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.

Our town

Oh, how I love you, little town by the sea!!  The weekend is always off to a good start when we spend the morning wandering about Cowes in the sunshine.  Sometimes I get a bit overexcited.

Lovely old buildings, with high, oddly shaped windows in the low autumn sun.

And a newly-discovered sculpture in the wood above the Esplanade.

Vintage Island

The Island has been awash with various vintage events this weekend: a ball, a fair, a car show, and a motorbike display.  We came across the latter two on our bikes this Saturday, enjoyed the variety and marvelled at people’s ability to restore such old machines to their former glory.

Spare a pint

I’m reduced to one-handed typing after bleeding a little too much from my donation this evening.  But, it’s worth it for these ‘side effects’, and free tea and biscuits.  Tom made his tenth donation today and was rewarded with a tooting fanfare from the nurses, a pin and a certificate.  (He’s all set for show and tell in school tomorrow!)  I’m a little behind Tom, on my sixth donation.  After years of giving various excuses (and there are plenty when it comes to avoiding having someone stick a needle in your arm) I decided there really was no reason not to.  Only 4% of Britons are registered blood donors; not very many!  As the give blood campaign would say, go on.. Do something amazing.