Camera view

Garden

Leaves falling sets the camera off, cats walking past, our reflections in the window. But I don’t care. We can check if someone’s out there. I’m fed up of feeling like a security guard. If I had a camera when our sheds were broken into we might have put them off, or they might have been caught. Now I can check my phone when I get an alert. Just got to figure it out!

Guards van and different gauge track.

After we were robbed a few days ago, some bits of trains and tracks turned up in the alleyway under the vegetation.

But so much has gone. Thirty years or more of memories. Trains, trucks, carriages, different sizes and shapes.

But most precious was a hand built bike my hubby bought in the 1970’s. The frame came first, 531 double butted steel. Then he had the wheels, chainset, pedals, handlebars added to it. That bike went to the south west, the lake district, all over Lancashire, and toured England. That has my hubbys heart infused into it.

There is a book called The Third Policeman, by Myles Magopaline? A pseudonym of Flann O’brien. It’s about how when someone owns a bike for a long time their molecules swap between person and bike so they take on characteristics of each other.

It is deeply saddening to lose your memories and belongings. He has lost his precious bicycle.

Gun control

I’m sad to hear of yet another mass shooting in America. I won’t say where, because every few weeks or days there are new reports of them. To pin it down to one murderous incident would emphasise it and possibly diminish previous ones.

Clearly thoughts and prayers doesn’t help. Each time something happens these trite words are uttered. As if a sticking plaster could stop a flooding river.

Guns, particularly assault rifles, are weapons of war. They destroy blood, flesh and bone. Bodies are ripped apart or badly injured. They are meant to stop an enemy, not kill a father, mother or child. Innocent people die, are buried or cremated, and often forgotten in the wake of the next mass shooting.

In the UK we have gun laws, there are very few shootings, so much so it makes the headlines for days if a shooting happens. Yes we have them, and stabbings, but you don’t get mass stabbings here either.

In March 1996, in Dunblane in Scotland, there was a mass shooting of children at a primary school there. Following the shooting the Cullen Report looked into gun ownership. Parliament bought in gun control and most guns were taken out of circulation. There have been no mass shootings since then. That’s 27 years. Yes there have been shootings with shotguns and rifles, but not like the madness in the USA.

The American constitution talks about an armed militia, the right to bare arms. Use that to change the law there. Make the guns the population can use muzzle loading flintlocks, the same as we’re used when the constitution was written.

Thoughts and prayers for sensible gun control!

Into the light

The pulse has gone, all is lost. Communication has ended. A dull drone at the end of the phone. A murmuring has slowly died away. No more heat. Soulless sadness. I had to write.

I see your face, but can’t recall it, only imagination holds you in place. Anniversary gone, I must face my own troubles. But I look in the mirror and see your face, then you walk away into the distance, into the light… My sister, goodbye.

I don’t

Are you holding a grudge? About?

I don’t hold a grudge, it’s too painful, and it makes no sense. If you hold a grudge who are you harming? Yourself. Painful thoughts about someone else don’t harm them, they don’t know about it, but the worm of a grudge bores inside you and makes poison in your thoughts and harms your moods.

Oh I have held grudges before now, and for a long time, but I have it up as a bad idea. Don’t hold grudges, it’s not worth it.

Gentle music

What brings you peace?

Folk music, lyrical music, gentle music.

I like light classical music, piano sonatas, even film scores.

I don’t always know the name of the musical piece, or the composer, one of my worst skills is answering music quiz questions. But it doesn’t matter what it is as long as it gives me a feeing of gentle calmness.

Singing with a choir has the same effect. Especially when we are practicing and not performing. I hear the other parts, soprano and alto, and try and meld my voice in with the others. It gives me a real sense of peace and quiet. Gentle Maori lullabies effect me, and sweet folk aires from ancient history. They are all really meditations. That and the breathing required to do it help make me feel at peace.

I wish I could talk to her

I wish I could speak to my mother, my sister, but they are gone. If there was a phone line, a way to communicate. Just to say hello. To get some comfort. To just say a few words and get some response. It’s hard to lose people, it leaves such an empty space. Even when I’m busy I think of them. I thought I would learn to cope, and I have to some extent, but the older you get it seems the more the regret grows (at least for me). Sadness, regret, pain, loss, mourning, they all crowd in on me sometimes.