Autumn Cottage Diarist

Come on in - the Garden's Lovely!

Welcome to the beautiful gardens of Naomi House Children's Hospice,
where I am privileged to work once a week, assisting the Sibling Support
officer.  This time of the year really is the loveliest in any garden,
but these gardens are springing to life in a particularly exuberant way.

The height of the raised beds mean that their contents can be seen, smelled and enjoyed by even the most physically challenged young visitors. Also notice the semicircle of sun awnings - each bedroom looks out upon this delightful view, and when the weather is good enough, beds can be rolled out onto the terrace, straight into the arms of Mother Nature.

The water garden, with its rippling, sprinkling sounds adds yet another sensory stimulus for any resident young person with a life limiting condition to enjoy.
Today, all the senses were particularly well satisfied.

At present I am giving myself an intensive training course in specifically working with bereaved families by watching numerous training videos, of which the Hospice holds an excellent collection. I will then be reviewing the videos and possibly making  PowerPoint presentations of their topics that can then be presented at talks and to interested parties.

I'm also starting to prepare some craft ideas to carry out with younger children,
aged between 7 and 12, who will be attending a special "Remembering Day"
for their deceased siblings in June. Anyone with any ideas or experience in this field, please contact me - your expertise would be very gratefully received!

Behold the Brave of Heart

Sometimes, something will happen which is just so shocking that it jolts me out of my normal aversion to the daily flow of news stories. That happened this week, with the story of a 26 year old mother, Abigail
Whichells, who (after her toddler son was threatened with a knife at his own throat), was attacked and stabbed in the neck by an assailant as she pushed her two year old home from nursery school.

At one moment, she had the world before her, with the delights of bringing up her child in the bosom of what looks to be an extraordinary family. In a flash, she has been struck down and is now paralysed from the neck downwards. Yet every report of this tragic tale also recounts how her whole family have drawn together and how, incredibly, she is, for the moment, "in good spirits". I don't often pray - and when I do I am not sure to whom or what it is I am praying, but for this woman, any prayers that are available cannot possibly be wasted, if only as support and love from one human to another.

Picture taken from BBC News where you can read a fuller version of this
story. Please keep Abigail in your thoughts.

Meandering through the Countryside

Just a meander through a fairly ordinary day for me - actually last Thursday, but it could be any of my days recently. In this beautiful part of England, even a fairly mundane day encompasses travel through some lovely towns and countryside.

Firstly to North Waltham, just outside Basingstoke - this is the ancient parish church there, with the cherry trees all in blossom.

Then back to Autumn Cottage, once more via Kingsclere and along the road running parallel to Watership Down. The fields are full of sheep with their lambs now - these all grazing on Andrew Lloyd Webber's land. He lives here in Sydmonton and owns virtually all the land around as far as the eye can see.

I am always especially charmed by this little cottage, nestling at the edge of the woods. For some reason, I expect Hansel & Gretel to live nearby - though the cottage itself has far too much charm to ever contain anything like a wicked witch!

And finally, into Newbury in the afternoon. I park my car alongside the canal before I spend the afternoon working for the Youth Counselling agency in the Market Square, but even somewhere as mundane as a car park is sited alongside the lovely waterside of the Kennet and Avon canal, where this multitude of swans was being fed when I left once more for home. Small pleasures but I am fortunate indeed to be able to enjoy places like this every day.

The Charm of Domestic Detail

I made a most delightful find today, while wandering through the
Antiques Arcade in Hungerford and browsing through the bookshelves of my
favourite second hand book dealer and friend, Martin Smith. For the
princely sum of four UK pounds, I discovered a book about a most
accomplished English female artist of the early 19th century, Mary Ellen Best,
who lived from 1809 to 1891.

She is interesting not only because of the skill of her artistry, but also because she so accurately observed the day to day domestic happenings of female lives - cooking, washing,
visiting market. As a result, she has captured images of scenes that would mostly go  unnoticed - the minutae of domestic life, rather than the grand occasions.

She also travelled extensively, before marrying and settling in Germany, where she continued to paint, including her own children as her charming subjects.

Since I have been teaching a journal writing class today and we have already begun to discuss illustrated journals, I think this will be a fine addition to my reference library, as well as an engrossing personal read.

("The World of Mary Ellen Best"
by Caroline Davidson, published by Chatto & Windus at the Hogarth Press,
1985)

A Brief Peep In

Just a little visit to Autumn Cottage today, as I have been running
around like a silly person and have not slowed down to smell the roses
for a few days.

These blue bottles are favourites of mine - that deep
cobalt colour always looks so striking, I think. Most of these pieces
are, like most of the other things in this house, only items bought for
pennies - the wine bottle shaped bottles are actually Harvey's Bristol
cream sherry bottles, made in the very traditional Bristol Blue glass that has been made in Bristol since the 16th century.

These bottles would have just been thrown away, but I made sure that they were rescued and washed - now look what a beautiful decorative feature they make - and they cost me nothing (other than the price of the rather nice sherry that was initially inside!).
Just outside the kitchen door, the herb garden is springing into life again - this terracotta jug s surrounded by lemon balm, fennel and different sorts of mints (all grown in pots to stop their rampaging through the bed). Ah, to be able to step out of the kitchen door and pluck a handful of fresh herbs again to add to the salads and the soups in abundance - now that is what I call luxury.

Off to prepare for a Journal writing class here tomorrow - I get very excited about that, as it is always so wonderful to see the realisation of how powerful the journal and a pen can be dawning on people's faces.

Enjoy looking at the lace edged primulas that popped up on the edge of the pond a week or so ago. Looking battered already by some heavy rain - but what a delight to find them there at all - I had completely forgotten I had planted them out when they had died back in a pot last year!

The Heart is Heavy, but Also it is Rich

So much sadness has been with me today. I opened the weekly Newbury newspaper to discover that a local doctor, the same age as myself, and with whose wife I have been good friends over many years, had both died and been buried before I knew anything about it. I saw his photograph on the front of the paper and thought that perhaps he had been given some sort of award, some sort of recognition - until I read the words "Popular family GP (General practitioner) Remembered". I was devastated.

He attended my mother several times when she
was ill - always with loving kindness, and I was told by the nurses at the little cottage hospital where she died that he had, in fact, quietly visited her in the mortuary there, before she was taken to the funeral home, to say a little prayer with her, to say Goodbye. A very personal farewell, that I have never forgotten.

And now, this afternoon, I learn that Julia Darling, a fine, humane poet
and authoress, who was to have been present at the conference I attended
last week, but was unable to be there because of advanced breast cancer,
finally died yesterday afternoon, just 24 hours before the launch of her
latest project, which she had said on her own site she so wanted to
attend.

But along with the awful, untimely sadness of these departures,
the richness of the memories comes, the remembering of kindness done in
privacy, with nobody watching, just because love was in someone's heart.
The poems that have been created that will stay long after Julia
Darling's death, to inspire others, to give others courage - another
legacy of love that does not die with the body. Once again, the
affirmation that though the flesh dies, love, in the end, goes on.

Wherever you are, Neil and Julia, you made my world a richer place while you were here. Fly free now. Blessed Be.

(Photograph of Neil from the Newbury Weekly News)

The Power and the Glory - of Therapeutic Writing

Wonderful things happened today in this room. This is where I taught a
workshop session of Kathleen Adam's Journal to the Self with a group of
people who have been designated "carers", but are actually fully human
beings looking to find themselves again for a couple of hours a week.

I cannot describe what happened there better than the words Kay herself
uses - she calls the sort of journal writing that we did there today
Holy Work, and indeed I think it is. It certainly brought me closer to
the Spirit, the Divine Thread which I believe runs through us and
between us all, more than any other experience I know.

I can't help but reiterate how privileged I am to be allowed into people's lives like
this - the things they share, and the things that they discover about
themselves are just so moving to behold. And all for the price of a pen
and paper.

Visiting Alfred

To Wantage yesterday, in search of a bookcase at Haynes of Challow, the wonderful second hand furniture barn where a bargain is always just a
hand reach away!

I did find a bookcase (which is now already full) - but also an overstuffed sofa, which is practically the twin of the one I already own - at one sixth of the price. It was duly paid for and we were told that it would be delivered today - so did the usual "staying in all day and waiting" thing, only to be phoned at 2.30 this afternoon to be told that the delivery team do not even work on a Monday. Grrrr.More waiting in tomorrow.

After the visit to the warehouse, we lunched at the 16th century Bear Hotel in the Market Square, named after the bear baiting which used to take place on the cobbles outside. The Bear still has the original coaching inn courtyard at the back, though a part of it has now been covered over to give all round sitting out area, and the internal layout of the public bars have been "renovated" recently, denuding it of a good bit of its old character, which was run down but individual.

Out of the Bear and a passing nod at the statue of King
Alfred, born in 849 in Wantage, the first, and sometimes claimed to be
the greatest King that England ever had.

He was certainly adept at
vanquishing Vikings, but in addition was a fine administrator and
believer in education. Perhaps we could do with a few more like him around nowadays - to listen to the politicians and their self aggrandisment in the present Election fever, one would think they were all perfection. Hmm - I wonder what effect the return of some pillaging Vikings would have upon their inflated egos?

Camouflage

Spot the two little characters at the bottom of the picture? Two little Red Legged Partridge that decided to take a stroll through the garden this morning (past the scaffolding that the builders STILL have not taken away!)

They are charming little creatures, but I think you would agree that it takes almost superhuman eyesight to spot them if they are not moving. I spotted them while I was - ahem -sitting - ahem - in the bathroom, so I think I did well to get any photograph at all of them (fast, if not steady, work with the camera - well done, that woman!).

If you REALLY want to see quality wildlife photographs, visit my friend Paula's blog - the colours and the images just leap off the screen. Sigh. Utterly beautiful.

I think I need a new camera. Since I'm off to Portugal soon, I even have a good excuse!

Back Again! Conference Report

Well, here I am again... Three days home from the writing conference, and
the time just seems to have flown. I've launched straight back into what
seems to be my regular lifestyle nowadays - seeing clients and attending
supervision sessions (I am in my last few months of initial training to become a counsellor/psychotherapist), and spending today "mucking out"
both my son's rooms while they are away.

The youngest is presently river
and sea canoeing in North Wales, in preparation for a three week
adventure to Canada in the summer, to complete his expedition component
of the Duke of Edinburgh's Award scheme (Gold standard) - while the
older is studying vocals, guitar and saxophone at college.

I need to
settle down for a day just to gather my thoughts on the Lapidus
Conference that I attended over the past weekend. So much to take in -
so little time! It's just wonderful to spend time with other people who
are as enthusiastic as I am about books, writing and creative journal
keeping.

Here's just a little of the breadth of topics that were
presented....

On Friday evening, the author Ruth Padel read from her own
work, especially from her forthcoming book "Tigers in Red Weather" - the
story of her quest to track tigers and discover something of the
conservation efforts being made to protect them in different countries.

Keynote presentations on Saturday morning were given by poet Gwyneth
Lewis and professor Andrew Sparks, who spoke about life story telling by
young sportsmen who had experienced spinal cord injuries. It was
fascinating to hear how these men, who had previously defined themselves
almost totally in terms of their body, went on to redefine themselves
after their accidents. "The Restorative narratives" came from men who
insisted that they would "conquer" their injuries, get out of their
wheelchairs and walk again.

Those with Chaotic narratives were extremely
negative, feeling that their lives were finished, over, that nothing was
worthwhile any more. The third group, the "Questers" seemed most
hopeful, seeing their injuries optimistically, feeling that they had
been given a chance to see their lives though new perspectives, not
aiming to "get their old lives back" but looking forward to a changed
way of life that may offer it's own rewards in the form of, for
instance,  improved, rediscovered relationships.

Then the workshops
commenced. A very moving workshop on Saturday morning, called "Writing
into difference", Run by poet and Lapidus chairperson Miriam Halahmy.
Miriam is Jewish and very active in exploring and bridging difference
between communities - she has been instrumental in instigating dialogues between those of the Jewish and Islamic faiths, both through her own synagogue and through other organisations. Our writing time was used to explore our own
feelings about difference and how we may move towards understanding of
"the Other" - in ourselves as well as in other people.

Miriam is taking the
risk of trying to learn about hard, painful things not by running away
from them but by listening and hearing - and this is the way of peace.
Listening to her was deeply heartening in her description of how many cross
cultural and cross religious communications were active in small ways
all over the world. Her efforts and those like her give me hope.

In the
afternoon, two more workshops. Firstly one with Mari Alschuler, (see her in red and blue with me in the photograph) a Board
member of NAPT and a courageous lecturer about her experiences with
gastric bypass. Called "Escaping from the Fat Cocoon" The workshop
explored, by journal dialogues with body parts, how we view our own
bodies. Mari also demonstrated how she has used visual journals in her
own journey with her body. I was so ignorant about this sort of surgery,
though of course I had an opinion about it - it was fascinating to get
the facts, Ma'am - only the facts, after which, unsurprisingly, I had
only admiration for someone brave enough to make that journey - it is by
no means an easy option.

A second workshop with Reineke Lengelle, from
Canada, entitled "What the Temple has to teach", she spoke about
listening to what our bodies tell us - what wisdom it can impart if only we
are able to hear. In our writing in this session we explored an event of
significance to each of us by means of "comments" from the voices of
multiple sub personalities that we might posses - the Child, the Censor,
the Artist, the Status conscious Snob (!), the Reporter, the
Scientist......it was fascinating to look at a topic from so many
different angles.

Saturday evening saw one of the highlights of the
weekend, the open microphone session in the bar (the old Tithe Barn), at
which many of the attendees performed their own works. Perhaps I will be
courageous enough to do that one year!

And then to the final keynote
speeches on Sunday morning. Kim Etherington, a reader at the University
of Bristol, gave a most interesting talk about the effect that telling
their story had had on survivors of childhood trauma - contributors to a
book she had written (and had for sale on the book table. Oh, that table
cost me a lot of money over the weekend!).

The next speaker was to have
been poet and authoress Julia Darling, but very sadly she was unable to
attend sue to serious illness. Julia is suffering from advanced breast
cancer, and does in fact keep her own Blog in which she very honestly
reports the progress of her disease. In her latest entry, of 5th April,
she comments on feelings that she is nearing the end of her life. Very
moving writing and deeply saddening that she should have been speaking
to us when she was in actuality taking to her bed, possibly for the last
time.

The last presentation of the afternoon included Dave Reeves, a
poet and collector of reminiscences - someone else who was absolutely
fascinating, and deeply in love with his subject. That was the
overriding sense of this conference - enthusiasm and passion. Some of it
was passion for topics that did not engage me, but it was passion
nevertheless, and there is something totally infectious about spending
time with people like that.

Where do I sign up for next year?