Libraries Change Lives

This will be the first of many posts about libraries and the fight to save them.  

Support your Local Library – The Pillar of Civilisation

These are the words of Shoo Rayner, a very popular children's author and illustrator.
I tried very hard to embed a copy of his video (with his permission) but to no avail. It can be found here should you wish to view him speaking. However I am able to copy the words below.




I don’t get this country sometimes. As an island nation in a cruel, new, worldwide economic environment, we are in peril.
Our future relies on the imagination of our people. The future will be dominated by the intelligent and the imaginative. That is where profits will come from.
So what do we do in a time of short term political stress? Obvious… go for the short-term easy option – as always. Let’s cut the libraries.
Great Britain became great for many reasons, but I would hazard to suggest that universal education was the main reason.
The real driving power of the industrial revolution was the autodidact, the man who wanted to better himself and move up. How did he do this? He went to the library or the worker’s reading rooms and taught himself. That is the British way – that is the British genius that has kept us “punching above our weight” all these years.
Andrew Carnegie, the richest man that ever lived, understood this. He was that self-made man. He knew what it took to make it in this world, and far from pulling the ladder up behind him as our politicians propose now, he bestowed thousands of libraries to provide a place of learning for those who would follow him in self-reliance, determination and all the other qualities needed in The Big Society.
So now, at what is probably our hour of greatest need, what do we do? We start closing down public libraries!
I admit, there are so many good accounting reasons to do this. You can massage the figures anyway you like, but leadership is not about accounting. A great leader listens to his advisers and makes brave, visionary decisions. Any leader who follows the obvious advice of accountant is just a manager – not a leader.
My mind has been in turmoil over the issue of public libraries in the current economic situation. The internet has changed everything. It is cheaper to ask library users to order their books from Amazon and keep them, rather than pay for a library and its staff.
But a library is so much more that a pile of books or bricks. At its best it is the heart of the community and the centre of life-long learning. With the rapid pace of change, life-long learning is something we will all have to get used to, and the Library is the perfect place to go for the information that we need.
People of my generation are obsessed with books and paper. Kids really couldn’t care what form their information comes in. They have no loyalty to paper or books. If they weren’t told to read books because they are a “good thing”, they wouldn’t.
I find that scary – I make my living selling books. I know I and all authors have a very scary but exciting ride ahead. The times they are a’changing.
Forget books. They are not the point – it is what is in the books that counts. All that information needs filtering, storing and organising, and that’s where libraries and librarians come in.
Libraries have changed a lot since I was a kid and I think they have a long way to go yet. In fact, I think the role of the public library will always keep changing. But a public library’s core business is knowledge and information.
Maybe those in power want to keep us in ignorance? I don’t believe that’s so. I tend to go for the cock-up theory of politics. Keeping us in ignorance will lead to a “Fourth World” future. Post-industrial, bankrupt and only fit to make cheap plastic goods or decontaminate the waste of the rest of the world.
Our future lies in motivated, educated citizens and the library should be at the heart of their lives. Teaching them the stuff they need to know to keep this country at the forefront of the information revolution.
Librarians may well be stereotyped as quiet, tea-drinking cat-lovers who will go meekly when presented a P45, but in reality they are the guardians of our knowledge, our history and everything that has got us to where we are and where we shall go.
Sir Isaac Newton said, “If I have seen further it is only by standing on the shoulders of giants.” And so our vision of the future is only possible because we stand on the shoulders of those that have come before. Their legacy is kept and guarded by libraries and librarians.
Librarians are priceless and so is the service they provide and so are the buildings they work in.
We need to have a discussion about their future and our future, but there is no point having that discussion if the buildings and the people who know how to handle information have gone.
At the moment, the Library is there for children who need to read books, They need to read lots of them repeatedly. Wonder why literacy levels are falling? Literacy is not about school records or results. Literacy comes from reading lots of books. It takes a lot of practice to get good at reading. Reading books may be seen as entertainment, but if a book is not entertaining why would a child want to read it? Literacy comes from reading entertaining books. Fact. Get over it!
Oh! And let’s not forget the home schoolers and the sick. And story time and toddler’s groups and craft sessions. Libraries are as much a part of our children’s education as schools are. In some case maybe more. The library is where you go when school’s out or it doesn’t teach what you need to know.
And what of older people once they have switched the telly off? There’s not a lot on the box for them. The Library is there not only to borrow books from, but it’s a meeting place and source of information.
The library is often where older people discover and use the internet. How confused are you by your computer? Can you imagine being eighty and trying to get to grips with one on your own? Libraries provide computers that work and don’t need to be fiddled with all the time.
And the computers are there for everyone else too. Information at your fingertips in the information age, with Librarians there to help you find what you want. Yes, computers are cheap and easy to get hold of now, but they are no easier to maintain. How many people have a computer sitting in their front room, unused because it won’t start up and no one knows what to do with it? Millions probably.
And what of all those people out working all day? The ones who earn the money to pay the council tax, who complain about the expense of the libraries?
Well, maybe we need to re-examine opening hours. Maybe we need to examine what those people want and need from libraries.
Maybe more evening book groups, special interest groups, more adult education.
Maybe this is where the Big Society comes in, local lectures on any subject under the sun, passing on information, making connections in the community, building new groups and businesses, the library as the human/person/body/real-life meeting place of the faceless, FaceBook generation.
I know that libraries are going to go through massive change in the next few years. I’ve met one or two young librarians who are champing at the bit, with visions of entirely digital libraries, free of the weight of paper and dusty shelves.
There is an amazing future ahead for public libraries, at the heart of our communities and at the heart of the life-long learning and self -improvement we will have to invest in for the sake of the country’s future.
But if you take away the very pillars of civilisation don’t besurprised if everything comes crashing down on you!
Take libraries away and they will never come back and soon the dark shadow of a post industrial wasteland will descend upon this once great nation.
We can rise again and lead the world into the next historic revolution, but not without our libraries..

Shoo Rayner

Thought for a Friday

Tony Bliar speaking about Egypt on the Today programme on Radio 4 this morning.

Yes we want change but it must be ordered and stable, we have got to keep people together. You have got to take account of the fact that when you unleash this process of reform, unless you are going to be very, very careful about how it's done and how it's staged, then you run risks as well.  If you open up a vacuum anything can happen.

Whose words?

Tony Bliar.

Yes Tony Bliar.

Three words come to my mind.

Pot, kettle and black.

The Reading Season

The Reading Season

It is the reading season;

we do not ask for much

our call a plea for human hibernation.

Come Winter-tide, Wales tests us all.

When snow is forecast, all is gloom

and libraries fill with starving folk.

All seeking words to warm themselves upon.

All seeking books to lose themselves within

and so it is fine weather for the words.

Beloved books will always be a loyal friend,

a blanket of pure comfort, an escape,

a goose down duvet or a featherbed so soft,

a touchstone for the soul when life is hard.

Our needs are simple now and fill one tiny space:

a fire of logs or coal, a comfy chair, a throw,

a mug of cocoa, hot toddy or a glass of red,

a book or two to raise the spirit, test the mind,

cause blood to warm, bring hearts to ease

and keep us from this season’s dark and chill.

Cait O’Connor

Mood Music and More

 Royal Academy Artist Ann Fawssett-Atkin,

Dear Diary,

Perhaps it is the waxing of the moon that makes me crave music this morning; it has a strong emotional pull and sometimes I just have to have music,  I could certainly not live without it. (My Moon is in Scorpio and the Moon rules the emotions).  So far I have been picking out favourite songs by David Gray, Robbie Williams and at the moment Jennifer Warnes and Leonard Cohen.  Ah, Leonard Cohen his words are almost to die for, though what would be the use of death if I couldn’t hear his words?  I will put one of my faves at the end for you.  So the  music is ongoing and I sing along as I type, just as well you can't hear me.  The laundry sorting can wait, ditto the cleaning, dog walking, bird feeding etc.

There is much news of film in the news today and the wonderful Colin Firth has won an award (but only his first for this particular film I promise you) -  his role in The King’s Speech.  I have only seen him in a short clip of this film and I can tell you that this taster alone brought a tiny tear to my eye, what a great actor he is.  I am afraid I shall have to be patient and wait for the DVD to come out because I don’t like going to the cinema.  Not enough leg room and I get fidgety and uncomfy, also I don’t like being amongst a lot of other people, I prefer to be cwched up on my sofa with soft lights, drinks, nibbles (and oftimes tissues) and without the prospect of a fair drive home in the cold.  Also, with all these flu bugs around I don’t want to risk catching anything!

Talking of films a fellow blogger was asking for film recommendations.  Here are a few of mine that I can think of so far.  In absolutely no kind of order, here are some of my favourites:

I shall start with anything with the late great Pete Postlethwaite in, God rest his soul, he is sadly missed. Here are three to be going on with:

In the Name of the Father
The Age of Stupid
Brassed Off

Anything with Robert Mitchum in because he was (and still is) a crush of mine.

Any films directed by Mike Leigh.

The Railway Children
Lady and the Tramp (original version)
Beautiful Mind
Fahrenheit 9/11 -
(Any Michael Moore film).
Brief Encounter
The Snowman
Dead Poet’s Society
Four Weddings and a Funeral
Love Actually
Pretty Woman
The Remains of the Day
Notting Hill
Local Hero
You’ve got Mail
American Beauty
The English Patient
Bridget Jones Diary
The Green Mile
Shrek
Field of Dreams
Iris
Whistle down the Wind
Calendar Girls
Rabbit Proof Fence
The Quiet Man
Ryan’s Daughter
Ladies in Lavender
I have loved you so long (French with subtitles)
The Invention of Lying
Ghost (Ricky Gervaise)
An Education
The Blind Side
The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo

There are loads more but I am in music mode and can’t think of them at the moment.  I agree that there are many really terrible films out there and so often they are the ones that are hyped up and in the bestsellers too. They are like books in that respect, the most feted are not necessarily the best,

I have also been asked by a friend to think of fifteen authors that have inspired me so I will do that here as well.

I tried to do as I was told (hard for me) and think quickly so here goes.  Of course I got carried away and have got too many but who cares, in my opinion you can’t have too much of any good thing.  You can’t have too many books, too much garlic, too much chocolate, too much music.......

Louisa M Alcott
Enid Blyton
A A Milne
D H Lawrence
Edna O’Brien
Tony Benn
Germaine Greer
Colm Toibin
Sebastian Barry
William Trevor
The Brontes
Carol Shields
Leo Tolstoy
Rumi
Rainer Maria Rilke
John O’Donohue
Philip Larkin
Bob Dylan
Leonard Cohen
Laurie Lee
Pablo Neruda
Czeslaw Milosz
Emily Dickinson
Khalil Gibran
Mary Oliver
Dylan Thomas
R S Thomas
Carol Ann Duffy
Julia Cameron
Sarah Ban Breathnach
Deepak Chopra
And a special mention to Nancy Verrier

So many more poets,  so many more writers…..I had better stop.


I will leave you with that song I promised with those die-for lyrics.   I have two versions, the one from my CD Famous Blue Raincoat where the great singer Jennifer Warnes sings the songs of Leonard Cohen and another version by Alison Crowe, whose voice I adore.  This is a bare version, just a piano for accompaniment, it is just beautiful and it brought tears.  Thanks Leonard.

Joan of Arc

Now the flames they followed Joan of Arc
as she came riding through the dark;
no moon to keep her armour bright,
no man to get her through this very smoky night.
She said, "I'm tired of the war,
I want the kind of work I had before,
a wedding dress or something white
to wear upon my swollen appetite."
Well, I'm glad to hear you talk this way,
you know I've watched you riding every day
and something in me yearns to win
such a cold and lonesome heroine.
"And who are you?" she sternly spoke
to the one beneath the smoke.
"Why, I'm fire," he replied,
"And I love your solitude, I love your pride."

"Then fire, make your body cold,
I'm going to give you mine to hold,"
saying this she climbed inside
to be his one, to be his only bride.
And deep into his fiery heart
he took the dust of Joan of Arc,
and high above the wedding guests
he hung the ashes of her wedding dress.

It was deep into his fiery heart
he took the dust of Joan of Arc,
and then she clearly understood
if he was fire, oh then she must be wood.
I saw her wince, I saw her cry,
I saw the glory in her eye.
Myself I long for love and light,
but must it come so cruel, and oh so bright?

Leonard Cohen

Marriage Funeral for a Friend

This is dedicated to a very dear friend.


Marriage Funeral for a Friend



Like a man recently returned to the world
he walked back in (again)
and butter-wouldn’t-melt (again)
for he was quite reformed (again).

He of the drunken rages,
the kicking-down of doors
the jumping on ceilings
and the breaking of floors.

Theirs was a mismatch made in hell,
that created for him a saint
but for her a brute.

(She of the far-too-forgiving).

His ways are wild;
she goes in gentleness
and believes the meek are blessed
though she dreams of her escape

as she tiptoes over eggshells,
creeping by him with only her halo shining,
as she trails fine angel dust in her sweet wake.

She sweeps it under carpets
along with all her heartaches,
and together they fall
and fall
and fall (again).

Down to a grave they fall
from her pure but over-burdened  shoulders.


Cait O’Connor

Musical Interlude

Music was my refuge.  I could crawl into the space between the notes and curl my back to loneliness.  

Maya Angelou 

Without music life would be a mistake.  

Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche

Just two songs for today.  The first is Baker Street which is a tribute to Gerry Rafferty who sadly died today aged 63.

The song Baker Street always reminds me of January 1978, the time my first baby, my daughter was born, I remember it was playing when I began having labour pains at home. It is funny how music can 'take you back'.

God rest your soul Gerry, you are going home now

Don't you just love that saxophone?





The second song is one I heard on the radio this morning. Another old song that I love by Billy Joel.  I love the music and the lyrics so wanted to include both here.

Of suns and stars and things that go bang.

 Starry Night Vincent Van Gogh

Dear Diary,

One kind word can warm three winter months.

Japanese Proverb

Just lately the earth and the surrounding space has had us in its thrall.  Did anyone see the eclipse? I didn’t because our Sun was acting shy this morning, cloud-covered, her veil grey and dull, an altogether unattractive spectacle and a little higher up the valley the whole countryside was downright misty.

The messages coming out from the media were conflicting, look at the sun, don’t look at it - telling us not to miss the chance of a lifetime but also saying don’t look at it because the Sun could possibly blind you unless you wore special glasses. 

And did the Earth move for you?  There was another earthquake in the north of England yesterday.  We sometimes get little earthquakes here in Wales, I have experienced the crockery on my dresser shaking more than once.  We had a mysterious ‘explosion’ in these parts just before Christmas, all sort of stories are being bandied about as to what caused it.  Some say it was a sonic boom but I have heard those and this was nothing like a sonic boom.  I thought something had crashed into the library roof and the building shook.  My cottage also shook and that is six miles from the library.  The ‘blast’ was felt over a very wide area and seemed to originate from a mountain range used by the Army but they say they don’t know what it could have been.  It wasn't an earthquake, but what was it?  I doubt we will ever find out the truth.

I am lucky to live in an area unpolluted by artificial light and it is a great place for sky-watching.  I like to go out last thing at night with the dogs (unless it is very cold as it has been of late) and  look at the night sky. Last night was fairly warm. I have become that hardy in these last few weeks that freezing point or just slightly above is now considered warm!) so I went out looking for the promised meteor showers but there were none to be seen.  But I did see a truly  magnificent sky, completely clear and filled to bursting with stars and planets. I had never seen so many at one time. I always remember that stars twinkle and planets shine but I wish I knew all their names and more about their arrangement in our night sky. 

So much in life to learn, so little time.

I will leave you with a poem by the Cherokee poet Diane Clancy.


Solar Eclipse


Each morning
I wake invisible.

I make a needle
from a porcupine quill,
sew feet to legs,
lift spine onto my thighs.

I put on my rib and collarbone.

I pin an ear to my head,
hear the waxwing's yellow cry.
I open my mouth for purple berries,
stick on periwinkle eyes.

I almost know what it is to be seen.

My throat enlarges from anger.
I make a hand to hold my pain.

My heart a hole the size of the sun's eclipse.
I push through the dark circle's
tattered edge of light.

All day I struggle with one hair after another
until the moon moves from the face of the sun
and there is a strange light
as though from a kerosene lamp in a cabin.

I put on a dress,
a shawl over my shoulders.

My threads knotted and scissors gleaming.

Now I know I am seen.
I have a shadow.

I extend my arms,
dance and chant in the sun's new light.

I put a hat and coat on my shadow,
another larger dress.
I put on more shawls and blouses and underskirts
until even the shadow has substance.


Diane Glancy


Bye for now,
Go mbeannai Dia duit,
Cait.

Ripples

Dear Diary,

Fear less, hope more;

Eat less, chew more;

Whine less, breathe more;

Talk less, say more;

Love more, and all good things will be yours

Swedish Proverb

It’s over, come closer and you might hear me whispering thank God for small mercies.  Tomorrow life will be back to normal. For the first time ever I have taken down the few  decorations I have about the place, even the new fairy lights which I found too bright  - before the Twelfth Night.  I fear there is no hope for me. I know I am Mrs Scrooge but part of Christmas was taken up with worry about others’ health, including one of the dogs and I seemed to have suffered much tiredness from too many broken nights.

I have been thinking about those New Year resolutions though, I think most people do secretly but not everyone will admit it.  I plan to economise, correction, I HAVE to economise.  I am dreading our leccy bill  because of te extreme weather we have been having and everything  has already gone up or is going up in price very soon.  Petrol, electricity, VAT, council tax, rail fares etc.  And all these rises will make everything  else cost more.  It’s not just the weather - my salary is frozen and my job is under threat so I must restrict my expenditure to what is absolutely necessary.

Our elderly dog has just gone on to heart medication and has three week’s worth of pills to take before we take him back for a review. I would pay whatever it takes to extend his life as long we can keep him well and pain free and to be honest (as they love to say in these parts) the effect of these tablets has been instant and amazing.  We had to pay £80 for the pills and the consultation so we wonder what we will pay in three weeks time.

I am going to cut back on everything, not just economically but rather on things that are a complete waste of my time but I am hoping to walk more, do more yoga, get more sleep, read more books and get more writing done.  Blog a little more often and  find more time to read others.  But in most things in life less is definitely more and I aim to pursue simplicity as much as possible.

I did have a lovely walk this morning, just me and the younger dog Kitty, the border collie.  We followed the river downstream and walked along the way of a  Roman Road which passes through our field.  I didn’t see a soul and there were no sheep in the fields which is most unusual.  There are more sheep than people in these parts.

Most of all in 2011 I am going to try to remember to think positive thoughts, turn every negative over (I think the phrase is flip it), count my (many) blessings and concentrate only on what is really important to me.  I shall resolve to live in the moment and enjoy it.  There is so much gloom and doom around but if we all tried harder to be optimistic then I am sure the ripple effect would be felt around the world.  I wonder if the Eclipse will help it along?

Bye for now,
Go mbeannai Dia duit,
I wish you All a Very Happy New Year,
Cait

Thawing

Waiting for the Thaw - Dina Gregory

Dear Diary,

It is warmer, the air is kinder on my face and I can breathe easier. At kast the thermometer is several degrees above zero.  We are lying in a bowl of fading frost, still mostly white, but all around is fog, pale white like smoke and the hills are completely hidden in the mist.  There is hardly any green to be seen though there are a few patches to be found underfoot.  There is a slow, slow thaw which suits me and the river fine, we do not to be overwhelmed by a flood but the countryside seems all of a mess, it is like sitting in the aftermath of a party thrown during Christmas when everything was just-so, still, snow-covered and beautiful.

Only days ago every dwelling had its own  Christmas decorations hanging from the eaves, long long icicles, (some of which were a danger to folk walking beneath them); at night there were crystals on the ground to light the way, everything was laced in white, the bare winter trees were etchings on the horizon and all the lowland trees had soft cotton wool on their branches. The road river bridge wore stoles of snow (as one of my readers so aptly described it having seen a photo on my blog). Even the moon put on her best show and made for us a magic.

Now we are in the slightly sad, limbo-days, some folk are back at work but not many and there is still New Year to look forward to before everything is Back to Normal.  A lot of us are feeling stir-crazy for it feels as if we have been cooped up far too long having been snowed in for weeks even before Christmas arrived.  At least I have more energy today as it is warmer and I am not striving to keep myself and the cottage warm.  It is no longer icy underfoot, just soft and a bit squelchy so I have enjoyed a walk with the dogs. Being outside lifts the spirits, I recommend it.

I have two poems for you today that I heard on Radio 4's Today  programme on Wednesday.  Colin Firth was the stand-in editor and he did a grand job, there was so much of interest.  Especially  fascinating was how research has shown that our brains are different according to our political leanings...... to the left or the right.  This ties in with a book I have just read by a much-loved writer Gill Edwards called Conscious Medicine. This is basically about how everything is energy including our thoughts.   I will be blogging about this at a later date.

Colin Firth also included two poems in the programme, both of which were excellent.

Here is an audio link to the beat poet Haroon Anwar's poem Western Child; do take the time to listen if you can.

And below is The British by that great poet Benjamin Zephaniah.

The British

Take some Picts, Celts and Silures And let them settle, Then overrun them with Roman conquerors. Remove the Romans after approximately 400 years Add lots of Norman French to some Angles, Saxons, Jutes and Vikings, then stir vigorously. Mix some hot Chileans, cool Jamaicans, Dominicans, Trinidadians and Bajans with some Ethiopians, Chinese, Vietnamese and Sudanese. Then take a blend of Somalians, Sri Lankans, Nigerians And Pakistanis, Combine with some Guyanese And turn up the heat. Sprinkle some fresh Indians, Malaysians, Bosnians, Iraqis and Bangladeshis together with some Afghans, Spanish, Turkish, Kurdish, Japanese And Palestinians Then add to the melting pot. Leave the ingredients to simmer. As they mix and blend allow their languages to flourish Binding them together with English. Allow time to be cool. Add some unity, understanding, and respect for the future, Serve with justice And enjoy. Note: All the ingredients are equally important. Treating one ingredient better than another will leave a bitter unpleasant taste. Warning: An unequal spread of justice will damage the people and cause pain. Give justice and equality to all.  Benjamin Zephaniah Wise words eh? And blessings today? It is warmer. The birds are happier. A pleasant surprise in my post box.  I received a Christmas card from a fellow blogger all the way from Atlanta in Georgia which contained the same lines that I put on my header a few days ago.  Synchronicity at work again.   Synchronicity.......... that window into the Divine.... I have five more days holiday. I have nothing to do today but dream........ Bye for now, Cait.

Just a poem

My daughter sent me this poem by Giacomo Leopardi. 



The Infinite  

It was always dear to me, this solitary hill,
and this hedgerow here, that closes out my view,
from so much of the ultimate horizon.
But sitting here, and watching here, in thought,
I create interminable spaces,
greater than human silences, and deepest
quiet, where the heart barely fails to terrify.
When I hear the wind, blowing among these leaves,
I go on to compare that infinite silence
with this voice, and I remember the eternal
and the dead seasons, and the living present,
and its sound, so that in this immensity
my thoughts are drowned, and shipwreck seems sweet
to me in this sea.              

The Flood

Winning Poem

If you would like to see my deepening snow pictures which I took yesetrday they can be found on my Photo Blog here.  The snow is ever more deepening as it is snowing again today.

I love to post wonderful poems and this one below written by Peter Swales is the winning entry in my writing group's very first annual literary competition which was judged by the poet Ruth Bidgood.   The standard of entries was very high but this is a very worthy winner.  I find it very soothing.   See if you agree.

Once More Amongst the Thunderheads

Once more amongst the thunderheads-
the heavy air, the
shallow shouldered hills.
A ‘ton dawn.
A Shropshire morning.

It is in the upstroke that the light catches;
each shivering stem,
minute-to-minute, whispering.
Swathes of wind roar across,
in circling waves.
Brief pillows of air indent the gold-
flying shadows darken the path,
from here to the hill,
from the hill to here.

We wait in the shadow of a scarred sycamore,
edging the field like scarecrows.
We are criminals to this passing car,
strangers in the quiet rural world.
But we steal nothing-
take only solace,
comfort, in that unborn mound, the reckoning hill.
It has lived with us for as long as we knew;
brothers before the mountain,
in the nodding end of summer, becoming old.

© Peter Swales

Cliches abound and a bit of pondering.

Dear Diary,

Warning.

This post contains cliches.

If you’ve nothing better to do you can spot and count them up as you go along.

I keep thinking about the Rumi poem I posted yesterday (see extract below, full poem is in previous post).  It is so simple yet profound but only says what I have always suspected, that this life is only one dimension of existence, many more are hidden from us, all on different planes.   Rumi lived in the 13th Century, I find that fact amazing. The extract Mark picked from it and left in the comments is one that will stay with me also.

This place is a dream
only a sleeper considers it real
then death comes like dawn
and you wake up laughing
at what you thought
was your grief

I too wish I had written it.

Life certainly has dreamlike quality to it at the moment and it is one from which I am reluctant to wake.  I know this wintry weather has many downsides and my heart goes out to those adversely affected but to me in my own little bit of dreamworld, all is pure magic. 

I walked out amongst the deep snow last night with the dogs in the garden and it was just heavenly. There is no other word to describe it.  By the river our little willow tree is laced with a set of solar lights which are delicate and pretty.  The beauty of the garden and the surrounding hills and fields was breathtaking. I was loath to come in and it wasn’t even that cold, not compared to  the harshness of the temperatures that we have been enduring of late.  But the wee cottage looked so inviting and as it is built of stone and painted white it blended into the scenery looking just like rough white icing on a cake.  And through a window  my tiny Christmas tree could be seen with its little lights glinting. 

In my ponderings I also got to wondering why snow is white; I am somewhat scientifically-challenged you see - M says it is something to do with light reflecting on the crystals.  I also pondered on the fact that each snowflake is said to be unique in pattern - just like DNA - this to me is symbolic spiritually and reminds me of humanity where each face, each character. each soul, is different,   I can’t help my mind wandering, when there is poetry all around me.

This morning we have a foot of snow; I went out with my ruler and measured it.  It snowed from about 2.30 am.  Before we retired to bed we left the outside light on so that if we woke we could see the next promised belt of snow arrive. Joy of joys we did wake just at the appointed hour and  we enjoyed a cup of tea, listened to the World Service - there were some very moving personal stories on there - and through our (curtainless) window we watched  the snowflakes fall past the window. The snow since then has been relentless and has laced everything in sight, so much so that even the most mundane objects have become pieces of art. There are photos, paintings, poems and sculpture in-the-making everywhere I look and I can’t wait for the snow to ease  so I can go out and take photographs.  And all the trees are decorated with cotton wool, as if for Christmas.

My first priority is to feed the ever-hungry birds, they are everywhere to be seen and flying frantically from branch to branch so while my porridge cooks I venture out into snow that comes up to the top of my wellies.  I put heaps of nuts and seeds on the covered bird table by the kitchen window and some more under the pine trees, where, miraculously, there is still a patch of green.  The snow is still falling.  When I come in as well as the usual cinnamon, raisins and ground almonds, I add some golden syrup to my porridge telling myself that I need the extra energy.

Blessings?

Apart from my dear dog Finn who will be fourteen on New Years Day - he loves the snow and plays in it just like a puppy.

An unexpected  Saturday morning off work as my road is hugely impassable.  So for once I shall enjoy a proper weekend like most folk do.  I shall have to deduct the time from my future leave but never mind -  it is a gift to be at home all day today.  I enjoy being in the situation of not being able to get anywhere, to be cut off  is a kind of freedom though I fully understand that, as in everything in life, there is a flip side to that statement.  We have enough food for a while, nothing in for Christmas but, Scrooge that I am,  I am honestly not bothered about that or the fact that we may end up living on baked potatoes for rather a long time.  The worst thing that could happen is a lengthy power cut, then we will be up the creek without a paddle.  But we do have a gas hob, an ancient Rayburn and a log burner so as long as we have coal, logs and gas we are OK. 

And now, just when you think life couldn’t be more bright and beautiful the sun has come out.  I will soon be out with my little camera.  I shall post these VERY snowy pics in a later post, the ones in this post were taken yesterday when we only had eight inches of snow..

But the best blessing of all, apart from the visual beauty, is the unique snow-muffled silence.  Its soft, quiet peace is felt deep within my soul.

Peace and quiet, these are two words that truly are a marriage made in heaven.

I did warn you about the clichés……..

Bye for now,
Enjoy the snow,
Go mbeannai Dia duit,
Cait

Inner Wakefulness

As dusk descends a field of deep snow becomes a sea. Inner Wakefulness This place is a dream only a sleeper considers it real. Then death comes like dawn and you wake up laughing at what you thought was your grief. A man goes to sleep in the town where he has always lived and he dreams he's living in another town. In the dream he doesn't remember the town he's sleeping in his bed in, he believes the reality of the dream town. The world is that kind of sleep. Humankind is being led along an evolving course, through this migration of intelligences and though we seem to be sleeping there is an inner wakefulness, that directs the dream and that will eventually startle us back to the truth of who we are. From The Essential Rumi, translated by Coleman Barks

What does your room say about you?

Many people hear voices when no-one is there.

Some of them are called mad and are shut up in rooms where they stare at the walls all day.

Others are called writers and they do pretty much the same thing.

 

 Anon.

Artist's Room Vincent Van Gogh

Mark, who writes over at the excellent Views from the Bike Shed  recently wrote a post about his desk and it included a photo.  I thought I would do this to but to be honest I am a little ashamed of the desk the computer lives on.  The monitor is raised up to my eye level on two old telephone directories (!) and the whole caboodle is housed in one of these cheap put-together-yourself units that fits everything in it - scanner, computer, speakers, shelves etc.  I will tell you about it but it would not make an attractive pic.  I do have a lovely oak desk next to it which overlooks the garden, the river and the field but it is too narrow to house my ancient computer’s monitor and I have no desire for a laptop. I like to have flowers on the old desk but lately it has been flower-free (they probably would have frozen anyway).  What else is on my desk? A deep blue crystal ball, an antique glass inkwell and a Victorian magnifying glass and paperweight, photos of M and our children when they were little.  A mug of pens. Candles, stones, bits and bobs.  On my monitor a pink angel sits, she has a smiley face.  Below her a sticker on the top of the screen affirms I’m happy and healthy.

The room I blog in is tiny, it used to be a bedroom but we have removed a wall and now the stairs of the cottage lead down from it to what I call the parlour.  It is not ideal because I can hear the TV and can talk to people downstairs (well shout anyway). I wear headphones a lot though because I love to listen to my music while I am on the computer.

The walls used to be white but now are pretty pink which I find very soft and soothing.  I have some photos and pics on the walls and there is a long mirror which is useful (every woman needs one!). Plenty of bookshelves of course and a musical keyboard for when the mood takes me.  A bed for one dog and a basket that Molly the cat has adopted for her home so I have lined it with an old cushion for her.  Oak beams on the ceiling. There is also a tiny cast iron fireplace, never used although it could be. I have four logs placed in it, ready.  There are little bedrooms on each side of this room and that is all -  the upstairs of my tiny abode.  Small but much-loved.

I recently heard about a successful blog called Bookshelf Porn.  This features photos of the bookshelves in peoples’ homes.  Ideal for bibliophiles like me who enjoy snooping on other like-minded folk and seeing where and how they store their hoards of treasure.

I also adored the Guardian page that featured ‘Writers Rooms’.  It was wonderful to actually see where writers create their works.

I picked this one below at random and it turned out to be the room of one of my absolute favourite writers - 

the Irish writer Colm Toibin.

Here are some more examples of writers’ rooms

I got to thinking about my ideal study in my ideal home.  .

My dream study would be downstairs at the back of the (ideal) house,  in winter it would be warmed by a real fire and would have French doors that opened out onto a perfect weed-free dream garden. There would also have to be a view of the sea which I could of course walk down to easily.  These doors would be open in the summer so I could sit outside and have breakfast, coffee, lunch or afternoon tea.  I could also sit, write or simply dream there whenever the weather was kind enough.

I would have a very expensive music system which would include a digital radio (but no television allowed) and the walls on two sides would  have wooden shelves all book-lined from floor to ceiling.  Only my very favourite books of course.  There would be windows on the other two walls. It would be a ‘many aspected’ room.

There would be beautiful rugs on the floor and an antique desk with furniture to go with it. The latest computer of course with a flat screen and all the trimmings and a high spec. printer for my photos.  A good swivel chair with a lovely comfy seat.

Beautiful paintings on the walls and photos of all of my loved ones around.

No phone.

 A cosy squashy armchair for reading and a rocker by the window for mulling.

A couple of dogs would often lie near me on their duvet beds and a cat or two in baskets

A piano, old but still very much in tune.

A more modern keyboard for when the mood takes me.

A huge mirror that reflected light into the room.

Scented candles of the highest quality ready to light each evening.

Piles of books ready to read.

Beautiful notebooks that I have collected on my travels all ready and waiting to be filled with words.

CD’s of all my favourite music.

A pot of  the finest pens.

Crystals hanging at the windows.

An antique lamp.

Fresh flowers always.

Green plants to cleanse the atmosphere.

Maybe a daybed for when I need a  little lie down.

One can dream ………

On Cottages and Simplicity

A Good Book

Dear Diary,

If the rural hideaway is about one thing (apart from escape and sanctuary) it is about simplicity.  The rural hideaway is about life reduced to its basics: talking, cooking, reading, sleeping, walking;  the lost pleasures of solitude and unscheduled time.

Antony Woodward.

The Garden in the Clouds

Dove Cottage. Grasmere

Wordsworth's cottage.

Candles at four o’clock, warm hearth rugs, tea, a fair teamaker, shutters closed, curtains flowing in ample draperies on the floor, whilst the wind and rain are raging audibly without.
Thomas De Quincey writing about when he lived at Wordsworth's Dove Cottage.
Confessions of an English Opium Eater.

The first quote above sums up absolute perfection for me especially unscheduled time; there is nothing I like more.  That and being cosy in my little cottage when wild weather is raging outside which is what the second quote is about.

It’s still cold, we had a wee thaw last night but it is about 0 degrees this morning, positively balmy and much more comfortable to live with.  My cottage feels cosy once more and less like the interior of a freezer.

Talking of cottages I was browsing an October issue of the  magazine Country Life which comes round to my library, it’s  not really my cup of tea although there are sometimes new artists to discover and the occasional really interesting article relating to the countryside but I have no interest in the hunting, shooting and fishing brigade or in the sometimes hilarious photos of rich debutantes.  I looked into this issue only because on the front cover a heading Dream Cottages jumped out at me.  You may know that I am passionate about cottages and the smaller the better so I had visions of cottages for sale or luscious paintings of cottages.  There were no pictures and none for sale, only the huge mansions that always fill the pages.  There was however an article by Antony Woodward who found his dream cottage in the Black Mountains of Wales.  I found the two quotations therein.  I think I blogged about this book earlier this year but if I didn’t then I can tell you now that it is a great read, beautifully written and a true story.  It is called The Garden in the Clouds.  The garden is open once a year under the Yellow Book scheme and is definitely on my list to visit in 2011.

I will sign off now, my time is alas rather scheduled today, how I long for the days that aren’t…….

Bye for now,
Go mbeannai Dia duit,
Cait.

Why Worry?

Dear Diary,

It is cold, probably an understatement as cold is probably the most-uttered word all over the UK at the moment,  Our river was totally frozen this morning and it was Minus 15 last night - Wales never gets the mentions that Scotland does but we too are suffering.  It was Minus 17 in the daytime not too far from here yesterday and even when I drove to a morning meeting it was Minus 13.  It is treacherous underfoot where there is no grit or salt down.  The birds are perishing and I can barely keep up with feeding them seed, nuts, suet, crumbs, cheese, etc.  I live in dread of receiving my next electricity bill but I am not alone there.  Ah well, such is life.

And the good news?  There is plenty.  Should I write a list of blessings?

The beauty is breathtaking, this morning there is sunlight, blue skies and brilliant white snow.  Bare winter trees which I love so and in many places there is hoar frost on the trees which is magical, there is no other way to describe it.

I took photos last year and they can be found on my Photo Blog

You can see them here for the Hoar Frost and here for the Frozen River .

I cannot see the point of taking more this year but perhaps I should not be lazy. 

I am reading In Siberia by Colin Thubron for my book group, well to be honest, as they love to say in Wales, I shall be beginning it today - this book might make Wales seem warm by comparison?

What else is warming me?  Mark Knopfler is singing to me with his deep brown voice along with the pure sweet voice of Emmylou Harris and together they are truly warming my heart.  I shall post you one of the songs below and you can listen along too.

I have also bought two thermal vests on the advice of someone who is Very Wise - they are called Frenchneck Vests, are quite pretty, flattering and soft to the touch; they had rave reviews on Amazon which were accurate as they are so cosy I can’t stop raving about them.  I think back to my childhood when I wore a vest and a liberty bodice (remember those?) - folk knew a thing or two about keeping chests warm in those days eh?

Grit and salt are blessings. De-icer too.  As is my ancient trusty Rayburn and the woodburner. Logs and coal and the men who deliver them (and thank you the log angel too).  And the man who lights the fires.

Books to curl up and escape into, where would we be without those? And blogs to read - they are a peek into others’ worlds.

Hot foods, soups, stews, curries. And if you can drink it, brandy is a great warmer and nice mixed with American ginger ale.

Warm throws which double as blankets to snuggle into.

Christmas to look forward to. (Did I really write that?) I am trying to be positive and at least I am having some time off work, more than last year when I had about a day.  If it is a white Christmas I will be pleased.   I have done most of my present shopping online (haven’t been anywhere except work for ages) and I just hope that things will arrive on time, if not ..tough luck.

TV, radio, DVD’s…….all help with the three ’E’s….. entertainment, education and escapism.

Strictly Come Dancing (my guilty pleasure).

A lot of folk round here are stranded in their homes so I am lucky in that respect.

My dear car starts first time every time I go out.  (I shouldn’t have written that should I?)

And now I am off to have my hair cut, always a cheering thing as I visit a friend who lives locally for this but having my hair shortened is probably a daft idea as I will  surely feel the cold even more!

Before I go, here is a little (cold) poem and then I shall leave you with a (warming) song as promised.

Snowfall


There is no flourish, all is saintly quiet.
Lazy flakes, unhurried, fall silently and slow.
Their unique patterns, secret, microscopic,
melding into one as they lay down gently on the land.
Settling into silence, their music sacred
amongst the aguish cold.

Pheasants, persistent, seek out food;
Magpies, two for joy, fly branch to branch
colour-matched to winter tree and snow.
The heron swoops but quickly rises up again,
hard ice is now a river rink.
All is raw and keen and  beautiful,
only rime, hoar frost and icicles
are nipping at our skins.


Cait O‘Connor.




Bye for now,
Stay warm,
Go mbeannai Dia duit,
Cait.

World Book Night

Anyone who says they have only one life to live must not know how to read a book.  

Anon

A good book on your shelf is a friend that turns its back on you and remains a friend. 
Anon.

A good book should leave you... slightly exhausted at the end.  You live several lives while reading it.  ~William Styron, interview, Writers at Work, 1958


Dear Diary,

I expect you’ve heard of the Million Book Giveaway to be held on World Book Night, March 5th 2011;  an attempt by publishers to promote the reading of books (and if I am to be cynical their own specific authors).  It is said to be a collaboration between booksellers, libraries, publishers and readers but I have heard nothing about it in our library service. They have come up with a list of 25 titles (see below) and want people to submit 100 words in praise of their favourite one in the hope of being picked as one of the 20,000 people chosen to give away 48 copies to folk who don’t normally read.

I am not against anything that promotes the reading of books but I would love to make my own list and feel sure I could pick books, real crackers……. titles that would be more likely to encourage people to read. I bet you could too?  This is a challenge to myself and I shall be working on it.  Why don’t you have a go too and send your suggestions to me?

Anyway these are the ones they have chosen.

Case Histories -Kate Atkinson
Margaret Atwood - The Blind Assassin
Alan Bennett - A Life Like Other People's
John le Carré - The Spy Who Came in From the Cold
Lee Child - Killing Floor
Carol Ann Duffy - The World's Wife
Mark Haddon - The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time
Seamus Heaney - Selected Poems
Marian Keyes - Rachel's Holiday
Mohsin Hamid - The Reluctant Fundamentalist
Ben Macintyre - Agent Zigzag
Gabriel García Márquez - Love in the Time of Cholera
Yann Martel - Life of Pi
Alexander Masters - Stuart: A Life Backwards
Rohinton Mistry - A Fine Balance
David Mitchell - Cloud Atlas
Toni Morrison - Beloved
Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie - Half of a Yellow Sun
David Nicholls - One Day
Philip Pullman - Northern Lights
Erich Maria Remarque - All Quiet on the Western Front
CJ Sansom - Dissolution
Nigel Slater - Toast
Muriel Spark - The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie
Sarah Waters - Fingersmith

I am a little sad because although they are all ’good’ books they are a tad predictable and what I call ’fashionable’.  I realise that they probably have to be contemporary but even so  none of them jump out at me demanding to be fought for and I enjoy a fight....... especially for a book……such is my passion.  As for the poetic inclusions of course I adore both Seamus Heaney and Carol Ann Duffy but I think the organisers could have chosen a wider view by picking an anthology of poetry.  I realise the publishers are putting a lot of money into the venture and  are hoping to recoup it in sales but overall I am disappointed……….. what do you think?

If you are still awake......... to whet your appetite I have dug out the BBC's Big Read Top 100 books which was compiled a few years ago - there are some grand titles here.. 

1. The Lord of the Rings, JRR Tolkien
2. Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen
3. His Dark Materials, Philip Pullman
4. The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, Douglas Adams
5. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, JK Rowling
6. To Kill a Mockingbird, Harper Lee
7. Winnie the Pooh, AA Milne
8. Nineteen Eighty-Four, George Orwell
9. The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, CS Lewis
10. Jane Eyre, Charlotte Brontë
11. Catch-22, Joseph Heller
12. Wuthering Heights, Emily Brontë
13. Birdsong, Sebastian Faulks
14. Rebecca, Daphne du Maurier
15. The Catcher in the Rye, JD Salinger
16. The Wind in the Willows, Kenneth Grahame
17. Great Expectations, Charles Dickens
18. Little Women, Louisa May Alcott
19. Captain Corelli's Mandolin, Louis de Bernieres
20. War and Peace, Leo Tolstoy
21. Gone with the Wind, Margaret Mitchell
22. Harry Potter And The Philosopher's Stone, JK Rowling
23. Harry Potter And The Chamber Of Secrets, JK Rowling
24. Harry Potter And The Prisoner Of Azkaban, JK Rowling
25. The Hobbit, JRR Tolkien
26. Tess Of The D'Urbervilles, Thomas Hardy
27. Middlemarch, George Eliot
28. A Prayer For Owen Meany, John Irving
29. The Grapes Of Wrath, John Steinbeck
30. Alice's Adventures In Wonderland, Lewis Carroll
31. The Story Of Tracy Beaker, Jacqueline Wilson
32. One Hundred Years Of Solitude, Gabriel García Márquez
33. The Pillars Of The Earth, Ken Follett
34. David Copperfield, Charles Dickens
35. Charlie And The Chocolate Factory, Roald Dahl
36. Treasure Island, Robert Louis Stevenson
37. A Town Like Alice, Nevil Shute
38. Persuasion, Jane Austen
39. Dune, Frank Herbert
40. Emma, Jane Austen
41. Anne Of Green Gables, LM Montgomery
42. Watership Down, Richard Adams
43. The Great Gatsby, F Scott Fitzgerald
44. The Count Of Monte Cristo, Alexandre Dumas
45. Brideshead Revisited, Evelyn Waugh
46. Animal Farm, George Orwell
47. A Christmas Carol, Charles Dickens
48. Far From The Madding Crowd, Thomas Hardy
49. Goodnight Mister Tom, Michelle Magorian
50. The Shell Seekers, Rosamunde Pilcher
51. The Secret Garden, Frances Hodgson Burnett
52. Of Mice And Men, John Steinbeck
53. The Stand, Stephen King
54. Anna Karenina, Leo Tolstoy
55. A Suitable Boy, Vikram Seth
56. The BFG, Roald Dahl
57. Swallows And Amazons, Arthur Ransome
58. Black Beauty, Anna Sewell
59. Artemis Fowl, Eoin Colfer
60. Crime And Punishment, Fyodor Dostoyevsky
61. Noughts And Crosses, Malorie Blackman
62. Memoirs Of A Geisha, Arthur Golden
63. A Tale Of Two Cities, Charles Dickens
64. The Thorn Birds, Colleen McCollough
65. Mort, Terry Pratchett
66. The Magic Faraway Tree, Enid Blyton
67. The Magus, John Fowles
68. Good Omens, Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman
69. Guards! Guards!, Terry Pratchett
70. Lord Of The Flies, William Golding
71. Perfume, Patrick Süskind
72. The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists, Robert Tressell
73. Night Watch, Terry Pratchett
74. Matilda, Roald Dahl
75. Bridget Jones's Diary, Helen Fielding
76. The Secret History, Donna Tartt
77. The Woman In White, Wilkie Collins
78. Ulysses, James Joyce
79. Bleak House, Charles Dickens
80. Double Act, Jacqueline Wilson
81. The Twits, Roald Dahl
82. I Capture The Castle, Dodie Smith
83. Holes, Louis Sachar
84. Gormenghast, Mervyn Peake
85. The God Of Small Things, Arundhati Roy
86. Vicky Angel, Jacqueline Wilson
87. Brave New World, Aldous Huxley
88. Cold Comfort Farm, Stella Gibbons
89. Magician, Raymond E Feist
90. On The Road, Jack Kerouac
91. The Godfather, Mario Puzo
92. The Clan Of The Cave Bear, Jean M Auel
93. The Colour Of Magic, Terry Pratchett
94. The Alchemist, Paulo Coelho
95. Katherine, Anya Seton
96. Kane And Abel, Jeffrey Archer
97. Love In The Time Of Cholera, Gabriel García Márquez
98. Girls In Love, Jacqueline Wilson
99. The Princess Diaries, Meg Cabot
100. Midnight's Children, Salman Rushdie
 

I'd love to hear your favourite(s),or if you do a blog on them send me a link and I will include it on my blog.

Bye for now,
Cait.
PS Do go here today:
Mosaic Monday

Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

Dear Diary,

The cold has become something of a cliché and I fear I am boring you. But it is on my mind all the time and sensually I can’t ignore it because most of the time I am striving to keep warm. I am sure it dulls the brain and slows me down because I seem to be just plodding lately, getting nowhere fast and unable to achieve anything; I have just spent what seems like ages just replying to mail and deleting my overfull email Inbox - a complete waste of time really.

I look out of the cottage windows and everything is a bright white, it is really very beautiful (another cliché) but there are always so many (desperate) birds flying around or feeding (and sometimes fighting) at the feeders. We bought huge sacks of peanuts and seed to see them through and I feed them each morning while my own breakfast of porridge is cooking (oats make good central heating!). Mid-morning those late risers the starlings arrive en masse and ‘take over’ - M hates them but I say they have to live and eat the same as the rest of us. I haven’t seen any fieldfares yet this year which is strange as they always come in conditions like this - perhaps it is too early in the season.

There are lots of icicles and thick snow but at least the road is clear and traffic is passing by safely - a bit different to this time last week when we had eighteen vehicles stuck outside. We will be OK until the council’s grit supplies run low and then we will not be top priority - then the fun will start ….or not.

The weather dominates the news and the constant forecasts which are frustrating because they can never seem to get it right (‘twas ever thus). My daughter says they make it up as they go along and I think she is right. They said it would be Minus 6 last night and it was Minus 12.5. It is a balmy Minus 5 at the moment! I look pretty barmy too layered up as I am indoors and wearing an unflattering thermal hat that is too big for me. It was bought in desperation at the beginning of the week - there was not much choice in the agricultural supplies store. But I have finally succumbed and turned the radiators up to their maximum output, I’m dreading the leccy bill as it was horrendous last year and I didn’t turn it on full then.

The wind has lessened today but it is cloudy and snow is forecast for later. I have to go out soon but will be keeping an eye on the skies…….

How is it with you?

Bye for now,
Cait.