Friends old and New and Faith Restored

26/10/16

img_3123On this trip, we have concentrated mainly on refilling the wood supply, not working on the house or garden, we have also in the past week, an extra week which we had not anticipated and I was extremely grateful for, we have ventured out visiting places nearby in the car and exploring our surroundings. In the summer months, we have not done this much as our time is better spent working here.

Being surrounded by woodland, we would not have thought that we could run out. But unfortunately, the woodshed was cleared by thieves whilst we were away and we had to scout for wood, some of our neighbours and new friends have really helped us out, in return, they have some wood which once cured, will be usable. There is plenty around here, except that it is not dry enough to burn or cut in most cases.

One of our new friends who hauled the Bears, both big and small out of a ditch two years ago when they had been run off the road. Has become a friend who is currently stood out the back chopping wood so that we will have a supply again when we return. He has been an absolute godsend to us, since our large logs were too big for me to manage with the small chainsaw, I had no hope of splitting them. I learned to use the chainsaw, having bought all the kit, for safety I was finally allowed to give it a go, only to find that the saw had been wrongly assembled and the chain was totally blunt, which is why it was a complete nightmare. Our friend serviced it for me and I was then able to use it and spent a happy day cutting up logs which was very satisfying.

We also hauled some trees down and put them in the woodshed to cut next time. Give it another chance, hope that they won’t get it in again and that it will still be there next time we return.

The wood pile is now awesome with our combined efforts and in return he will also have wood for the winter. It has been pointed out to us on this trip, that wood is such a valuable commodity and should not be given away lightly. We have been told that the price of firewood when you have to buy it is £100 per tonne. If you leave it laying about, people will make the journey just to take it, thankfully our cottage is not easy to get to, but nevertheless, we are not immune.

One thing we are still torn on is whether we should bring the log burner with us next time to install. It would really keep us warm here, but I guess it depends on my partner’s health and whether we have a horsebox in which to transport it. It probably weighs 20 stone, definitely takes two very strong people to lift it, but would be absolutely wonderful in the living room here. We were talking of furniture this trip, and he almost weakened to a sofa for the lounge, but we really need to fix the roof first. A leaky roof is more important. But I am working on ways to fix that.

Today we got some boards, the guys on a local building site gave them to us, little do they know that we could probably fix the main part of the roof with those, if only I could get up there with the ladders!
We have been given pallets, offered wood offcuts and people have also offered to deliver what we need to us quite often free of charge. The generosity of spirit has often caught us by surprise and right when we least expected it has renewed our faith in humanity.

We have been blessed with the kindness of people around us. Whilst others’ may seek to take advantage and have their own agendas’ if we can keep them at bay, then we will get on here just fine. We are choosing our friends more carefully now, rather than my old approach of taking people at face value until they do you a wrong. We have learned to tread a little more carefully here in Scotland, it is easy to get your wires crossed and an English sense of humour is often misunderstood but generally we have found that if you are good to people, then they are good to you.

The Daily Post – Transformation

Spirits

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The spirits which visited me so regularly, have gone elsewhere.
My sleep is no longer haunted, my dreams less so.
I do not wake in a cold sweat feeling as though touched by something evil.
I cannot feel it’s breath upon my face, it caressing my hair.
There is no longer someone seated at the end of the bed when I am jolted awake in the night.

I am healing, nurtured by the safety of the love around me
Happy in the knowledge that it is genuine.
I will not come to any harm
My faithful hound at my feet, guarding me from evil forces.
Comforting me when I am restless
I can sleep safe in the knowledge that this is indeed a good place.

_______

Since writing this only 2 months ago, it has sat in my draft folder. It did not seem the right time to post it although our lives were feeling positive and as though finally turning a corner. We were calm, satisfied with the way things were at the time and looking forward to how our Summer was supposed to be.  And then it happened. An experience much like the first verse again. I awoke shouting trying to send it away.  A bad dream? It felt like something else….

Since then all manner of hell has unleashed itself upon our family and our world has been turned upside down. At the moment, I know longer feel that I know most of what is good and true, it seems often alien to me. I have almost lost the two biggest things in my life, it has changed beyond recognition in a mere 2 months. I have changed into an angry, sad and unreserved person, who speaks using words I would never have used before. Before, I would have kept my mouth shut. I am not proud of the language which is shooting out of my mouth, showing my pain to anyone and everyone.  It is borne out of frustration for the life I am currently in and is not directed at people, but it is unpleasant for me to be around, so I have kept myself away for fear of offending. I have never been this person before and I think it shows my weakness for all to see.  I don’t like being this person.  Although I want to change, I feel incapable right now of doing so. I am hurting, in pain and it won’t go away. I want our life to change for the better, I feel that I cannot cope with worse and I am fighting each day just to remain on top of it all, when the instinct is to hide under the wave of whatever has come our way, until it has passed.  Fight or Flight? Hunker down and it might pass, that is part of the old me, but it just isn’t passing. It needs a really hard shove and it is threatening to swallow me whole.   I feel helpless to handle it and just like an inner child, I want it to go away, somewhere else, where it can harm us no more.  Where we will not be tormented or scared, whether we choose to admit it or not.  I want the hell to go. I keep reminding myself that I AM STRONG, it doesn’t feel like I am at the moment. I need that strength to return to me, ten times over, not just have fighting talk but to take action. I don’t want to be frightened, I do not want to live in torment any longer or waiting for something worse to happen to us and I want it to be stopped before it does. I need to wake from this living nightmare, calm, refreshed and able to take it head on and totally slay it, just like the dragons.

Image: Morguefile.com

George’s Hidden Treasure

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When we came and found it,
We looked here and there.
Picked a spot to sit,
but wasn’t even a chair.
I thought I’d tell what I know about George,
And the friendship that we would forge.
You see, the house it had been stripped,
Of all his worldly goods.
Or so we thought, as we tripped,
Around the sheds and woods.
But as we ventured all around,
The odd treasure still to be found.
An occasional thing had been replaced,
Or scattered about, a little defaced.
In the sheds hung his old tools,
The scavengers, were only fools.
Inside the house there was a table,
But with small minds they weren’t able.
For a moment to stop and think,
As to why it was covered in ink.
I wanted to do a little research,
In the garden, of pine and birch.
There’s bottles and baskets and old clothes,
Digging around an old treasure trove.

Picture a place with a scene of beauty,
Looking around at nature’s bounty.
A place filled with such mystery,
As I began to research his story.
There were pots that had been made by hand,
Strange things I’d found buried on the land.
Antique ladders, a walking stick
To get you about when you’re in the thick.
A painting or two hidden above the stair,
Behind the wall when I stripped it bare.
Writing was not just his legacy,
He was an artist who craved to be free.
Visiting ladies to the hilltop would clamour,
To his studio to sit, with none of the glamour.
He would sit alone and he’d paint
In the house, so cold and very quaint.
Perhaps he had some heating supply,
Upon which he could rely.
There disrobed on a couch she might lay,
Whilst the farmer was off, making hay.

Around these parts it was said, he’s a scribe,
The odd bottle of brandy was known to imbibe.
Walking around, you should take a look
Searched to find copies of his book.
For this is the place he chose to reside,
Next to the house where the horses will ride.
Lived there alone and up there he hunted,
With coldness of winter he was confronted.
Wrote books about writing and he had laid claim,
of stories and cooking which wasn’t so plain.
There was a short doorway, it wasn’t so tall,
But it did for him, he was decidedly small.
Some time ago I read of his travels,
But with time, the story unravels.
But over the years, the things that he crafted
Remain buried here and they’ve lasted.
Things he created, sit out the back,
There in the garden, a wonderful plaque.
His scattered remains of the man he once was,
We leave it right there, just because.
Although the scribe has temporarily vacated,
The delight to share, is unabated.
The place where he once took his pleasure,
He still resides in his time of leisure.
As guardians here now we’ve been sent,
His spirit has shown, for us it was meant.
For right up here might be where it began,
The house that belonged to a little wee man.
He visited once to bid us adieu
Now raising a glass to him, Salut.