At the bottom of the hill sits our nearest neighbour: a run of whitewashed cottages which at first sight appears to be three small farm workers’ homes but is now one large and one smaller dwelling, the latter a more recent addition. These days they form the frontage of a discreet holiday business. Six pleasant wooden chalets lie beyond, out of sight of us or passers-by. The owners are warm and friendly but keep to themselves; the guests are quiet. We couldn’t ask for better neighbours.
From the neighbours we learned that the original building was once a public house and that it was also briefly the home of the writer, Mary Wesley. I read a fair few of her books in the eighties and nineties, which I then passed along to a charity shop. I rather wish I’d kept them now. She is probably best known for her second novel: The Camomile Lawn (1984) which became, as I remember it, a slightly racy tv series.
It’s now – looking back – that I can see how worthwhile it was.
This post has existed in draft for almost a year. It seems fitting to publish it now – in its original guise – with an update at the end.
July 2019 It was easy when I began blogging. I wrote for myself. Slowly a community has built which I value highly, but as it has grown I find myself questioning the content I choose. I begin to ask myself what others may wish to read; I begin comparing what I post against what others post. And that’s not what it’s about. Family stuff has quietly slipped off the table although it was a key part of why I started the blog in the first place. But this is a post that I want here for many reasons. I remind myself that it’s easy enough for people to slide on past if the subject matter is not to their taste. Continue reading “The View from Here: love is the true price of love (George Herbert)”
For the last couple of months I have created a chain for Kate’s Six Degrees of Separation but not managed to post it. There is a risk of another month passing in the same manner. So without further ado, here is my chain for June. The background to Six Degrees can be found here.
Photographs with a different colour palette this time (bar one). Taken within half a mile of home.
Time passed. April stepped aside gracefully; May burst onto the scene. And I have adapted. Same walks, different perceptions. I lose my fear of emptiness. I see the flowers erupting along the lanes. Bluebells and stitchwort, dandelions and celandines. Dainty violets and bold purple orchids. Tardy primroses, still tucked shyly in nooks and crannies and the delicate white spheres of wild garlic which proliferate along stretches of shady pathways. Continue reading “The View from Here: walking in the writer’s footsteps (part 2)”
this has been a spring like no other but not because the sun has been shining
What follows is a compilation of fragments written or thought about as we wend our way through early spring. Too short and disjointed as individual posts, the final compilation proved too unwieldy. In the spirit of compromise – one post in three parts.
The photos are from an evening walk mid-May when everywhere glowed pink as the light faded. Pink – the colour of compassion and understanding.
It came as no surprise to learn that in the UK, May 2020 has been the sunniest and driest for over a century. May is one of my most favourite months. I began, mid-month, waxing lyrical to myself on the glories of the wildflowers and the Cornish spring – for surely this has been the earliest spring and the most marvellous year for the flowers? Then I noticed drafts of posts from past years, some published, some not, but all centred around the wonderful month of May and how this year or that year has brought forth one of the finest Mays I’ve seen. It gave me pause for thought. Is there really a need for yet another paean to this most beautiful moment in our calendar? Continue reading “The View from Here: walking in the writer’s footsteps (part 1)”
… at the end of the day, it’s all about the reading …
Reading challenges are always fun: the choosing, the list-making, the reading… But that’s where I get stuck. It’s not that I dislike writing about the books; I’m just very bad at producing posts of any type to order. Continue reading “Two Reading Challenges for Summer”
“Be kind whenever possible. It is always possible.” Dalai Lama
There’s a lot of darkness in the world right now. I am mindful that we are all in the same storm but each in a different boat. An important reason to acknowledge and be grateful for the good that is around me. Continue reading “Six Things on a Sunday”
… as the afternoon passes and the sun breaks through the clouds at last, I shall raise a glass to this imperfect but beautiful world.
VE Day. Victory in Europe. 75 years since Churchill informed the country of Germany’s unconditional surrender. Outside it’s calm and overcast. One of those shrouded, melancholic mornings which often find me pensive and questioning. Perhaps that’s what lies at the bottom of these musings.
Of course we owe a huge debt to the men and women who collectively brought about this event and they should rightly be remembered. But this day means different things in different parts of Europe, and did not mark the end of the war, which continued across the Pacific. Celebrations in some parts of the world, reminiscences of a different kind in many others. And as things are, the majority of commemorative events planned this year cannot happen anyway. Continue reading “The View from Here: Remembrance and Hope”
May 1st. May Day. Beltane. International Workers’ Day. At a more local level, May 1st is replete with traditions. Padstow ‘Obby ‘Oss and Helston’s Furry Dance are well known but there are plenty of others, particularly in this south-eastern corner of Cornwall. But not this year. Continue reading “The View from Here: Somewhere Over the Rainbow”
FictionFan, Rose and I agreed to each post our thoughts on this novel today and compare our responses. Despite a three-month window in which to prepare, I am of course writing at the last minute with little time to reflect. And perhaps this is a good thing because I know that I could reflect on this book for weeks and a post about it would be the subject of endless edits and revisions to the point where quite possibly it never got posted at all. Continue reading “The Go-Between by L P Hartley”