The sea, the sea

I’m not sure I could ever move inland. There’s something about being able to see the edge of the land, and the big blue expanse beyond that is somehow settling. In the past, when I lived amongst the hills, or in the city, I would catch myself wondering what was beyond the horizon, like I hadn’t quite made it.

I’ve never got tired of turning round the corner on my journey home to see the sea stretch beyond. Whether it be an evening ride along the sea front, or a weekend walk on the clifftops; whichever part of the coast, and whatever the activity, I just love living by the sea!

Meaning to go on as I started

I’ve always kept notebooks, since I was a little kid. My Grama’s journals fascinated me as a child, her loopy writing (illegible to my primary school eyes) rapidly filling up the pages of her boardback notebooks. When visiting, I would insist that she wake me up early so I could go with her to the local coffee shop and write. Armed with my pop-out butterfly notebook I sat with my smoothie, filled with the self-importance of a seven-year old out on a creative mission with her Grama. I would always finished long before her, but was happy to sit and look around. Since then, writing and people-watching has never lost its appeal.

Part of this habit has stemmed from a love of stationery. When other girls in my class were collecting teddy bears, I was mooning over pens and paper. I still can’t pass up a pretty notebook, and always have several on the go at once. From shopping lists, to sewing templates, to do’s and today…’s. Every day goes by so quickly, this is my way to hold on to a little more of it. It can be fun to flick through and read a past page or two, but I don’t write to return to it later. I write to remember it now, to slow down, notice the details and make some clumsy attempt at saving it all. So, with this electronic notebook I am starting as I mean to go on, or rather, meaning to go on as I started many years ago: to save some moments and share the pictures.

A pyrenean read

Tom bought me “Love and War in the Pyrenees” for our first year anniversary. We spent our honeymoon hiking in the Pyrenees and I was looking forward to a revisit of the beautiful scenery and a bit of a love story amidst the pages. I hadn’t really taken into account the ‘war’ part of the title and found this book a far more harrowing read than I’d expected. Sure, I studied the Second World War at school, and I guess I could regurgitate some names and dates; but the personal stories of struggle and resistance in this book, set in the familiar backdrop of this part of the world I love so much, hit me much harder.

These mountain passes are difficult enough in perfect sunshine, with a pack full of food and the promise of a warm bed at the end of the day. Even with Bailey’s fantastic writing, it is hard to imagine how so many refugees covered these routes in such hard conditions. True tragedies can be a depressing read, and perhaps that is why it’s taken me six months to getting around to reading this book. It is almost impossible to believe the extent of man’s inhumanity to man, but equally incredible to read of the stories of resistance, bravery, and kindness. This book has certainly given me a different perspective on this part of the world. And whilst there is always an argument for simply soaking up the beauty of a place in the moment, this little bit of history has made me marvel at these mountains all the more.

New year, new projects

Half the fun of Christmas is, for me, planning and making gifts for friends and family. It always gets a little hectic, but I love the challenge of thinking of what people would like and trying to match it with what I could feasibly make. That said, come January, it is fun to be selfish and think only of what I would like to make for myself. And there’s no deadline!

After much umming and ahhing on Ravelry, I’ve chosen a beautiful pattern designed by the talented Kate Davies. The pattern is, inevitably, far more ambitious than I’d initially realised, and as you can see I have yet to get beyond swatching! But, the pleasure of selfish knitting is that if it takes ages or goes a little awry, it doesn’t matter a stitch. Wish me luck!

The road home

I’ve just returned from a week of work Up Mainland, commuting daily by motorway. What a difference from Island roads! Such a crush of moving metal, with an unfamiliar view of miles of straight tarmac ahead. A thirty mile journey is no more that a quick zip down the road, and the soundtrack is more Beastie Boys than Beasts of Seasons. The ease and speed were a treat, but I was glad to return to Island roads. Their winding eccentricities and routes formed over centuries of natural pathfinding offer daily variety. The light through the morning mist is never the same twice, and the many lanes make a different journey home possible every day of the week. These small, slow roads have changed my perspective of distance, making 10 miles a sizeable journey, and a trip to another town a serious proposition. Some bemoan the inefficiency of it, the ‘Island Mentality.’ But this is part of the charm of the place. It slows you down, makes you enjoy the journey, and reminds you that the car is only one of its many users. Tomorrow I’ll be off enjoying it on two wheels.