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Nuthatch Grove

Posted on by Cathy Penman

LJ at NG

In A Widow’s Words I wrote about the several significant places where I scattered some of my dear John’s hair – for example at Hever Castle, and in St Moritz.  There was one more place I wanted to do it, and I finally addressed this the other day.

It’s a place we loved at Wakehurst Place, a clearing in the woods where birds come to feed.  I saw that it’s really called the Himalayan Glade, but we called it Nuthatch Grove.

I wrote about it in People and Places – here’s a link to that chapter: Nuthatch Grove

So I went and did it, managed to spend some time there alone (though it was quite busy with people despite being quite isolated).  I took ‘Little John’ and got some photos.  All very sad and sentimental.

Amazingly, I really did get several sightings of a nuthatch, so it’s a pretty reliable place to see them.  It’s a tiny bird that flits about so quickly and never seems to rest long in one place, so even if I’d had a proper camera it would have been difficult to get a good shot – below is the best I got on my phone camera.

I don’t know if I’ll ever go there again… too painful.  Very beautiful though.

Nuthatch crop

 

Reflections on a view

Posted on by Cathy Penman

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I’m looking to move house and am having great difficult deciding where to go.

One of many factors is what the immediate area is like, and might there be a better view from the windows, or at least a view nearby you could go and look at repeatedly. For example, should I go to a seaside town so that I can sit and look at a view of the sea?

The above photo shows a view from my hotel balcony, on a little trip I went on last year.  (I’ll leave you to guess where it is.)

This view taught me something about views!  Namely, they may be nice and impressive and interesting the first time, or the first few times.  But after you’ve been looking at the same view for a week, it just becomes boring, like a looking at a picture – doesn’t it?

So if I buy a house by the sea, for the view – won’t I quickly get bored with it?  I don’t know the answer.

 

Trapalanda

Posted on by Cathy Penman

The Wild Heart my version

I picked up an old children’s book I found amongst my stuff, to re-read.  The Wild Heart, by Helen Griffiths.  Published 1953.  I reckon it’s around, or at least, 40 years since I read it.  I was so hit with familiarity as I read the first couple of sentences, and saw a word that had not been in my mind all that time, that I burst into tears.

“The gauchos say that there is a heaven for horses.  They call it Trapalanda.”

I wonder how many other people know or have heard that magical word.

It is a very beautifully written book telling the story of a wild horse, and all she suffers as various men try to capture her, for her speed.  It creates such an atmosphere and is in the end so sad; I have really enjoyed reading it again.

Last night, before I’d finished it, a phrase came into my head, which turns out to be the last phrase of the book.  I am beyond astonished that this has been buried in the depths of my mind, un-accessed, for 40 years, and yet it has leapt into my brain whilst reading the book, and now feels so, so familiar – it’s a phrase that must have had a profound effect on me all that time ago.

“… for surely in Trapalanda, La Bruja deserved to be.”

Weepy!

Fear of grief

Posted on by Cathy Penman

This is why I have had to look through every piece of paper that is in the house – amongst all the junk, I occasionally find a treasure!  Have come across some early writing of mine including a poem which I must have written at the time of my wedding on the Isle of Wight in 1988.  I don’t think I’ve seen it since then.

Difficult to read and retype, the particularly poignant verse being:

I will work through pain and problems,
Lean to live with fear of grief.
What we’ve had is worth a lifetime,
Even should our time be brief.

Well, our time wasn’t that brief (29 years), but I did end up experiencing grief at the end of it.

Link to complete poem here:  Wedding

The Red Arrows in a Constable

Posted on by Cathy Penman

Red arrows in painting

I was amused by this painting I saw in a pub somewhere – the red arrows aircraft display team appearing in a traditional Constable painting!

I did see them this year, when they were appearing at an airshow nearby.  I must admit I’m always impressed – on a physical level the wonderful noise is just exciting, on a mental level you can’t help but marvel at the wonder of human achievement, and skill, that such a thing is possible.

They always make me think of my father, who passed away many years ago, my first bereavement.  He had been in the air force and was always interested in aircraft, in fact my last photo of him was an at airshow – I came across it the other day when sorting things out.

I wonder what Constable would think if he could see how his masterpiece had been embellished?

 

Casablanca Steps

Posted on by Cathy Penman

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These are the Casablanca Steps, which I have written about in A Widow’s Words.

A jazz band that plays cheerful, humorous songs at the country shows – I have seen them often.  It was horribly difficult the first time I saw them after my loss – knowing that the person I had watched them with before would never see them again.

They can’t know how poignant they have become for me.

 

Grits

Posted on by Cathy Penman

I have often before noticed the phenomenon that after you come across a new word, you then find you hear it more often than you would expect.  The conclusion can only be that it’s about as prevalent as it always was, but you notice it because you are now aware of it.

In the USA in July, I had something I’d never eaten before, something which is very common in the States but which I have never, ever seen on any menu in England.  Grits.  Actually ‘cheese grits’.  A sort of mushy stuff made out of ground corn, or something, which is served with breakfast.  I enjoyed them, but couldn’t finish the whole bowl.

Since my return, I can’t believe how often references to grits have come up in books or newspapers or on TV.  They’ve been referred to several times on US shows and cartoons, it seems amazing.  In the past the word must have gone in one ear and out the other.

Similarly ‘corn dogs’.  I’ve never had one of these before but really enjoyed eating one in Kentucky.  A frankfurter sausage on a stick with generous, slightly sweet batter, something like yorkshire pudding mix but crispy on the outside.  So far two references to corn dogs noted since my return!

Well, grits I can leave, but I’d love to eat another corn dog!  Wonder if I can source one in London somewhere?

(The second picture is fried chicken with sweet waffles and syrup.)

 

Breyerfest 2017

Posted on by Cathy Penman

I’ve been collecting Breyer horse models (possessions have become a consolation) and decided to go to the Breyerfest collectors’ event in Lexington, Kentucky, in July this year.

It was a great success, a sensible sort of thing to do alone.  I attended the event for three days running at the Kentucky Horse Park, did a ‘horse farm’ minibus tour, visited Mary Lincoln’s house, and generally enjoyed the hot weather and excitement of being back in America.

I also – since there was no public transport and I didn’t want to hire a car – learnt how to use Uber taxis, and have now tried them back home as well.  Very useful.

And I must not neglect to mention that (despite being extremely anxious about the risks involved) I managed to go horseriding as well, so have now ridden three different horses in three countries:

– Titan in Menorca
– Alfie in England
– Hank in the USA

Quiz:  How many Breyer horse models did I manage to carry home with me from America in my case and hand luggage?

  1. Two (Would have been sensible)
  2. Five (Would have been quite a few)
  3. Eight! (Well, that was the whole point of going out with a large, half empty suitcase!)

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Royal Windsor Horseshow

Posted on by Cathy Penman

I continue to amuse and console myself by going to all sorts of events – I’ve never been to as many as in this last year.

Crawling round some show or other, or attending a sporting event, or going to an antique market, or a new shopping centre, all serve to distract me and generally make me feel better than when I’m sitting at home alone feeling depressed.

This has been a year of ‘reckless leisure’ for me.  It cannot, of course, go on.

Decided to go to Windsor for this horse show on a complete whim, the day after I saw it mentioned on TV.  Went by train, found it was a long walk to the venue.  Absolutely loved the view of ranks of flowering chestnut trees around Windsor Castle, so beautiful.  Lots of pretty horses and perfect people riding them – another world!

It was so hot!  Especially trudging back to the train station laden down with horsey purchases.

Lovely day though.

News update

Posted on by Cathy Penman

Dear John

It will be three years soon, and I’m still living in the same house, the same area.

I need to move and am working towards ‘letting go’.  I don’t want to be faced with difficult spots, painful memories wherever I go.  I think a fresh start would be a good idea now.

But I’ve lived in the same house for 20 years.  I’ve spent 2 years tidying and sorting and now know every corner and where everything is.

I’m attached to it, I’m comforted by the familiarity, and I don’t fancy the disruption of a move.

Nevertheless, it has to be done.

In other news –

I keep seeing things in my local area that I want to tell you about, that you would have been interested in.

That new school has opened already, by the station, which you thought was in such a bad spot because it would add to already ridiculous traffic.

They have added more ‘street furniture’ everywhere in the form of benches, which promptly become used by large groups of vagrants drinking beer all day.  (I remember your opinions on street furniture!)

Yet another place we knew well has closed – the Indian takeaway ‘Depa’ which we used for so many years for deliveries.   I don’t like things that provided me with comfort not being available any more (!!!)

You would hardly recognise the area around Victoria station – so much new building, huge new office blocks and new bars and restaurants (which we could have explored).

And finally –

I saw a small dead black and white bird on the pavement right in front of me today, in the town centre.  Must have been a pied wagtail, hit by a car.

Unusual.  Not nice.  I refuse to give it any significance.