Notes from Nottingham

My life has been a bit full lately. Not necessarily busy, just full. There is still uncertainty over my future at work - and at home there has been plenty going on.

However Ive managed to keep up with reading my favourite blogs, but not left many comments. Its been lovely to see how the other northern hemisphere bloggers have been enjoying the arrival of spring, especially Kerri and Cate, and to see how Tabor is handling retirement. Two topics that are of consuming interest to me right now.

I have escaped to Nottingham to spend a week with the Dalai Lama - me and several thousand others! I enjoyed his visit to Glasgow so much a few years ago, and am here with some of the same group of friends.

I am treating it as a holiday, not a retreat - so am staying in a nice hotel with wifi, a lovely ensuite bathroom, fridge etc etc. The room is a bit small but I got a very good deal by not having meals, by booking incredibly early, but they only allocate rooms on arrival - why should they give me the biggest one? We walked around the town centre in the rain yesterday to get our bearings and I bought a few things to make the room seem like home (flowers, fruit, a storage jar for my Earl Grey tea bags and some muesli for breakfast +bowl and cutlery!)

This spring seems to be quite the loveliest I remember for a long time - or is it just me? It was my birthday last weekend and I feel I have the best time of year to be born. Everything is so green and full of blossom, the air is (mostly) warm but the mornings can be crisp. Things are coming into flower in my garden and the hedgerows so fast I cant keep up with the new arrivals.

I bought a new bike and Youngest Daughter and I go whizzing about the lanes and trackways around the village and down the valley. I am so grateful for aluminium frames, modern technology and gears, flexible forks and gel filled saddles. But the countryside goes by so fast when you have only been used to walking around it, and viewing it lazily at close quarters. But I am sure I will get used to it. Its very exhilerating and much easier than my old Witch of the West Raleigh with a basket on the handlebars, that I could hardly lift.



I miss the green countryside and my garden already - and its only the second day - I will post some photos of it when I get a moment. But I have His Holiness cheerful but deep wisdom to soak up. Looking forward to it - and the retail therapy of a huge area of stalls selling all sorts of goodies like books, cards, Buddhas, bags, clothes - mostly from Tibet, India and all places East. And they say that craving is one of the hindrances to spiritual growth.... yeah but hopefully I shall receive plenty from HH's talks and teachings so maybe they will cancel each other out!

“the whitest, frothiest, blossomest blossom "

When he was dying with pancreatic cancer, playwright Dennis Potter was interviewed on TV by Melvin Bragg. An edited version is still around .

Every time I see my own blossom in the garden I remember watching it, and seeing him drink liquid morphine to combat the pain, but still giving one of the most memorable reasons for me to live in the present moment, right now. Not to wait till I am dying. I realised from what he said and how he said it, that he KNEW the truth. The “nowness of everything”.

I discover also what you always know to be true, but you never know it till you know it, if you follow.

We all, we're the one animal that knows that we're going to die, and yet we carry on paying our mortgages, doing our jobs, moving about, behaving as though there's eternity in a sense. And we forget or tend to forget that life can only be defined in the present tense; it is is, and it is now only.

I mean, as much as we would like to call back yesterday and indeed yearn to, and ache to sometimes, we can't. It's in us, but we can't actually; it's not there in front of us.

However predictable tomorrow is, and unfortunately for most people, most of the time, it's too predictable, they're locked into whatever situation they're locked into ... Even so, no matter how predictable it is, there's the element of the unpredictable, of the you don't know.

The only thing you know for sure is the present tense, and that nowness becomes so vivid that, almost in a perverse sort of way, I'm almost serene. You know, I can celebrate life.

Below my window in Ross, when I'm working in Ross, for example, there at this season, the blossom is out in full now, there in the west early. It's a plum tree, it looks like apple blossom but it's white, and looking at it, instead of saying "Oh that's nice blossom" ... last week looking at it through the window when I'm writing, I see it is the whitest, frothiest, blossomest blossom that there ever could be, and I can see it. Things are both more trivial than they ever were, and more important than they ever were, and the difference between the trivial and the important doesn't seem to matter.

But the nowness of everything is absolutely wondrous, and if people could see that, you know. There's no way of telling you; you have to experience it, but the glory of it, if you like, the comfort of it, the reassurance ... not that I'm interested in reassuring people - bugger that. The fact is, if you see the present tense, boy do you see it! And boy can you celebrate it.

He KNEW. How can I forget so often?

Gifts from the gods or passing planes

Its that time of year, time for a crocus walk in aid of Breakthrough Breast Cancer. Last year's walk with The Ladies is chronicled in Wonderful Walks and the one in 2006 was Time For Tea.
I missed the company of the LLF this year, but it didnt coincide with one of her visits from London.


We set off from the car park that has the best view of the Cerne Abbas Giant, but we were headed away from him towards the high walk around the remote valley of Up Cerne. Yes, its upstream from Cerne Abbas, and Nether Cerne is downstream. Truly. Honestly.


We were rewarded with hidden views of bluebells in the small woods. And startled deer, quietly grazing in this still and secluded spot. We could see other small bands across the valley on the other slopes, but to see them up close is a treat indeed. No time for a photograph, I just drank in the scene with my inboard camera! Also a huge hare in the middle of a field.

We commented that it must be one of the quietest places in Dorset. All we could hear were skylarks - and the wind. Despite the well used track, we actually lost our way. But it didnt matter. We also found some strange crystalline looking objects at the edge of a field, that had scorched grass all around them. Quite large. After much discussion, we reckoned it was frozen loo stuff, evacuated from a passing jet, miles up. Couldnt be anything else really. Unless you have other ideas?

As we got back to the cars, there was a gentle sprinkling of rain - a sort of heavenly blessing on our charitable venture. But later found that in Piddlehinton (yes the real name of the village of most of the Ladies) it had been lashing it down. I drove on down the valley to Charminster for Sunday evening bell ringing to find thunder crashing all around! Blessed indeed by good weather from the gods.

There is nothing quite like a cup of tea in a real Dorset village tea room. That's me with last year's T-shirt. I had a cream tea, the first of the year! Hurrah for spring!

Daffodils

Wordsworth may have seen a "host of golden daffodils" in the wild, but now they come in so many different varieties. Each autumn I try to buy a few more bulbs that will spread the flowering season and add delight - small, large, multi-headed, wonderful colours. Anything but just golden. I had a nearly pink trumpeted one, but it failed to arrive on the earth's surface this year.

Here is a gallery, taken all on one morning - I havent got a clue of any of their names!

"Im dreaming of a White...........Easter??!!

A family Easter weekend promised a traditional picnic in Kew Gardens....... but it snowed! So we had enjoyable time spent indoors. Apparently in England it is statistically more common to have snow at Easter than Christmas!

I offer you a poem by Wendy Cope (whom I had the honour of meeting many years ago)

English Weather

January's grey and slushy,
February's chill and drear,
March is wild and wet and windy,
April seldom brings much cheer.
In May, a day or two of sunshine,
Three or four in June, perhaps.
July is usually filthy,
August skies are open taps.
In September things start dying,
Then comes cold October mist.
November we make plans to spend
The best part of December pissed.

("pissed" is vulgar English slang for very drunk)

Wet willow weekend

This is the path through the little wood by the river, which is just across the road from my house. The land is owned by the village, and a couple of times a year there is a working party of volunteers to manage the woodland and tidy up the shrubs etc.

Everyone turns up - whatever the weather - armed with garden tools and enthusiasm. Our work is co-ordinated by someone with good knowledge of local native plants and trees. I was given the task of pruning the willows. Here is one that I am half way through pruning. I am taking off last years growth, so that the new shoots will grow that wonderful golden colour.

Here is a photo of the double row that was planted about eight years ago, and has a "haircut" each spring. The splash of colour can be seen from right over the other side of the valley.

You can see how close the the river the willows are, and a couple of lovely sturdy rustic seats that are so handy for sitting and contemplating the river. In the background is the white fenced bridge that takes the lane over to the southern quieter part of the village, called Southover!

This was my view where I was standing pruning, looking upstream away from the white bridge.

Some of the team having fun with a bonfire of the pruned wood from everyone's efforts. Just what you need on a wet and grey morning. There was a welcome break for coffee and biscuits later too.

Nearly finished!

Looking across the valley. It really was a blissful morning for someone who loves pruning. The gentle sound of the river was a perfect accompaniment. It was so satisfying. Now I shall look with even more pleasure at the striking colour of the willows all through next winter.

A rather stunning blossom tree at the edge of the wood - and I dont know which one. But very natural and graceful and not at all showy.

Love at first sight

I was in Southampton, a large town and Shopping Heaven. I was walking back to the train station after taking my employer to an Employment Tribunal (over not being allowed into the local government pension scheme when I was a part time worker - I failed, but thats another story).

The trouble was that I did not actually want nay even desire any clothes! What a waste. All those shops and no Shopping Need.

However my eyes lead me into a shoe shop and the rest of me followed. I was in love.

Utter perfection!

Iwas way out of the demographic and I must have brought the average age down quite a bit. The customers and the staff were all so young! The shoe that reeled me in was a total delight to my elderly eyes. I tried to keep cool, and asked to try them on, but I knew I was going to buy them just to feast my eyes on even if they didnt fit!

Its said of the brand RocketDog (and I quote the website of the shop where I was gazing in wonderment):-

Los Angeles based Rocket Dog have quite simply been something of a phenomenon in the footwear market. Aimed at the female who has a mind of her own and can be found shunning the polished look of the previous generation. Famed for their wacky, cute, weird, wonderful, exciting, original.....you know what? You will just love them, end of story!

Ugh! Nearly puts me off. But at least the company was named after a real dog, owned by one of the founders.

I remember that Tanya and others wrote posts a while back about their favourite shoes, so here is mine. The only other trainers I have owned were old Nikes bought by the Youngest Daughter but too large for her.

How about a back view :-
And a side view:-

Lastly, please enjoy some detail showing the contrast of dark black suede, pink and red blossom print textile, quirky calligraphy and joyous exuberance.

*sigh* it must be love......aahhh