Wednesday morning is grocery delivery morning, all the on-line shopping I ordered the day before. One of these days I'll sort out my standard list; bread, eggs, extra milk, etc. Until then, well, Wednesday mornings are always full of surprises.
This week I've ordered courgettes twice so I've a glut to deal with. Too many potatoes. The wrong kind of rice. An extra box of eggs. The wrong shaped bread for the toaster. No cold meat.
None of these are 'real' problems. I like eggs.1 I can always make Delia Smith's vegetable rice for lunch. There's always the corner shop, which is - just round the corner, as it happens!
I have to cut the slices of bread in half to make them fit in the toaster, and then catch them with the plastic tongs when they pop, before they disappear back inside - it's quite a fun challenge.
One day, I will surprise myself and my husband by getting a whole week's order just right - this year, next year, some time, or, more likely never!
Music
I've watched this video clip a number of times; I have no idea who these two zephyr are, or how they fit into the opera; it's the curious and slightly weird manner of their entrance, and the way chorus all seem to take a step back and away, as if horrified at their appearance, and then their sudden break out into dance... I'm not sure I've ever listened properly to the music as I'm far too engrossed in the staging!
It feels as though I haven't drawn anything for ages; This sketch of the sage in flower was drawn using a relatively primitive free drawing app called Bamboo which I have on my phone and my tablet. I've been using it more than real pens and paint recently because it's handy for when I'm sitting in front of the television in the evenings.
I've reluctantly come to the conclusion that the way I hold my tablet to play sudoku and free cell and read kindle books is not helping by elbow at all... so I'm being physically forced to do what I mentally couldn't manage - control my sudoku/freecell habit! It will be good for me in the long run.
Meanwhile I'm tapping this out on my phone...
Books
I finished both 'The Clues in the Fjord' by Satu Rämö and 'The Land of Spices' by Kate O'Brien yesterday. You couldn't get two more different books! Just as well, as I have a habit of reading several books at the same time.
The Clues in the Fjord is contemporary crime fiction set in Iceland, such a different place to England. Such a small population for one thing, not quite 400,000. Brighton has a population of just under 300,000. And the cold! The whodunit itself was engrossing, the main characters interesting and likeable, but what really fascinated me was the lifestyle in Iceland. I look forward to reading the next in the series.
The Land of Spices was entirely different. At the centre was the Reverend Mother of a convent in Ireland early in the 20th century, and a girl who joined the other boarders, for it was a girl's boarding school, at a young age. Over the ten or so years we slowly learned of the Reverend Mother's upbringing, and why she became a nun, and watched Anna, the child as she grew up. The narration is very detailed and reflective. It reminded me of Barabara Pym perhaps, thinking of Excellent Women, or Quartet in Autumn. I'm glad I read it; one to revisit in time.
Music
More Cellos!
You may have noticed I'm keen on cellos, possibly because I started learning when I was nearly 11 years old, and kept going all the way through university. Then... it's hard to keep going without other people - an orchestra, or fellow string players.
I did start playing in church for a while, until a professional violinist and two - TWO - professional cellists joined! I felt rather outclassed and stuck to piano and foot-less organ (I never learned to get my feet coordinated with my hands).
Zoom in! Suddenly it becomes clear that the apple tree, just bare sticks in March, is now, just three months later, laden with little apples. How miraculous is that?
Here are the first fruits of my veg patch. I am congratulating myself for not pulling them up before today, and there are still plenty left still growing in the pot. 'Bless these radishes to my use and myself to thy service', the grace at school sort of went. I pondered about lighting a fire and offering them up as a sacrifice, but then, what if the smoke went down instead of up? So I ate some instead and put the rest in the fridge for later. Besides, these days, we are told not to waste food.
I didn't post yesterday because... all sorts of reasons, but the main one was I was sitting comfortably...
Watching 'Antiques Roadshow' on television. Besides, I hadn't found any music yet and I still hadn't worked out what I wanted to write.
Warning; I'm about to get spiritual and philosophical, all from my personal and rigorously un-academic point of view. Skip on to Music if you can't bear the idea...
'Centuries of war and discord, and all our prayers seem to go unanswered'
I reckon God is in the middle of it all; experiencing it all alongside us. I think he really is all-out for peace, and every so often, for some years, decades, maybe even centuries, peace does break out - just until the next megalomaniac, greedy, power-hungry, big-time bully, somehow lines up enough fellow-thinkers with enough vested interests, gullibility, cold calculating greed, total immorality, capacity for self-deception and complete indifference to the feelings and needs and humanity of their fellows on this planet.
I can't believe their actions are guided by the God of truth and love and shalom. Maybe they are following a different understanding of god.
I suppose hey may be driven by all kinds of ideologies, including creating the ideal and racially pure nation or espousing their understanding of the one true religion or some political idea. Whatever, they have chosen a path of violence, of the equivalent of the playground excuse
'but I was right',
'I wanted it and they wouldn't let me have it',
'I was here first',
'they hit me first', or even,
'I hit them back first'.
I've heard all of those when I was on playground duty or working in a playgroup.
And such people choose the path of violence, destruction and war, and try and clothe it in some kind of justification which does not take much examination to show it up for the evil it really is.
Well, I'm the first to agree that this is a pretty simplistic view. But if we have God in our lives, we can call upon him, ask him to direct our efforts into doing what we can to overcome this. We can talk about our views, rather than being shy, so that we become more visible. We can donate time, money, prayer, and effort to worthy causes which work towards the well-being of our fellow humanity.
I've found that for me, prayer is a massive help in working through my thoughts, and finding hope in despair, and giving me ideas on how I can do something slightly useful from my comfortable home in a relatively peaceful and stable country. I do believe, as I said, God is active in the middle of this chaos, encouraging people in the direction of peace and reconciliation.
We can do what we can.
Music
I have at last worked out that the modern composer John Tavener doesn't have an 'r' in middle of his name, and the early composer John Taverner does have an 'r'.
This is The Lamb by William Blake, music by John Tavener, sung by Voces8
Words below
William Blake
Little lamb, who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee,
Gave thee life, and bid thee feed
By the stream and o’er the mead;
Gave thee clothing of delight,
Softest clothing, woolly, bright;
Gave thee such a tender voice,
Making all the vales rejoice?
Little lamb, who made thee?
Does thou know who made thee?
Little lamb, I’ll tell thee;
Little lamb, I’ll tell thee:
He is callèd by thy name,
For He calls Himself a Lamb.
He is meek, and He is mild,
He became a little child.
I a child, and thou a lamb,
We are callèd by His name.
Little lamb, God bless thee!
Little lamb, God bless thee!
Yesterday in the National Trust gift shop I saw these 'charming little plant-pot-toppers, destined to become your little friends in the garden'.
Today I wandered into my veg patch and saw what had happened to my peas...
They have been eaten and slimed! I have laid a carpet of slug wool pellets (not poison pellets which are now illegal) over the whole pot, and we shall have to go slugging this evening. I read that you can put down slices of cucumber to lure the slugs and snails away from your plants. I might try this, and then we can hurl them, cucumber and all, over the back fence into the rough ground. The article said you should take them at least 50 feet away, so maybe we'll carry them down to the stream.
And I don't think I'm in the market for welcoming any snails, resin or real, in my garden!
Although... this odd little singing game was a huge favourite in the infant classes when I was still teaching; there's something entirely magical how halfway through when you are all in a big circle you are all facing outwards... and you repeat the game and end up facing inwards again. Most mysterious.
Having done something about my peas in the morning, I was slumped on the settee. After a wasted hour doing zip, zilch and absolutely nothing at all, I had a sharp word to say to say to myself. Did I really want to go to bed having done none of the petty little things that were hanging over me? Or how about stirring myself and dealing with them NOW?
That seemed to work, and I wrote the get well card, answered some emails, checked my bank account and packed up some trousers to go back to the shop...
...Oh yes, now, about those trousers, well, how the mighty are toppled from their gloating. My current trousers are definitely too loose now (hurrah!) so I ordered a couple of pairs in lovely colours from my trusty favourite shop. Alas and alack... I'm definitely between sizes, not a whole size smaller as I'd thought.
BB has walked the card and the parcel round to the post office and I've made biscuits to cheer myself up.
Music
What could be better than Fauré 'Apres un rêve' on the cello? Six cellos, of course! I love the way they share the melody.
We had arranged to meet someone at Nymans Gardens this morning. Perfect weather for the meeting, sitting outside in the café area before it got too busy. Afterwards we wandered around...
I do love a hidden window
Taking time to admire the view; I realised it had been such a long time since I last stopped and looked out upon a distant scene. I've spent so long indoors or in our garden over the past couple of months.
Ah, but then... we were at the bottom of the garden, and the way out was at the top! We carry two oxygen cylinders when we go out. One lasts me just about and hour at a flow rate of 7 l/m. I can feel the oxygen whooshing up my nose as a strong cold draught, which is one of the reasons I'm not keen on walking any distance in cold weather! But to get up the hill, I need a flow rate of 9 l/m, and plenty of stops along the way!
Muttering 'I think I can, I think I can'
I made it all the way up to the top! Ta-dah!
If you zoom into the picture you will just be able to make out a group of people, only their heads showing, on the lower path.
We passed two women and a man having their way down the path. The man (no lightweight, I should add!) was in the wheelchair, and the women were desperately hanging onto the handles to prevent the wheelchair careering down to the bottom. The moral of the story is choose a wheelchair with brake on the handles, not just the wheels... they were more or less past the steepest bit of the path, and the rest of the garden would be much easier for them.
This was my first long walk this year, and I was delighted to find that I had reached my daily target of 2000+ steps in the two hours we were at Nymans. Normally I call it an 'activity counter' rather than a step counter, as chopping vegetables, winding wool and playing the piano can all add several hundred steps without me moving my feet!
Poor BB struggles to stay with me; I go so slowly that I'm nearly in danger of falling over; it's twice as hard for him with his long legs.
Peace
I was thinking about this morning, how beautiful it was there, while watching the news with pictures of somewhere in Gaza. Everything had been destroyed in the latest attack; the reporter commentedthat it was difficult to even see which part of the city had been hit. Like pictures of parts of the Ukraine, Lebanon, Syria, and going back through the decades to Southampton, Coventry, Dresden, the battlefields in Belgium and France in the First World War. 'We pray, but our prayers don't seem to be answered' was a comment yesterday.
I'm still working out what I think... I don't want to twist my beliefs into a pretzel to make them fit a simple answer, but I suspect that the 'answer' is both simple and complex at the same time. In fact I don't think my thoughts constitute 'an answer' so much as a response to a centuries old c9nundrum.
I'm grateful for the comment to make me think...
Music
Still thinking about peace, if music can be a prayer, then this is my prayer.
(It's 'le Jardin Faerique' from the Mother Goose suite by Ravel. Please don't imagine I would like to suggest that God is some magical, fantastical creation. It's the music, not the title, that carries my prayer. Indeed, I have no idea of how I would begin to cope with this illness, and everything else, without faith in God to carry me through. )
I find having a bath quite tiring these days, and I think the days of relaxing wallows in a tub of hot water maybe nearing their end. Now I keep thinking about all the walk-in showers and wet rooms I have used in hotels and holiday houses... but I'd miss the bath...
Then BB cut my hair! The first time we did this (it feels like a joint effort!) we were both rather nervous, but it was okay. Fine, even. This must be the third or fourth time now. We get my wet hair combed smoothly back from my face and he cuts a straight line (he's got a good eye) across between my shoulder blades.
I appear to have drawn the 'slim version' of me... positive thinking...
My hair is not exactly 'styled', but I'm very happy with the results. My mother, who was very fussy about her appearance and extremely fussy about haircuts, would be horrified!
Anyway, that, and a long friendly chatty zoom piano lesson took up the whole morning.
Music
Praying for peace has been on my mind today, so this choice was inevitable.
Priez pour paix
The music is by Poulenc, the words by Charles, duc d'Orsay, written around 1407.
The singers are Cantabile, otherwise known as The London Quartet. I was given their CD 'Lullabies and Goodnights' about 15 years ago by a 'piano family'; I accompanied the girls through their violin and cello exams, and coached them through their aural tests. That CD has helped me through many an anxious night since then.
I have since bought two more of their CDs, one of Christmas carols and this one, Songs of Love and War, which is where this beautiful prayer for peace comes from.
