona chairs displayed. I somehow thought that there would be more furniture inside it. My mother was distinctly unimpressed with the whole place and within a short time was clearly bored.  We had taken a while to get there and were both tired. She agreed that the building construction was very good, but that was it for her.

I wanted a little bit more from the experience, I had thought that I would have a little time to relax there for a while and meditate, but my legs were aching from the walking and I could not get comfortable or shut out the sights and sounds around me. For a moment I stood next to the statue within the place.  It was not quiet enough, but would have to do.

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Dawn by Georg Kolbe

Just Wonderfully simple.

The Daily Post – Someday

Well Here We Are….

So we flew in last night for a few days a little visit to Barcelona for my Birthday. Something else to tick off the bucket list. I am looking forward to getting out and about and us seeing some of the sights. Especially the Barcelona Pavilion by Ludwig Mies Van der Roe.

I must admit that on looking out of the window last night and being met by beautiful twinkly lights on a balcony opposite I thought, this looks nice and this morning I have apartment envy as there is a huge rooftop terrace which is rather lovely. One lucky man is wandering about on it with his coffee this morning.


Today we will get our bearings and tickets for travel and might save the Pavilion for tomorrow. We are tired today, the hotel is on a very busy city corner, so we were wide awake till 3am and didn’t sleep much after that either. I haven’t slept in a city for a few years now, it takes some getting used to. But I find that the first 24 hours we are always adjusting. It feels strange not being able to speak the language. My partner would be fine he used to live in Spain.

So as we wandered about for almost 8 hours of yesterday. We basked in Sunshine and blue skies on this fine January day, were serenaded by beautiful green parrots surrounded by fabulous architecture and surprises around almost every corner. My Birthday was wonderful. 

We are staying in the Gothic Quarter and it is a short walk to Port Vell which had some fantastic yachts in the harbour and a pirate ship!


It was the perfect day to wander along the quayside. 


My weakness is for the architecture and it doesn’t disappoint at all. Art Deco and Nouveau at every corner and beauty that jumps out at you. 

It was quite warm and the horses looked hot, we decided not to make them walk anywhere on our behalf. 

I had to photograph this Lion it reminded me so much of my Roki at home having a stretch.
In the late afternoon we were tired so stopped for some good food. After which we wandered around replenished and as we turned a corner of a side street were met with a beautiful sound. A man playing the violin in a square directly in front of the Cathedral all lit up and a full moon overhead. My phone had run flat earlier and I had switched it off and at that moment prayed for a photograph of what stood before me. I was blessed and got this one then listened to the music and went on my merry way. 


Although I had the grand idea of us dressing up for our meal out we were just too tired after walking all day so had coffee and cake late evening and went to bed.

Transport 

I love it when a blog post takes you to a place where you have never been before and just for a brief time you are transported wherever it may be. It is so descriptive that you are there enjoying that moment along with the author. All the sights and sounds that surround them are playing on the senses and your own imagination kicks in. Perhaps you are noticing other things for the first time too. It is what I subconsciously aim for when I write a story. I don’t always feel that I manage it, but when it comes together, Ah success!

I don’t often read books, it is not a luxury I’m often able to afford myself, you see I’ll let you into a secret. They aren’t something I can put down again. I get so wrapped up in them, transported I guess that I am unable to switch off until I have reached the end. On the last two occasions I actually read books it was cover to cover and nothing got done for the day. Thankful for small mercies that I read pretty quickly though. Quite often even then I have considered what might happen next, another chapter. I’ve often considered writing one at the end of a book I’ve particularly enjoyed.  I do the same with a film the concentration is immense. But if anything breaks that for me and I miss a bit then quite often I will walk away mid film and watch it another time, much to the annoyance of my partner.

One such post transported me there is this one Helen Hayward Going Home for Christmas which I read tonight. It got me thinking about the places which have been home over the years, she quoted a friend “Never go back to the place where you were happiest as a child’, a friend once told me. ‘The place you went on holiday to, a garden from childhood, a tree house in the woods. It’s gone, lost’, she said firmly, ‘and you can’t refind it’.”

Revisiting them is not always a good idea. Crossing back to the time before we became grown up, when we looked at everything so differently. First off we often expect it to be the same and it just isn’t the same. Not when you have grown up but still we have a fondness for the familiar don’t we. The inspiration following a memory we once had.

I walked down the high street where I grew up as a teenager and later lived in the town nearby. It has changed so much, I did not recognise it and yet it still somehow brought me comfort in the memories that I hold of the place. We all grow up one day, people and places in an ever changing world.

The Daily Post – Crossing

The End of an Affair

A Short Story

As the couple stood underneath the departures board at the station. People waiting all around to see which platform they needed her eyes were drawn to them. A well dressed man stood in front of her with a well dressed woman. He looked anxious as he was talking loudly to her. Almost shouting but unintentionally he just had one of those voices which carried. He was not speaking quietly but he looked concerned as he spoke.

It was Christmas week, as people were thinking about spending time together. Although she was looking up at the departure board, her eye was being drawn to the couple below it. It was clearly the time to end their affair. He was trying to work out why she was watching them, did she look familiar or perhaps know one of them. It was sad she felt for the woman whose face she could not see, it seemed so insensitive to do this in not only a public place but right under the departure board. The onlooker wondered why he would pick such a public place to end it, where there is no where in private to mask the inevitable emotions that follow a break up. He started to look uncomfortable but kept watching the onlooker over his lady’s shoulder, wondering if he had been recognised but still they did not move away. The onlooker willed her train platform to appear on the board but there was a full 20 minutes before it was due to leave. He stood talking, reasoning as the words drifted across to the ones who waited there. All the time she stood motionless. “You’re a lovely girl.” He placed a hand on each arm like you would to steady a child who was out of control, or as you would draw someone into an embrace. But he did neither, he just continued “But I am a Married Man and I don’t know what I can do” Her response was inaudible but she may have tried to reason with him, or had she known all along just be accepting. He told her not to cry so within a moment it was clear the outcome but she did not shake and appeared composed. He moved her to one side about 20 feet away and dropped his voice slightly, the noise of the busy station muffled the words, leaving the rest only to her imagination. The onlooker hoped that they would not be on the same train, not in the same carriage and hoped that the woman would be alright. At least she could start the New Year with a new start, not clinging to the old life for it would no longer serve her. She did not have such concern for the man who was dumping her. At that point he became insignificant. As the onlooker looked again above them at the departures, she hoped that this new year would bring good things for the people she loved and even herself, if that was allowed. She looked forward to the welcome she would get from her family as she stepped inside the door as she arrived home. The embraces and laughter. She thought of the wonderful gift of time spent with loved ones that she had been given and felt happy. As she smiled to herself she looked below and the couple had vanished, just as quickly as they had appeared.

 Sisters

I am not talking about the ones you cannot choose the ones you are bonded to by birth and blood. Although I love her dearly, I am also lucky enough to have other sisters of my choosing. They are treasure to the soul and I am totally blessed to have known them and loved them.

For instance there is the girl who I have known since I was 18 months old and saw her moving in up the road, she has been a sister of mine ever since.  Sure over the years we have fought, when we were on our way to school with each other as small children, we regularly argued.  When I see or speak with her, time stands still, we are six again, chattering and laughing and always pleased to be around each other. When she went away to college and I moved away in our teenage years, I missed her so much. I am glad that I am able to see her and her family more often nowadays.

Then there is another lovely lady, with whom I have been through so much over the years. When we were 13 or 14 years old, we became blood sisters, you know where you are so close that a part of you wants to never lose that. You ceremoniously cut yourselves and say something like “your blood, my blood, our blood” and swear that you will be sisters forever.

We shared our first boyfriend, but that was not intentional, he was just a rat! We moved on from that and remained very close. Then a while later we lost touch for several years. During that time I honestly felt that a part of me was missing and I often thought about her, but did not know where to find her, or even if I should. I did not know if she would be the same girl underneath or even if she should be, but when we met up again and I met her wonderful family for the first time. It was as though no time had passed and they all were part of my family too. I am writing this as I think about the years since then and the fact that I am about to be parted from this family again as they emigrate to Australia on Christmas Day. Yes the other side of the world and wonder when I will see her again. Notice I say when, not if. You see I have a wonderful man who knows and loves me and makes things happen for me. He has driven across the countryside just to make sure that I see my friend whenever we are en route back to the South from Scotland. He knows that I will feel such loss when she is gone again, as I did before. So he has given me yet another wonderful gift. His Christmas gift to me is that yesterday told me to call her and tell her I was going to visit her and her family before she leaves next week and I am heading off on the train to see them all for a couple of days. I am so thrilled to be able to do this. We are looking forward to walking those hills together and her showing off the sights in her pretty part of Yorkshire. 

Her children when we last visited said that they would like to see me for Christmas so I have sworn her to secrecy and will just turn up at their house to surprise them. We are all excited about this unplanned visit as it was beyond my wildest dreams to see them all again since they weren’t able to visit us.

I have a treasure that is priceless. It is the people who surround me with Love and I am truly blessed and grateful.  

The Daily Post – Treasure

A Recipe for Love?

A short story. 

It was strange, there was a time when she thought that she may have loved him.  They had been around each other for a while. As friends, she liked his company, they laughed easily together. It was all there in the mix, the mutual and intense physical attraction. They Cooked meals together, drank wine, made love easily and talked freely. They had pastimes and interests which intermingled. They met quite regularly back then, so one day she summoned the courage to ask him whether he would ever see her as anything more than an affair. Perhaps in a bid to elicit feelings which were not really there, to find out whether they could be anything more, she swallowed her pride and broached the subject one day while he was getting ready to go.  They had fun, the memories of that would stay with her for a while, there were fireworks and chemistry, but he did not want any more. Maybe the time just wasn’t right for them. She had to ask, if her feelings were reciprocated then this could be a turning point for the relationships thus far. She wondered what she was doing wrong then she would know for sure which direction to take.

Although it wasn’t really meant as an ultimatum it suddenly seemed so. So that was it. He had decided that he wanted something different. A short while after that, she changed her social circle and found work in a different town. There was someone new and she moved on with her life not wanting to prolong or encourage the torture of his rejection. It was obviously just not meant to be. She was disappointed so did not go out of her way to see him, or frequent the places where they had been previously. She never found out whether it was love or not. But settled on a fondness for the time that they’d had. Some memories remained, good ones, they could have been much more, but she would keep the memories and occasionally they would make her smile.  She didn’t hold it against him, she was young, probably erratic at the time, she may have been too much of a liability, but she was certainly not what he was looking for.

It was strange when years later, she would suddenly look up as she drove past his place.  She remembered that he had a beautiful apartment where you could watch the sunrise from the bedroom its light bathing the space and welcoming the day. The window seat overlooking water and listening to the gulls flying overhead. A place where the sunsets warmed the skin and the soul. She often did that with people she knew though, look for the places which were familiar to her. Was it also odd when she would hear from him all those years later and he would send a message that said, “I looked for you once, without success, assumed that you had married and changed your name. I can’t believe that our paths never crossed again. I have good memories of our time together, as short as it was.” 
She smiled as they chatted online for a while.  Like old friends, just as they had been really.  They knew some of the same people although she hadn’t seen them in a while it always was a small town. She’d grown over those years, any person would it had been so many. She felt no bitterness, or remorse for what could have been and yes things could have been different but after all had been and gone she was happy. He had been married after it ended. Since divorced and now had a football team of grandchildren to be proud of. She hoped that he was happy again too now. 

The Daily Post – Elicit

 

A Familiar Pain

As I read posts here and there about women going through the endless quest for a child, I cannot help but feel their pain and the suffering they are going through. All those memories suddenly returning of being hopeful that this was the month when my period would not appear early and the tightness in my abdomen and swollen stomach would mean something other than an Endometriosis flare up. My heart goes out to these ladies every time that I read of their torture. There have been two such posts that have popped up on my news feed this week. I hope that those ladies do get their wish and are able to bring precious souls to the universe. I know that if they are lucky enough to do so that they will shower such love upon their miracle babies and praise the IVF treatments they put themselves through to get that longed for baby.

I do not have an IVF journey to share instead I tried everything that the Drs suggested just to try and be pain free and it wore me out. My partner had not expressed a wish for more children so when I was told that we would be eligible for one course on the NHS at a time when I could not have felt so ill equipped to deal with a pregnancy we had a big talk. He could see that I was ill and he told me that from his point of view he had everything he wanted, he did not need a child to be the icing on the cake. He was happy with me so I wasn’t under any pressure to bear children. I thought that when the Doctors told me at 17 that I wouldn’t have children had really done a number on me and I hoped that one day I would just prove them wrong. Alas it wasn’t to be. So as for IVF I would give up my chance and not pursue that route. It felt as though I would be trying to force nature and perhaps someone else would give their child better chances that I could not. You had to both want it so badly that you would go through everything to get there. I thought that I would have made a good parent, others told me that I would. I loved children and in the early adult years was everybody’s babysitter, a nanny and honorary Auntie to so many. There were a few occasions when I thought that I might be pregnant again. Periods were late, just by a few weeks which never normally happened, but then Mother Nature would play her cruel trick once again and I would be left quietly devastated.

I settled into the life we had and the pain of a condition along with multiple surgeries over the years and prayed a lot. That if it were right we would be blessed with a child and if not, then the pain would go away. Over time I asked about more permanent solutions since my symptoms were clearly cyclical and getting worse I was finally given the green light on a hysterectomy having fought to have one for several years. I was told that they didn’t want to do it as I was too young and had no children. They said it would be irreversible and force a medical menopause. I argued that having been told I would never bear children at 17 what were they waiting for, why prolong it any longer? I could have had a life and been pain free before now! Finally someone listened to me. A week before my 35th birthday I was scheduled for a hysterectomy and I thought that my Endo problems would be over. In my mind it really was a case of New Year New Me! The one thing that wasn’t explained was that even that could not heal the condition as it is incurable. Yes it could slow it down ease some of the symptoms but it could come back, as I would find out.

I was in surgery for several hours, they cut me about a lot and as my partner paced the hospital in the snow smoking and worrying about me, as they stopped the haemorrhaging he was glad that I had made it through. As I healed I felt that my life was truly about to begin. Full of hope, ambition and excitement for what might happen next. A healthy and happy future together pain free.

For a few years, I championed the work of the surgeon. I happily recommend him now to other ladies who need to see a specialist for the condition since he is the only Dr I have met who understands it. He had after all enabled my life to start given us me back. There was an Endometriosis support group at the hospital and I used to go there after the operation. I even did a talk and told my story there once. My partner was so proud of me. Prior to the surgery I had often had thoughts that I shouldn’t be here anymore, Endometriosis can do that to a girl,  it was usually when my hormones fluctuated uncontrollably. But then I thought that some people might miss me and they shouldn’t have to. My hormones had a lot to answer for!  It was a huge step to be able to speak there in public at that group and when people came up to me and told me that I inspired them it made the stage fright worthwhile.

I threw myself into my work, getting on with our lives together and for some time felt no pain. I went on HRT within 24 hours of the operation and have remained on this since. Opting for patches rather than tablets due to suffering with irritable bowel for all these years I did not wish to lose the benefit of the HRT. About 2 years went by I think before I started to get those familiar dragging pains back again and I remember asking how it were possible that you could get the same pain when you no longer had the equipment. No-one seemed to be able to give me a straight answer and by then I had been signed off as healthy by the gynaecologist. I also received a letter saying that I was no longer required for smear test screening since I no longer had my ovaries. (Yes they actually wrote that! ) I began to research how on earth I could be getting Endo pain again when I’d had a hysterectomy. In my naïveté I had assumed that that was it and I would be cured. I got on the hysterectomy association website again and checked the forums and to my horror my fears were confirmed. There is no cure! 

In all the appointments after a diagnosis which on average takes seven years, I did not ask. I merely accepted it when I was told by the consultant that “There is no sign of Endometriosis” after the operation at the time that sentence had me doubting my sanity more than I ever had before. I asked my partner had I imagined it all these years and gone through all that uneccessarily? Had the other Doctors got it wrong then? No, he reassured me that it simply meant that he had removed all traces that he could find at the time. So after that I was discharged from his clinic.

The Endo pain comes and goes, in times of stress it flares up along with the irritable bowel and my stomach swells making me look as though I’m pregnant, sometimes adding several dress sizes to my body overnight. It causes pain in the strangest of places and I have no idea whether it requires further surgery. After all, I wonder what else could they take away? Sometimes it is a chronic pain which doubles me up making me shake. Leaving me wanting me to hide away all I want to do is curl up and sleep for days. Other times I get by with rest and painkillers and there are times it stops me doing things that I would love to do. It has had a devastating effect on my sex life. I am not alone, so many other Endometriosis sufferers go through this. Far from giving me the freedom to enjoy sex more which I had hoped for, the hysterectomy was like flicking a switch on my libido plunging it into darkness  where I often can’t find the switch to turn it back on again. It’s devastating when two people who have always found each other the best thing since sliced bread with great chemistry are suddenly just not being turned on so much. We both felt cheated by this since no-one had forewarned either of us. Over the years since then our relationship has shifted and Thankfully we are strong enough to handle the ups and downs and can still light each other’s fires even though it may not be as often as before.

He told me years ago that if we did not have children of our own then we would raise puppies. Our second one since then has joined our family taking the place of the first one who left a gaping hole when we lost him earlier this year. For me that loss was like the miscarriage of my youth all over again. Having your baby suddenly gone can tear you apart as well as open up old scars. It took a while but we needed that unconditional love back in our lives so we lavish so much love upon the new puppy and he is happy here.

Whatever your circumstances. There are some wonderful support groups, on Facebook and other forums now. When I first went through this before my illness was diagnosed I was reliant upon libraries and a disinterested GP who was happy to palm me off, as is so often the case. I knew absolutely no-one else who had these symptoms so felt that there was no one to ask. Most of all you need to know that you are not alone. As a statistic one in 10 women suffer with Endometriosis but it is natural to doubt your own mind when your body is doing unexplained things to you. If you have chronic abdominal pain, or just that something is out of the ordinary with your body and it worries you then please ask your GP. Do your research via these forums and get a second or even third opinion. The social network is a good place to start but you do need to get it checked out by a professional.

If you are UK based and diagnosed or think you may be living with this condition then please take a look at the attached links Endometriosis.Org – Facts

Should you wish to connect with others in the UK please go to Endometriosis U.K. But other groups and locations are available worldwide.  Endometriosis Sisters Support Group – Facebook is  a place where you will find so many people who will inspire, encourage and advise you, based on their own experiences of dealing with this condition. You will also find lots of research articles via Bloomin Uterus Blog

You do not have to face this alone.

 

The Scents of our Memories

If I were to ask what your favourite scent is I wonder what would spring to mind?

Whether just one thing, or many of them, what memories would they bring to you.  I have so many, I could not pick just the one.

So, in no particular order here are some of mine.

Fresh Mown Grass.  Laying on it in summertime, looking up at a blue sky with clouds.

Baking Bread. On the few occasions I’ve made it myself, the wonderful scent lingers in the home, I don’t do that nearly often enough.

Freshly Brewed Coffee. Reminding me of sunny mornings, with the light streaming through the window, sitting overlooking my favourite view on the hill.

Freesias, Roses, Lavender.  Just a few of my favourite flowers.

Sea Salt on the air. A reminder of all the moments, happy and sad when I sat on the beach.

Ysatis by Givenchy.  When I was younger, this was my signature scent. Years ago, my friend was in Hospital with difficulties when her first daughter was born, I remember her telling me that she knew I had been by her side because she had smelled my perfume when she awoke.

So which scents invoke special memories for you? Do share…

The Daily Post – Aromatic

 

 

 

 

I’d Lost My Marbles!

This is not a metaphor, but it’s not necessarily what you’d think either.

I have not been writing much lately. Instead I have been quietly storing away to memory hoping that I will remember it and write it later. I have not even written notes to jog the memory, so I hope that I don’t forget. My partner told me I “had far more important things to do” as he does from time to time when he wants me to stop what I’m doing and do something different. We had storage which needed to be emptied out on a deadline and with it memories of the past, so many moments lost in that room for years and years. Many people  have wondered why I keep stuff, I am sentimental and it started out as a habit. Those who know me have often asked. I used to collect the things that people did not want, or maybe I just found them interesting. I have furniture and things handed down to me by other family members.  I’d also kept all the books which I had as a child, some I had made as projects at school. I did not throw them away, wanting to share their wonders with children of mine some day, or ones I’d been lucky to look after in the early years, waiting for my time to come as a mother. I kept the books and as time went by I stored them away.

When I had to move out of my large flat and had no where to go, many of my belongings went into a storage facility and when I had filled that up, we talked a neighbour into lending us their storeroom, in the basement where I used to live.

And there it has stayed… For several years now, it’s amazing how time flies isn’t it?

For the past three years getting into the building has been impossible. Prior to which we used to go in there get things out and store other stuff, but basically things were left there. Many of them have been quietly rotting away, ravaged by time and flood water. I hoped that some at least could be salvaged before it was too late.

The anticipation of finding things again after all this time, was mounting in my mind.  My partner was dreading the whole process but did it with me. All my toot, as he referred to had to be moved.

So should we have cleared it all out and disposed of it all years ago?  I have to say that there have been times over the past fortnight when we both felt that we should have done, it was a horrible job to do, it was smelly and damp which got right on your chest and everywhere else.   We pulled muscles in the process but it is done and now we are sorting through, having moved what remained.

But there was some good news, there were things that I thought were long gone.  I had assumed that they had been taken when the storage facility moved my belongings leaving them out in a corridor for passers by to walk off with. From the numerous burglaries in the basement, or lost when I could not remember which place they had been put in. I thought I may have got confused and donated the wrong bags to charity shops. I had doubted that I had many of these items still, whilst others I would fondly look forward to finding again.

Unfortunately,  I lost most of my childrens’ books, all of my photograph albums from when I was growing up. During the clearance I picked up a box of books which were stored at floor level, hoping to keep them. They had obviously been placed there hurriedly. It looked fine from the top but as I moved it, the bottom fell out of it and water, so much water.  I took it towards the bin and as I put the box in there, I realised that it held the photos and the children’s books. The photo’s destroyed and the colours running from the pages in multi coloured rivers. These were my first photos from when as a teenager I had saved my pocket money to buy my first camera and develop the film.  I also found my art folder from my school days, the work was damp and mouldy and something I thought was there for years, is not. These were the low points but in the midst of it all, I found other things.

Among them was a bag which had been preserved containing the blue dress I bought when my Nan died and was wearing the first day that I met my partner.  I found the favourite dress which I had when I was 18 and wore on many a night out and other new/old dresses which I had not yet worn.  I found childhood collections, Love letters, letters and cards from friends. So many things, prized sentimental possessions from many years ago and after all these years I found my marbles!

My marble collection was won when I moved to this Southern town, new to the last year at Junior school. I was worried about settling in and making friends having been bullied at my previous school, there was a craze in the new school and I would learn how to play, then win a collection of marbles. I spent my meagre pocket money on marbles from the local toy shop and played every break time.  I won most of the marbles in this container that year.  I thought that the pasta jar (another of the things which had been stored away) was the perfect place in which to store them, on the kitchen windowsill where the light can bounce through them and I can enjoy them again.

Although I am a self-confessed hoarder and it will take me a while to get through it all. I will be working on my clutter and I have realised it is quite exhilarating to throw things out which are broken, or damaged and finding new homes for things which are no longer needed. As I enjoy finding other items from our past, no doubt there will be other things which put a smile on my face.

As I spoke to my oldest friend and also my mother after we had finished. I wondered out loud whether I would finally stop dreaming of the flat I’d had years earlier. Dreaming that I still lived there and that other people had taken over the place and my life along with it, holding parties that I did not want, with people I did not invite. That happened a lot. Mum told me that chapter is now over, now that things have gone from there I can finally stop living in the basement and be free at last. It seemed to mark the turning point, as I have been going through things with fervour throwing out decayed pieces of the past as I look towards the future. Maybe that is my metaphor and meanwhile, the strange dreams seem to have stopped.

 

The Daily Post – Anticipation