the brightest star...

Another wee poem for Christmas :)

The Brightest Star

Bouncing along to the first song

Her wisps of blonde curly hair

Almost dislodge the halo

So lovingly pinned on there.

Her tin foil star, held high on a pole,

Leads the bundle of billowing sheets

That sometimes billow enough to reveal

Black gutties on angels' feet.

The chorus of ‘Hallelujah’

Doesn't quite go as planned.

Timing.....is lost.....  

And gives way to waving hands.

A plastic doll stares blankly,

From its bed of straw and feather,

While shepherds (clad in Dads’ shirts and Mums’ towels)

Kneel down and bow together.

And then, three satin dressing gowns

Swish and swoosh into the hall,

The three wise little wearers

Dump gifts on top of the doll.

  

Suddenly, a crescendo! 

A hall full of voices sing,

All coming together beautifully 

For 'Glory to Our New Born King'

Her sheet's now off her shoulders,

And her halo's falling apart,

But her smile and enthusiasm

Are just as they were at the start.

And then, with proud and happy tears,

I watch from the back of the hall,

As my wee girl bounces back to her class,

The brightest star of all.

going Christmas crackers...

Should the Christmas Tree go up?

I have a wee dilemma

And I don’t know what to do:

Should the Christmas Tree go up?

Or should I wait for you?

I know you’re all grown-ups now,

And off doing your own thing,

But I still sometimes find it hard

To cut the apron string!

I’m pleased and very proud of you

In equal and full measures,

And watching you grow up has been

A journey full of treasures.

But even though I’m happy that

You’re finding your own way,

I sometimes feel a wee bit sad

On days just like today.

We’ve never put the tree up

When you’ve not all been at home,

To wrap around the tinsel

And hang up the Christmas gnome.

To tie the strings on chocolates

And to place the star on top,

To sing along to Christmas songs

And watch Dad have his strop!

To dance and all look silly

In our crazy Christmas hats,

To take turns hanging bobbles

And our treasured bits of tat.

To cheer when Dad eventually

Gets all the lights a glow,

To laugh and march together to

His Dulci Jubilo!

To light the spicy candles

And put Santa on the shelf,

Then watch a favourite Christmas film;

The Grinch or maybe Elf!

So, there lies my dilemma

With an answer not yet clear,

Should we put the tree up?

Or hang off till you’re all here?

The 22^nd of December,

Seems a while to wait!

I can't help thinking that the tree

Should be up by that date.

I guess I should be doing

What I do when faced with strife,

And think of something good about

This latest change in life.

Of course! That’s it! The tree’s going up,

I’ve come to my decision.

This change in family circumstance

Calls for a special mission

To make a great job of the tree,

Just me and Dad alone,

And make the house all Christmassy

To welcome you back home!

https://soundcloud.com/janey-123/should-the-christmas-tree-go

Soaking up the winter sun

Sometimes it can be the simplest of things. Today, amongst other things, it was sitting soaking up the sunshine at one of the outside tables of the Waterside Cafe in Anstruther. Two hours of scribbling on my notepad and drinking coffee while Alex was finishing off a wee job at one of our sites in the lovely little East coast seaside town. It really was a brilliant way to spend a Sunday morning; writing and sunbathing, in Scotland, in November. Perfect.

Alex being creative...

...while I try to be creative...

Appreciating having a voice at all

A six day stretch of having redundant vocal chords has given me an opportunity to experience some small sense of what it might be like for people who can't make a sound any time. Not just for a few days, but never at all.

I'm finding it so very frustrating not being able to open my mouth and simply say what I want to say. I can write notes, or make hand signals, or mouth out the words silently (I've been advised by the doctor not even to whisper), but I'm missing the added emphasis that such things as tone and variation in volume and expression can provide. Writing a note or making hand signals just isn't having the same impact that a shout, or a whisper, or a sarcastic tone, or a change in pitch would. 

I have, of course, found ways of adapting. If I'm angry I can WRITE THE WORDS ON MY NOTE IN BLOCK CAPITALS or I can accompany my hand signals with wide eyes and wide mouthing. If I'm sad I can scribble my note slowly, as if each word was hitting my heart instead of the page. (Crying actually really hurts my throat, so I'm wondering if the emotional turmoil - that I expected to accompany the youngest of my kids moving in to his own place at the beginning of the week - hasn't really surfaced because my body has stood up to my emotions and put a kind of throat-defense-mechanism into action!) If I'm happy I can smile and if I'm irritated I can throw my eyes up in the air. Alex and I have also been deploying a wide variety of hand signals, especially when I'm at my most exasperated...

I'll soon (hopefully) be walking back through the doorway into a more familiar world of being able to verbally chat, shout, whisper, laugh, sob and sing, and I consider myself so very fortunate that my need for adaptation to silent communication is short-lived. Not so for the many people who, for a variety of reasons, find it difficult - or indeed impossible - to speak at all.

Our voices, and what we have to say (or sing!), might not be to everyone's liking. And sometimes I guess that that very thought can put us off using our voices. But how lucky we are to have voices at all.

I remember the first time I posted a video clip on this wee blog of me singing a solo with the choir; I went through a whole 'Will I Won't I?' thing for ages as if I was making some kind of brave and momentous decision or another! When it came down to it, the thing I feared most was the idea that folk might think I was rubbish, or might think I was showing off by publishing the clip. And I still feel a bit like that. (...Why is it that most of us feel like that about singing in public? Singing makes us feel so good, why is it something that we get so shy about? Or worry so much about what other folk think?...) But, with a hugely grateful nod to the fact that I do have a voice to sing with - no matter what it sounds like - I'm feeling good about posting the following clips today. Yup, I'm holding my head high and not letting any of that silly internal argument get in the way! Whether you like the sound of my voice or not (and there are loads of brilliant voices in the choir to listen to if you don't like my wee bits) I'm just feeling good that I (usually) do have a voice at all that can make some sounds that I can choose to share:

Songs in my silence

I've been loaded with the cold for the past four days - stuffed nose, sore head, sore ear, sore throat and so sick of not being able to speak! I've not been able to make a sound. Not a peep. Nada. Aw man, it's so frustrating. I wish I could say that I've made the most of being cooped up at home by producing some profound piece of writing or another, or by reading some fantastic book or another, or by doing some other sort of worthwhile thing or another. Instead, I've spent most of the past few days curled up on the couch snoozing or watching rubbishy day time telly, or snoozing while rubbishy day time telly drones on in the background. I reckon that the bit of my brain that motivates me to buckle down and get on with something worthwhile is all bunged up along with everything else. That's my excuse anyway.

Actually, now that I think about it, I have done one useful thing today; I've reduced the percentage on our Sky planner. Now I know that that sounds ridiculous, in the whole scheme of things, but I just have this thing about the planner being nearly full and I get a real kick out of hitting the yellow button! Am I the only one? (Sometimes it really is the simplest of things...) And, as if that wasn't thrilling enough, the programme I watched reduced the planner by a whole three percent! (It's so deflating when you hit the yellow button and there's a drop of only one percent...)

And, just to add to this feel-good thing, the programme I watched was a great one! It was last night's 'Imagine', telling the story of the Jewish influence on Broadway Musicals. I had no idea that the melodies from so many of my favourite songs from musicals were derived from Jewish prayers. The programme showed loads of great clips, some really interesting interviews and a load of fantastic songs. Irving Berlin, Jerome Kern, Gershwin, Rogers, Hammerstein, Sondheim...the list went on. I managed to stay awake all the way through it - Hooray - and, even though it was torture not being able to sing along, it provided a lovely wee bit of sunshine on a day that the rain was definitely falling on my parade:

Joining in

Of all the days to wake up with a cold and sore throat, it had to be the day of my last Heart of Scotland choir concert! However, with the help of lots of hot water, honey, lemon, strepsils, vicks, paracetamol, vocalzones, sudafed, handkies and much-appreciated encouragement from my choir buddies I managed to join in, force some sound out of my mouth and thoroughly enjoy the whole Bertie experience! Just as I predicted in my last post, it was a poignant night for many of us (for many different reasons) but it was also a night full of fun, laughter and - of course - fantastic music and singing! I left the Albert Halls last night with a wee tear and a big smile, and I'm left today with a big bunch of happy Heart of Scotland memories to add to my collection.

Today I'm also left with almost no voice. And it's so frustrating! I like to chat at the best of times, but today it's especially important to me that I can join in the conversation! Gemma's at home (after travelling up from London for a wonderful surprise visit), Gordon's spending his last day at home before moving into his new flat tomorrow, and we have a family Skype session lined up with Ross, who's over in the States, later on this afternoon. I definitely need to find my voice again! There's no way I'm missing out on the Milne crew chit chat!

This is Remembrance Sunday, so it's important that the day includes moments of silence. But it's also a day for me to make the very most of having my wee family round about me, whether they're here in the flesh or looking out at me from a computer screen! So, it's back to the honey, lemon, strepsils, vicks, paracetamol, vocalzones, sudafed and any other such lotion or potion I can lay my hands on that'll help me find my voice again! Because simply sitting at home on a Sunday, joining in with the chit chat with my family, is what's going to make me feel really good today.

The Choir

Anyone who reads this wee blog regularly will know that I don't just wear my heart on my sleeve; I broadcast it loudly and pin it up in neon lights. It's not a new thing: poor Alex's thunder was stolen on our wedding day, 25 years ago, when I interrupted him at the end of his speech by standing up and giving an impromptu emotional spiel about how lucky I felt, how much I loved my groom and how grateful I was for everything my mum and dad had done for me and for having me in the first place! Our kids will have also all have many a tale to tell of times when their auld maw's mouth has gone into overdrive! Sometimes I just can't help it, especially when I'm feeling particularly emotional.

Last night was a case in point. If you look at the 'labels' on my wee blog you'll see that 'Heart of Scotland Choir' looms large on the list, which is testament to how often I've written about how good being a member of the choir makes me feel. So, it was with a fairly heavy heart that I headed off last night to my last choir rehearsal, not just the last rehearsal before our next concert, but my last rehearsal. Our lovely choir mum, Ray, eloquently said recently that the choir has an 'ebb and a flow' (a bit like life really), with the heart of it rolling on strong while people come and go. And now it's just my time, for various reasons, to have to go. I always feel sad when any of my friends leave the choir, so it was fairly predictable that I'd be feeling a bit emotional during my own last rehearsal. Having said that though, I absolutely loved it! It was the last rehearsal before our annual concert in the Albert Halls (in Stirling) and the 'Bertie Buzz' was very much in evidence! Rehearsing with the band is always brilliant, but last night there just seemed to be a different level of 'Bertie Buzz-iness' than usual. I had an absolute blast and, even though I was a bit weepy at times, my heart was well and truly lifted. I'm really looking forward to the concert and it'll be a night when the loss of choir members through choice, or through other things in their life taking priority, or for a multitude of other reasons will all be put into perspective when we sing our hearts out in memory of Laurie, our choir dad who left us earlier this year through absolutely no choice of his own. I'm obviously biased, but it promises to be a great night - and it would be great to see you there! Tickets are on sale from 'The Albert Halls' in Stirling online! (Might as well get one last plug in...!)

At the end of the rehearsal Annie emotionally announced to the choir that the rehearsal had been the last for three of us: me, Greig (the man in the hat with the golden voice of Boo's Band fame) and Mair (flautist and singer extraordinnaire, who was one of the favourites with Day Care patients at the hospice). Listening to Annie as she thanked us and told us how much we'd be missed made me cry some more and then (I can actually see my kids cringing as they read this...) ocht, I did that thing of standing up and saying how much the choir had meant to me and how much I'd miss everyone and how grateful I was for everything and I said I was sure Greig and Mair felt the same... it wasn't enough to say how I felt, I even pulled Mair and Greig into it too!

So, to Annie, I'm sorry for butting in on you! I have form...! And, to my choir family, I'm sorry for holding you back at the end of a long rehearsal! But, I'm not sorry for telling you all that I'll miss you, and that I'm so very grateful for every single memory and 'feel-good' moment you've given me during these past few years (present and previous members included!). Thank you all - and see you at the Bertie on Saturday!!

Getting ready to head for home

Our wee whirlwind trip to the States is drawing to a close. We've crammed a lot in and we've really made the most of our time here, but the past couple of days have definitely been my favourite part of our stay - and the most emotional!

There's so much I'd like to jot down - my  head's full of everything we've done and everything I've felt during our stay - but it's too much and I only have time to jot down a wee bit before it's time to get up, get breakfast, get packing, get lunch with Ross, get to the airport and get on the plane home.

It was twenty years ago on Friday since my Dad died. A familiar but indescribable and overwhelming pain engulfed me that night. Time hasn't dulled the pain of losing my Dad, it's simply weaved a silvery web over the gaping hole in my heart, never closing it completely and always leaving just enough space for my sorrow to occasionally seep through. That's how it is for me anyway. Everyone's experience of grief is different. That's just how it is for me. Every now and again it seeps up, I sob uncontrollably, I feel a physical stabbing pain in my chest, I sob uncontrollably, I see my Dad smiling and waving to me just like he did the last time I saw him, I cannot believe it, I see myself furiously shaking my head to make it not real, I sob uncontrollably, then it gradually subsides and I feel an overwhelming sense of relief that it's passed again. I guess that lots of people will be able to relate to this in some way, shape or form, but our grief is our own. That's just how it is for me.

That was one sad moment in amongst a multitude of happy ones during our trip. Having some really special times with Alex - just the two of us - then spending lots of really special time with Ross has been simply awesome. It's been brilliant to see Ross happy, settled and clearly making the very most of his stay in the States. And the hugs, of course, have been the absolute highlight!


We've had a blast here; I've laughed a lot, cried a lot, said 'Aw man, that's awesome!' a lot, driven a lot, seen a lot, hugged Ross a lot, said 'Crazy Americans!' a lot, cycled a lot and felt so very lucky with my lot a lot. Yup, it's been a great trip and I've felt really good, a lot! But, it's time to head home now and, even though I'm not looking forward to saying Cheerio to Ross, I am looking forward to getting back home, a lot...

Making the most of some down time

It's a good job we didn't come away on holiday with the intention of lounging around on the beach all week! We've had two days of warm sunshine - warm being the operative word - with the rest of the time being a bit dull and overcast. (The rain on our first morning here thankfully didn't really come to much.) The fact is that we wouldn't normally manage a holiday away from it all at this time of year at all so we're determined to make the very most of it, no matter the weather.

 

So far we've done a fair bit of exploring by bike and by car and today Alex's away doing some more exploring on a boat. There's a marina right opposite our hotel and the big sign that says 'Deep Sea Fishing Trips' has been shouting out to him ever since we arrived. He did take a bit of persuading to go though: 'Ocht, that would be rotten; leaving you here all on your own while I go away on a big boat with a big bunch of men with big fishing rods and big crates of beer to catch some big fish. I mean, what would you do all day...?'

 

It's not been easy, of course, but I've just about managed to keep myself occupied...



...having a boring time eating a stodgy American breakfast smothered in maple syrup, drinking lots of coffee and a reading a good book...

 

...then walking along the beach with only the birds and a family of playful dolphins for company (the dolphins are out there somewhere, honest! I just wasn't quick enough with the camera!)... 

 

 

 

 

 

 

...and finally sitting here reading, writing and watching the world go by while I wait for Alex's boat to dock...

 Yup, it's been a really tough one dear, but somehow I've just about managed to keep myself busy and ended up feeling really good today...!

Being by the beach

We spent seventeen hours travelling yesterday - resulting in a bit of a wonky body clock and being bright eyed and bushy tailed just now while I should be sleeping - but I have a feeling it will all have been worth it. We're spending the best part of a week in Virginia before driving up north to visit our son Ross, who's doing a semester in Pennsylvania as part of his University course. However, as this:

was the first place we stumbled upon as we wandered along the Boardwalk last night, I'm guessing there might be a wee story or two from a saddle in the States before we leave Virginia Beach!

Being on holiday always makes me feel good, though this is a strange one for both me and Alex because we've come off on a 'proper' holiday on our own. We've done the City Break and long-weekend type of thing without the kids in years gone by, but this is different because we're at the beach. For the past 22 years we've always had kids with us anytime we've gone on holiday to the beach, or gone on a 'vacation' kind of holiday. We've not always had all of the kids with us as they've got older, but there are usually at least one, two or three of them with us when we head off on our holidays. It's just another sign of the passing of time and the moving through the stages of them being all grown up. And, although it brings a bit of a lump to my throat as I'm writing this, it makes me feel so very good that we can come away and do this on our own (and cycle while we're here!! Hooray!!) safe in the knowledge that our kids are all happily and capably doing their own thing too. Our visit to Ross is very much going to be just that; a visit. When we meet up with him we'll be fitting in to his schedule and not expecting him to fit in to ours.

I think that one of the greatest gifts you can give your kids is the freedom and confidence to make their own choices and allow them to be who they really want to be. To let them go. Our youngest son, Gordon, has recently decided that it's time for him to find a place of his own and, as much as I can't help feeling sad about him leaving home, I'm extremely proud and happy that he feels ready to step out and give 'looking after myself and doing my own thing' a go. Of course, our kids always know that they've got their old maw and paw to fall back on for morale support, encouragement or simply just a hug, and hopefully that's part of what makes it easier for them to take - then make the most of - those first big steps out of the door. It won't always be easy for them; tough stuff will be thrown at them and they'll make plenty of mistakes along the way, but that's all part of living a full life. And finding their own ways of working through the hard stuff will hopefully make them more able to make the very most of all the good stuff.

It was strangely comforting yesterday to be leaving from the country that Gordon is in (Scotland) then - albeit briefly while waiting on a connecting flight - spend a bit of time in the country that Gemma is in (England) then finally land in the country that Ross is in (USA). It felt like a wee whirlwind tour of the places where the Milne crew are settled at the moment. And that really did make me feel good.

As I'm typing this, Alex is opening the curtains and telling me that it's raining! At the beach!! On our holidays...!!! Ocht well, what was that I was saying again about making the most of the bad stuff? So, I think I might be heading off now to have some fun cycling through some big fat American puddles...

Writing a wee ditty for National Poetry Day

I probably get more pleasure out of writing my wee poems than anyone would ever get from reading them; they just never seem to 'read' well! However, they usually turn out OK when they're 'read out', so I've recorded today's effort - written in honour of National Poetry Day - and posted it on Sound Cloud. You should hear it by clicking on this link: Jane's poem for National Poetry Day: The Saddle Hope you enjoy it!

Making the most of my 'new' free time...

Well Hullo! It's been a while! I'd actually shut this wee blog down (some of you might have noticed?!) after my last post because I was wondering (yet again...) if putting so much chit-chat-from-the-heart out there on the internet was such a good idea. Especially while I was in Post Graduate training towards a career in counselling. However, things have changed! I've left Uni; I'm no longer in training and it's looking highly unlikely that I'll be working as a 'professional' counsellor any time soon. I'll definitely not be giving up my voluntary work as a counsellor (I enjoy and value it far too much), but that particular work doesn't require me to have the advanced training certificate or the professional accreditation that would follow on from completion of the course.

I don't think it would be appropriate to air all of the reasons why (after taking a lot of time over the summer months to mull it over) I've decided to leave Uni. I think it's suffice to say that I felt a bit let down by the training right from the start and - now that I have made the decision to leave - I'm feeling a bit like one of those squidgy balls that's been slowly squashed up tight inside a big hand during this past year and has suddenly been released to bounce back immediately into shape! I'm absolutely positive that I've made the right decision, even if that decision does mean I no longer qualify for student discounts in Top Shop or New Look...

Some folk might think I'm daft to give up on a course half way through when I've passed all the assignments and was on my comfortable way to being awarded the Diploma. But some aspects of the course just didn't sit well with me and I felt frustrated more often than I felt fulfilled. For me, one of the most important aspects of this particular style of training is a willingness to be (or a determination to aim to be) open and honest to ourselves about how we feel; not just on the day that we're at Uni, but as a way of living our lives. And that, ironically, left me with no choice but to leave! It just doesn't feel right to be qualified and accredited in something professionally when I've lost faith in some aspects of the training procedures for that profession.

One of the things that's making me feel really great about this big decision, to leave the course and a possible future career in professional counselling, is that it's freed me up to think about what's next on the agenda! I might spend some more time at the hospice, I can get work work back on track (...maybe...) and I've recently taken up cycling! Aw man, I absolutely love that and I've been enjoying blethering about it on my other wee blog. I'm also hoping to use some of my 'new' free time to be more disciplined about writing. Ramblings here, and on my cycling blog, don't count. I mean, they do count because I'm writing when I'm writing my blog posts, but they don't count because nobody's saying, 'Oh, this is good work, I'd like to publish it'  (am I making any sense whatsoever??!!) I'm flattered every single time someone makes a comment - either here or on Facebook or by email or face to face - about something I've written, but I still don't actually know if I'm capable of writing something that people would be willing to pay for! Maybe it's time to put a real bit of effort into finding out, instead of just wishing for it to happen.

So, I'm going to set myself a goal. Right now. I've decided! I'm going to aim to have something - even if it's just a teeny wee something - published by this time next year! There, now that I've said it out loud I have to put my mind to it and get on with it! I'm going to try to be a 'proper' writer with some of my free time. And the thought of that, dear reader, is making me feel really good today.

a busy, special week ahead...

Today sees the start of a week where Gordon’s heading off to his first full time job in the big grown up world, Ross will be in the throes of organising flights, visas and accommodation for his semester in the States, and Gemma’s embarking on a bunch of graduation celebrations with her university pals, culminating with her own graduation on Friday before she moves down to work and live in London on Sunday! And, thrown into the mix, on the same day that Gemma graduates me and Alex will be celebrating our 25^th Wedding Anniversary!

So, an exciting, emotional and busy week lies ahead. I’m feeling incredibly proud, a wee bit sad, very excited, but mostly really good that my wee crew are happy and getting on fine and I so appreciate how very lucky I am to have what and who I have in my life - family and friends alike. I hope never to take any of it for granted.

I’ve been thinking a lot recently about how incredibly lucky I am to be surrounded by people I love and people who love me - and about how important it is to me that we’re able to talk to each other about what’s going on in our lives. It’s also important that we can express how we feel about the stuff that’s going on in our lives, without ever worrying that we’ll be met with anything other than acceptance, compassion and an understanding ear. I guess I’ve been thinking more about all that kind of stuff recently as I was a wee bit upset last week when the transparency of who I am and the way I do things was challenged, and I was questioned as to whether I was being genuine in both my behaviour and attitudes.

 I guess it shook me up a bit and was a stark reminder that I really don’t feel good when I’m exposed to personally aimed scepticism or cynicism. I think that’s probably the same for most folk. The sad thing is that that kind of thing can happen even in the places that we think should be the most safe and accepting. And I guess I was a bit more upset than I would normally be when I’m met with that kind of a thing because it came at a time when my precious kids are venturing out into the big, exciting, wonderful – but also sometimes sceptical, cynical and scary – world. I guess it was a stark reminder that they too will sometimes feel let down, misunderstood or mistrusted and, in typical mum fashion, I just wish I could make the world a cosier place for them all!

However, what makes me feel really good is the fact that as they do head off on the next steps of their exciting journeys, they do so safe in the knowledge that their auld maw and paw, and some of their good friends, have loved them (and will continue to love them) wholly, and unconditionally, simply for who they are. And that knowledge, just as was the case for me last week, will hopefully make the cynicism of the porcupines that they’re bound to come across (remember them, from this previous post) a whole lot easier to cope with! 

So, I'd best be off; I've lots to be getting on with, and sitting blethering to you isn't getting any of it done! Having said that, I've just noticed the time; the boys will be in from work soon....ocht well, I guess my own work work and the ironing will just have to wait! Yup, hearing how Gordon got on during his first day of work, at the end of this first day of what promises to be a pretty special week for the Milne crew, is definitely much more important than a pile of paperwork and a few creased shirts! By this time next week he'll have a week at work under his belt, Ross will be more organised for his semester in America, Gemma will be a graduate and will be living in London, and Alex and I will have had a Silver Wedding Anniversary. With a wee sad and happy tear I can safely say that the very thought of it all is what's making me feel good today....

Inspiring a lovely song...

This is a p.s. to my last post! My pal Paul (remember Paul? My friend from choir who came into the hospice a few times to play guitar and sing with one of the patients? You can read more about him here) has written a song which was inspired by my 'Still burling round the bars' post. I just had to share it here on my wee blog; mainly because I'm chuffed, but also because I LOVE the song! Hope you do too....

I think it's funny
how we used to sit underneath the stars
Taking turns, racing trolleys
Still burling, burling round the bars

Of an age
That we won't stay
forever
'The fearless unafraid'

Head held high
You'll go far
If you keep burling
burling round the bars

Taking turns
to fall in and out of love
Take in turns
to announce our arrival to the world

Head held high 
You'll go far
If you keep burling, 
burling round the bars

I think it's funny
how we used to sit underneath the stars
Taking turns racing trolleys (pushing forty)
but still burling, burling round the bars...  

Paul McKeever, May 2013

Paul writes his own music, and he sings, and he plays the guitar and piano. And, one of his songs reached number 14 recently in the Scottish New Music Charts! I feel absolutely chuffed to bits that my 'burling round the bar' musings inspired him to write such a lovely song.

So, thanks Paul! The sunshine and your song has made me feel brilliant today!

Keeping on burling round the bars...

I was chatting to a good pal today and she was surprised to hear that I did a lot of gymnastics when I was young. ‘You! A gymnast?! You just don’t look like a gymnast!’ (We’re both at different stages of our person-centred counselling training so I’m used to her being – sometimes too – honest with me!!). She went on to say, ‘ I thought all gymnasts were stick thin, petite and graceful!’ Well, she had a point, I was never stick thin (though you certainly don’t need to be that to be a good gymnast!), I was never petite (in fact, I was one of the tallest girls in my class all through school), and I’m definitely not, and never have been, graceful. I’ve always been fairly flexible and bendy though, and I had no fear of flinging myself round the asymmetric bars or prancing along the beam (prancing being the operative word; I could just about manage the odd back flip on the scariest piece of apparatus, but I never reached the dizzy heights of somersaulting on the beam!) So, I was never going to be the next Olga Korbut, but that didn’t matter. I loved the training, I loved spending time with my gymnastic club mates, I loved competing and I loved doing cart wheels, round offs, the splits, back flips, burlies on the bars and all that prancy stuff on the beam. For most of my primary school years, gymnastics was my thing.

And then it was all spoiled. Hmph.  My club mates decided they didn’t want me in their gang any more. Or, one of them decided and the rest followed suit. Ocht, it was rubbish. One minute I felt like a member of a big happy family, the next I felt like the outcast in the corner. I couldn’t understand why it was happening – I remember putting it down to the fact that my peer group at the club were all progressing and getting more and more like Olga, while I was still kind of ‘just doing it for the fun of it’. The final straw probably came for them when we were at a competition in some sports hall or another in Glasgow and I forgot my floor routine! Jeeso, I’m sitting here blushing as I think about it! I can remember the music droning on (‘Bali Hi’ from South Pacific – I’ve hated it ever since!) as I came to a standstill in the middle of the mats in the middle of my routine. I had a complete mind blank. I just couldn’t remember what came next! You know that bit in Dirty Dancing when they’re performing at the Sheldrake and Baby doesn’t do the lift and she starts shimmying and Johnny throws his eyes up in the air and then they get it back together and it all works out in the end? Well, that didn’t happen for me! If only I’d had a Johnny there to rescue me! What did happen was that I just started cart wheeling around the floor like an eejit, one after the other, over and over, with the odd wee wiggle in between. Aw man, I’m totally cringing here as I picture the scene. I must’ve looked like such a numpty! Needless to say, the judges scored me the lowest total of the day and I brought the team position down from pretty high to pretty low! I think I was eleven years old at the time. 

Back at the club it became too difficult for me to stay. Nobody speaking to me, nobody being my partner, everyone throwing their eyes up in the air at me, or sniggering when I stumbled, ocht, just all the usual kind of stuff, just generally not including me. I didn’t put up with it for very long and I left the club fairly soon after it all started. I told everyone else - all my other pals and my family - that I was bored of gymnastics. I didn’t want to admit that I was having to give up something up that I loved because my friends had decided they didn’t want to be my friends any more. In years to come I really regretted leaving; not so much because I missed the gymnastics, but because I felt as if I’d let myself down. I wonder how it would’ve been if I’d simply asked the girls why they weren’t talking to me, why they didn’t like me any more. Or if I'd just kept on burling round the bar. It’s so easy to contemplate and rationalise it all as a grown-up, not so much for an eleven year old.

I’m ashamed to say there were times, when I was young, that I was sat on the other side of the fence; I wasn’t a bully, but I can think of occasions when I went along with the crowd because I was too scared to say or do what I felt was right. It’s so not the way to go.  And I’m so grateful that I came to understand that sooner rather than later in my life. 

One of my old school friends, Debbie, writes a blog and I loved this most recent post. Just like Debbie and her husband, Alex and I have always encouraged our kids to ‘walk their own walk’ and I’m so very proud of the fact that they do just that. Like me, they’ve been hurt by friends not accepting them for who they are at times. But, unlike the eleven year old me, they’ve held their heads high and just kept on burling round the bars. Hooray! And I can't even begin to tell you how good that makes this unlikely looking old gymnast feel... 

A fond wee nod to Laurie....

Ross is away, walking the West Highland Way, with one of his pals at the moment. It’s absolutely baltic in Scotland  – the coldest Easter on record seemingly – so their plan to camp for the duration of the walk was chucked straight out the window after a freezing cold, and sleepless, first night in their little tent! Well, I say little tent, it’s actually a pretty big and heavy 3-man tent and for the past 3 days they’ve been lugging it along the Way for no good reason as they’ve spent the past 2 nights in a Bothy and a Youth Hostel! So, during a quick check-in chat with Ross on the phone last night, I told him to leave the tent at the reception of the Hostel before they set off on their next leg today and I’d take a run up to Crianlarich to collect it – along with any other gear they didn’t need – after they’d gone. I could not have picked a better day for the drive. It was absolutely glorious! Baltic outside mind, but the sun was shining and the snow was gleaming and the hills were magnificent. Yup, Scotland was looking her resplendent best!

And not only was it a great morning for soaking up some fantastic scenery, it was a great morning for putting my ipod onto shuffle and giving it laldy to whichever tune happened to surface and blare out into the car! So, give it laldy I did for most of the journey – until one of our choir songs came on. I couldn't sing past the lump in my throat. You see, we lost someone very special from our Heart of Scotland Choir family on Sunday. Laurie Hamilton - who became fondly known as our Choir Dad - died peacefully at home on Sunday morning after a long, hard fight against cancer. He was a lovely, lovely man and his family are absolutely devastated. He had so, so much more still to give.

Laurie was well known and well loved by many, many people - he was an extremely talented musician, a highly-respected teacher of music, a gifted photographer and had many other strings to his far-reaching bow. Much will be written, or spoken, about Laurie by the many folks who have known him for far longer than me and by folks who know much more about his colourful and influential life than me. But, I couldn’t let this post go by without giving my own special mention to our very special Choir Dad.

Laurie became known as our Choir Dad mainly because most of his ‘real’ family make up the back bone of the choir. Laurie himself played the bass guitar in the Choir’s band; Annie and Jane - the choir’s founders and leaders - are his daughters; Ray, Alexis, Colin, Leonie and Josh - members of the choir and the Junior Chorus - are his wife, daughter, son-in-law and grand children respectively; Steve - the choir’s drummer - is his son; and David - the choir’s chief baby-sitter, sometimes photographer, and general supportive back-up - is his son-in-law (and also a talented bass player). It really is a family thing. So, Laurie became known as our Choir Dad and Ray is fondly known as our Choir Mum. But there’s more to it than that....

I remember this one time we sang at a charity event in The King Robert Hotel in Bannockburn. I think it was only the second time that I’d had to sing a wee solo verse and I remember absolutely bricking it. To make matters worse, we were singing in a busy, bustling bar and we had no microphones. The guy that was supposed to bring the mikes just didn’t turn up. However, as is always the case, Annie just got on with it and, with hearty encouragement, told us to do the same. I was so nervous not being able to hear myself sing and I was sure I would be as flat as a pancake! But, fortunately, sitting in amongst the hustle and bustle of the audience was Laurie; looking, as ever, calm and collected as he watched over his granddaughter with one eye and his choir family with the other. Then it came to my wee bit. As I started to sing, feeling quite sick, I glanced over at Laurie and he gave me a tiny little nod. Just a teeny wee nod of the head. And that was enough. I’ve got absolutely no idea if I did sing as flat as a pancake – and no one could hear us soloists anyway, so it didn’t matter! – but that wee supportive nod of the head was enough to settle my nerves and let me relax enough to actually enjoy belting out my verse! And I guess that kind of sums up how I’ll always remember Laurie: looking over his families - both his real one and his choir one – with love and lending his gentle but strong support and encouragement wherever and whenever it was required. I can think of many moments where I saw him looking on with pride – and sometimes a tear in his eye - as his wife, or daughters, or son, or sons-in-law, or grandchildren performed beside him or in front of him. He’ll be sorely missed by all of us in the choir, but that will be nothing in comparison to the sadness and heart ache that Ray, Steve, Alexis, Jane, Annie and the rest of Laurie’s very special family will have to bare. 

I think I’ve said it before, that writing a post about something so terribly sad on a blog called ‘What’s making me feel good today’ might seem a bit strange and out of place.  But, taking a moment or two to think about how lucky I am to have known Laurie – even it was for a relatively short time – makes me feel good amongst the sadness. Sharing our memories can be painful, but also comforting, and it’s my hope that sharing my little special memory of Laurie just might, just maybe, go some way to making his lovely family feel a wee bit good too, even in the darkest of their days. As I said before, mine will only be a tiny story in the multitude of memories that will be shared and cherished over the coming days; hopefully all of them combined will help give the family some comfort, and even some smiles and laughter, in the difficult times ahead.

So, with the sun streaming through the windows, surrounded by our beautiful Scottish scenery, I swallowed the lump in my throat and sang along to one of my favourite choir songs today. And, with a wee tear in my eye, I gave a fond little nod to Laurie – and did my very best to hit every note of the song on the head...

.... coming back ......

Hullo! So, having said a fond farewell and written the ‘last post’ on my wee blog a couple of months ago, I’ve decided to, em, come back. OK, you may well be throwing your eyes up in the air whilst muttering ‘Jeeso! Make up your bloody mind!’, but I’m hoping you’ll bear with me while I try to explain! I’m not even back with a shiny, new, ‘let’s look at life from a completely different angle’ kind of wee blog; I’ve just decided to, sort of, re-start this one all over again! I guess I feel like a bit of a numpty. I mean, I did write a passionate, considered and very determined ‘last and farewell post’ in January, so I guess I do feel a wee bit silly just now! But, ocht, it’s not really that big a deal to feel silly, is it?!

 So, let me explain why I’ve decided to make a comeback (...that makes me sound a bit like Mickey Rourke! Though, I obviously don’t have any celebrity status to fall back on – and I definitely haven’t had any plastic surgery...). It’s pretty simple really; I knew that I’d miss writing my wee blog, but I didn’t realise just how much I’d miss it. It’s not that I’ve missed writing; I’ve still been writing – mostly in my journal – but it’s just not the same. There’s something about sharing your stuff regularly – or putting it out there – that makes blogging so appealing. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but there’s something really satisfying about posting scribbles that might be read by someone else, might even be enjoyed and might be commented on or responded to. I speak to myself when I write my journal, and it’s just not the same! One of these days, I’d like to have a go at writing articles for the internet, or magazines or even some sort of book (wouldn’t we all?!), but I don’t have the inclination or time for that at the moment. And I just enjoy the whole process of writing a blog post. So, what about the other reasons I gave for stopping; the parrots on  my shoulder, and the worrying about making personal stuff public, and the desire to start a completely different kind of blog? What happened to all of that? Well, I simply haven’t come up with any other ‘angle’ I want to take with a new blog, or anything else I want to write about. Not at the moment anyway. That - of course - might change in the future, but for now I still simply want to write about what’s making me feel good in some of my days. And, as far as my family, and the parrots and the sharing of stuff from an ethical point of view are concerned, well, I’ve decided I’d like to have a go at just being even more cautious and considerate of any possible consequences before I click the ‘publish’ button, in the hope that I can find a way of writing a personal blog that won’t compromise my family, my friends, my colleagues or my clients. It’s going to be a wee bit of a challenge, but one that I’m hoping won’t be insurmountable (which is how I saw it in January) and one that I’m actually now looking forward to with some relish!

We often have to stop doing the things that we enjoy (or the things that make us feel good!) due to some constraint or another and, sadly, the opportunities to get back to those things can sometimes be frustratingly difficult to find. And sometimes we feel a bit embarrassed – or a bit silly – about our decision to stop, and just feel we can’t go back. But this one’s a no-brainer for me. I stopped writing my wee blog because of certain constraints that I’d mostly imposed upon myself, and I guess I feel a bit daft about coming back to it after writing a big fond farewell, but not daft enough to stop me! It’s only a wee blog after all! 

So, here we go again dear reader – whoever you might be this time around! I’m really looking forward to joining you here again, and I hope you don’t think I’m too much of a numpty! Though, if you do, I can think of worse things to be; in the grand scheme of things, being a numpty’s really not that bad! Yup, coming back to something I said Goodbye to – that’s what’s making me feel good today!

Saying a fond farewell.....

With a heavy heart, dear readers, I’ve decided to make this the last post on my wee blog. 

Last month I wrote a deliberating post; bemoaning the fact that I wasn’t writing posts as regularly as I used to, wondering why that was, and eventually deciding that the length of time between posts didn’t matter. Whether I wrote one post a day or one post a month; all that really mattered was still feeling good about writing my wee blog. I also decided that if reading my posts made someone else feel good along the way, well, that was just a brilliant added bonus!

Yesterday someone commented on a post that I’d written two years ago. As ever, I was touched that a stranger on the other side of the world had come across my blog, been moved by one of the posts, then had taken the time to write a comment. She told me a bit about her story and explained why my post had meant something to her. It’s a great example of that added bonus which made writing my blog such a special experience for me, and one of the many reasons why I’ll miss writing here.

So, why stop? Well, I think I’ve been kidding myself on a wee bit over this past wee while. I didn’t mention, in that last ‘deliberation’ post, the parrots on my shoulder. Let me explain. When I first started writing my blog I had one wee parrot sitting there on my shoulder, gently reminding me to be careful about what I was writing as every post was out there in the public domain. Now, however, I feel like I’ve got a whole flock of parrots fluttering all around my head almost every time I start to write a post. “Is it OK to write that? How will that affect certain folk? Better not mention so and so’s name. What will so and so think of me saying that? Do I want so and so to know that I was doing this and that? Is it OK for a stranger to know this simple wee thing about me? Or about my family? Blah blah blah....!” I guess I just don’t feel as free in my writing here as I used to. And I think that’s the real reason why I’ve stopped writing on my wee blog as often as I used to.

Nobody put those parrots there; they all belong to me and I think they’ve mostly popped up as a result of all of the ethical questions I have to continually ask myself as an important part of a practicing counsellor’s way of life. It's not just affected how I feel about my blog; I’ve recently gone through all of my ‘friends’ on Facebook and taken everyone off the list that I've never met. Please don’t be offended if you’re reading this and you’re one of my ‘virtual’ blogging pals – it’s absolutely nothing personal!

It makes me feel really sad to say it, but writing such a personal blog just isn’t sitting right with me anymore. It’s time to stop. I like to think I’ll start up a new blog sometime in the future – hopefully the not too distant future. I don’t have a clue what I’ll call it or what it’ll be about or how much of me I’ll bring to it but if you’d like to see what my blogging future holds, just make sure you’re registered here to receive email notifications (by filling in your email address on the bit over there on the right hand side that says 'Follow by email') and I’ll make sure I post a link to anything I come up with!

In the whole scheme of things, ending my wee blog’s really not that big a deal (...I’m going to two funerals this week...). But I will really miss it and I’ll really miss you. Whoever you are, wherever you are, whether this is the first post you’ve read or the umpteenth – I’ll miss blethering to you here.

I don't want to go on too much more, but I can't stop without saying a huge Thank You! Thank you so very very much for taking the time to read my posts. They've had a lot of views - over 26,000 to date - and I’ve absolutely loved writing them. Thanks to the wonders of the internet, my wee blog will always be here to pop back to for a wee visit now and again. It’ll be good, in the future, to be reminded of things that made me feel good in the past and it’s my hope, dear readers, that some of you can benefit from doing that too – just like that lady yesterday who visited my blog for the first time and felt good after reading a two year old post!

As I’ve said right from the very start; not everyone can have the same outlook on life, but I really do think it’s possible to find something good in most of our days. 

So, what’s making me feel good today? Hm, saying a fond farewell to a great wee pal and remembering all the special times we’ve shared together. 

That’s what’s making me feel good today....

A lovely wee walk

Taking procrastination to a new level today, Gemma and I went out for a wee walk this morning with the intention of returning to the lodge a short time later full of fresh air and fresh ideas...but it didn't quite turn out that way! Instead, we found ourselves whiling away the hours in a gorgeous wee place called The Water Mill. Unsurprisingly, it's a Water Mill. But it's been lovingly converted into an independent bookshop, with an inviting wee cafe downstairs and an attractive wee art gallery upstairs. After browsing around the shop for a while, we settled down beside the stove in the busy wee cafe and, while we were waiting, I had a flick through one of the books I'd picked up. 'The Story of English in 100 Words' isn't as boring as it sounds - honest! It basically just explains the story behind a selection (100 to be precise..) of words from the English language in an entertaining way. Aw, I was fair tickled with this wee gem:

Wee: a Scottish contribution (14th Century). ...blah blah blah....there's a relationship with the Old English word 'weigh'...blah blah blah...Eventually 'wee' became an adjective meaning 'extremely small', 'tiny' and often it was used in a more general sense: 'little'...blah blah blah...then an interesting development took place: 'wee' became a term of endearment - a friendly welcoming word - and began to lose its association with size. That's how it's often used today. So, if someone in Scotland invites you in for a 'wee' drink, BEWARE! It won't necessarily be a small one...

Yup, our walk this morning was supposed to be a little one but, fortunately, it turned out to be a wee one instead! A really lovely walk that kept us out of the lodge for much longer than the wee while intended....!

The Birks of Aberfeldy!

We’re ‘away from it all’ but not very far away! In fact, we’re only an hour’s drive up the road from home in a wee place near Aberfeldy, but it’s very quiet and very scenic and it very much feels like we’re ‘away from it all!’

Alex’s been making the most of it by fitting in a fair few runs while Gemma and I have been making the most of it by, em, lounging around. We did, however, heave ourselves off the couch this morning to hit the hills for a lovely walk on a route that Alex discovered yesterday while he was out on one of his runs.

Aw, it was so gorgeous, and it turns out that the walk's been epitomised by Robert Burns in a song called The Birks of Aberfeldy. There’s even a wee bronze statue of Burns at the side of the path:

(Maybe if you touch the statue it makes you a better writer!)

and, further up the hill, a plaque - beside the spectacular Falls of Moness - which marks the spot where Burns supposedly sat while he was writing the song. I’m not really into Burns, but I googled 'Birks of Aberfeldy' when we got back and I actually loved these words:

Now simmer blinks on flowery braes

And o'er the chrystal streamlets plays;

Come let us spend the lightsome days

In the Birks of Aberfeldy.

   The little birdies blythely sing

While o'er their heads the hazels hing'

Or lightly flit on wanton wing

 In the Birks of Aberfeldy

The braes ascend like lofty wa's

The foamy stream deep-roaring fa's

O'er hung wi' fragrant spreading shaws

The Birks of Aberfeldy

So, there we go, a wee bit of Burns on my wee blog - with a couple of lovely photos provided by Gemma.

Tonight, I'm back to lounging in the lodge and trying to psyche myself up for the onerous task of getting stuck in to my assignment tomorrow. But, as we all know so well, the best laid schemes o' mice an' men gang aft agley....