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The phone finally rang
Richard was working in Lulworth Cove this morning and asked if I'd like to go with him. I hesitated. I haven't fancied going out much recently and I slept very badly last night. But the weather forcast was good and I figured I could walk along the cliff top.
I'm glad I went. It was beautiful morning. We set up the Wildlife Trust stand with a group of other charities and organisations campaigning for the marine enviroment. I was talking to a young man on the NERC (National Environment Research Council) when the phone call finally came. Bless him for being sensitive and understanding (I'd mentioned that it might happen). He didn't drown me in unwanted sympathy, just quietly went and bought me a packet of much needed tissues.
I had a good cry, then I went for a walk. The sun was sparkling on the sea as though it had been sprinkled with fairy lights. I've rarely seen it more beautiful. I sat for a long time, just looking at the sea and the flowers and butterflies. This is a good place to associate with Rosalie's memory.
http://www.lulworthcovebandb.co.uk/bandbpics/Lulworth-cove-aerial-2.jpg
Richard was wonderful as always. When you've been married this long, you know what's needed. He gave me a steady shoulder to cry on and told me that some water voles had been sighted in the local duck pond.
I went in search of water voles and had a happy half hour watching small rodents poking their heads out of the reeds and swimming across the water. They were actually young rats rather than water voles (longer nose, more visible ears and longer tails) but what the heck, I enjoyed watching them anyway.
I wandered around the village and the coastline. For a miracle, the scone I bought was home-made and crusty, the postcards were cheap and while walking round a gift shop I found a scarf that reminded me of a skirt Rosalie once owned, so I bought that and used it to keep my shoulders from burning in the sun.
She'll be missed. She leaves behind her husband, two little boys, her twin, two other sisters, a brother and both her parents.
I shall go to Lulworth again - it will remind me of her in good ways.
I think I will be able to sleep tonight.
If you have happy memories of your own, this is a good time to share them.
I'm glad I went. It was beautiful morning. We set up the Wildlife Trust stand with a group of other charities and organisations campaigning for the marine enviroment. I was talking to a young man on the NERC (National Environment Research Council) when the phone call finally came. Bless him for being sensitive and understanding (I'd mentioned that it might happen). He didn't drown me in unwanted sympathy, just quietly went and bought me a packet of much needed tissues.
I had a good cry, then I went for a walk. The sun was sparkling on the sea as though it had been sprinkled with fairy lights. I've rarely seen it more beautiful. I sat for a long time, just looking at the sea and the flowers and butterflies. This is a good place to associate with Rosalie's memory.
http://www.lulworthcovebandb.co.uk/bandbpics/Lulworth-cove-aerial-2.jpg
Richard was wonderful as always. When you've been married this long, you know what's needed. He gave me a steady shoulder to cry on and told me that some water voles had been sighted in the local duck pond.
I went in search of water voles and had a happy half hour watching small rodents poking their heads out of the reeds and swimming across the water. They were actually young rats rather than water voles (longer nose, more visible ears and longer tails) but what the heck, I enjoyed watching them anyway.
I wandered around the village and the coastline. For a miracle, the scone I bought was home-made and crusty, the postcards were cheap and while walking round a gift shop I found a scarf that reminded me of a skirt Rosalie once owned, so I bought that and used it to keep my shoulders from burning in the sun.
She'll be missed. She leaves behind her husband, two little boys, her twin, two other sisters, a brother and both her parents.
I shall go to Lulworth again - it will remind me of her in good ways.
I think I will be able to sleep tonight.
If you have happy memories of your own, this is a good time to share them.
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*hugs*
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I scanned these happy memories just for you:
Portmeirion, August 2003. (http://photobucket.com/albums/v292/snowgrouse/Portmeirion/) Any water voles will be happy to know that there are cuddling moles in one of the pictures, happy in the sunshine:).
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He died nearly 12 years ago - 15 November 1992. He'd enjoyed my Trek fanfic very much, but disliked/was irritated by the Profs fanfic I was mostly writing in the last two or three years of his life.
A friend with whom I was collaborating on a long Profs story came up to stay with me after he died - her mother had died a few months earlier, and she was very understanding of what I was going through. She arrived late at night the day before the funeral, and after the funeral we bought several bottles of wine and sat and wrote Profs slash and drank wine and talked.
At some point about halfway through one chapter, I turned to her and said "We ought to dedicate this story to Eric - he'd hate it, but we'd never have got on so fast if not for you coming up for his funeral."
She grinned, and said "'To Eric, who cannot protest.'"
I started laughing - it was funny - and then I started crying. I hadn't cried that hard since Eric died - I'd leaked tears solidly for twenty-four hours, and leaked more tears through his funeral, but it was right then that I really lost control.
Eventually I picked myself up again, and we had tea, and more wine, and went on writing.
There's a story about Eric that I've been meaning to share with you. He was out one night in the park, cruising, and met a man, and they were chatting each other up, when over the horizon a policeman appeared. This is not a comforting sight to two men planning to have outdoor sex (though I have to say, here and now, what I always said to Eric: Scotland is not a good place to have outdoor sex, and it's downright proof that men are nutters that I can name three outdoor cruising grounds in Edinburgh alone - which are pretty well populated, I gather, even in wintertime, when any sane person would be having sex indoors in a nice warm bed). Anyway, the cop showed up, and the other man decided to demonstrate guilt by running away, and did. The policeman called Eric over, and Eric, no fool (apart from outdoor sex) went.
He was wearing (I assume) his usual gear for outdoor sex: black leather jacket, black leather boots, and jeans. Everything was still zipped.
Policeman: "What are you doing here?"
Eric: "Just out for a walk."
Policeman: "Do you know what men do in this park at night?"
Eric: *look of utter innocence* "No...?"
Hee...
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Here's an oldish poem of mine. Sort of ironic, too, since I've recently taken to wearing plaits because of the CPAP machine.
There's something joyful about plaits.
Childlike yet straightlaced
A twirl of the head
makes them stick out like a comic helicopter
not serious at all
yet they hide
in curving neatness and solemnity,
all the more surprise
when caught up in exuberance.
Perhaps the contrast
swells the bubble
of laughing joy.
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----
Wild Geese
by Mary Oliver
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting —
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
----
Kat W
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http://snopes.com/glurge/hug.htm
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Photo taken in Isabella Plains, Canberra
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Dad met Mum through drinking at Nana's pub, which was on one of the roads to Sheffield that regularly got blocked by snow. In the sixties the police would often allow Nana's pub to stay open well into the early hours so that travellers had somewhere to shelter until the road was reopened.
One night Dad was in the pub until four or five in the morning. When the policeman came in to tell everyone that the road was now clear enough for them to go home Dad asked the man sitting next to him if he had far to go.
"Not far at all," the man said. "I've just got to walk down the hill a bit."
Somehow that struck me as just typical of the regulars at the pub from some 10-15 years later when Nana used to look after me for Mum.
Nana finally had to retire (from running that pub anyway) at 64, when the brewery finally spotted that she was four years past retirement age. She then moved to the next village (where Mum and Dad live), and worked in two pubs there for another ten years or so.
Gina
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((( hugs)))
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During the power cuts, he was always full of fun things we could do - playing board games - Monopoly and Scrabble, mostly, playing cards, all that kind of thing. And best of all, before we went to bed, sooner if my brother and I could persuade him, he'd read out loud. He always chose the funniest bits out of books - it was then I first became aquainted with the brilliance of those three men in a boat, and Wodehouse's heroes.
So, what for everyone else was a miserable and dull experience, was to us a time which shone with love and laughter.
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Read My Name
For every child that has been born there is a chance to shine,
And everyone can have a dream until the end of time,
So live for every moment as the world keeps turning round,
And lift your hand up to the sky and say it loud and proud,
"I have been here, read my name, read my name!"
For every child that had been born there is a chance in life,
To try it all and be someone with what we have inside,
So don't give up and don't give in, just give it all instead,
And raise your voice above the crowd and let them know you've said
"I have been here, read my name, read my name;
With all I've got I've taken part, I've made a difference
To the world, I have been here, just read my name!"
Endlessly amazing and inventive that we are,
We dive the deepest oceans and we reach out to the stars,
And one day thre will be a man across the universe,
Who'll say "I come from Planet Earth" and these will be his words
"I have been here, read my name, read my name;
With all I've got I've taken part, I've made a difference
To the world, I have been here, just read my name!"
And when the darkness has to fall, and comes the end of days,
Then lift your hands up to the sky and say it once again...
"I have been here and I have taken part,
I've made a difference to the world,
I have been here, just read my name!"
(I have been here... just read my name)
(I've taken part... reach for the stars)
(Across the universe... we come from Planet Earth.)
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But after M. and G. (G. is my husband and not J.'s son) told me about how J. used to rent this cottage for her children every summer, I felt I liked J. an awful lot. A tough lady and a very thoughtful one. G. and I were very pleased at being invited in to what was essentially a "the other family" do.
Also, her grandson took us up the hill and showed us glowworms. Which were incredibly cool.