Stormy seas

There was wind. There was rain. But nothing like the storms in the south-west. The most damage I saw around here was an upturned wheelie bin. The sea, however, is making itself at home in people's living rooms down south. I live in a place which is possibly the furthermost point from the sea. This is convenient today. Usually, I wish we lived closer. We have electricity, unlike some. So we had a lighter encounter with the big storm than others, and for that I am thankful.

I love the sea. Like fires, and mountains, I never tire of watching its moods. The sea is so immense and so powerful, almost elemental in a way. I have sailed on calm seas. Stormy seas and excessively stormy seas. The kind where you curl up in a ball in a corner and start reviewing your life. I have watched dolphins, and porpoises playing in the bow waves. I have seen whales and flying fish. I have swum under water, catching crayfish and watching this other world go about its business. I have jumped over waves. I have paddled. I have swum at mind-boggling speed when someone yelled "shark". I have NO desire to meet a shark in its natural habitat. None at all. I have been on big boats, small boats, huge ships and small ferries. My feet have been in the Atlantic, the Indian, and the Pacific Oceans. They have been in the Mediterranean and North Seas. I have body surfed, and most of all, I have walked along the beaches, and watched. I have sat on rocks and watched. Ever changing. I love the sea.

I just don't want it in my living room.

The sun is shining..

There is a lot to be said about the restorative powers of a couch, a soft blanket, mindless TV, coffee and chocolate. And a weekend. I have combined the lot and had a few very pleasant snoozes thankyouverymuch. And then I had to phone a friend in the middle of the night to find out what happened at the end of CSI New York, as I snoozed through it all, and we all know that we cannot possibly go to sleep not knowing the outcome. And we discussed our dire need of a social life which does not involve snoozing on the couch. Movement. Interaction. Conversation. You know what I mean. Real life.

Today the sun is shining. My mother has felt the need to regale me with details of "the worst storm of winter" which is due to hit us tonight or tomorrow. Just when I was listening to the birds twittering and watching the sun. This, I suspect, is why we need to enjoy every moment as it happens!

Thank you all for your lovely comments over the past week. Your prayers, concern, and words of encouragement have been wonderful, and Jono's family are so grateful too. His funeral is on Friday.

Most of all, the time I have taken for reflection (which sent me to sleep) has shone a spotlight on how I divide my time, and the priority I set for things like work, family, home, friends, me etc etc. I am doing too much "busy" stuff and juggling too fast to try to keep all the balls in the air, and I am missing the point. Or avoiding it. How much of what I am doing right now in my normal daily life is going to count? How much am I missing? What am I ignoring or overlooking? How little am I trusting? What will be remembered?

By nature, I am impulsive. I leap in and do things. Now I am considering a radical shakeup, and huge decisions with many ramifications, and it is something I have no-one here to share the options with, because there is no-one they will affect as much as me. I am probably making no sense at all. But things are afoot in my mind. (That sounds quite ridiculous - just read it again...afoot in ....never mind!) I am not complaining about being alone, by the way. It is just a practical, logical observation. Others can offer different perspectives on my options, but they will never have to live them. See? It makes a difference.

However.

The sun is shining. I am wasting time.

This is the weary "me".....

Hi. I am still here, and I have to admit that I have not had time or energy to read much, but I will be doing so over the next few days. Catching up. Everything is in slow motion at the moment.


The more I think about the death of a teenager, the more impossible, implausible it seems. I think we are all just going through the motions. However, this has sort of prised some cracks in the facade of normality that I, in particular, have worked so hard to establish. Every death is unique and personal to the person who has lost someone. No way on earth can anyone in any scenario know just how that person is feeling. We are all so different. Each relationship is so unique. So many variables.


In a sense it brings the past back. It reopens scarcely healed wounds. I have the ironic honour today, of knowing how to help in the process of things like post mortems and inquests. This is knowledge I so wish I didn't have. In abundance. But God makes it quite clear that all things happen for a reason, and everything we experience is supposed to be in order for us to use it to help others, in similar circumstances.


I don't want any similar circumstances. I don't want to have any knowledge. I don't want to have experienced anything like this. I certainly don't want to have to share it with a man who is like my younger brother, as he prepares to bury his son.


Sigh.


It is not about what I want, is it. It is about what is. And maybe now the time is nearing when I have to stop a while, look back and let myself feel. Unfamiliar territory for me.

This has not been an easy or simple week. Nothing about it has been simple. Work has been a less than joyous experience (I am the master of understatement) and I am tired. But these days will pass, and there is time just to be thankful for what I have right now. Perceptive and caring children. Family. A warm home. Friends.

I will be back.

A light goes out

Jonathon Barber

Jono's body was recovered by divers this morning, just before lunch. His father and stepmother were there at the time, and say that he looked so peaceful and seems to be frozen in time. He was 18 years old. I cannot begin to know what his parents are feeling. I have never lost an 18 year old son. The world is a darker place right now.

So weary

We found nothing.

His hat was found near the water, and the divers were in again as we left.

Nothing. Not yet.

We left in convoy at dawn this morning...all those wonderful people who had given up their day to help search the river banks. I cannot tell you how cold it was. I swear that wind comes straight from Siberia. Icy. It chilled you to the marrow. We all looked like blimps, and I had my scarf wound round my head, under my hood. This is fen-land, and fen-land is flat. And bleak. Very bleak.

The search was so well organised, and there must have been more than 100 volunteers there. We were in teams or 4 or 5 people, and were briefed as a team by the police, all our details taken down, given hi-vis jackets, and told to phone in anything. We had to register when we left and when we returned. TV cameras were there, and reporters, and the family were all so overwhelmed to see so much love and support.

Our team, (I was with David, Louise and Simon) set off to search the west bank of the river for a +/- 4 or 5 mile stretch. We went up one side and then back down the other, swapping with the other team. Wading through reed beds, mud and very steep high banks. We were walking at an angle most of the time, and our feet ache like you would not believe. We looked everywhere. We searched the opposite bank with binoculars, just as the team on the other side did for our side. And the wind was unbelievably strong and cold. Thank heaven for leki poles - they were invaluable. I was on the mud flats for a while, and at one stage, even in walking boots, with a leki pole, I simply could not get up the bank. I had to retrace my steps to a part which was easier. And all the time you are thinking...... if I can't get up, how could he have managed? If I am so cold, how could he still be alive if he had been in the water too? Hyperthermia?

Physically and emotionally exhausting. We so wanted to find something. Anything. The support was amazing. Food stations with hot drinks and hot soup, and sandwiches. There was so much. When I popped into our local store this morning on the way, Michael, who owns it, donated a case of high energy drinks when he heard where we were going. So kind.


So here I am at home, and in need of a long hot bath to ease the aching muscles and bones. But at least they ache. I can feel. I am alive. Jono?? Realistically speaking, it would take a miracle of epic proportions. I have to keep believing in miracles.

I am so glad we went. I am so glad that we tried. I am so sad we didn't find him.

Jono

Today is Mothering Sunday here in the UK. We don't have "Mother's Day" in May. And it started in the best way, with a cup of coffee from my son, together with the info that he had unpacked the dishwasher and restacked it. Perfect present for this mother.

I went to church this morning, and it was a beautiful service, celebrating mothers and each lady in the church was given a small posy of flowers, as is the tradition here. Daffodils. It was lovely. Life was good. When I came home, David told me that both my other children had phoned, and then the phone rang again.

I expected it to be a far off child. It wasn't. It was a friend to tell me that one of our friend's sons was missing.

Every mother's nightmare.

He is not small. He is 18 and in his first year at uni, and a delight. He is one of David's friends, and I have known him since he was a little lad.

He went home for the weekend to celebrate Mothering Sunday, his Mum's birthday, and his girlfriend's birthday. He and his friends were out on Friday night, and walked home from a party at 3am, alongside a river. There was a howling gale at the time. One minute he was there and the next he was gone.

And so the search goes on. It is now nearly 40 hours later. Our Mother's Day. His shoe has been found on the river bank. It is all over the news. Tomorrow, the police have asked for volunteers to go to help search the miles and miles of riverbanks. It is fenland where he lives, and the river is a tidal river. I have spent the evening on the phone rounding up volunteers, after a request from the family, and it is astonishing just how many are prepared to take the day off work.

Astonishing? Not really. If it was my son, I would hope people would be there. Good people live here. Downham Market is nearly 2 hours drive away, but people are going. Old people. Young people. And each and every one is praying for a miracle. The search has been called off for the night. And it will be the longest night for his mother and for his father, and for his brother.

He is not my son, but it feels like he belongs to all of us. And I feel so helpless.

Decorating for Easter

As I said, inside my house, I have decided Spring is here, and so today I did the Easter tree, and a few more bits as well.

This is the wreath on the front door.....

The Easter tree is in the entrance to the house, and it looks great there. Mum found the little china lambs on sale somewhere and they are perfect. I was going to wire the flowers onto the branches, but in the end, blutack did the job just fine. I cut the branches from my apple tree, as I didn't have any of the curly things you are supposed to have, but anything will do really. The babes came round this afternoon and they loved it.

Daffodils in the kitchen. And in the lounge, and everywhere........

I forgot to pack away this tree after Christmas. I bought it on a sale a couple of years ago, and it is a brown twiggy thing, with LED lights which change colour. (Son # 2 has told me that they are fibreoptic. What do I know. Clearly nothing about lights. They go on and I like them. That is fine for me!)It didn't look particularly Christmassy, so I left it up, and today, I hung Easter eggs all over it, and it looks perfect!
And here it is tonight. The lights change colour and it works beautifully as a rather large Easter tree. And it most certainly cheers up the kitchen!
And this is one of a pair of spring candles I have on the coffee table in the lounge.

So I am decorated and the house is bright and cheerful and no matter if Spring is officially a few weeks away, right here it has started! The blossom is out on all the trees in the village, so I feel quite justified.

I had a string of visitors this afternoon, which was lovely. Peter, then Louise, then the babes and their parents arrived, so it was exactly as I love my home....full of laughter, noisy and fun.

Have a great weekend, everyone!

Leaping into Spring.

So today is the Feb 29th. Tomorrow is March. Spring!!! I am not actually sure which day is officially the first day of spring, but I am declaring it mine. So I will put up the Easter tree, and pick some daffodils for the house. You will definitely see the photos.

In Switzerland, I saw bunches of forsythia for sale in the shops, and my friend, Jean told me that her mother always picks some branches, when they look like dead sticks, (and we all know I have a garden full of dead-looking sticks) and they blossom when kept in water. Once the blossom goes, she waits for the leaves to appear too. I can do that. I have forsythia in my garden. Well, if I were really honest here, my neighbour has a bush, but I can reach it. And he is nice. He doesn't mind me lopping bits off. So I will tie a bunch together, like I saw in my favourite place on earth, with yellow raffia, and plonk it in a yellow vase and wait and see what happens. I am all for easy decoration here.

Spring is a beautiful time of the year. Right now, it is more the anticipation than the reality, because it is wet, cold and distinctly revolting. So any decorative assistance indoors is welcome. My home will be spring-like, no matter what is happening outside. If my name was Marge (my sister), I would be changing all the cushion covers, etc etc etc. My name is not Marge.

Leap year makes me wonder where I will be in 4 years time when it comes round again, and what I will be doing. Or where any of us will be, come to that. David should be finished his degree. He will be 23. Diana will be 31. Andrew 34. Ann 33. Me?? 57. It will be 2012, and Britain will be hosting the Olympics. What will I have seen in 4 years? What will I have experienced? Who will I have met? Maybe some of you.....who knows. What will our world look like?

Leaping into Spring...the future. "Leap" implies energy. So does "Spring" come to that. Leaping, or indeed springing anywhere is a little beyond me at the moment. It is, after all, Friday night, and it has been a long week. Crawling toward the couch is more likely.

Speculation re the future must wait. My son has just yelled down the stairs that it is time for Mum's taxi service to rumble into action. Mum's taxi service is one thing that will definitely NOT be in operation in 4 years time. I hope.

The earth (literally) moves

Yes. Well. We had an earthquake. The papers say so and so does every news channel. And so indeed does every other person I know. 5.3 on the Richter scale. This is quite impressive, given that the UK is not on any fault line.

However, here in the Casa de la Rocking Chair, we felt nothing. NOTHING. I slept through the whole thing, and so did my son. Everyone else has stories to relate of thinking that there were burglars under the bed, and such like....me? Nothing. This is a very reassuring thought. I can sleep through an earthquake. One needs to know one is prepared for anything. One can leap into action in emergencies. All I can say is that I am going to have to make arrangements for someone to check whether I am buried under rubble in future quakes. I feel quite cheated in a weird way. Not that I have any unfulfilled desire to be in things like earthquakes, or tsunamis, or volcanic eruptions. My family phoned to make sure the house was still standing, and I have to say that I have not checked anything. I operate on the premise that I would notice if there were unusual things like bricks on the drive, or plaster littering the place. In the absence of such things, I am going to be an ostrich and assume that all is intact.

The failure to wake for earth quaking events could have something to do with levels of exhaustion though. That is something I could write a treatise on with ease. There are differences in tiredness, and healthy exhaustion is one thing, but bone-sapping weariness is another altogether. And lovely though our holiday was, it was not one of those relax and do nothing times. I don't actually do the "relax and do nothing" kind of holiday, now that I come to think about it. I do energetic things. Like walking miles. Climbing Alps. Staying up late to chat to my sister. I need to rethink the word "holiday"! Some adjustment might just be necessary. Maybe.

Words.......

I don't know if you do this too.... I write a lot. Well, let's be clear here, we ALL write a great deal. We would not have blogs if we didn't like writing. But this is different.

Words pour out of me, but I never post what I write when I have this compulsion to put down the thoughts whirling about in my head. I just seem to have a need to see those thoughts in a scenario other than in my head. On the computer screen, or on paper. They dance up and down in front of my eyes when I close them..... they want to get out, and yet the things I write are too real and too raw to share. Not yet, anyway.

When I curl up on the couch, my brain seems to go into overdrive, and often, I just fall asleep, because there is too much activity behind the closed eyes for the rest of me to function. It is a comfortable feeling though, not a negative one. I am not in turmoil. The thoughts are not all doom and gloom. Just me. Sometimes I drive my family crazy, because, I may be physically there, but mentally, I am off in a world of my own, and I don't even hear them speak at times. Great mother/daughter/sister/friend. Just great. I excel at these things, quite clearly.

At my age, I have experienced a great deal. Felt a many emotions. Met many people. Seen many things. I have found some answers, and not others. I have been challenged and challenging. I have been creative and destructive. I have taught myself and have been taught. I have laughed a lot, and perhaps not let myself weep enough. Birth, death and everything in between.... yep, been there too. I have loved, lost, been loved. Rejection? Yes. Survived? Yes, that too. Mistakes? Many many many. Regrets? Yes. And now I am beginning to sound like a song......

So

I have things to say. Lots. Not to an audience. Not to friends. Just things.

I don't feel old. Well, I don't usually feel old. I could well be becoming the epitome of the "grumpy old woman" when I see some and hear some of the things the young seem to think is acceptable, though. I hear echoes of my mother and my grandmothers...."in MY day...." They had a valid point or ninety. I am older than some, and younger than others.

The compulsion to write never seems to sleep. Or die. It is there, and it is like feeding a ravenous bear at times. Not that I have any intimate knowledge of bear feeding, I hasten to add. My fingers fly over the keyboard, and I don't bother to check the spelling or typos, and then weeks later I read over what I have written and wonder where it came from. How did I knit together the words in that particular way? Why? Why the need to write? And where on earth has it come from? Why now? Heaven knows I have a zillion things I should be doing. And writing, like letters to officialdom. And quilts to dream up and make, and scrapbooks to start, and books to read, and wood to carve, and a garden to tend. Not to mention food to cook, son to raise and house to clean. And work to do. Dreams to turn in to reality too.

And in the meantime, I write. Having a blog is such a wonderful thing, you know. Think about it...... we have a forum. We can choose what to say and when. There are people out there who actually read the things we write. We get feedback. We are our own editors. The written word is a powerful thing, and we tend to underestimate the power we actually have. Thankfully, I find myself in amongst a community of women (and some men too) who have the same set of values, beliefs, ethics and sense of humour that I have, and this frees us all to speak with ease. People who are younger, older or the same age. It doesn't matter in the least.

But some things - many things - I keep back for now.
The words, though, they just keep coming.