Category: Ageing
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A poem, publicly printed
A couple months ago, a call came out through the WriteOn writers group based in New Galloway from a previous member who is now chairing the Dumfries and Galloway Arts Festival. The editor was looking for poems from eager writers about cycling. In response to an earlier stimulus from one of Claire Lynn’s Northumbrian Writers…
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But if it is broke . . .
I’ve often had cause to remember the adage, If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it! But sometimes, as with our beloved Harry Hymer’s side front bumper, it is most definitely broke! It was a disagreement with the gate as we tried to squeeze through the narrow passage beside our new-to-us house. That altercation didn’t slow…
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The joy of surprise . . .
I’m not a great fan of surprises. I feel confused by them, not sure how to react. But when I’m somehow complicit in the surprise, the dénouement can bring great joy. So it was yesterday. We thought we’d see what all the work has been about, down at the Ken Bridge, where we’d seen diggers…
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Songs of love cannot avoid loss
A good friend, after our concert yesterday afternoon, exclaimed that though the music was about love, it was also about loss. She was absolutely right, and I wonder if that commingled pair of emotions is what conspires in my head to elicit tears at a moment’s notice. The SongWave community performance choir is in full…
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Day-trip for the oldies . . .
This past Saturday we embarked on a little trip to a nearby National Trust for Scotland property. Well, we’d not quite clocked that Threave House and Gardens were an NTS premises, but we were delighted to be able, finally, to use our membership to enter. On the way in, we passed a russet-brown shrub with…
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Off the hook . . .
There are so many meanings, phrases and idioms associated with the word hook. This morning I’m exulting, just a little, in being off that hook, which is another way of saying that one particular task, or exercise, is no longer immediately necessary. I’ve had my head down, this past month, working towards a reasonable number…
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Getting ready for the road
It seems scarcely feasible that only two months ago Harry Hymer was stuffed to the gunwales with endless ranks of chattel, clothes, and everything that hadn’t made it into the big truck for storage. And yet, bit by bit, the stuff has been shifted out, and now Harry is clear for the next journey. That…
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When you do something you hadn’t thought you could possibly . . .
Moving into a new place brings all kinds of joy, as well as disappointments. The posty finally delivered the correct phono connectors to plug the ageing cassette deck into the big beast of a receiver, so I inserted a cassette, powered up and hit the Play button. Nothing happened. The photo-compare image shows first (or…
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The gathering moss . . .
So the corollary to the aphorism about the rolling stone must be that the sedentary one does gather moss. Our gardens, front and back, have accumulated a rich, thick, mossy carpet. Apparently this ground covering is an ideal environment for an ecosystem of invertebrates, and as such should be a brilliant place to retrieve, with…
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The past co-exists with the present
Our new home is a kind of retro chic. Or possibly, rather more ‘retro’ than ‘chic.’ We are finding, however, that we can accommodate the technology of fifty years past while also revelling in the convenience of the present. It feels like the best of both worlds. When we unpacked the big box of vinyl…
Roads to Joy 