Soul clock

Souvenir tat

2011-05-01T16:30:00.009+01:00

And I thought satire was dead...

2011-04-30T10:19:00.000+01:00

Google from yesterday

2011-04-30T09:27:00.001+01:00

Rather pretty.

Just married

2011-04-29T23:22:00.002+01:00

Has it really been so long?

2011-04-24T08:55:00.002+01:00

Feels very strange encountering myself here again. So much has changed.

Tongue in cheek

2008-03-30T22:05:00.005+01:00

The lighter side of tourism.

Grand Slam! Again!

2008-03-15T19:28:00.004Z

As a very proud Welshwoman, what can I say but YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!

The first biker of the Apocalypse, soup, and sea changes

2008-03-15T12:58:00.003Z

It's been a while since I last posted; when so many things have happened in the interim, it's like building a mosaic to pick the memorable things.

I'm working locally for a while after a period of travelling and that has meant I use the Poogle, my beloved black Suzuki Marauder, to commute. The pay-off of that will be that I can take my motorbike test later this year and pass first time, then have the glory of an L Plate bonfire to celebrate. I have had some very alarming experiences on 2 wheels in the gales and torrential rain of the past weeks. One evening I completely lost my nerve after nearly losing control of the bike on a hill in 70mph winds, came home and cried like a fool on the phone to my best friend. I got back on the saddle because I can't let fear stop me from doing what I want to do in this life; I've always fought to overcome anything that frightened me.

I've actually grown closer to my best friend of late; we don't live near each other and distance never damages our friendship but inevitably the small things can't be shared in the same way. We talk on the phone weekly and text between calls; ironically, what drew us closer was my having to do that 'best friend' thing and talk plainly to her to stop her making a huge mistake in her life. I don't normally interfere but I had to, she has a part of her nature that rebels and it almost spoiled a great opportunity that came her way. After we had a very lengthy talk and she gave thought to what I'd said, she decided to take my advice, which meant proceeding with a career change. On the day she went to the meeting, she called me to say she'd had a really good day and was glad she'd turned up. I don't think she was anywhere near as happy about it as I was, as it means great things for her future. I've worried about her for 18 months and now I feel I can relax again. You can't live other people's lives for them but sometimes being an onlooker means the bigger picture is easier to fathom.

The 2008 weather has been particularly freaky: floods, gales, hail and rain. It's a standing joke with friends that as soon as I get on my bike, I bring the Apocalypse closer. I still haven't been afflicted with a rain of toads or plagues of locusts, been hit by a tsunami or struck by lightning but I'm not ruling out the possibilities.

Another response to the weather and near misses has been soup-making. I find it very soothing and it's a good hearty meal with fresh rolls on a cold wet evening. I never make the same soup twice as I use whatever's to hand. Making a good soup is as important as any other art, and I mix my palette with as much care as any Rembrandt or Caravaggio.

Food of love

2008-01-26T13:32:00.000Z

Just eat it and wallow in pure pleasure.

AND it's superb with pasta; almost sacrilege to cook a cheese like this but with fresh chopped tomato it's a kiss to the palate. Works equally well stirred into wild mushroom risotto.

How not to

2008-01-07T17:01:00.000Z

Here come the words from hibernation
Rubbing their eyes, clamouring clumsily
Unused to daylight.

What will they share with me of their long absence
from my world? Less than
I could tell them
but some things weary in the saying.

Another year in the land of almost
Soothed by inner diaries
Unable to birth what cries to be said
for fear of hurting others.

Fear of not being enough of everything.

Poor little words
This is a cold world they've discovered
What will they make of it?

If they're anything like me they'll soon learn
How not to.

Finally

2007-12-29T10:29:00.001Z

My respects

2007-12-27T22:48:00.001Z

I didn't agree with all that you did but your voice was one of reason and your courage and commitment to democracy undeniable.

You will be sorely missed.

Yule

2007-12-22T08:41:00.002Z

Well, we're now in the period between Yule and Xmas, having celebrated Yule yesterday very happily. It doesn't trouble me to do it all over again in 3 days' time as it's still a celebration even if not mine personally. We exchanged some gifts yesterday and will exchange more on the 25th, it's literally all part and parcel.

Not all the gifts I had planned materialised, and probably won't in time for session 2, because I ordered things from America which are subject to the mail. The chief gift for Chris, an antique cigarette case I bought for a song and found to be solid silver dated 1922, is now at the jeweller's being engraved and the interior then being rewashed with gold so won't be ready until January sometime. I'm not aggrieved as it went through various discussions with various experts before the decision that it could be engraved without damage and I would rather take time to restore it sensitively as it is a beautiful item which has survived 85 years remarkably unscathed. The patina is all that indicates it is not new, so patience will definitely be rewarded.

As this year I'd decided to have Santa sacks containing a variety of gifts seasonal, special and just plain silly, it made no main difference as there was a lovely period of unwrapping and lots of laughter and surprise yesterday, after a delicious and not overly excessive dinner. The atmosphere was just as it should be - busy but happy, and with everyone not too tired at bedtime.

The preamble to all the festivities was hectic this year; trips away to Bath, Stratford on Avon and to London on the 18th through 20th for my birthday. Stratford was bitterly cold when we were there but I had to brave the elements as the town contains the only purveyor of Romeo y Julieta fine cigars inside 50 miles so I took my camera with me and strolled down by the waterside. I photographed the swans and also this which I'd never seen before as it was in a side street - a pigeon pavement:

It was such a piece of anachronistic modernist wit to find in such a historic place but then Stratford is all about wit in all its meanings so I was delighted to happen on such a find. Even the pigeons seemed to appreciate it.

I also took some shots of the expected architecture as the fine detailing on some of the buildings never fails to astound me - quite beautiful. I wonder if the original craftsmen had any idea that someone like me would ever be looking at their work so many centuries later with as much appreciation as those who commisssioned it in the first place.

London was less magical but still excellent as we stayed at the Thistle Marble Arch so were near Oxford St. The illuminations were more subdued than I remember because the Mayor decided to remove any allusion to Xmas for fear of offending those of other faiths and instead turned the whole thing into a Disney publicity stunt.

Completely shameful and absurd kneebending but the local businesses in South Molton St. sensibly fought back and commissioned these lovely street angels:Anyway, apart from that we had a good time but were glad to be home. Now to enjoy the remainder of the holidays and recharge the batteries for the challenges of next year.

Only castles burning

2007-12-09T20:49:00.000Z

It's been blustery and stormy here for a week now; we visited Bath in the week to take a break, see the Xmas lights and do a little late night shopping. The rain took care of that. We did go out to Browns for dinner, near the Abbey, and I took this photo as it looked so gothicly dramatic in the rain.

After that we elected to have a quiet weekend as the run up to Yule is going to be beyond hectic, starting tomorrow - Chris away on business, general seasonal chaos etc.

My 'me' time was spent downloading music as I've been acquiring a backlog of songs I wanted. I sourced the soundtrack from American Beauty as I love both film and music and found that this song was sung by Annie Lennox - I'd never realised. As the lyrics are so beautiful, I wanted to add them here as they are so emotive. It also seems to reflect this wet and stark season, somehow.

Don't Let It Bring You Down - Lyrics
Artist:Annie Lennox
Songwriter: Neil Young

Old man lyin'
By the side of the road
With the lorries rollin' by
Blue moon sinkin'
From the weight of the load
And the buildings scrape the sky
Cold wind rippin'
Down the valley at dawn
And the morning paper flies
Dead man lyin'
By the side of the road
With the daylight in his eyes

Don't let it bring you down
It's only castles burning
Find someone who's turning
And you will come around

Blind man runnin'
Through the light of the night
With an answer in his hand
Come on down to the river of sight
And you can really understand
Red lights flashin'
Through the window in the rain
Can you hear the sirens moan
White cane lyin'
In a gutter in the lane
And you're walkin' home alone

You will come around

Get thee behind me, Santa

2007-12-05T08:48:00.001Z

I like this sardonic art, it perfectly sums up the heaving consumerism and materialism of December. The latin tag for this piece translates as 'Shop 'til you drop'.

Not being Xtian, I obviously don't endure the religious impacts of all the relentless spending that goes on, but it's still daunting to read in a newspaper yesterday that the average household increases its debt by £8k at this time of year. Madness... where does it go? Mostly on junk no one wants, wrapped in paper that gets disposed of inside a second and ends up further bulging out a landfill somewhere.

Then again, I'm not immune as we're staying in Bath tomorrow for the late night shopping, in a boutique hotel of all places. Not at all my thing but availability dictated the choice. It's a Laurence Llewelyn-Bowen fest of an establishment; so cool you daren't crumple a cushion. Well, we will crumple them as I never go anywhere to submit to elaborate coolth. Life is for living.

It might be more indoorsy than I'm hoping for as we're having torrential rain here and Bath is known for being monsoony anyway - just have to see how it goes. Regardless, we're going to enjoy sampling some of the fine dining for which Bath is also known, even if we get drenched; there are some superb restaurants in the town.

I had a stroke of luck yesterday; part of my gift to Chris this year is a silver cigarette case I picked up for a song in a junk shop. I took it to a jewellers to have it engraved and it turned out to be a 1922 piece, therefore in superb condition for its age. I was very pleased; they're going to engrave and gently clean it so as not to lose any of the patina. It's a real find and he'll love it; something of a result.

I also got to try on the watch I'm saving for, quite unexpectedly. It's a rose gold Rolex Lady Datejust; I have the steel version but 6 months ago fell in love with its rose gold cousin and have been saving ever since. The aim is to buy it in Jersey; what a day that will be - rampant conspicuous consumerism at its worst. And I'm not in the least ashamed.

Unreality check

2007-11-29T17:36:00.000Z

It's been borne in on me this past week how society's expectations really are changing - and not for the better.

There's a worrying trend growing, inasmuch as I realised how very heavily certain elements of the community rely on computers to putty in the gaps in their social networks. It is true to state, I think, that some people no longer have a social network outside that forced on them by their studies or work - they sublimate the need for contact in virtual environments. I can see the appeal, but I'm hugely troubled by the impact away from the keyboard. Other people are a variable in any relationship, but the efforts we all make to understand and compromise are part of achieving our own maturity.

The good things of life are at an all-time high, and salaries are in decline even for highly-qualified individuals. What chance has a kid got of having a slice of the pie unless crime provides it, after disinterest in education closed that avenue to high earnings? In virtual worlds, these issues are less daunting because more controllable and the fact that that reality with all the attendant problems of living and subsisting is still standing close by, seems to be neatly shelved and forgotten.

It's too easy to get a computer and immerse oneself in unreality, and the repercussions of that fantasy are inescapable offline. Steal a computer, there's still the problem of a house to keep it in and a billpayer to ensure the connection to the Net. These things can't be magicked into being, only work will provide them.

With the usual seasonal insanity of gifts about to avalanche, I've despaired at the number of friends who've purchased game consoles for their children. Whatever happened to books? A console may do an impressive job of creating virtual worlds but imagination does a better one. I'm so sad that generations have allowed theirs to etiolate and wither because it's easier to rely on the imagination of others.

Second Life? Why, when so few people can be bothered to make a success of their first one?

Food as love

2007-11-25T10:30:00.000Z

After the bustle and clamour of the week, we decided to take time out for the two of us and headed out last night to dine Thai style. We'd never been to this restaurant before, and I'm always careful as:

one memorable night in a restaurant called Spices introduced me to fire engine food - I had lip-burn for almost 2 weeks
being vegetarian, I like to know I have a range of dishes to choose from instead of just the one

However, it was peaceful and understated, simple and with excellent unobtrusive service. It was 'all you can eat' style, which was fun as we got to sample all sorts of things. That sort of menu, despite the tiny portions, is always more filling as you try a little of everything.. like a rijsttafel.

Chris chose spare ribs as a starter, and I had a mix of vegetable-stuffed pancakes and crispily-battered pastries with sauces ranging from sweet and spicy to mild and refreshing. This restaurant operated the graded-pepper scale of heat so it was possible to have a sauce of the perfect spiciness; everything they served was tailored to our palates. We then had soup, and a main course of tofu and cashew nut stir fry for me and pork hot and sour for Chris.

The entire meal was delicious, light and flavourful; my personal favourite being the superb coconut soup with galangal and lime leaves. We were tempted to a dessert of Thai fruit and lemongrass ice cream which we barely had room for but which was worth the internal adjustments.

What made the whole experience for me was the way the chef appeared from the kitchen in her apron and asked us what we thought of our meal; she crouched by us and we discussed each dish. That's what I want when I eat out; the knowledge that for some, food is love.

As we left, I told her she'd be seeing us again very soon.

Taz

2007-11-23T13:40:00.000Z

For Yule, I've bought Chris a new cellphone and I hit on a perfect way to personalise it as he is Taz personified; Taz is his favourite cartoon character and appears here and there around the house. I chose this picture

as the wallpaper because it's the two of us and I made him a card with it on to open when he was away on business recently.

I decided to add a Taz ringtone but Google generated nothing; I then found 2 superbly-suitable .wav files for the ringing tone and SMS alert on a fan website. They were so ideal that I laughed out loud and I'm still chuckling now at the idea of his face when he takes that first call and gets that first text message. I just hope I'm in the vicinity to see the full glory of his expression.

I'll be sure to have my running shoes on

The ultimate comfort food

2007-11-21T17:56:00.000Z

..has to be toast (granary for preference) with real (unsalted/uncoloured) butter and lashings of Marmite, accompanied by a massive mug of tea brewed in a builder's boot.

Oh, it just doesn't get better when you feel off-colour.

We've all had not actual colds but just that off feeling for a day or so; the rain and cold always bring on any aches and ails at this time of year. My medicine doesn't come from the garden or a pharmacy but from the kitchen, and we all feel loads better after a homely warming snack together. I was raised in a Marmite home and want to pass that on to my children so they pass it on to theirs. It's tarry salty sticky brown magic and has a place in every childhood.

The only horror to be avoided is what I can only term 'dumbed-down Marmish', which is disgusting diarrhoea-like gloop in a squeezy jar. What on earth the manufacturers were thinking when they produced this abomination, I can't imagine - it flies in the face of common sense and 110 years of good British manufacture. I saw it at a friend's house and it bore absolutely no resemblance either in jar or contents to the beloved friendly comfortingly-fat jar I grew up with.

As with all things, the genuine article has no equal.

Where the Ents are..

2007-11-18T10:52:00.000Z

We all piled over to Cannop Ponds on Friday, after my solo trip there earlier in the week, then on to Speech House woods.

It was the perfect autumn day - crisp enough to redden cheeks and justify fleeces because we could see our breaths on the air, and ground that crunched underfoot until the frost melted. The woods there are so hushed and somehow secret that there's always a sense of being observed in the stillness.

We saw the little birds squabbling over the fat balls and seed-filled half-coconuts, and we climbed over the leviathans of past trees that punctuate the woods.

I couldn't live anywhere by choice that would deny me the chance to visit the Ents.

What if..

2007-11-13T23:45:00.000Z

..the Internet just stops one day? Just stops. Just like that, quietly.

I'd notice but it wouldn't ruin my life. It worries me that that would not be the case for many others. There are people who don't even leave the house any more once they've covered the basics of work and food shopping; they're only socialised to their computers.

Spirit of place

2007-11-12T23:35:00.000Z

After all the insanity of the past weeks, I decided not to renew the contract I've been working on so I finished on Friday to have some rather more important home time. I've felt like a spider patiently mending a torn web, and having so little time to do it because work dragged me away.

Today I took time for myself, and went deep into the Forest with my camera, to Cannop Ponds. Like most other things of late, the camera's lain fallow, so to have it with me today was a deliciously guilty pleasure. There's no network for cellphones in the Forest so time there can pass uninterrupted. I spent my little portion of it in the company of a robin who followed me in my ramblings like a matchflare in the trees; here he is:
He made a simple walk in the woods on a chilly autumn morning utterly memorable. Until I was actually there wandering, I hadn't realised how thin and flat in spirit I'd become - I felt the air reinflating me back to human again.

Sometimes it's more important to know where you aren't than where you are.

Certified Normality

2007-11-08T19:23:00.000Z

It's strange how little we appreciate normality until we lose it; the path back is a winding and difficult one, and can only be inched along at a snail's pace, or so it seems. No one's had much sleep so we all doze off at odd times and the comfy homely routines are nowhere to be found. I keep hoping that enough repetition will ensure that the semblance of them will soon grow back into the real thing and we can all get off these tenterhooks we're living on.

The person who began this is now home and starting a course of fluoxetine, the effects of which will take 2 weeks to kick in. They've taken that crucial first step so we're hoping the crisis point is past.

One troubling outcome is the gossip; some people take a twisted pride in gloating over the troubles of others and so a few words have had to be dropped in a few ears to prevent the rumour mill grinding. I've been so angry to see how many people rang or came by to get some juicy gossip instead of being genuinely sympathetic; fortunately my husband knows how to manage situations - even one like this - so that particular lid will stay firmly on that particular bubbling pot.

We want our friend to get back on her feet and not have to explain events to emotional vampires for fear of being misunderstood, or to justify her act. It galls me that we have to take steps to prevent that but the world has changed and empathy is a trait in ever shorter supply.

Dark season

2007-11-02T18:45:00.000Z

Normally this would have been a great week..Samhain and all that means, the fireworks of Guy Fawkes..none of it has any relevance right now.

Earlier this week someone tried to commit suicide in a guest room in our house; depression over debts which we were helping with, in a variety of ways. We dealt with it as best we could but there are no guarantees of a failure to repeat. For me, that day had severe echoes and it was the most surreal experience.

I don't know what's around the corner, these events ripple on for years. We will continue to do as we have done, our best to help. I don't know if that will be good enough but it's all we can do.

The house..well, it made a ripple there too. You don't expect that where you live but in this world anything can and does happen anywhere. I think it has caused us to reconsider where we want to be. Maybe that's no bad thing, fresh challenges and so on.

For now, we're just finding a safe path through this dark season and holding those we love as safely as we can.

Grrrrrrrrrrrrr!

2007-10-27T08:35:00.000+01:00

I am adamantly opposed to lazy-minded overly-accepting stupidity and the older I get the more people seem to be Darwin dropouts; it's becoming worrying.

I'm mystified by people who use air freshener because they're too dim to open a window and yet talk endlessly about their children's asthma. I'm mystified by people who buy crap generic cars with ever more meaningless invented names and not a pin to choose between them in terms of design year after year, and are proud of their acquisitions. I'm mystified by people who don 'uniform' of popular cults and then feel somehow different when all they've in fact done is join a different norm.

I am well known for my utter loathing of air fresheners anyway; they poison and anaesthetise and do ecological harm. I would cheerfully wipe out SCJohnsonafamilycompany for publishing crap like this on their website; it's shameful self-exonerating lies of the lowest order.

There's even a USB version for those living in fear of a reeking workstation:
The problem is that there are millions of gullible fools buying into all this without even the sense to examine what they're actually doing when they spend their money. I almost believe in the gullibility gene, so perfectly satirised by Newsbiscuit here.

I'm just so relieved that the friends we have are happy, sane, sensible people who do use the intelligence they were born with to avoid becoming the pawns of unscrupulous greedy marketeers with the ethical codes of cuttlefish.

It's been a while, so...

2007-10-14T14:15:00.000+01:00

..this post is going to be about everything I meant to blog about but didn't have the time.

Rants
Air freshener and cars
This summer, I've noticed how many times I've been in someone's house and , instead of fresh air from an open window, I'm inhaling toxins and anaesthetics from Glade plug-ins (made by SCJohnsonafamilycompany as their adverts gabble just before the end), which calmly rack up the electricity bill whilst deadening my natural senses. It's proof positive of the power of advertising to override any iota of common sense. Same applies to cars: there are now so many cars on sale with so many stupid names and not one is actual quality: they're just junk for people who think they're getting more car than the budget available can provide. There should be just 3 cars available: small, medium, and large, made by quality marques such as BMW. Buy whichever is actually useful.

Then again, I succumbed to conspicuous consumption this year and bought 2 personal plates so now all my bikes and cars (save the Pook because I'm selling it) are plated up à la moi. My LR is B16HEX, my BMW520 became S20HEX and Poogle, my Suzuki Marauder, is now W17CHH. W1TCH went for £36k so it shows how much money can be made in this markety but I remain unashamed.

Chris and I are working some serious hours right now but at least our commutes aren't over 3 hours a day; we decided on a holiday abroad for my birthday, to slump in the sun somewhere. The only fly in that particular ointment could be that we are both likely to have our contracts extended but, if that happens, we'll go anyway and charge the batteries. Mine ends Nov 30, Chris' ends Dec 14, so it would be a good time for a long break.

Had some family matters which caused stress; healthwise etc., but they seem to be on the slow road to recovery. No one could say it's been uneventful these past months. I haven't raised a brush and have taken very few photos, and certainly haven't had time to write so my stack of scribbles awaiting attention mounts almost daily. I'm looking forward to Yule, and the opportunity to explore my passions in tranquillity.

Samhain is coming, and is my favourite festival; we do it the proper way, remembering the purpose of Samhain, but we still have fun too, with the secular interpretation of parties and costumes and spooky food. This year, I'm going to cast my mind back beyond the people I remember from this life, and try to recall those who've known me before. This year, Chris (the least pagan of persons) has become increasingly aware of our shared past without any prompting from me, and has come up with various details. I'm going to work with that information and see if I can learn more about the people we were before. I'm going to rest a great deal so I have sufficient energy to open that door and close it again afterward - the Samhain portal is only open for a few hours.

Chris' brother's new girlfriend is, I'm told, a witch and is slavering to meet me. I cringed, as that means she's another Wiccabe trying to be pagan from a book and my experience has been that they hover around me like succubi in their need to have some kind of witchcraft 101 they expect me to provide. I simply don't have the interest; when I was being taught, I was very young and still expected to learn for myself from the few words given. That's how it happens; witchcraft is a test, then another test and another. Sooner or later, every witch will face a task and fail, and even learn from that. A witch's only grimoire is in the head, and is based on the life around him or her and the challenges that life brings. You can't face that with the rubbish that is printed in books; nothing genuine is found there. It's been a saying in my family that a witch is her own knife, and the choice is to rust or shine sharply. In the right hands, a knife cuts away what is not needed, to expose what is. No one can teach you what is needed, only yourself through hard experience. Therefore, when I meet the lady in question, I'm keeping it strictly sociable.

Blessings of Samhain to all.

Africa unites for 'Flood Aid' concert in Somalia

2007-09-23T17:50:00.000+01:00

Following the broadcast of harrowing television pictures of flood victims in England, several African countries have joined together to try and raise awareness of the disaster. People from all over Africa united at a massive outdoor concert in Somalia under the 'Make flood history' banner.

The concert was the brainchild of ageing Ethiopian former rock star Scruffy Bob, and Tiny Mbono, lead singer of Africa's biggest rock band. Scruffy said he hoped all Africans would donate whatever they could to help the plight of brothers in another land, in the Vale of Evesham. "We are trying to educate our native people, to raise awareness. Our people find the situation difficult to understand. 'There is a great flood in Oxford', they say, 'and yet the people of Henley thirst'. They do not know whether to send bottled water or just empty bottles. We do have piles of blankets that you've sent us in the past, are they any good to you?"

Nations like Rwanda and Ethiopia 'put their differences behind them', for the duration of the live concert, which was televised across the continent. The organisers also included a video-link to a simultaneous concert in Indonesia. 'Live Severn', with the event host sending a message of hope: 'Vale people, do not despair; for, by all accounts, it's not exactly a tsunami, is it?'

There was a noticeable outpouring of emotion during the concert, when footage of the floods was shown, backed by a melancholy rock song. The images of people in England carrying their belongings upstairs and sleeping in community centres will haunt the audience for years to come. The night ended on a more rousing note with Mbono and Scruffy leading a group of musicians, and the crowd in a passionate version of the newly released charity single, 'Do they know it's summertime at all?'

(Written by a friend of mine and I just couldn't waste it!)

Feed me

2007-07-24T18:18:00.000+01:00

This is potato blight; we're all going to know a great deal more about it.

That's because, due to the floods, fungal disease is going to lay waste to large percentages of the current crops. Things like cabbage, broccoli, cauliflowers, peas and beans will also be reduced in quantity and so this winter there will be fewer vegetables, and therefore higher prices.

The floods rendered crop spraying impossible and, whilst that sounds like a good thing, it means that the crops we grow have no resistance to disease in the absence of chemical assistance. If you grow your own, all well and good, but not many have space enough to plant out a winter's worth of vegetables this late in the season.

What seems like a crisis, once averted, is really never that simple; what we'll be dealing with for months to come is adversity.

The Morgens

2007-07-24T09:01:00.000+01:00

..are water sprites that cause floods and storms; they've been very active around here of late and they're not finished yet.

We're surrounded by water but can't drink it and the original 3 days of waterlessness now looks like 14 days or more. We're living in camp conditions to eke out what we have but it appalls me to hear, as I did yesterday, of people taking demijons and gallon watercans to the bowsers and emptying them out of sheer greed. It appalls me to hear of people going from store to store to buy all the bottled water and leave none for others; it really appalls me to hear that this water is being resold by profiteers for ludicrous money to the foolish.

All I can think of is the elderly and infirm who will go thirsty through not being quick enough to claim their share. I was telling these things to a downcountry friend on the phone last night, and we both agreed that there's very little community spirit left; we are living in the 'ME, ME, ME' generation. I'm proud not to be part of that; if we use babywipes to stripwash, wipe plates instead of washing them, don't flush the toilet as often, have less-than-perfectly clean hair for a few days..well, we'll manage. We have enough clean clothes to tide us over. We also have juice, milk (even though that too is rationed), and hopefully enough water to get by. If I have to buy bottled water before this is over, I will buy what I need, not what I want.

The worst concern I have is what this waterlogged waterlessness really means. The potable treated water is contaminated and the only concern expressed by the media is that people can't make tea with it for a while. By that definition, once the kettles can boil again we'll all be back to normal. It doesn't occur to the nation of tea drinkers that the real problem comes with every cleaning chemical they wash down the sink, bath or toilet; every detergent they use in dishwashers and washing machines. Without that endless list of chemical glops draining daily down the network of pipes, we wouldn't have such a need for water treatment stations and be so challenged when they fail.

I'm just as guilty, or have been; this whole business has made me take stock. I'm not going to be as thoughtless in the way I manage our water in future; recycled rainwater does as well as tap, and recycled domestic water does for things like watering the plants. I just don't want to be part of the 'ME, ME' ME' generation any more.

The Wolery

2007-07-20T12:27:00.000+01:00

Also known as Cotswold Falconry Centre. There's a local falconry centre near home but I was visiting the nearby arboretum so I decided to go in afterward.

Here's my transport, Eric the Wheels:
The reason for using Eric the Wheels instead of my beloved Bob is the woman who, whilst I was leaving Swansea for the Senedd in Cardiff last Monday, ploughed into Bob's side from a filter lane without even stopping, so Bob is currently in BMW hospital. At her expense, as is Eric the Wheels - only fair.

Up until that moment, I'd been having a great day...went to where I was born, Rhossili, and spent all morning climbing all over the rocks just as I did when I was small. I filmed it but the file is too big to link to from here. As I didn't feel much like heading to Cardiff after the accident, I drove home through 2 major cloudbursts and we called our local BMW bodyshop to come and examine the damage. They were just excellent, hence Eric the Wheels.

This owl looks mad but it's only the feathering on his eyelids, showing as he swallows a chick.

Anyway, this day was the last sunny day and since then we have had the Gloucester Monsoons; on Saturday, as the RAC failed to show up for 40 hours, Chris and I used Eric to drive to Hartpury to rescue Myrtle, Chris' beloved Mercedes. Chris was on his way into town on Friday to get new tyres but the river broke its' banks and he got stranded. A generous soul in a JCB drove past and offered him a tow but when Myrtle was hooked up, demanded £50 so Chris told him to get lost. Some people always look to make money instead of just being neighbourly. The final blow was the next motorist to come along, who not only didn't stop for Chris but aquaplaned, soaked him to the skin and left him to walk home. Nice.

So, as the RAC were invisible, we managed to get Myrtle home by ourselves; I was pretty nervous as I had to drive through the rivers both ways and on the worst part a bright spark, in a 4x4 he didn't know how to drive, aquaplaned towards me at speed and I had to reverse into the flood; I was lucky Eric managed to get me out after he'd passed. Anyway, we both got home and Chris left Myrtle on the higher ground at the end of the orchard to dry. The floodwaters never reach the house but the road was closed lower down and the farmland opposite was swamp.

Yesterday (Sunday) we were warned that our water would be cut off as the local water pumping station is contaminated, so Chris filled the baths in readiness. It should only be for 3 days and at least we're not sandbagged as most of the surrounding towns are; nor do we need to evacuate. RAC guy turned up yesterday afternoon and we told him we'd been self-sufficient. That will have to be the way until the surrounding areas are pumped out and life returns to normal. We're luckier than most, we have supplies to last.

What concerns me is that this flooding has been caused by the Atlantic jet stream realigning itself in the atmosphere, thus trapping winds over the UK which are causing this freak weather. There's no doubt about it; the climate is changing, and not for the better.

At bay

2007-07-12T21:02:00.001+01:00

The horror of trekking to and from Bracknell is now over and my time is my own again. I couldn't be more relieved.

I spent today wandering around over the Welsh border, Tyndyrn way, and on the far edges of Tyndyrn forest. I found this lordly beast on a lodge pillar bordering a country lane..magnificent. It's gems like this that make life interesting.

I'm going to spend more time out with my camera for the next week or so. Tomorrow, we're all going to Goodrich Castle for the afternoon and, as a rare treat, I'm making my special vegetarian shepherd's pie for early supper. Chris is the world's biggest carnivore but he occasionally gives in and we eat my way.

Heh.

Kiting

2007-07-01T20:26:00.000+01:00

Seemed a terrible pity to waste all this wind, and the rain managed to hold off for the most part this weekend..we bought a new portable barbecue which didn't get christened but we did manage to go kiting. The wind was a little cyclonic but that didn't spoil it.

I haven't kited in ages due to time limitations but we really enjoyed ourselves and Chris is now looking at buying a new one for a trip to Painswick Beacon. It really cleared away the cobwebs, and with the pressure of work/life at present, that was truly appreciated.

The answer, my friend..

2007-06-30T14:35:00.000+01:00

I see this turbine in the week when I drive down to Bracknell for meetings; it always pleases me when it comes into view, like seeing the Gherkin on the way into Waterloo station. It's just so clean and sculptural on the skyline, as well as being useful. I've never seen a windfarm but I hear there are plans afoot to have one offshore, and I'd like to see that.

After all the freak weather and flooding of late, which fortunately has passed us by, I am becoming more conscious of global warming and energy efficiency. I did a survey to check the rating for home and our carbon footprint isn't too bad but the hours I spend travelling bump up my personal levels adversely; nothing I can do about that, though. I already do what I can.

Trouble is, I am now tempted to have a turbine installed at home..for the practicality and sheer beauty of it. To walk out on the balcony and see it circling peacefully in the far field would be quite something.

Summer Exhibition

2007-06-24T21:26:00.000+01:00

I was genuinely pleased, after the travesty of the Wollaston Award winner this year, to see this win the Newcomers' Prize at the RA today: Star Shine, by Diane Ibbotson.

It's such a deceptively-photographic piece that, on closer inspection, reveals subtle and well-managed brushwork and a broad yet sensitive approach to colours. I love it so much I've made an approach to buy, if the painting is not already subject to a commission bid.

Chris and I both agreed that it is the sort of art that never stales, and that is the reason one buys, rather than simply views - because the visual pleasure of the artwork never palls.

No particular topic

2007-06-23T10:13:00.000+01:00

Just the things that have happened this week..

Up to my proverbial in alligators workwise but I decided to 'work at home' yesterday as I've been on the road a lot this week and that's going to continue for the foreseeable future. So, I took a chance on the very freak weather we're having and went to Crickley Hill in the next phase of my diversity mission - I planted poppies, forget-me-nots, all kinds of meadow wildflowers, some bluebells in the wooded areas and 15 sequoia seeds, as well as 2 avocado seeds from a salad we had. It was a perfect day for it, with sun and 'female' rain to give the seeds a proper start in life. I'm really looking forward to revisiting next spring to see how they've come on. Needless to state, the camera was with me and I spotted this little guy seeking refuge from the rain.
I left the tribe at home as sometimes I need to be by myself and it was so very refreshing to amble around the habitats, choosing good homes for my seeds and chatting with passing ramblers who ask me what I'm doing. Chris would have been bored comatose in about 30 seconds (he's no gardener) but I can do that all day, so I left him to watch the last day of Ascot in peace. I was down to London on Tuesday and of course that was Ladies' Day so the train was filled with ostrich feathers, silk dresses and other finery; like sitting in a sea of peacocks.

Work prevented me from submitting to the RA Summer Exhibition, now on, so that ambition will have to ride for another year but I will definitely head down to browse one weekend, and perhaps see the new Lord of the Rings stage show. Weekends away will be all we can manage for a while as work schedules are pretty solid for at least a year (barring Yule). We have 2 plans: one to visit Jersey for a few days and the other to go to Morocco; Chris went to Djemaa el Fna years ago.

So, busy as ever but life is good. I just about managed to celebrate Litha at 5.30am before piling into my car to hit the motorway; no time to head for Stonehenge. I'm not sure I'll ever go again, as it's deteriorated into some kind of media frenzy for neopagans and the whole spiritual feel of the experience is tarnished as a result. Luckily, there are many places still blessedly private.

Following in John Chapman's footsteps

2007-06-17T21:29:00.000+01:00

For 3 days I've been out planting wildflower seeds around the area; there are so many so-called 'nature reserves' with nothing like the diversity of insects and plants that I have in my own grounds, so I decided to remedy it.

I've planted ox-eye daisies, foxgloves, red and white campions, lesser knapweed, corncockles, cowslips, feverfew, field scabious, cornflowers, ladies' bedstraw, chamomile, sweet cicely, meadowsweet, marjoram, teasels, musk mallow, corn poppies, yarrow and self-heal.

The freak showers we've been having made the ground perfect and even getting wet as I walked around wasn't a problem, as it helps the process along. I'm hoping that when I revisit next Spring, things will be very much more lively.

This little thing is a flower crabspider..I spotted him when I was picking my rhubarb to make crumble. He's a very efficient and rather pretty ambush predator; hides in the bells of flowers and bites through the necks of unwary bees. They have the unique ability amongst arachnids of gradually changing colour over 2 days to mimic the flowers they adopt.

Pretty though he was, I shook him off after taking these pictures; it was far too lovely a day to lose a bee.

A week in politics

2007-06-05T22:30:00.000+01:00

Well, let's see..

George Bush makes another move in the US/Russian Federation chess game, by trying to tell Putin about politics and statesmanship; the first move being that ludicrously dramatic and overstaged murder of Litvinenko with polonium-210. (Rumour control: the polonium actually had no street value, let alone £6.4m worth; it decays within 4 months and had no other value than that of curiosity..something of a grandstanding murder weapon but that's all).

I'm sure Putin laughed in private; he's astute enough to know that America's real deal with Russia is all that lovely lovely oil they don't currently have ownership of. Keeping America's cars on the road? Absolutely..take away fuel and America would be a week away from anarchy - as Bush knows very well.

Which ties in rather unpleasantly neatly with Bush's issue-dodging agenda at the G8 Summit in Germany tomorrow..he's not going to pledge America to any course of action that might impact on his oil agenda by committing America to be less fuel-hungry. It's my firm belief that within 10 years he will try to invade the RF to take control of their oil reserves; under some more 'patriotic' guise of course, but that will be the real reason.

Then the furore over an upcoming documentary on the death of Diana, late Princess of Wales; the controversy being caused by images that Wills and Harry have asked the broadcasting company to suppress. Needless to state, that's not going to happen - controversy greatly improves viewing figures. I had intended to watch but I somehow find that I can't, after all. It just doesn't feel right.

Politics used to be about people; now it's just about politics.

Off with the rose-coloured spectacles

2007-06-01T21:39:00.000+01:00

Despite (or perhaps because of) being born on a farm estate, I've been vegetarian since I was 7. I don't get involved in proselytising because these decisions are personal to each individual but some things do anger and upset me.

Things such as I just read: an article on factory-farmed chickens. I know the details, I know about the ways they are treated hence the fact that any eggs, meat, fish or poultry I do buy for the family are procured from trusted local sources. However, I didn't know this until just now:

A sad side effect of the egg-production industry is the wholesale destruction of male chicks, who are useless to the egg industry. These chicks are not used in the meat industry either, because they have not been genetically manipulated for meat production. Male chicks are ground up in batches while still alive, suffocated in trash cans, or gassed.

Dear gods

For anyone new to the issues, interested in the entire article, here it is:

The Difficult Lives and Deaths of Factory-Farmed Chickens
More than 9 billion chickens, along with half a billion turkeys, are slaughtered for food in the United States each year. This number represents more than 95 percent of the land animals killed for food in the country. Worldwide, more than 50 billion chickens are raised and slaughtered annually.

Chickens are sociable, intelligent animals. Studies have shown that they are able to solve problems and, unlike young children, grasp the permanence of objects (they understand that objects taken from view continue to exist). Their natural behavior includes living in stable groups of 30 or so that employ a social hierarchy (the origin of the term pecking order). The chickens in a given flock all know and recognize each other. Their communal activities include scratching and pecking for food, running around, taking dust baths, and resting. They crow and chirp in a range of some 30 meaningful vocalizations. Chickens also have a strong urge to nest, and, like most animal mothers, they nurture their young attentively and affectionately. A hen carefully tends her eggs in the nest, turning them up to five times an hour and clucking to them; remarkably, the unborn chicks chirp back to her and to one another. People who have had opportunities to become acquainted with chickens—for example, while growing up on farms or visiting farm-animal sanctuaries—often remark on how affectionate chickens can be and how they seem to have their own personalities.

Through the 1950s, even chickens raised for eventual slaughter were kept in traditional small coops of no more than 60 or so birds, with free access to the outdoors; they could nest, roost, and share space according to their natural behavior. But modern large-scale farming practices (“factory farming”) give chickens no opportunity to behave according to their nature. Quite the contrary—the reality of the life and death of factory-farmed chickens, both those raised for meat and those used to lay eggs, is shocking.
As in all factory-farming industries, chicken production is designed for maximum efficiency and maximum profit. With these goals, regard for the welfare of the animals involved is a luxury that reduces profits unless the extra costs can be passed on to the consumer (as on the much-publicized but less frequently seen “free-range” meat and egg farms). The results are overcrowding, disease, high death rates, and observable unhappiness for the animals involved.

“Broiler” chickens
Many people believe that chicken, especially the breast of the chicken, is healthier to eat than “red meat.” Chicken consumption has consequently risen dramatically over the last few decades as more and more people make the switch. The birds raised for meat, called “broilers” by the industry, are the product of genetic manipulation that has drastically increased breast and thigh tissue (the most popular parts of the animal) and produced a very rapid growth rate that outstrips the development of their legs and organs. Broilers raised in this way are supposed to reach “slaughter weight” at just six or seven weeks of age, but the death toll is very high. The growth of abnormally heavy bodies causes crippling and painful skeletal deformities, and the overburdening of the birds’ underdeveloped cardiopulmonary systems often causes congestive heart failure before they are six weeks old. Some broiler chickens who do not succumb to these problems still die of thirst, because they are physically unable to even reach the water nozzles in their sheds. Other common causes of death preslaughter are heat prostration, cancer—in an animal less than seven weeks old—and infectious diseases.

Broiler-chicken facilities tend to be extremely overcrowded, with tens of thousands of birds crammed into a single closed broiler house. Each chicken is given less than a square foot of space, so hardly any floor is actually visible. The birds are unable to roam, to scratch, or, indeed, to avoid each other at all. Their instinct to live in a hierarchical community is thwarted, and social tension results. Chickens living in these stressful conditions will peck and fight with each other, which has led chicken producers to the “solution” of debeaking chicks shortly after they hatch in order to minimize damage. This debeaking process, like much else in factory farming, is run assembly-line fashion, without anesthesia; the chicks are placed beak-first into an apparatus that quickly cuts the tips off the beaks with a hot blade.

It is impossible, in such an atmosphere, to maintain health and cleanliness. The chickens’ excretions pile up, and the resulting ammonia fumes become so strong that they burn the birds’ eyes, and blindness results. Reports from observers say that birds with “ammonia burn” rub their eyes with their wings and emit cries of pain. Other health problems include the proliferation of Salmonella bacteria, which can remain on the slaughtered birds and so frequently cause threats to human health that special chicken-meat handling practices are invariably recommended by health authorities.

Once the chickens have attained slaughter weight, they are loaded into crowded trucks that offer no protection from extreme temperatures, and many birds die as they are shipped to processing facilities. The most efficient of these facilities kill some 8,400 birds per hour, the result of a high degree of automation. Machines run by humans automatically stun the birds, cut their throats, and scald and pluck them. First, human workers strap the live chickens into leg shackles on a moving rail, from which the birds hang upside-down as they move on to baths of electrified water, which stuns them. This is ostensibly for humane purposes, in order to render them insensible before their throats are cut, but some observers believe it is done merely to immobilize them to a degree sufficient to make further processing easier, not to desensitize them. The stunned birds move on to a mechanical blade that cuts their throats. After the chickens bleed out, they are plunged into a scalding bath that removes feathers. Unfortunately, this high-speed assembly-line process contains potential missteps. The voltage in the electrified bath may be too low, resulting in the rapid recovery of the chickens, who are then well aware of the throat-cutting machine as they approach it. The blade misses many chickens, so they consequently are boiled alive in the scalding bath.

Chickens are exempted from the USDA’s Humane Methods of Slaughter Act, which mandates that animals be rendered insensible to pain before being slaughtered. The Humane Society of the United States is one of several organizations lobbying to obtain a requirement that poultry animals not be exempted from legislation that would protect them from painful, sometimes torturous, death.

Egg-laying hens
As bad as conditions are for chickens raised for meat, they are even worse for birds in the egg industry. Erik Marcus, making a comparison to the better-publicized cruelty done to veal calves, says:

..in his book Meat Market: Animals, Ethics, and Money:

'I personally believe that the average battery hen has it worse than the average veal calf. I think it's probable that a forkful of egg comes at a cost of greater suffering than a forkful of veal. For people making a gradual switch to vegetarianism out of concern for Animals, I therefore believe that the first food to give up should be, not meat, but eggs.'

There are about 300 million laying hens in the United States; of these, some 95 percent are kept in wire battery cages, which allow each hen an average of 67 square inches of space - less than the size of a standard sheet of paper. For perspective, a hen needs 72 square inches of space to be able to stand up straight and 303 square inches to be able to spread and flap her wings. There is no room even for the hens to perform self-comforting behaviors such as preening and bathing. Hens are usually kept eight or nine to a cage; long tiers of these cages are built one upon another in sheds that hold tens of thousands of birds, none of whom has enough room to raise a wing. Excrement falls from the top cages to the lower ones, causing the same 'ammonia burn' problem as in the broiler houses. Like chickens raised for meat, laying hens are debeaked as chicks. The hens are deprived of the ability to create nests for their eggs, which instead drop through the wires of the cage for collection. This inability to engage in instinctive behavior causes great frustration.

A sad side effect of the egg-production industry is the wholesale destruction of male chicks, who are useless to the egg industry. These chicks are not used in the meat industry either, because they have not been genetically manipulated for meat production. Male chicks are ground up in batches while still alive, suffocated in trash cans, or gassed.

The methods used to maximize production include manipulation of lighting to change the hens' environment and hence their biological cycles; unnaturally long periods of simulated daylight encourage laying. Periodic forced molting creates an additional laying cycle: during this time, the hens are kept in darkness and put on a 'starvation' diet (reduced-calorie feed) or starved altogether for up to two weeks.

Caged in this way, hens are unable to exercise, and constant egg production leaches calcium from their bones; these two factors cause severe osteoporosis, which leads to broken bones and great pain for the hens. The syndrome is called Cage-Layer Fatigue. Additionally, the wires of the cage injure the feet of the chickens, as the hens must sit in essentially one position their whole lives with their feet pressing into the wires. They rub against the sides of the cage, which causes severe feather loss and skin abrasions. In essence, hens who would normally be able to use their whole bodies and have lives as full as those of any other Animal in nature are reduced to immobilized egg-laying machines, existing for that one purpose only.

The hens live like this for about two years or less, until their bodies are exhausted from the stresses of constant laying and their egg production decreases. At that point, they are shipped to slaughter to be turned into Animal feed or sometimes human food or are simply discarded. In 2003 a public outcry brought attention to a California ranch that was reported to have discarded thousands of live hens using a wood chipper; no charges were brought because, as it turned out, this is a common industry practice.

What about free-range eggs and meat?
Many people, distressed by learning about these conditions, pledge to eat only 'free-range' eggs and meat, which they imagine come from chickens that have free access to the outdoors and fresh air. There are some facilities like that, but in reality, there is no uniform standard for the free-range designation. No regulations exist that describe the size of the outdoor area or the number of birds allowed in a single shed, for example. A free-range chicken facility need only be cage-free and provide 'access' to the outdoors through a door. In practice, the facilities may be windowless and as overcrowded as any other, and only a few chickens may ever be able to reach the door at all. Further, the breeds used are likely to be the standard ones used in non-free-range operations: free-range broilers are, like other broilers, bred for such high meat production that the birds are unable to move about freely even if they want to, and both broiler and laying hens are susceptible to the same life-threatening conditions of heart failure and osteoporosis as any other agribusiness chicken.

Free-range laying hens, like all other laying hens, are killed after about a year or two when their egg production drops. They are usually slaughtered under the same conditions described above. Like battery chickens, free-range chickens come from hatcheries that kill the male chicks.

Toward a better future
Movements are afoot across the globe to improve conditions for chickens and other poultry Animals. The European Union has agreed to abolish the use of battery cages by 2012. The Humane Society of the United States (HSUS) and other organizations are pushing for such a law, and various states and communities in the United States have passed or are considering similar laws. And there have been other successes. In 2000, McDonald's Corp. announced new policies that mandate that their suppliers increase space for caged laying hens and stop using forced molting at the facilities that produce their eggs; they also plan to phase out the practice of debeaking. In March 2007 another fast-food giant, Burger King, promised to implement new Animal-welfare policies that include provisions for buying a certain percentage of its eggs from cage-free producers and some of its chickens from producers that use more-humane slaughter methods. The supermarket chains Whole Foods and Wild Oats have also moved away from using and selling eggs from caged chickens.

Meanwhile, vegetarians, vegans, and Animal-welfare organizations continue to emphasize that meat and egg consumption are not necessary for anyone's health and that people concerned about Animals and ethics should give strong consideration to going vegetarian.

May 4, 2007, was International Respect for Chickens Day, an annual event launched in 2005 by the nonprofit organization United Poultry Concerns (UPC) to 'celebrate the dignity, beauty and life of chickens and to protest against the bleakness of their lives in farming operations.' On that day, volunteers in the United States and Canada created displays, handed out information, and took other actions to publicize the miserable conditions in which billions of chickens raised for food spend their lives. UPC was established to address the plight of domesticated fowl used for food production. As UPC puts it, 'These birds are the largest number of abused warm-blooded Animals in the world. Along with the billions of birds who are slaughtered for food each year, millions more suffer in laboratories, get dumped in Animal shelters, and die miserably in poultry houses without anyone knowing that they ever lived.'

Beyond Belief

2007-06-01T20:13:00.000+01:00

This is the Arts season..

..Hay Festival, Glyndebourne, the Royal Academy’s Summer Exhibition. I see whatever interests me; some proves good, some bad.

I think the art whore this summer has to be problem child Damien Hirst with his bling skull; made at a cost of around £9m and part of the 'Beyond Belief' exhibition currently at the White Cube gallery in Shoreditch.

Sorry..with so much poverty in the world, to craft a platinum human skull encrusted with 8600 diamonds and call it 'For the Love of God' is morally offensive.

For the 'Love of God', Mr Hirst, break the filthy thing up and feed living humans.

Whatever I embrace, becomes

2007-02-28T10:26:00.000Z

This year feels very strange to me..not in a bad way, but as if I have to travel light to live through it. I spent some time recently disposing of a lot of personal things I no longer feel I need. It's been surprisingly easy, given how much emotional weight I once attached to such things. I took a look at the journey from birth to now and all the moments that have shaped me into the person I am and I came to realise that anything worth keeping, like faith or love or memories, is always portable because always a part of me. How did people cope before the invention of static buildings? They kept what mattered most in yurts and moved it with them.

All the thoughts I've been having dive into my heated mind like shoals of cooling fish and create perfect ambience. I want to be too busy living to react to perceived woes, to be an enemy of my own 'isms..the traps my mind sets for me. I want to love the broken and the whole, in others as much as in myself.

Chris says of the rucksack I carry everywhere I go, that it makes me into a snail, and he's right - I have all I need with me for whenever I might need it. I like that idea, it sets me free. There's a world of difference between want and need.

What's wrong with this picture?

2007-02-07T02:26:00.000Z

I don't understand fruit any more.

Fruit only exists to propagate the plant or tree of origin and yet, more and more, this is happening. It started years ago with seedless grapes and now it's prevalent.

I grew up in a house with an orangery and used to save the seeds for replanting by my grandmother. So....it makes me wonder..with all these fruits modified to be predominantly seedless, how is it that there is still fruit for sale in grocery stores?

I'm not even sure I want to know the answer.

Avian Hilton

2007-02-04T21:13:00.000Z

For over 2 weeks now, I've been visiting Northway to watch birds and let them get to know me, against the day when my latest Beast (new professional camera) arrives later this week.

I took these with a mix of my trusty family Canon and the Sony Cybershot incorporated in my cellphone, as I had nothing better with me on the days in question. Technically they're poor but they do what all good photos exist to do - record a life moment.

Checking in..

Room Service

Delicious!

Ignore me..I'm almost too happy

2007-02-04T10:48:00.000Z

Valentine's Day is approaching again..difficult for me to make this day special as the date has another association which I never forget out of respect, but I approve of the idea of a day dedicated to love.

I don't know that the romance aspect appeals to me particularly as it always seems so over-the-top and therefore not genuine..perhaps, historically, it was more difficult to show interest in another person in a socially-acceptable manner, hence this day was a perfect opportunity so to do.

I tease my beloved husband all the time as, for such an unapproachable person, he's got the softest centre; to look at him, no one would think it but this is the man who waits at the door for me to give him a doorstep hug when he goes out. They're called doorstep hugs because I use the high step on the door to be able to reach his cheek; he's 15 inches taller so at other times I can only manage to hug his chest.

We've been together a long time, some of which was very hard for us both..these days, we're idly rocking in calmer waters and two happier people can't possibly exist.

The beginnings of the lie..

2006-12-30T15:59:00.000Z

BAGHDAD: Hours after his execution, Iraqi television on Saturday showed the shrouded body of former Iraqi ruler Saddam Hussein on television. Saddam was hanged on Saturday, four days after an appeals court rejected an appeal against his death sentences for crimes against humanity, relating to the killing of 148 people in the town of Dujail in 1982. Earlier, footage had been released on
Iraqi television showing Saddam's last moments before the execution. The pictures showed the former president handcuffed as two masked executioners in black jackets first tied a scarf, and then placed a rope around his neck. The coverage did not include the moment of his actual death. Saddam, dressed in a black coat, appeared calm in the humiliating surroundings of a low-ceilinged room, where a small fence had been set up around the gallows. He apparently rejected the executioners' offer to be hooded.

I'm sorry but I just don't buy it. I watched the footage which is slathered all over the media and I don't buy it. I freely admit to being no expert on Middle-Eastern politics but the first (and entirely unprompted) thought that came into my mind was, what could he have sold to save his life?

There must have been something, because I don't believe what I'm being shown - that he's dead. All my instincts tell me that right now, a 69-year old ex-dictator is off to begin the last chapter of his life somewhere like Israel, where no one would think to look for him; a journey only briefly interrupted by a detour via a cosmetic surgeon.

But you saw his body in a bag with a broken neck? The man had 8 body doubles, or could have posed for that shot himself. All I know is, I don't buy it and this media circus is exactly that - sleight of hand.

I'll wait to see how long it is before anyone else says what I'm saying.

Passion

2006-12-24T18:27:00.000Z

Anyone who knows me knows what a huge Buffy fan I am..what was a fairly run of the mill American potboiler evolved, through very fine scriptwriting, into some of the most intelligent television in its genre.

I remember one episode which evidenced this very ably, and here is a quote from it:

"Passion, it lies in all of us, sleeping... waiting... and though unwanted... unbidden...it will stir... open its jaws and howl. It speaks to us... guides us... passion rules us all, and we obey. What other choice do we have? Passion is the source of our finest moments. The joy of love... the clarity of hatred... and the ecstasy of grief. It hurts sometimes more than we can bear. If we could live without passion maybe we'd know some kind of peace... but we would be hollow... Empty rooms shuttered and dank. Without passion we'd be truly dead."

It seems relevant because, over this Yuletide, I watched The Passion of the Christ, on DVD. Not being Xtian, I cannot comment on the religious rubric and subtext of this film, but one thing I can say..

EVERYONE should watch it, just to remind ourselves what humans can stoop to, so as to guard against it. As a witch, my perspective is that dark and light form one whole, and as a witch, I am eternally vigilant to sustain them in balance. As a human, I watched this film with great sorrow, to see such perversion of passion.

Magic and manwiches

2006-12-06T10:16:00.000Z

Keats
Once I heard three notes of a nightingale in a dark wood.

The moon lay open, wide and bright, like a pond.
The brimming moon looked through me and I could not move.

A cry that momentarily threatened the earth
Gulped back into a bird the size of an oak-leaf.

At the moment I'm finding that there's synergy between the Ted Hughes poems I'm reading and my real life. That's why they keep surfacing on this blog.

As I was driving early this morning, the moon was a bright open eye in the dark, eyelashed by trees and lidded by clouds - in myself I paused to absorb, even though the car didn't. I feel somehow very alert and sensitised in this wintry season..small things are more significant than big.

As I drove into Tewkesbury, the draped seasonal fairylights defined the beautiful period buildings against the dark and it looked equally magical..I would have liked to stop and take photos. Maybe another time.

I'm happy today, and every day. Even a hamfistedly-made sandwich in my bag makes me feel good, because I know who made it and that he did so out of love.

I'm where I belong.

The Book of Love

2006-12-03T17:55:00.000Z

The book of love is long and boring
No one can lift the damn thing
It's full of charts and facts and figures and instructions for dancing
But I
I love it when you read to me
And you
You can read me anything

The book of love has music in it
In fact that's where music comes from
Some of it is just transcendental
Some of it is just really dumb
But I
I love it when you sing to me
And you
You can sing me anything

The book of love is long and boring
And written very long ago
It's full of flowers and heart-shaped boxes
And things we're all too young to know
But I
I love it when you give me things
And you
You ought to give me wedding rings
And I
I love it when you give me things
And you
You ought to give me wedding rings
And I
I love it when you give me things
And you
You ought to give me wedding rings
You ought to give me wedding rings

I heard this Peter Gabriel song late last night during the gale that was blowing here..I was dancing in the dark to it whilst Chris was downstairs, clearing up in the kitchen. It's a song for lovers everywhere..plaintive, haunting, unforgettable.
This was taken in the orchard, across to the hill in the distance..it reminded me how trees can be cathedral.

Cast into Eden

2006-12-01T00:13:00.000Z

You know
(how could you not?)
that you are my beloved.

Not a word used lightly
as in Hallmark cards
Lathered in puking sentiment

It means that
On the pre-destined day
when I no longer see your face
or you mine, I shall be dead in life.

You are my soulmate; all I ever wanted.
Therefore, infuse me how you feel
The magpie flitter-dance stigmata's wounds.
Instead

Cast me
(exhausted)
into paradise.

© SR 2006

Onset of..

2006-11-30T21:19:00.000Z

October Dawn

October is marigold, and yet
A glass half full of wine left out

To the dark heaven all night, by dawn
Has dreamed a premonition

Of ice across its eye as if
The ice-age had begun its heave.

The lawn overtrodden and strewn
From the night before, and the whistling green

Shrubbery are doomed. Ice
Has got its spearhead into place.

First a skin, delicately here
Restraining a ripple from the air;

Soon plate and rivet on pond and brook;
Then tons of chains and massive lock

To hold rivers. Then, sound by sight
Will Mammoth and Sabre-tooth celebrate

Reunion whilst a fist of cold
Squeezes the fire at the core of the world,

Squeezes the fire at the core of the heart,
And now it is about to start.

Wind

This house has been far out at sea all night,
The woods crashing through darkness, the booming hills,
Winds stampeding the fields under the window
Floundering black astride and blinding wet

Till day rose; then under an orange sky
The hills had new places, and wind wielded
Blade-light, luminous and emerald,
Flexing like the lens of a mad eye.

At noon I scaled along the house-side as far as
The coal-house door. I dared once to look up -
Through the brunt wind that dented the balls of my eyes
The tent of the hills drummed and strained its guyrope,

The fields quivering, the skyline a grimace,
At any second to bang and vanish with a flap:
The wind flung a magpie away and a black-
Back gull bent like an iron bar slowly. The house

Rang like some fine green goblet in the note
That any second would shatter it. Now deep
In chairs, in front of the great fire, we grip
Our hearts and cannot entertain book, thought,

Or each other. We watch the fire blazing,
And feel the roots of the house move, but sit on,
Seeing the window tremble to come in,
Hearing the stones cry out under the horizons.

© Ted Hughes

These could have been written about my home, in these past days. That's one of the purposes of poetry..to tell us what we already knew but hadn't yet realised.

One ring

2006-11-29T00:11:00.000Z

One with each other, with the Earth.

Feeling good

2006-11-22T20:59:00.000Z

Birds flying high you know how I feel

Sun in the sky you know how I feel

Reeds driftin' on by you know how I feel

It's a new dawn

It's a new day

It's a new life

For me

And I'm feeling good

Fish in the sea you know how I feel

River running free you know how I feel

Blossom in the tree you know how I feel

It's a new dawn

It's a new day

It's a new life

For me

And I'm feeling good

Dragonfly out in the sun you know what I mean, don't you know

Butterflies all havin' fun you know what I mean

Sleep in peace when day is done

And this old world is a new world

And a bold world

For me

Stars when you shine

You know how I feel

Scent of the pine

You know how I feel

Yeah freedom is mine

And I know how I feel

It's a new dawn

It's a new day

It's a new life

For me

And I'm feeling good

Winter of our content

2006-11-22T19:51:00.000Z

I can't remember the last time I wrote an actual letter to anyone, in this age of faster methods of communication, but I wrote one to an old and very dear friend the other day. I had a lot of cumulative distilled thoughts to share with her; she's known me since I was 18 so there are years of overlapping in our lives.

I wrote, because it's impossible to express deeply personal things over the phone without monopolising the conversation and creating a 'me me me' situation. Telephony is a game of tennis, not solitaire. I know she's been feeling left out and I wanted to open an inner door to show her she's still very much a part of my life.

I couldn't think of a better way to bring her back in than by giving her my version of a State of the Union Address. She's the kind to absorb it all just as I intended and I hope it will be candle enough until I see her in person again.

The joys of text, and hibernation

2006-11-16T06:52:00.000Z

There just isn't enough of me to go round at the moment.

I had two of my oldest friends raise issues of time with me and both sounded pretty hurt so I took time out to mend fences and talk.

That's the real issue: time to just talk to anyone or spend in the family. My other half threw a fit aweek ago because I was texting someone and I realise he's actually jealous of my cellphone, so I promised myself to cut the texts down to essentials instead of when anything occurs to me. Thing is, SMS is such a useful thing in my life: I can sort out a problem or share a thought as one occurs and when I'm out and about, SMS is invaluable. Others in my life see it as a nuisance.

I've realised I use it more than I perhaps need to and I'm now going tepid turkey on my phone; I leave it in another room so I don't hear it beep at me. I also pick up the landline phone and call people, to keep the human element in my communications.

I'm just so damned busy right now. I've taken a slight career change and start work on Monday in a field that interests me so that's going to eat away at my free time. I'll simply have to be more clever in managing it.

Apart from these things, life's going well. We're gearing up for Yule now and planning a trip just after December 21st to see friends before their Christmas and because my best friend's birthday is December 24th. She was going to spend it in Boston but family matters have put that on hold until next year so a birthday pizza and beer is now on the cards.

Because we celebrate Yule properly and then have a watered-down Xmas as Chris isn't that fussed about it, it's a busier season than for other people. The house has reeked of cognac for two weeks as I've been baking cakes and sealing them to mature until I need to decorate them. It's somehow welcoming though, like the smell of mulled wine or soup..reassuring on dark blustery wintry days. It's as if the hatches are battened down and we're preparing to hibernate until Spring.

I guess that's when I appreciate home most.

What is, and what could be.

2006-11-02T22:02:00.000Z

Samhain this time was more potent than usual and the echoes are still with me, resulting in certain directions of thought..such as, what is the nature of change? What is the true correlation of past to future? Is what one has better than what was had or could be had, hence is there a point and purpose to introspection or is it simply illusory self-indulgence?

I believe in burning bridges to move forward, if need be, and I burned serious bridges this past year; it was liberating because it was so absolute. No point in merely singeing..better to have a satisfying conflagration of glorious hungry fiery hissing and roiling redgold heat.

Difficult to shape limitless vague thoughts on such huge topics into something usable without falling victim to aphorisms; I don't like that as it's too easy an option.

I still have a year's worth of thinking to do.

Yesterday's ritual..

2006-11-01T10:57:00.000Z

..was pretty powerful..I cried a few times but those good tears you need to cry sometimes, to cleanse, and to show love and respect.

The spooky thing about being the youngest of my siblings is having too many empty places at table for someone my age. Still, life's a balance of loss and gain and Samhain is the time when it's good to address the nature and meaning of that in one's own life.

I named everyone I miss, and spoke to them for a while; then sat quietly until the candles guttered out. No need to rush that moment; at Samhain, time doesn't flow in the way it does for the rest of the year. It felt like floating in the Dead Sea, which was soothing..time out of mind. Any Celt knows that time is a river, and I'm pureblood.

The New Year is now begun, and it should be a good one. Onwards and upwards :)

The Beast of Worr Green?

2006-10-30T04:59:00.000Z

Where I live, there's a very healthy frequency of sightings of big cats. It's an affluent area and locals know of many that owned panthers, leopards and similar during the 70s and 80s. The proof of escapees or deliberate release into the Forest lies in the sheer number of dead sheep, deer, cattle etc., found mostly eaten.

I've never seen a thing myself until yesterday. The weather this weekend was perfect for Hallowe'en barbecue parties; not the torrential rain forecast but mild and warm and light at night. On the Sunday we went to the Kilcot Inn in the village and then into the Forest.

The Forest being so huge and thickly-wooded, there are still large parts uncharted and where families live with no access save a footpath to link them to the outside world. Many are entirely self-sufficient there and never leave; the government have no record of them, they live entirely off any database. It's the old Forest way.

So, in the mud by Worr Green lake, I saw deer prints and what looked like pug marks; mixed up with paw prints, bootprints, biketyre tracks etc., but still clear enough. There are feral cats locally which grow to a goodly size but still not vast; this didn't look like ferals and the deer tracks show running, not stepping, which is unusual at a lakeside.

We looked at the photos at home and are going to check them out on the Net; here they are:

The pumpkin misconception

2006-10-28T09:57:00.000+01:00

As a point of interest, there are no pumpkins ready for the party we're having later..we've got a couple of carved turnips.

Reason being, turnips are the original Jacks-O'-Lantern. The whole thing stems from a gaelic folktale in which a character called Stingy Jack tried to trick the devil into buying him drinks in exchange for his soul. When Jack died, neither god nor the devil wanted him so he was condemned to wander earth for eternity, lighting his path with a candle in a hollowed-out turnip. After that, it became tradition here to put a turnip with a scary face carved on it, and containing a candle, outside at Samhain to keep Jack and other bad spirits away.

The pumpkin only became popular when the tradition migrated Stateside, and pumpkins were more easily available.

There..the things I know!

Be warned: if anyone decides to use turnips instead..keep them outside, they don't smell too sweet once the candle's lit. Maybe the smell was another way of warding off the unwanted - It's pretty eye-watering.

A protest, born of growing despair

2006-10-18T20:30:00.000+01:00

As someone with experience of working in creative arts, I am becoming more and more aggrieved that it's so easy these days to become absurdly rich by pilfering the work of others. It really concerns me that those with not an original thought in their heads are able to snarf freely and get obscenely rich on the proceeds. It's like an incentive scheme for greed, laziness, dishonesty and lack of originality.

Fortunately, the flame of true creativity will always burn away the miasma of the talentless but it's a sad indictment of our culture that mediocrity and the second-rate are seen as acceptable.

In my world, nothing but the truly exceptional is good enough..as it should be. That's the challenge.

Morning masterpiece

2006-10-16T20:38:00.000+01:00

The light, and consciousness, arrive together;
We turn, as always, to you
to paint your face with our gaze.

Not for you, Picasso'd daubs
Even after all these years, you are fine-brushed
Detailed as any miniature

16 million colours don't suffice
A chocolate plum brow eaves a cream-toasted almond lid,
fringed in walnut fronds

The rest is lost in pillow
Ivory Egyptian linen, soft as a breath

It whispers
From open eye to closed, there is connection
You sense and come awake, but it's enough

Another morning masterpiece is done.

©SR 2006

The permitted hour

2006-10-16T20:07:00.000+01:00

..would have been my father's 89th birthday.

Not sure how that makes me feel, as I have very few happy memories of him..in fact, I didn't even remember until late this afternoon. He wasn't a good man, he had no time for people; he had a darkness in him that has passed to all his children in one way or another. We all fight it in ourselves as we know it's everpresent.

Still, I do remember one thing..in the hospital, when he was dying. He never thought I'd amount to anything as I was the 'girl', and yet I am the one who has come the farthest of all my siblings. To show him? I hope I had more incentive than that.

But anyway, on this one day, we actually laughed together as if the bad memories had never existed; I smuggled my most beloved iguana, my familiar, into the hospital in my jacket so he could see her. She was a vast creature so I had to hide her but she was very used to travelling with me so she was good as gold, bless her. I decanted her on to the bed, and my father's pale and troubled face just lit up with laughter and shock. She seated herself right by him and put a claw on his hand and that's how we spent the permitted hour.

Today's a good day to remember them both.

Dear Gods..

2006-10-12T21:54:00.000+01:00

..this is a beautiful season.

Reviving something of interest..

2006-10-08T12:29:00.000+01:00

..as it seems to have disappeared from the bookmark I kept.

Dubya's uncle "Bucky" Bush the son of Hitler's mistress Eva Braun?
Picked up and edited by: Herbert Spinsterman, August 1, 2005

Prescott Bush and Adolf Hitler

Prescott Bush / Eva Braun on the Obersalzberg

Buck 'Bucky' Bush, son of Prescott Bush and his mother Eva Braun

Doing my research for this article, I really started wondering why nobody had come up so far realizing the stunning similarity between the faces of Buck Bush and Eva Braun. I have never seen son and mother resembling each other more than these two. But there is more!

Let's go back in history to the summer of the year 1937 and make a visit to Berchtesgaden/Bavaria, location of Hitler's favorite residence with the famous housing complex on the Obersalzberg. What was going on there, when a secret American guest was visiting the Führer and his mistress Eva Braun in this mountain retreat?

Delicate material, which once belonged to Heinrich Hoffmann, Hitler's propaganda frontrunner and privileged personal photographer, has been discovered at the Königssee (King's Lake), near the city of Berchtesgaden, by a group of amateur divers. Must history be re-written?

The famous lake, located 19 miles of Mozart's birthplace, Salzburg, which by its sheer size recalls the fjords of Norway, has been subject to neverending speculation of holding many secrets; including Nazi treasures, especially the gold of the SS, supposedly dumped into its waters together with other valuables and delicate documents at the end of World War II.

The breathtaking and romantic Königssee, situated in fairytale scenery and surrounding high mountains rising straight up from its shores, is also a place one looks at with fear and respect. Its stunning depth, reaching 750 feet, making its waters so frighteningly dark, adds further to its mystery like so many stories spun over centuries. No motorboat is allowed to spoil its pure waters and the masses of tourists every year are transported by boats with electric motors.

In the year 1688, 70 pilgrims had died in the waters of the Königssee when on their way to the pilgrimage chapel St. Bartholomae, located on its banks; their raft capsized in a storm. A cross still commemorates this tragic historic incident.

And now, we have a new mystery story! The lake had so far never released one of its secrets once they had sunk into its depths. Amateur divers, when fastening their rowing boat close to the spot where the pilgrims had drowned, discovered a small cave in the rock about 8 feet above the waterline; in which they found a metal box containing documents, mostly photographs. The material could soon be assigned to Heinrich Hoffmann.

Hoffmann, a photographer and publisher, was close to the Führer from the very beginning to the very end. Hoffmann joined the NSDAP, the Nazi Party, in the year 1920 and was distributing hate-newspapers at the time. In 1923 he started to make the first photo-portraits of the Führer, mainly for propaganda purposes. One step away from the Führer, always with his camera ready, he was not only part of his official and political activities, but also often following him into private life.

He had earned millions of ReichMarks with his newspapers and was Editor in Chief of the official NSDAP Gazette. Hitler was so fond of his work and the impact of his propaganda and the presentation of his person to the outside, that he made him a Professor of Arts. Maybe Hoffmann was the only close friend Adolf Hitler ever had.

The mysterious box had already been discovered in August 2004, but nobody had considered its contents to be anything spectacular. Besides well known photos of the Führer, Eva Braun and the Obersalzberg, it contained more or less meaningless shots. The officials, looking at the material, did not know at first that some documents and especially intimate photos of Eva Braun had been removed before. Some of the diving group had unsuccessfully tried to sell the material to collectors in Japan. When this was finally discovered and the missing material confiscated, the officials and historians entrusted with the case went into a state of shock.

When the nightmare was just about to be over, Hitler was "officially" committing suicide in his bunker in Berlin on August 30 1945, jointly with Eva Braun. Eva, his mistress throughout, had followed him to Berlin against his explicit will. Hours before, Hitler and Eva Braun got married. Hitler had strongly neglected Eva Braun all the years, mostly cutting her off from official life. It can be assumed that they never had a sexual relationship at all.

Hoffmann made a last visit to Hitler in Berlin shortly before the end and returned to Bavaria, where he was soon arrested by the US army. Hoffmann did not really want to see the Führer on that last occasion; he was there to persuade Eva Braun to flee with him to Argentina, where he had already sequestered his money. But that idea had already been copied.

Hoffmann was serving the Führer for his personal ego and success, but mainly - as we have to see it today - he wanted to be close to Eva Braun. Hoffmann's discovered documents contained many secret shots of very private and intimate moments with Eva Braun. He probably also installed hidden 16mm cameras on the Obersalzberg and the nearby teahouse, the famous Eagle's Nest, and had copied stills from the film.

Eva Braun, who was born in 1912 in Munich got an education in a Catholic cloisters school. At 17, she worked for a couple of months in a doctor's office before she started to work for Hoffmann as an office clerk and later on as a photo laboratory worker helping to process many pictures of Hitler. But she was also Hoffmann's model - his now discovered material also contained numerous tasteful nude art photos of the young Eva.

Whilst working for Hoffmann, she was soon meeting Hitler personally and firstly described him as a "man with a funny moustache", but did not seem very interested in Hitler himself. That must have changed with the Führer's later rise to power. Hitler was perhaps not interested in a close relationship to women or possibly he was keeping distant for tactical reasons, like a rock star who fears his popularity waning after a marriage. Some even say that the Führer was homosexual.

Hitler taking a nap, Eva watching him.
Hitler was usually accompanied by his niece Angela 'Geli' Raubal whenever an official occasion necessitated a hostess. When his niece committed suicide in 1931, Hitler was intensifying contact with Eva, who was already living in Hitler’s apartment in Munich, but without him allowing a closer relationship. She, meanwhile more than full of admiration and yearning for the Führer, had hoped that she at least could replace Geli on official occasions but Hitler was still hiding her from the public. Eva, not being able to cope with that situation, was trying to commit suicide in 1932.

Geli's rôle was taken over by her mother, Hitler's half-sister, who played the role of First Lady of the Obersalzberg, not admitting any competition. This led to another suicide attempt by Eva in 1935. Hitler, already too closely linked to Eva to break up the relationship, was afraid of another scandal after Geli's suicide and tried to satisfy her by giving her a house in Munich, with a Mercedes and chauffeur for her personal use. The ever greater significance of Eva in Hitler's life finally led Hitler's half-sister to quit the Obersalzberg in early 1936 and leave the field to Eva, who moved in shortly afterward.

Eva Braun, at breakfast with Adolf Hitler on the Obersalzberg at last.

But Eva had to face just another disappointment. Hitler was still more or less hiding her and her life just continued in the alpine retreat. Indifferent to politics, she kept her distance to Hitler's closest intimates, with the exception of Hoffmann. Her joint appearances with Hitler in public were so rare that only a few Germans knew of her existence. Even the Führer's closest associates were not certain about the exact nature of their relationship. She spent her time exercising, feeding her romantic feelings with cheap novelettes and movies or concerning herself with her own appearance.

Eva, now closer than ever to the Führer, was still nothing else but a bird in a golden cage. She was a young and very attractive woman, full of joie de vivre, but unable to live a normal sexlife. Hoffmann was probably mainly interested in her flawless body for his art photography.

To Hitler, admiring her keen mind, she appeared to be more a collector's item, in the sense of "I don't need it but I don't want anybody else to have it". Hoffmann, especially after Hitler had fixed his eyes upon her, was not endangering his career, and his feelings for the blonde goddess became even more platonic. The only other man close enough to her was the chauffeur of her Mercedes, who was also running the errands and doing some routine work around the house. Eva soon found out that he was a Gestapo man, so he was also out as a possible lover; so were other men altogether.

Now accustomed to the privileges, Eva began testing the limits with the Führer, which soon resulted in quarrels, even wild abuse, frequent cursing and swearing. Hitler remained calm and ignored her, so Eva, in her mid-twenties by now, decided to finally get the fun she had missed for so long. It would have been too dangerous to have an affair with some of the personnel or frequent visitors from the Nazi Party or the Army, risking the life of the lover. Leaving the Obersalzberg for that purpose was not possible; she could have never done that on her own.

The only way for her to have at least a short adventure was to seduce one of the numerous important foreign guests. Politicians, ambassadors, kings, bankers, industrials, the Mafia and most of all, Prescott Bush, Hitler's man on Wall Street, were visiting the Obersalzberg and frequently turning it into a dovecote.

There were numerous secret tunnels and bunkers underneath the Obersalzberg. Hitler never went below the surface and didn't really care as he thought the Reich could never be beaten, making the bunkers and tunnels useless in his mind. Eva Braun however, with endless time in her cage, was frequently exploring the place and soon knew every inch of its secret installations.

Eva Braun in a Bikini, a more common picture on the Obersalzberg these days.

Later, when the tea house was built nearby, hastily and under time pressure, as it was supposed to be a surprise gift from Hermann Göring and leading Nazis for Hitler's 50th birthday (1939), she often took the secret tunnel connecting the two installations and spent hours at the teahouse, enjoying the magnificent view over the mountains. It was just that view which suggested its more famous name "Eagles' Nest". Hitler never liked it, feeling that this unusual and oversized gift was breaking into his privacy and was hardly ever seen there.

But weren’t the ever growing desires of Eva a long-term part of an ingenious plan of the Führer's? Was the extremely attractive and athletic blonde a secret weapon, just waiting to be utilised? Were the Eagle's Nest and the tunnels and bunkers avoided by him just to give Eva a safe and secure hideout for quick love affairs? Did Hoffmann take pictures for his own purpose or on behalf of the Führer for later blackmail?

A still shot taken from one of Hoffmann's secret films:

No one ever understood the British Prime Minister Chamberlain, when he returned from Germany after a meeting with Hitler, announcing "peace in our time" with glaring eyes, after having reached absolutely nothing. He was still blustering about peace even when the war had become unavoidable and he had subsequently been replaced by Churchill. Mussolini and other important men had shown equally strange behaviours and the frequent desire to report to the Führer on the Obersalzberg. Historians have always been puzzled about many strange decisions which had been taken, delayed or reversed before and even after the war, and are still asking themselves about what was really going on behind the curtains and why.

Indian Chief Geronimo, whose skull was stolen from his grave by Prescott Bush.

Prescott Bush, the father of the 41st and grandfather of the 43rd President of the USA was Hitler's man in America. He was just right for the Führer, especially as he had the ideal combination to be effectively manipulated, like the present President of the USA: influential through his family and ties and susceptible to the seductions and temptations of life. "This is our man!", Hitler was saying, when we first heard the story of Prescott Bush digging out the skull of the Indian Chief Geronimo from his grave, whilst being a student at Yale and a member of the obscure Skull and Bones Society.

Hitler, brought into the secret circles of the "Illuminati" (a conspiracy group created over 200 years ago) by a leading German industrialist, knew about the structures of the US industrial Mafia and finally had the plug-in to the USA.

The Geronimo skull story was responsible for the naming of a SS Division. Hitler and Himmler, the SS Chief Officer, had decided to split the SS, which meanwhile had become a large and powerful organization, into three divisions. The SS itself was the successor of various murdering units helping Hitler into power and which were financially backed and supplied with weapons from the Prescott Bush environment.

Hitler, meanwhile obsessed by this story, firstly suggested naming one Division 'Geronimo'. Himmler did not find that a good idea, but suggested adopting the skull instead. Skull (Totenkopf in German) was finally chosen and so the most frightful unit was named Totenkopf Division and the skull and cross bones of the Skull and Bones Society became their emblem.

Prescott Sheldon Bush, his son W.Bush Snr. and his grandson George.W.Bush Jr., are all proven initiates of this occult lodge. Bush Jr., also known under the name of Texecutioner, had satisfied the death cult by signing numerous death penalties, involving at least nine totally innocent people, amongst which a Gulf War veteran with brain damage from contact with nerve gas. Many of them have been punished too hard and a large number, in best Nazi-fascistic style, never had a fair trial.

Adolf Hitler never tired of telling the story of the stolen skull of Geronimo.

Prescott Bush entered the influential and wealthy circles of the USA through his marriage with George Herbert Walker's daughter, Dorothy, in 1921. The Skull and Bones Society, more particularly his 'Geronimo Skull Stunt, had been extremely helpful in this endeavour. Prescott Bush moved to Ohio in July 1923 where he mismanaged the business of Hupp Products. After a short track record of disastrous performance, he was fired in September 1923.

In November 1923, the Skull and Bones Society promoted him to Sales President in South Braintree, Massachusetts. Seven months later, or nine months after he had been fired, George.W.Bush, the future 41st president of the USA, was born. The day Prescott Bush was kicked out, he just went home and slept with his wife. In 1925, he had to be 'transferred' again. The victim this time was the United States Rubber Company and he was moved to Greenwich, Connecticut.

In 1929, his father-in-law George Herbert Walker and his friend Averell Harriman, both members of the secret circle of the 'Illuminati', had at last shown some consideration to the fact that digging up Geronimo's Skull was a nice piece of PR for the Skull and Bones Society but no basis upon to run a business or to take a responsible position anywhere. They subsequently decided to take him under their direct control with a puppet job, a fate he is sharing with his nephew, the 42nd President of the United States.

In addition to numerous positions as a board member of influential and related companies, without any say or power, he was made a dummy-partner of the financial company of Brown Brothers Harriman and served on the board of the newly-founded Union Banking Corporation.

Prescott's first attempt at a political career had failed and he lost to William Benton in the race for a United States Senate seat for Connecticut by a mere 1000 votes. Disappointed that he could not get anything right despite all the help, they gave him an additional job as the Connecticut chairman of the United Negro College Fund. This swallowed up almost all the credit he had with the Ku Klux Klan, but had secured the fact that the Fund would only have limited success under his disastrous 'leadership'.

It took him until 1952 before the green light was given again for a political career. The Illuminati had waited for some years, to make sure that no Nazi material would come up against Prescott Bush and that things had settled down in the USA. He was winning the race to replacement James O'Brian McMahon in the US Senate for Connecticut, when room was made through a vacancy caused by a sudden death. He remained there with little influence and inadequate personal achievements, until he finally gave up and retired. The next generation of the Bush family was ready to take over.

Brown Brothers Harriman was the main Wall Street connection for the Nazis, German industry and the various US interests of Fritz Thyssen, who was backing the Nazis financially until 1938 but had fled Germany in 1939 and started to denounce Hitler in a bitter fashion. Dealing with Nazi Germany was not illegal until Hitler declared war on the USA. On December 13 1941, six days after Pearl Harbour and two days after Germany declaring war on the USA, President Roosevelt signed the 'Trading with the Enemy Act' and ordered the seizure of Nazi German banking operations in New York.

But it was all done by then. A 1942 US government investigation had shown that Bush's Nazi-front bank was an interlocking concern of the German Steel Trust. After the war, investigators checked into the Thyssen interests, Union Bank Corporation and other Nazi units. These investigations had shown that the German steel trust had produced over 50% of Nazi Germany's pig iron, over 41.4% of its universal plate, 36% of its heavy plate, 38% of its galvanized sheet, 45.5% of its pipes and tubes, 22.1% of its wire and 35% of its explosives. The Silesian-American Corporation, 'managed' by Prescott Bush, was vital in supplying coal to the Nazi war industry.

Brown Brothers Harriman also had a racial tradition, making it an ideal partner for Hitler. American patriots had cursed their name during the US Civil War. Brown Brothers had offices in the USA and in England, transporting over 75% of the slave cotton from the South over to the British mill owners.

The Illuminati and its puppet organizations and handpuppet front men were always present when there was money to be made from criminal activities and wars, often even initiated by them for the purpose of their personal gain. Iraq is just a temporary stage in a long and never ending chain.

Back to 1930's: Hitler had received a secret visitor from the USA on the Obersalzberg during the Summer of 1937, who had spent a full week in this magnificent location in the Berchtesgaden mountains. There were several witnesses, mainly the local personnel around, guessing as to his identity and intentions. As Hitler and the secret American guest were communicating through a translator, closely sitting together behind closed doors, they could only catch a few words before and after the meetings or when being asked to bring coffee, cigarettes or snacks into the meeting room.

Words like 'New York', 'Harriman', 'Wall Street', 'money', 'steel', 'weapons', either in English or German or Hitler's outburst "Von der Scheiss Wall Street muss doch mehr Geld zu holen sein. Mann zu was haben wir sie denn da?!" ("There must be more money we should be able to get from shitty Wall Street. Man, why don't we have you there?!") should suggest his identity from what we know today.

Joining his American guest for breakfast was also one of the very rare occasions when the Führer seemed to be very relaxed. Hitler was greeting him with an Indian dance, whilst covering his mouth in mimicry of a warcry, shouting "hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo", followed by a long "Geronimooooooooooooooooo!" He was said to have kept laughing for half-an-hour before having his first cup of coffee.

Hoffmann's photographs, found at the Königssee in Berchtesgaden, seem to have solved the puzzle, if there ever was one.

'Buck' or 'Bucky' Bush is the fifth child of Prescott Bush, with a real name of William Henry Trotter Bush, and the youngest brother of George W. Bush, the 41st President of the United States. He is 'Uncle Bucky' to his nephew and present puppet President George.W.Bush Jr.

Bucky was not left behind by the Bush clan whenever there was a buck to be made from scamming taxpayers. In 2000, whilst his nephew was running for President, he joined the board of ESS which happens to be a major military contractor. Uncle Bucky raised thousands of dollars for Jr.'s campaign in 2000 and 2004. Bucky came at the right time to ESS, as its stock prices had soared after Sept.11, 2001 - good for Bucky's stock options, which he naturally had exercised and which increased his share holdings from 33,750 to 56,251 shares.

In 2003, ESS had spread its contracts over every branch of the military and did so well that they are now in the top 100 list of Defense Departments contractors and getting richer every day.

Bucky's ESS just happened to manufacture devices to be used for the hunt of Weapons of Mass Destruction, which we now know do not exist. Too late - the military already had a large order delivered, based on Jr.'s bogus allegation that Saddam was seeking nuclear weapons material in Africa - a strong advertisement for Bucky's products.

On March 25, 2003, Bush asked Congress for additional funding to cover military operations in Iraq. The very next day, Bucky's ESS announced a very large order for its Chemical Biological Protected Shelter systems from the Army.

But Bucky's involvement did not end there. On May 2003, ESS announced that it had acquired TAMSCO. This was exactly on the same day when Jr. made his flight suit appearance on TV and declared the end of the war in Iraq "mission accomplished". The following week, TAMSCO announced its beginning of technical support for US Army logistic operations in the Middle East. Jr. and the gang behind him are ripping off the taxpayer for billions of dollars for criminal wars based on lies and fake evidence for the sake of an industrial Mafia and Bucky gets his family share. Lucky Bucky!

Lucky Bucky indeed! Turning back a few pages in history: The Prescott Bush family had three children, of which the second was George.W.Bush (W. for Walker, the last name of his father's father-in-law), the future 41st President of the USA. The last child of the three, Nancy Bush, was born in 1926.

Five years later, the Prescott Bushes had a latecomer, James Bush, who was born in 1931. But would you believe that they had another late-latecomer, not one, not two, not three, no - full seven years after they already had a five year latecomer, following three other children? Could that have been their own child?

There always have been rumours that Eva Braun became pregnant and subsequently gave birth to a son in a Bavarian cloister after having left the Obersalzberg for a couple of months. Speculations centre around a birth date in the region of mid-May 1938. Who was the father, if Hitler can be excluded? Who was around in the summer of 1937?

The questions also deal with the whereabouts of the child. It never appeared anywhere and life on the Obersalzberg went on as usual. Nuns in the cloisters were instructed to take best care of the child, as it was to take a long trip as soon as possible after its birth without endangering its life or health. Several hints lead to the conclusion that the child had been brought to the USA.

Six weeks after its birth, a midwife and a man were picking up the child in a black Mercedes bearing a Swiss license plate. The car was last seen parked in Calais, France, waiting for a Ferry to Dover, England, where a ship was soon departing for the USA.

We can estimate the ultimate arrival of the child to be early July, 1938. 'Buck' or 'Bucky' William Henry Trotter Bush was officially born on the 14th of July 1938, when Prescott Bush and his wife coincidentally returned after a longer absence with their new child - the child of Eva Braun and Prescott Bush.

And the child's real mother? Was she at the end of the day just a silly and self-preoccupied girl? Anyway, she finally succeeded. At his weakest point she got the Führer to marry her, hours before jointly committing suicide. Eva Braun was never a Nazi nor politically involved in any way and would have had nothing to fear after the war. The deaths of Adolf Hitler and Eva Braun were faked and well-prepared in advance. Adolf Hitler and Eva Braun, who had fled Germany in time, lived a long and happy life together in South America. Eva (then called Gerlinde) was said to have had numerous lovers on their farm with the consent of her husband, a grey-haired farmer from Austria, wearing a full-grown beard. The Skull and Bones Society, wealthy and influential enough, had prepared everything so well that leading scientists had always sworn that the analyzed remains of Hitler are original beyond any doubt, even with fractures in the right place. Well, after all, they are not the Skull and Bones Society for nothing!

Prescott Bush died in 1972.

And Hoffmann? After having been arrested, he was fortunate enough to find that they needed someone to put together the material and documentation for the lawsuits against leading Nazis. No one had a better overview of the structure and organization of the Nazis and their individual personal roles. He was able to quickly apply every piece of documentation and evidence.

He was himself prosecuted and classified with the highest grade 'I'. Whilst this, with the defendant in custody of the courts and not in South America, normally has led to almost immediate action, Hoffmann appealed the decision over and over again - a privilege no one else had. He was still dragging things out until he was officially released in 1950 (some saw him walking free a lot earlier). He was still "appealing" as a free man when he died in 1957. Did he save his neck by trading incriminating material which someone could not afford to allow into the open?

The last question remaining: Does Buck know? You bet he does! Would his nephew otherwise run around with a dog of the same breed as those favoured by Buck's mother?

Eva Braun on the Obersalzberg with her dogs.

George.W.Bush and his dog, Barney.

Disclaimer: We do not assume any responsibility in the case of this story fully or partly deviating from the truth. We have checked all information and documentation, whereby we have oriented ourselves towards the same professional and ethical standards as applied by the US Administration to its highest level of verification of facts and evidence, upon which the United States will base decisions for trade sanctions, conventional or atomic pre-emptive strikes, overthrow or support of foreign governments, invasions and occupations or full-scale wars.

Conjecture or not, it's certainly of interest.

Nicholas Gordon

2006-10-07T13:25:00.000+01:00

For a literate man, he has written poetry predominantly of the Hallmark calibre..really bad, slickly-churned-out acrostics that could only find a place in greetings cards.

However, he also achieved things like this:

I made myself up. New family. New history.
I don't know why.
It wasn't that I didn't like myself.
Maybe I found the fictional me more interesting.

It was something that just happened,
Like an accident you see unfolding,
Happening to you in slow motion
But seeming to happen to somebody else.

And now that it's over
And I'm living in the wreckage,
I think: This isn't me!
But of course it is.

"Lately I've been having vivid dreams,"
You said. "Perhaps it is the drugs, or perhaps
The tumor presses hard against my brain.
In any case, I've seen some lovely things,
Things I have not thought of many years,
Come back now with such yearning, such delight,
That I could weep for joy to be alive.
I dreamed we were at Grandma Rifka's house,
Your father, I, and Rifka in the dark,
Silent for the things we could not say.
The moon invaded, and cold beams like ice
Came in among us, crystallized the air,
And like cold spokes transfixed us where we were.
We could not move nor speak, though within me
There feebly stirred a wish to set things right.
The frozen air held us, ice like stars.
Then you came in, waved hello, smiled,
A large guitar slung over your left shoulder,
On your right a child just emerged from sleep,
And I was happy. The air grew warm,
Light came from you and danced among the stars.
The moonbeams melted, once again we talked,
We said the little things that cover darkness,
You laughed and life flowed in us once again.
In a moment I was weeping, you asked why.
I said I didn't know. Was it relief?
No, it was the beauty of the moment
As it poured burning, dying through my heart."

By the tulips people stop to take
Pictures. One wonders which are more
Beautiful: the people or the tulips?
Lush, almost fluorescent, like cups,
Like vases, like wet crimson towels
Hanging loose about the naked style.
Or an Annamese girl in striped mini
Just below her drawers, on her forehead
A pale red moon. Or two Indian women
In brilliant prints and gold nose pellets,
Nipples pressing through silk. Or an old
Man with his mother, identical blue chips
Glinting through corrugated skin. Families
Like flower beds, varieties of love
And anguish, phenotype and genotype,
And Babel, magnificent garden!
Or the glory of laughter, that needs
No language, the glee of children racing
Away, the silence of tulips calling
Wildly, pouring out love in perfume.

Words are good for things, like cars and trees,
But when it comes to feelings, they're like trying
To wrap a waterfall or sign a breeze,
Or tell someone a whole truth without lying.
I would tell you how I feel with signs:
Like how I look at you or how I touch,
Or how I fit my dreams to your designs,
Making one bright world--and then, how much.
The truth is not in words or even deeds:
It's far too subtle to be seen or heard.
It's in the garden that supplies one's needs,
Too various for any act or word.
Words are like the scent of rich perfume:
They indicate a presence in the room.

The only true idea
Is a dead idea:
Living marble,
Like a Michelangelo mausoleum
Or Keats' Grecian urn.

Live ideas are like people:
They bustle and jostle in the marketplace,
Are vain, possessive,
Wear makeup,
Lie to get their way.

One could no more live without ideas
Than without people.
Yet, as with people,
One would be a fool
To believe them absolutely.

©Nicholas Gordon

It's a sharp reminder that talent should never be compromised.

Singing fish

2006-10-04T19:03:00.000+01:00

It's amazing, the things that are and yet are somehow never realised..I happened on one today.

I went out on the lake in a coracle with one of the foresters, to get a closer look at a blue heron nesting on the island, and he told me to put my ear to the wooden oar. When I did, I heard low soft not-quite-grunts and high-pitched noises, and he told me it was the fish, singing. I was absolutely entranced..to me, only whales sing and they are, of course, mammals. The oar, and indeed the frame of the boat, were acting as amplifiers and resonating with the music in the water.

I simply never made the connection before, that fish can sing for courtship, or as a warning, or just to talk to other fish. Just goes to show..small things can turn out to be vast.

Hours in the day

2006-10-04T05:46:00.000+01:00

I have my days to myself at the moment, I'm being lazy. It won't last, but the season's changing now from the shreds of Summer to the grip of Winter. Autumn, my favourite season, has been merely an eyelash, washed away in the rains.

My current preoccupations are photography and food, as in expanding my knowledge of the culinary art. I think that's a result of being static again; preparing and sometimes putting up/freezing food seems the natural thing to do at this time. I haven't arrived at at the skill of a friend of mine, who plates up a mean meal and occasionally photographs it for blogdom but what I serve ends in clean plates with no resultant fatalities so I assume all's well.

My current challenge is to adapt a few Indochinese recipes to my own palate. I got the idea for that when I was travelling, after tasting some of the local 'delicacies'. Gah. Like any experience though, it's easy to borrow and adapt the parts you like into something you can actually use yourself. Or so I tell myself anyway. I also have to cater to the carnivore in my life so anything I make has to be a balance of vegetarian and dead thing inna bun. He's actually getting better at eating vegetarian food without grumping (courtesy of a superb [if I say it myself] nut roast with white onion velouté), and I've noticed that Matty (the resident canine) has also become less resistant to meat-free leftovers in her bowl. She's got a trick all her own when what's cooking draws her attention - she lies on her side just outside the kitchen door so when the meals are being carried through, she's right where we can fall over her. She's not daft.

Just have to see what she makes of noodles.

Absent friends

2006-09-28T04:54:00.002+01:00

One thing about being on the hoof is how much you miss out on the lives of those back home. One of my oldest friends, close enough to be a sister in my life, has been through some deep family trauma and she's not one to fuss so the little she did say has had me very worried. Because of schedules and timezones, all we've had as means of contact are VMS and texts; they don't really work when you just want to hug someone and take the horrors away.

Now I'm back, other commitments in both our lives are preventing that hug but it won't be long now. I don't think anything in life is as healing and reassuring as a long strong hug from someone who cares enough to give it.

Waiting for gold

2006-09-23T15:31:00.000+01:00

All my life, I waited for the gold
For some exquisite splendour to unfold
It came the instant I first saw your face
To me, you were a beacon in that place

In seas of mud, you glowed brighter than fire
I immolated freely on your pyre
Not every pleasure needs a weight of name
Your smile's enough to blow me into flame

© SR 2006

Personal sky

2006-09-23T14:34:00.000+01:00

I realise that I've formed the habit of telling my life here through the photos I take. For a writer, that's appalling, and I have to stop. In these past months, and particularly since I've been travelling so much, I used the camera as a diary for all the places I've visited as I had no other point of reference. My poor little laptop was heaving with .jpgs as a result, and I'm slowly now going through the files to sort and classify them.

My life has just changed so much and in such a short space of time; I have so many experiences in my head and heart, and only now do I again have time to revisit them and fit them neatly in to my life. Am I happy? that's a huge question, as I think happiness needs to be slightly flawed in order to be something truly amazing and appreciated. My happiness is flawed by some goodbyes I had to say, and some people I had to set free - at least, for now. I'm not the sort of person ever to be unmarked by goodbyes, and I keep a special place in myself for such things.

So, am I happy? Yes. I awaken every day and it's there, all around me like a personal sky. I don't even have to think about it. It doesn't make life easier, but it makes life worth the challenges. In my life, I've lived many lives and fulfilled many roles in relation to all kinds of people, as every one does. Now, I don't live in the old compartments of wife, friend etc..I've unified, integrated, fused into something new and complete. I feel I'm finally where I belong, living the life I was meant to. It's not some kind of epiphany, it's just a new normality.

I'd forgotten how weird it can be here..

2006-09-19T22:53:00.000+01:00

First Hallowe'en and it's still only mid-September..

..then Xmas, even more ludicrous and depressing..
Why on earth did anyone commission this book?

Newspeak..a 'replenishment associate' still does the same job for the same money.

At last..something genuine.

A simple thing like food

2006-09-19T05:59:00.000+01:00

I found out yesterday how unused I am to being settled..strange how easily the habit of home can be lost. My sleep is totally screwed as I've been in so many places recently I can't tell where I am in the dark. At home, knowledge of where the doors and windows are is instinctive.

I spent hours yesterday cooking a beef and ale pie for Chris as a surprise..he's the chef. As a practically lifelong vegetarian, it hadn't occurred to me that there are inevitably complications (apart from the revulsion) with carnivore catering. It felt horribly like cooking by numbers - I had no idea as things progressed how on earth they tasted, aroma was the only available guideline. It looked all right but that didn't feel adequate so I was highly nervous when he took that first mouthful.

I didn't need to worry as he actually liked it..he said it was slightly underseasoned but the look of surprise on his face was enough. I had visions of his scraping the plate into Matty's bowl as she eats anything but he cleared the plate. Strange how a simple thing like food can be suddenly complicated. I was quite proud of being able to produce something completely outside my frame of reference.

I feel like doing loads of cooking at the moment; at the weekend I picked blackberries and elderberries in our fields and salvaged pears and apples from the orchard as Chris just lets them fall. Time for wine and pies and digging out the ancient rumtopf to make brandied pears..all the things that somehow feel like home.

More gardens, fewer guns

2006-09-12T13:24:00.000+01:00

I found this place, a small walled garden that used to be part of a great estate and is now cared for by volunteers, on my last but one day in Kingsbury, north London. Kingsbury will always have a special place in my heart even though it's not that prepossessing an area for the great (largely Asian) people I met there, the surprises like this garden, and the fact that I was there there with someone who means all the world to me.

Roe Green Walled Garden is as peaceful as it gets, given its location, and is a real oasis from city life. I was even lucky enough to get a great shot of the resident dragonfly, who danced around me all the time I was there. Fortunately he was at rest long enough for me to take this photo, which is now on a 2007 calendar I designed for the volunteers to sell at their coming open days. It was little enough recompense for the pleasure I got just straying around and relaxing.

This says it best

2006-09-05T09:02:00.000+01:00

In 6 weeks I haven't slept in the same town for more than 3 nights, and I'm pretty threadbare now but that's how it's going to be for the next few months. After that, I'll be settling down at home with a huge sigh of relief. My camera is the constant; as I never know anywhere well enough to head straight for what interests me so I take whatever I happen across by luck.

..like this damsel fly; my oma used to call them devil's darning needles, and I came across this one whilst wandering the edge of a lake in the Forest of Dean. I went out into the reedbeds to get this shot and got sucked into the mud so a couple of real photographers with possibly £100k worth of serious camera kit fished me out. I lost my shoes to the sucking mud, had to wash my feet in the lake and go home barefoot, but it was a great afternoon as I wandered around with them and they showed me all the creatures that inhabit the area. They'd come there to photograph a rare heron which was fanning its wings on the other side of the lake. My personal prize was a very small and very feisty wren who sang at me from about 10 inches away as I was walking down a path..it was clear he was the boss of it and felt I should decamp at warp speed.

Which I did. A great day.

Intelligent women

2006-07-28T09:43:00.000+01:00

I was talking to someone recently and mentioned Eustache Deschamps to him, as he expresses himself in a rather quaint manner and I saw a similarity.

That reminded me to re-read about Christine de Pizan, a contemporary of Deschamps. I'm not exactly a feminist, more of a humanist, but I'm fascinated by intelligent groundbreaking mouldbreaking women. Christine was the forerunner of powerful intellectual political women like Catherine de Medici; she was of her time in that she fulfilled her obligations as a wife and mother but when her husband died, she used her abilities to provide an income. Her husband (rather unusually) had always encouraged her to educate herself and she turned her education to good use by becoming a writer.

Her bravery shines through her work; she began a quiet but intense revolution of the kind Jane Austen waged, as a champion of women and redefiner of women's roles in society and the home. She managed, quite genuinely, to do so within the constraints of her Christian faith so she astutely deflected any potential accusations of ungodliness, which would have destroyed her reputation entirely. Her reasoned and lucid debates on the position of her contemporaries in the domains of philosophy, culture, law and science are as valid today as they were then.

As I said, I'm a humanist/personist - I don't believe that original thought is the prerogative of any one gender but I do admire anyone who steps outside the confines of others' expectations to actually make things change.

Letting go

2006-07-22T16:04:00.000+01:00

I'm deliberately doing nothing today, so I can think any thoughts through without interruption.

Yesterday was one of the most intense days I've had in a long time; highs and lows of all kinds, and twice I was moved to tears. I'm not a cryer so it was hard to cope with that; I guess I'm used to being controlled and to find my eyes filling and not being able to stop it was disorienting.

I have a list, and I'm ticking each item off it. I'm the kind that carries the beloved few people around with me in my head, and I turn them once a day, like zoos turn reptile eggs in the incubator. My boys are fine, growing like weeds and I saw yesterday that they do have bits of me. Never could see it before but now I can - my chin and eyebrows, even though their colouring is all their father's. They have his long fine fingers too..born pianists. They make me guilty but they have all they could possibly need and if the future makes them curious about me, I'll deal with it when that day comes. I rationalised it in my head long ago..somehow, I missed out on key lessons when I was small. I'm partial, not complete, so all I can give are partial things - I don't know how to be whole for anyone. Add to that events from my past that have no place here and the perfect fear is understandable. I have too much imagination, I used to wake in the night with tears on my face after dreaming that history had repeated and I was alone again. That's not an experience I recommend and I have no control over it - it happens when it happens and when it does, my entire body is frozen and not under my command. Fear really does immobilise the muscles and it's the worst feeling in the world because the mind is active and the body clenched. I'm only human; the need to avoid that is paramount. Making hard decisions as a result..well, life makes that happen. I know I did my best, that has to be good enough.

There was a massive (and very welcome) storm in the night, and another at noon today. It's been so parched, any cooling is welcome. I watched a bee hide under a flower head from the downpour. A harvest spider was also taking shelter but then began to head for the bee so I puffed air at it in case it had ideas.

I don't kill anything, but neither do I stand idly by whilst things try to hunt. They can find other meals, life's short enough as it is.

Plans coming together

2006-07-18T12:49:00.000+01:00

I sat down today and worked out a schedule for the move; if all goes according, I'll be on my way inside a month.

I won't miss being here; I said my goodbyes here long ago. I have fathomless wells of sadness as regards my family but that's private. I'm doing what I know to be right, even if it doesn't look that way to some, and in time I hope that will be more apparent than it is now. Letting go is the hardest thing.

I went on a photographic odyssey on Friday, to clear my head and gain perspective, which has paid off since. I spent the day roasting on the Downs, looking for very small things, and was lucky enough to find them.

This little guy is a small skipper; a kind of day moth.

Soldier beetles, caught in the moment!

These are 5 and 6 spot Burnet moths; they have velvety bodies and satin wings..beautiful.

This little lurking orb is a Neoscona adianta.

I just loved this little thing - he's a thick legged flower beetle, which just about covers it.

These are Marbled Whites, they were everywhere.

These husks were creamy silver in the sun, the colour reminded me of my great grandmother's Georgian tea service. It had that same heavy milky quality of tone.

Highway to everywhere

2006-07-12T18:40:00.000+01:00

I spent this afternoon rambling on the beach; a strong breeze, combined with really hot sun, was a perfect combination.

Does the seashore count as the edge of the world? It feels like a highway to everywhere.

Today, I found out from my friend Stuart what the bee-thing from yesterday really was, and it's something of a rarity in my part of the world: it's a massive hoverfly called volucella zonaria and it's slowly migrating around the UK.

Since I started to use a camera, I've seen and learned so much; what really pleases me is how much I'll discover in future..it's limitless.

What a great thought.

All in one day

2006-07-11T21:00:00.000+01:00

It rained first thing, which was brilliant as it's been very hot here.
This little thing was a surprise, I've not seen one like it before. He had a very healthy appetite.

Apparently he turns into a vapourer moth.. never heard of one until today.

I like things that are unexpected.
The elusive vapourer moth..love the antennae, he clearly doesn't miss much.
It's amazing what you see if you look close enough.
I have no clue what this is, I mailed this photo to an entomologist friend of mine at the Natural History Museum to ask him if it is a bee, as it behaved like one.

Two new creatures, all in one day.

A curious thing

2006-07-11T14:03:00.000+01:00

I probably should be a lot more annoyed over this than I am; I was talking with someone last week about a few things and happened to mention an idea I'd long had. Today, it came back to me in conversation with someone else as that person's idea. I did set the record straight and was able to verify through reasoning that I'd genuinely had the idea in the first place, but I did feel a little disillusioned.

I'd never do that to someone; ideas are like children, they bear the characteristics of their creators.

The only consolation is that, had this person successfully annexed my idea, it would have been a one-off so the benefit would have been short-lived. People like me, who have minds teeming with all sorts of notions, can conceive unlimited ideas about all kinds of things - they constantly flow, like a fountain. Someone who borrows and repackages as his or her own will never do more than borrow.

An Assisi day

2006-07-08T13:38:00.000+01:00

I found this little thing exhausted, I think the strong winds were too much for him. He was completely flat to the leaf, I thought he was dying.

Two droplets of black cherry juice later, which I scraped under his mouthparts with a snapped length of dried spaghetti, he was managing to feed himself even though he was a bit tottery at first. I knew he'd survive when he raised his wings and moved forward to really tuck in.

And then he flew off, and an opportunistic ant was next through the door of the Assisi restaurant. I'm glad he made it, don't like things to die needlessly.

Today seems to be an Assisi day.

Awake!

2006-07-08T06:32:00.000+01:00

Awake! for Morning in the Bowl of Night
Has flung the Stone that puts the Stars to Flight:
And Lo! the Hunter of the East has caught
The Sultan's Turret in a Noose of Light.

Well, awake anyway. The Hunter of the East was an injured vixen in my garden, crying horribly as a mix of gulls and crows mobbed her. I didn't fling a stone but I raced out into the garden to put them to flight. I couldn't find the vixen after the birds were gone but she had blood down her side and was dipping her body every time the birds dropped down to her. There was no baby gull around to account for the attack, and besides they all fledged a month ago. Very strange to see gulls and crows working as a team, but these crows are a family I recognise from the beach, as they sit on the groyneposts like the witches from MacBeth. I've photographed them many a time down there.

All the shrieking has hushed now and I hope the fox is all right, wherever she's taken herself to hide. It was a very strange tableau to see so early in the day.

I'm bleary-eyed anyway, as Chris and I talked for almost 3 hours into the night; he's working in London all week at the moment and he rang me when he got home just after 11pm yesterday. It was a long rambling conversation about when we were kids, and things we remember from those days, and it made us both feel warm. Looks like our time apart is over. I'm seeing him next weekend and moving back locally as soon as possible after that. We don't want to be miles away from each other and it's a one step at a time deal but we've arrived at a place now where we have found peace together.

That's all we've ever wanted. The love was never in question.

Summer of contentment

2006-07-07T20:37:00.000+01:00

I had a wonderful wonderful day. I did nothing earthshattering at all, just wandered around with my camera. It was windy and overcast, but the sun came out 3 hours ago and somehow drew the whole day together.

I've had bad things happen in my life and lived through some very dark days; they made me solitary by choice, as I needed to be alone to think things through. I like most people but I only need a few. I'm glad now that the bad things happened; days like today could never have happened otherwise.

I see small things I never used to notice and I'm slowly gaining enough skill with my camera to save those moments as well as savouring them. Today, I was in a place where the sea meets woodland and meadow. To the left I could see parasurfers and to the right nothing but huge open sky over the woods and fields.

Being happy is important, and knowing you're happy when you're being it is also important. But happiness is sometimes too strong an emotion to have in life's quieter moments, and it's nice to have it take a back seat in favour of simple contentment.

Scorpion dance

2006-07-07T13:22:00.000+01:00

Yet more changes have happened, are happening, may happen and will happen. Turns out I'm being considered for work which is very lucrative, had the call 2 days ago. My head's been spinning ever since. It's something that I haven't done before, and it would be a stretch for me but I have the core attributes, the rest would be made up by experience. If I succeed, all the money worries and stress will disappear like smoke as I'll be on disgusting amounts of money. I'm refusing even to think about it.

Chris and I are also drawing close again, as if the problems of our past never happened. We both know they did as these days we talk about everything and, amazingly enough this time, with never a moment of discord. We tease each other just as we used to, and that's always a dangerous thing to attempt if the ice is thin but we just never go there. Considering that we are both such strong personalities, it's as if we were always 2 scorpions with claws immobilised in the dance - now we are declawed of our own free wills. We've both had life explosions and I think they've somehow jettisoned all the deadwood that clogged us.

Overall, I'm glad that all the bad stuff happened. It's given me a sense of deep gratitude for the blessings I do have.

Small world

2006-07-01T14:24:00.000+01:00

I'm getting better with the camera now, which pleases me - I don't want near misses. I never really know what I'll end up with but there's so much out there I never noticed until the camera drove me to look.

It's been a tough week in some regards and a wonderful week in others; overall, I'm slowly remembering how it feels to be happy so when a patch of negativity happens I can shrug it off with more ease than I've managed in a long time.

Summer's kicked in properly now and it's really hot; I spend all my early evenings down at the beach, watching the parasurfers and getting soaked strolling around the rockpools. I look like a freckle with feet but I don't care, it's a good way to spend a few hours when day merges into evening.

Closing the circle

2006-06-25T22:20:00.000+01:00

Well..the things some people will do to relieve their passions.

Today has been very long and very stressful. Should or perhaps could have seen it coming; I had a very unpleasant call on my cellphone on Thursday from someone I didn't recognise, but referring to something I was easily able to identify. Last Friday the tyres were let down on Chris' Mercedes..not slashed, just no air. Last night, things were far uglier..the motorbikes were trashed, with brake cables cut, petrol tanks damaged as they were kicked offstand and crashed over, a screwdriver stuck in the front tyre of Chris' bike. The Merc has been keyed all over and the paintwork is ruined; and even the tyres on the tractor mower have been slashed. All in all, £thousands in damage. Chris found it all at 10am this morning. The police didn't appear until 4.30pm, by which time a text had been received from the woman who laid the rape charge to say that she'd seen an intruder in the garden last night. Why any honest person would send such a text 12 hours after it would have been useful made me doubt. We decided that she had been responsible for the damage and had sent the text when she sobered up and realised she could be in deep trouble. We reported that to the police also and when they visited her to ask questions, they made her sign a caution so she must have admitted it. When the officer returned he took the screwdriver to get DNA from it so if they find a good sample she will have to provide DNA to test against.

She's disturbed. Even the police officer advised that a restraining order would be sensible. With all that's happened, dealing with a stalker-type just isn't welcomed by either of us.

The odd thing was, at the end of this hellish day, we have talked over so many things past and present that the sense of closeness we once had has returned in full strength. It's as if we were never apart. I don't know what it means at this time; we are both stressed and so we've left things to settle. It just reminded us both that when things happen, we close the circle.

The things I haven't said

2006-06-24T02:55:00.000+01:00

Such a lot has happened that I haven't felt able to discuss here but it's been such a rollercoaster since that they hardly seem to matter any more.

I trusted a longtime friend with a lot of money on a business venture and he's now hiding somewhere in Norway; thanks to him, I lost my security and had to do some very hard things to consolidate my position. That day the bubble burst is not one I want to remember. Trying to get financial redress is nigh on impossible, given how astute he was in disappearing, but I shall keep trying. The hardest part was the fact that I would never have expected it, given that we knew each other half our lives. Money does strange things to people.

Since then, I haven't felt the same about my life. All I want is peace and for things to just stay the same and they never do. I thought I knew most things that can happen but I guess that's not how it goes.

Once the initial dust had settled, I knew I had to change things for myself to wipe it all out so the past couple of months have been dedicated to that. I want to be somewhere where I know no one and where I can start again. The where is pretty much decided and I've identified work there that I really want to do. I visited the company yesterday and fell in love so next week I get to meet the CEO when he's back from a trip to Hamburg and then things should start to roll. Yesterday was a long day's travelling but it was worth it.

Chris..where to start on that one? We were at daggers drawn until his life blew up in the wee hours of May 31st; ironic, given how mine blew up on May 3rd. He was accused of, of all things, rape and being in possession of a gun, by a drunken idiot he'd seen a few times. The police broke into the house with extreme force as a result and things turned very nasty. Fortunately, there had been no intimacy so he was released without charge and sent a written apology as Chris' guns are licensed and safe in a gun cabinet. He was hugely upset over the rape accusation, it's an ugly thing to deal with especially for a man like him - he's just not the kind and it hurt his feelings as well as his pride. I was absolutely stunned when he rang me after they released him. I know the person who accused him and she has a history of instability but we thought she was over it. Apparently not.

Somehow, that brought us close again..we're not friends as such as we have a lot of our own history to address but it was the old story: when things turn sour, we turn to each other. So now we talk every day, just briefly, and without razoring each other. Nothing will come of it but it's better than hurt and hatred.

I post a lot of photos here; my camera has been my escape from all of it. If I focus on externals, I can forget internals for a while.

Some very windy days and one flower:

Complexities and surprises

2006-06-17T07:24:00.000+01:00

Time out with my camera is the only simple thing in my life at the moment. That's why I depend upon it, I think.

I'm pushing very hard to find work so I can start to househunt properly; I really want to move now.

I had the thought the other day that anyone noticing me walking around would just see another person walking around; no novelty at all. But inside I'm not thinking about shopping or holidays or family, I'm thinking about the big stuff - the meaning of life, the meaning of my life, and whether or not I'm unique in what's happened to me or just utterly averagely normal. Perhaps it's just that, of all the events that can occur in life, most of them pass unnoticed unless your head's open to let them in. Maybe that's why I enjoy the photography so much - a friend of mine said, after browsing through some of my shots, that I notice things no one else does and offer them to be seen.

That's actually quite a compliment.
I called this one Pentagram.

Just liked the image anyway but, as I find more and more, there's always something extra to be seen. Surprise is always a bonus.

Winrow

2006-06-14T14:35:00.001+01:00

The gulls have not more echo in this white
than the hush of older wavesong in my ear

Sheaves of ocean winnow on the dash
and draw their winrow braids back with green fingers
for arrhythmic second waves
A froth of hurry chases each retreat

Orphaned stones drycry beneath my weight
with cold wet mouths
and jostle in revenge to bite my shoes

© SR 2006

From Russia..with love

2006-06-13T20:29:00.000+01:00

This little lady brings back memories.

I'm packing my good things away as I might be moving again soon. It's not totally decided but I want to if it all works out as I hope. So as a good luck omen, I began to salt away my most precious things and she's one of them.

She's beautifully made and painted and was a gift from Masha Streltsova's mother. I met her at Abramtsevo when I did some translating for Masha for one of her websites and this was an unexpected thank you.

Для милого дружка хоть серёжку из ушка.

Back to normal

2006-06-03T12:46:00.000+01:00

Normal seems such a long time ago, but then, what the hell is normal anyway? Normal is what you make it but there's always room for tolerances and adjustment.

In my last entry I talked about doing the right thing, and in yet another twist of the path it looks as if that paid off for me. I guess doing the right thing does sometimes bring rewards. Early days yet but things look promising and to be honest I think it's my time to have some joy again. It's been a long while since I woke up with that good warm safe feeling that joy is, and I'd like to know it again.

Not everything's great but then it never is; at least one thing seems to be going my way.

And as always, I'm out taking photos..like life, you never know what you're going to find.

I liked these..seeing traces of where something's been wandering before I happened by.

And I like this photo even though I can't decide if this is is some kind of summer variegated holly because the colours of this bush are just lush. Never seen one before and it's beautiful, like autumn in summer.

Doing the right thing

2006-06-01T02:59:00.000+01:00

Back to not sleeping, after a new twist in my life. Everything that has happened recently is something I can't be specific about on here because of the kind of thing it is. This latest explosion isn't in my own life but close enough to home to affect it majorly and since I heard about it on my return from Hay everything's been in chaos again.

All I can really say is, today I had a chance to change my life for the better but instead I did what was right. I don't know if it's paid off elsewhere and I don't need to know. Being heroic doesn't feel particularly great actually but there you are..not in my nature to manipulate a situation to my advantage. It's better to do and say what feels right because otherwise you can't live with yourself. You can't buy happiness at someone else's expense..well, you could but not my style.

So, no sleep again. I'm glad I cut my hair at Hay. It felt (and feels) like streamlining. Everyone I've seen since I got back was stunned but loved it.

Less is more, all round.

Making Hay

2006-05-29T08:01:00.000+01:00

I feel different here, I'm getting a shift in perspective. I don't feel so much like the old wounded grieving me at all. She's still around, which is inevitable, but there's some new growth on the dry stick.

I cut my hair half an hour ago, and am sitting here as I and it dry together. It suddenly came to me as I awoke that I should, and I made it happen. Felt a bit strange as I've had very long hair for such a great part of my life but I knew it was right. The person who lived through all that length of hair has gone and I don't want to remember her. Long hair is like counting tree rings..it carries memories of each period of time. I remember Chris touching it, and that will never happen again so to keep it would be a constant reminder and regret.

In a way, it feels like croning; I'm not really old enough for that but I'm comfortable with the thought. I've lived through the big things, and living through what remains seems peaceful. There's great power in serenity.

I'm glad I've done this away from anywhere familiar; cutting my hair feels like sloughing a skin to reveal the shiny new one beneath.

I'm not naïve enough to think that this is an answer to everything but it's at least a letting go, and there's freedom in that thought. I can't keep what I can't keep, and for far too long I've felt that all I exist to do is exist.

The early bird

2006-05-28T13:37:00.001+01:00

I've been on the move for weeks; when you lose all roots, it just seems like the logical thing to do.

Meet Stupid Cow:
She always comes with me when I'm in transit, it's the comfort of the familiar, and she concertinas easily when being packed. That expression of introverted cud-chewing just amuses me and I can't imagine leaving her behind.

Some of the journeying has been good, some less so. I find more peace in green than anywhere else, so I've been as much in the countryside as I could. The camera's been with me everywhere and it's been my best friend in terms of altering focus when I need it to. I think that's because it makes me look and not just see.

I took these really early this morning:
I'm staying at Hay for the festival now, for a few days. I ummed and aah'd about coming but decided it would be good as I'd already planned it. An author friend of mine grumbled at me yesterday for not telling him I'd be here but I thought I'd told him and besides, he's writing another on the far side of the country so I doubt he'd have been free despite what he said.

Earlier in the week I was at Chelsea and fell in love with a healing garden called the Garden of Dreams; these photos show how peaceful it was:
All the plants in that garden are used in homeopathy so overall it was useful as well as beautiful.

I'm not a great fan of stylised and controlled gardening and but in this case it worked really well and was very peaceful to explore. I still prefer plants to be free range though.

Hay is as jammed with people already as Chelsea was, and it will be the same throughout. I'm seeing Howard Hodgkin this evening and Seamus Heaney tomorrow, as well as wandering around in general. It can be a bit luvvy here and that's not me so I didn't sign up for all and sundry. I just picked the real gems and left the rest to chance.

With all that's happened these past weeks, making plans seems a waste of energy.

Being vegetarian

2006-05-21T21:43:00.000+01:00

It's a choice that seems to bring stigma, even now..being a radical hippy animal rights protester yadda yadda yadda.

It's all rubbish; every vegetarian I know is one for a different reason so to label and generalise is meaningless. I don't like cruelty to animals but that's not why I don't eat meat. Plenty of meat animals are well raised, well taken care of, and when the time comes for slaughter, treated humanely. The payoff in that for meat eaters is the enhanced flavour.

I buy my food items with care, that's all. I choose free range over barn, farm fresh milk, fair trade goods wherever possible - because it's only right to do that. I don't eat Quorn or weird vegetarian foods that mimic meat in taste or appearance; doesn't appeal. I cook, and I don't feel limited in my diet at all so I don't need to take vitamin supplements. It's all there in my meals. Doesn't take long to work that stuff out.

The most repeated comment I get is that vegetarian food is boring. Well, I've been one since I was old enough to refuse meat/fish at the family dinner table and I'm not bored yet; I eat really really well :) The weirdest thing is bacon; the smell of that is somehow still appealing, but you'd never get me to eat it. I use smoked cheese when I crave that flavour and it does the job perfectly. I don't drink tap water either, mine's filtered.

If I have a philosophy of food at all, it's this: rubbish in, rubbish out. And thinking about that, it applies to way more than just food.

Something to calm down to

2006-05-21T08:02:00.000+01:00

Your Dominant Intelligence is Linguistic Intelligence

You are excellent with words and language. You explain yourself well.
An elegant speaker, you can converse well with anyone on the fly.
You are also good at remembering information and convincing someone of your point of view.
A master of creative phrasing and unique words, you enjoy expanding your vocabulary.

You would make a fantastic poet, journalist, writer, teacher, lawyer, politician, or translator.

What Kind of Intelligence Do You Have?

Sick sick bastards

2006-05-21T07:26:00.000+01:00

I was going to write about this being National Vegetarian Week here but a friend mailed this link to me and I'm too aghast, upset and disgusted to let it pass.

These sick bastards actually eat stuff like this? and laugh?? I want to cry.

It's not only vicious but it's utterly pointless. if you want to eat meat, at least do it kindly and with respect for the donor of the meal.

Just another example of stupid sad brainless soulless bastards with nothing better to do but feed their piggy little appetites with no thought or kindness for any other living thing.

I'm finding it very hard right now to balance their feeble existences out when I think of good people dying every day from hunger or from miserable dignity-stripping diseases. Had I the choice, I'd switch them without a moment's hesitation.

Built for speed

2006-05-18T08:36:00.000+01:00

I took this shot and I'm a bit miffed that I didn't get it right; it's not often you get a scene like that handed to you on a platter. Speedy 1 in the foreground had a great expression, it had turned round and was eyeballing me bigtime. Speedy 2 in the distance was having none of it. Never seen a snail with attitude before and I rather liked it.

Apart from snail interactions, it's been a very hectic period for me, and much to think about on all sorts of changes that have taken place. They cover a weird mix of business and personal but it's all pretty complex so I don't want to write about it just yet. I just want to focus on simple things..like snails.

My best things

2006-05-13T18:09:00.000+01:00

The aurora borealis

Moths and oak trees
and a big sky
lying on grass looking up at it

White peacock feathers
Sir Ian McKellen

Marmalade velvet that shimmers
and emeralds

Candles anywhere

Hummingbirds, mudskippers, seahorses, chameleons
All small, all amazing

Oliver Reed's voice
The creamy sheen of heavy silver
Panther eyes

Ice cold milk on a hot day
and the sound of bees

Eating blackberries I picked myself
whilst reading 'Four Quartets'

Bonfires
and the smell of woodsmoke in November
Staghorn sumachs in Autumn

Falling asleep with sun in my eyelids
Soup
Sand dunes

Harpstrings shivering in a breath of air
The smells of creosote, cut grass, and fresh bread

Reflections in pools and puddles
Honeysuckle in flame, getting me drunk on aroma
The blush at the heart of yew wood

When the evening sun diamonds the sea
Sam Jackson in a kilt

Beaches and snowfields that are swept smooth
except for birdtracks
Red leather chesterfields by lamplight
Koi, feeding

Keeping perfectly still as a wild thing comes close
Cloud-scudded winter moons

Drumming at campfire dusks
Time to myself

Queen of the Thrones of Flame

2006-05-11T06:26:00.000+01:00

This, of course, is from Crowley's Thoth deck, and the card I use for meditation. I always carry it with me; Rider Waite is better for reads but the Thoth has more punch, particularly if you do as I did and cut the borders away from the cards to free them.

Within the suit of Wands, this card belongs to the Court Cards of the Tarot and is held to be The Seer. It's the watery aspect of fire; symbolising fire's receptivity, movement and colour. The Queen of Wands expresses self-knowledge, compassion and change, illustrating the traits of adaptability, energy and authority. This is the most perceptive of the Court Cards: an individual who has undergone complete self-transformation and is committed to truth, which can instantly be perceived. Through deep meditation the Queen of Wands has achieved an emotional aspect which is portrayed by way of this card's compassion for all creatures who are still enslaved by their emotions. The Queen of Wands radiates an inner authority which comes from self-awareness, and possesses a calm and commanding presence. The Queen of Wands is stubborn with regard to personal beliefs and cannot bear to be contradicted. This card is indicative of an individual who will be a magnificent friend and wonderful partner but only if the relationship is initiated by such an individual. The Queen of Wands refuses to be forced; she knows exactly what she wants out of life and aims at goals with great dedication. Independent, forthright and self-motivated, this card indicates an individual who will be loyal and honest with loved ones but will make for a formidable enemy. The crown depicted on this card symbolises enlightenment and remembrance of pain experienced in the achievement of such. The dark spots on the leopard represent the darkness in human life which must be overcome prior to attaining self-realisation. The fish symbol on the chest of the figure is symbolic of the union of water and fire, of emotion and intuition. It is also representative of compassion and sensitivity. The staff (which often extends beyond the border of this card) is indicative of the need to remain grounded in search for self-actualisation whilst the pine cone represents spiritual growth and enlightenment. The fiery hue of this card is symbolic of strength, energy and passion whilst the hand of the figure resting upon the leopard represents a protective nature toward all non self-actualised creatures.In a Tarot reading, this card indicates a high degree of personal integrity and maturity, self-knowledge and self-confidence. It also suggests the successful attaining of a goal and sound judgment. Reversed, it indicates a loner. Whilst self-assurance and self-confidence is evident, these traits may not be recognised by others. It is also indicative of restlessness, rigidity, jealousy, a domineering nature and disregard for the feelings of others.

Am I like the above? With certain minor exceptions, (if you knew me), pretty much.

Clearing the attics

2006-05-10T10:11:00.000+01:00

I don't want this blog to descend into a mosquito whine but whenever I think I've come to a point where I can settle, something else bad happens. This past week has been more stress than I have had in years. On the positive side, at least it clears the attics but the antonym is that I am so damned tired of it all. I had 2 pieces of very bad news and I dealt with both but I have no more reserves. They took all I had. When the first problem erupted, I was foolish enough to ring Chris and he made me regret it. I don't know what I was thinking, I was just upset and muddled. After he'd realised what he'd done, he called me the next day. I didn't take the call; I'd dealt with it by then but the solution cost me very dear and I was too anti to respond. Then another similar problem blew up and I managed to deal with that too, which I should, of course, but I just needed to feel someone had my back. Some things are too personal to tell even close friends, and I could have at least unloaded on Chris as he well knew.

Since then, he's been hugely guilty and won't leave me alone. Too little, too late. The positive is that at least I stood on my own two feet but I just wanted some comfort and got none. If someone needs me, I don't wait 24 hours before I help; I do it when it matters..there and then.

So, I learned a few things about myself but it was very hard. It made me realise how little I need most people and how much I need some people. I'd rather have a few oaks than a forest of willow.

Barking mad

2006-05-05T07:32:00.000+01:00

I see that the BNP made minor political inroads at Redditch, Barking, Stoke etc., in yesterday's elections.

I'm frankly unbothered, as Nick Griffin is a serial pillock and (thankfully, highly inept) position shuffler when it suits him. He's got a blog and it makes for hilarious reading; for example, black people can't join his beloved party but he will graciously permit them to stay in the UK if they just happen to be good footballers. One for the voters there.

Apparently, being black African gives 'a slight edge over European or Asian youngsters in terms of speed and reaction time'. I notice that every day when I see black people hurtling around at the speed of light, beating me to a queue at the checkout, nipping onto buses at 65mph, leaping tall buildings at a single bound, that sort of thing. Now, thanks to Nick's insights, I know how they manage to do that. This nugget was excerpted from a blog entry entitled 'Polling day shorty' so the great leader can't even spell 'shortly', unless he's referring to his height.

All in all, I'm unworried by their few political gains because it's a very different thing to be inside looking out instead of outside looking in. As elected officers, they will have to offer equal treatment to all their new constituents and that's not optional. It's a world away from spouting half-assed contentious bullshit to get media attention for a half-assed party of genetics-obsessed throwbacks.

The England they're dribbling on about simply never existed, save in their minds. When England had no Colonials or Irish to utilise in the dirty dangerous menial jobs, kids were used. White English kids. Explain that away, 'shorty'.

The photo is of Victorian child amputees, victims of factory accidents.

Here's the really amusing thing: the Irish surname 'Griffin' is anglicised from the old Gaelic surname O'Griobhta, introduced to mediaeval Ireland by Bretons who came over with the Normans in 1172. So, the Chairman of the BNP is descended from immigrants.