Threads of Entangled Dreams

I've been a fan of Julies blog and knitting for some time.

Julie designs and makes the most amazing animals; delightful creations full of personality and chutzpah.

I am constantly at awe at her skill and creativity.

I mean how good are these!  And look even more tiny toys for the animals. Amazing!

Julie also sells the patterns to these lovely animals so you can knit them yourselves -something way beyond my ability to do.

So - and here's the weird and totally lovely thing; after a day discussing with various family members, my fathers move to palliative care I was stressed and upset.  I went to bed and spent a surprisingly peaceful night dreaming of knitting these animals - complete with a Halloween theme of pumpkins, black capes and miniature burning horned skulls knitted in red angora to mimic flames.  

I know!  I was surprised too - I love the randomness and bizarre accuracy of dreams.

So thank you Julie for a peaceful nights sleep and a wonderfully surreal dream.

Result!

She did it.

Nadiya won The Great British Bake Off...

...with her wedding cake!

The Lady has style.

All Change

The autumn equinox has passed and the northern hemisphere moves from summer to winter as the seasons change.  This use of seasonal change as a metaphor for the changes in our own lives is not new but never has it resonated quite so loudly with my own life before; for things are definitely changing here in my life; things that cut to the very core of who I am and how I identify myself.

Firstly and most importantly, my father is 82 and growing ever more frail; we visited him recently and the day after we returned mother found him collapsed in a chair and he was taken into hospital with pulmonary oedema and kidney failure caused by ongoing heart failure; thankfully he is recovering and is now much better but the heart failure is chronic and untreatable in an 82 year old in overall poor health.  Over the past few years he has had several small heart attacks and strokes and as well as suffering from diabetes and arthritis, he is almost completely blind and in constant pain.  We haven’t rushed down to hospital as he is improving and the consensus it wait until he’s back home again rather than all rush in; 5 children and attendant partners and grandchildren make quite a crowd and he finds it very overwhelming even when we stagger visits.

 We are all desperately worried that should he get flu or another virus, this winter might be his last.  My visit made it even more obvious how limited my time with my father might be and the disadvantages of living so far away.  We had some lovely conversations and a heartbreakingly poignant moment where we said goodbye; just in case we didn’t see each other again.  I hope beyond hope that I do see him again but I know that his failing health may mean I won’t. It is a real possibility that I may very soon not be my father’s daughter; the first step on becoming not the next generation but the first generation – mortality growing ever nearer, one step at a time.   

 My father and I are massive Terry Pratchett fans.

Secondly I am officially menopausal.  It is not so much the physical changes of hot flushes, night sweats or the loss of fertility that get me down; no it’s the mental symptoms of massive mood swings, the crazy, mad evil witch queen of the planet Zorg  that I seem to be channelling.  Jean-Luc has been the personification of caring calm (especially in this last crisis with my father) but I do worry that my constant tears and angry outbursts will really stretch his patience and soon begin to wear thin.  The menopause is really a trial in how far you can push something before it breaks; and I think that includes love and relationships.

Thirdly; and thankfully finally for you dear reader; it is a very real possibility that by April next year I may have no job.  I work in local government and with the current insane focus of central government on austerity and cuts in public service to help pay off the national budget deficit in part caused by bailing out the banks which have escaped the financial censure which is being visited on the more essential public services.  This has resulted in local councils battling with massive budget challenges and paring back services to the absolute legal minimum, with associated job loses as staff costs need to be cut by several thousands.  This means that as nice as it is to be able to offer the public the services my team provide; the truth is the council can probably no longer afford to.  That means I’ll probably be out of a job.  I have always (until recently) been passionate about my work; I’ve loved doing what I do and it has formed a major part of my how I’ve identified myself.  

And so as these things in my life change so do I.  I am moving from one season of my life to another and what this will look like I’m not yet sure but it will be an adventure, albeit an internal one.

On a much brighter note tonight is the final of The Great British Bake Off and my money is firmly on the incredibly charming and talented Nadiya; she of the deadpan humour, wonderfully expressive face and beautiful bakes – that peacock was stunning!

Nature doesn't need People, People need Nature

Thanks to Gavin Webber on the Greening of Gavin blog, I discovered this series of films - 

Nature is Speaking

 

Watch, Learn, Act.

Not Cowes but Cows

It's that time of year again and the cows are back - or bullocks to be more accurate.

Soft nosed, curious creatures possessed of the longest tongues in christendom or so it seems when you are backed up against the summer house with one reaching over the fence at you determined to find out what on earth you are doing.

Well I'm taking pictures of you!

The Nu does not like them.  They are big, they are in Her Field and one of them chased her into the hedge; admittedly she started running first.

Spring in Summer

Yesterday Jean-Luc and I had a small anniversary.

We celebrated quietly at home.  He'd had a long day of interviewing at work and I had managed to overwrite a much needed database - cue panic phone calls to IT support and pulling out of hair.

Luckily everything resolved itself but a little late in the day so I rushed up to the local shop and bought two bottles of bubbly stuff, one pink and one posh and these...

I then dashed out into the garden to pick one of the only things which has defied the cold late summer and numerous slugs to give me a decent crop - broad beans; one of Jean-Luc's favourite veggies.

I dug out some arborio rice,  snagged the peas and asparagus we'd fortuitously got the other day and made Risotto Primavera, with some added saffron to mark the special occasion.

 

I added these gorgeous nasturtium flowers just 'cos they made me smile.

And then we ate it and drank fizzy stuff and sat in the garden and both smiled.

Happy Anniversary Jean-Luc.

You are the butter to my bread and the breathe to my life. 

xxxxx

Soaking Wet and Sausage Barms

Jean-Luc and I staycationed last week.

We had no plans other than sleeping (Jean-Luc) and sewing (me).

We did however find a fantastic new place to go walking and explore.

We went to Rivington Pike, an area of watershed land that provides the water supply for a large part of the northwest.. The land was also owned by Lord Leverhulme; it used to contain his summer bungalow which was burnt down by leading suffragette Edith Rigby, who wonderfully stated in her trial "I want to ask Sir William Lever whether he thinks his property on Rivington Pike is more valuable as one of his superfluous houses occasionally opened to people, or as a beacon lighted to King and Country to see here are some intolerable grievances for women."

 We explored this amazing area over two days and saw Byzantine mazes of tree roots,

 echoes of past shores,

past fairy waterfalls

 the dilapidated Japanese Gardens,

 a wonderful bridge.  We walked over this the first time we visited but missed the lovely architecture in the torrential rain.

We climbed up the not inconsiderable hill and just above the treeline we paused to catch our breath and gaze at this fantastic view.

And onward up to Rivington Pike but as we turned around to start up the moor we espyed the huge black cloud lurking over its horizon.

 Quickly revising our plans we continued on to the Pigeon Tower 

 

By the time we reached the Tower it had gone all 'Wuthering Heights' and sheets of rain were sweeping across the surrounding area.  It really enhanced the Gothic splendour of the tower.  Mrs Danvers would have felt quite at home. :-)

Soaking wet and somewhat cold by the time we got back to the car park we discovered that Sunday is Biker Day and this meant that of course there was a mobile cafe there selling the most wonderful sausage barms to offer succour to the cold and wet walker/ biker.

We grabbed a couple of these delicious treats and spotted a perfect place to sit next to this beauty.

I have no idea what it is but I love it.  Look at that wicker basket.  Adorable.