Oohing and aahing at The Kelpies with some of my favourite people

Most of us in Central Scotland have been watching with interest as two giant horses have grown up from the ground over the course of the past year or so. Some folks think that Andy Scott's colossal 'Kelpie' sculptures are a colossal waste of money but most folk it seems, like me, think they're worth every single penny that's been spent on them. They're only just finished but they've already made a massive difference to the profile of Falkirk and the surrounding area, and they're bound to become a major tourist - and business - attraction.

I was at the launch night of the Kelpies last night. Aw man. I've oohed and ahhed at these immense Shire horses (they're modeled on two real Shire horses - the name 'Kelpies' is a wee bit misleading!) many times while driving past them at their various stages of rising from the ground, but seeing them up close during the spectacular light and pyrotechnic show last night took me to a whole new level of oohing and ahhing! They are absolutely stunning and we're so very lucky to have these magnificent beasts on our doorstep.

My only slight concern is that they're situated right next to a busy motorway and heads inevitably do turn to look at them. Hopefully though, drivers will remember that they're on the M9 and not become too distracted at the sight of two beautiful 30m high horses heads at the side of the road!

There are lots of fantastic photographs and videos of the Kelpies scattered all over the internet so I didn't really take many photos during the evening. My wee snaps from last night were more about recording snippets of what made the night particularly great for me; being at a spectacular event to launch an incredible piece of art with some of my favourite people who make me feel really good...

If you'd like to see some incredbile snaps and videos of the Kelpies, click here! 

Reaching my goal

I'm here with my tail between my legs as I've sadly neglected this wee blog recently. I should really own up - I've been having a bit of an affair with Wordpress and have started my very own website and a new blog with my very own domain name (http://janewrites.co.uk/)

I set myself a goal back in September last year when I said:

"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."

And I've done just that. I've spent most of my spare time during these past months either researching for the book, writing it, learning about self-publishing, working with a graphic designer, collaborating with contributors, finding sponsors and negotiating with printing companies. It's been a busy, and brilliant, time.

The end result is a very little book of rhymes that seems to be making a difference already. It's been on sale for less than a week and I've had some great feedback already.

Tomorrow I'm hosting 'A little light launch'. It won't be too grand an affair, but it'll hopefully be a good night amongst friends, some of my family (the rest of whom I'll sorely miss) and strangers (who'll no doubt soon be friends) too. Who would've thought? Little old me holding a little light launch of my little new book.

Making it to my goal before September, and loving every step of the journey to get here. That's what's making me feel good today.

Revealing 'One Woman's Verses Vs Cancer'

Finishing my little book, 'One Woman's Verses vs Cancer', and receiving the completed design from the wonderful Sandhy ready for taking to print tomorrow.

That's what's making me feel so very, very good today!

Having my teeth well and truly into my latest project

After all the humming and hawing a few weeks ago my teeth are now well and truly into my latest wee project. I'm loving the whole experience of creating a book of rhymes, and I'm learning so much as I go along. The most enjoyable thing though has been spending more time writing. I've taken a step back from one of my other voluntary activities for the moment so that I can put as much effort into the book as possible, and it's been great to have a little taste of what it's like to 'work' as a writer, even if it is unpaid!

There aren't going to be as many rhymes as I would've liked, so it is going to be a very little wee book! I just don't want to rush writing them and am therefore aiming for quality rather than quantity! There are still going to be a few of Gemma's illustrations included, but she's so very busy at the moment with her new career (and all of the other things that a twenty-something-year-old-living-in-London should be busy with during their first year after graduation) that I'll just be delighted with whatever she can manage within the relatively short deadline we've agreed!

It's not just the writing of the rhymes that's making this such a great experience: I've learned lots in the reading and researching for it; I've enjoyed getting my 'fundraiser' hat back on with all that that entails in looking for sponsors etc; I've had a lovely night with some of my village pals to 'road test' the rhymes; and I've made some new friends through the Women V Cancer Ride The Night Facebook page!

One of those new friends, in particular, has become an invaluable ally in the pulling together of the book. Sandhy's a professional graphic designer and has raised pots of money for Women V Cancer through both her own fundraising efforts and helping other people with theirs. She also writes a fantastic blog, which you'll find by clicking here. All of our communication so far has been through the internet, but my measure of her is that she's a great designer, she's passionate, she likes things to be done efficiently, she's headstrong, she has a wealth of experience in many different areas that she delights in sharing, and she says it as it is. She's also an ovarian cancer survivor. I was chuffed to bits when she offered to design the book and put it into a 'proper' format for printing, but she's been helpful with so much more than that and I'm very lucky to have her on board.

So, it looks like sometime soon (fingers crossed, within the next month) I'll have my first little publication for sale! I've written lots of rhymes for lots of people in the years gone by, and every one of them has been a joy and a privilege to write or recite. And I've been involved in plenty of other fundraising or voluntary projects, all of which have been really great experiences (especially the World of Difference work at the hospice!) so it just makes me feel really great that I'm sort of pulling on all of that previous experience in an effort to make this project as successful as possible.

And (as I said in my 'red corner/blue corner' post) if it's not a great success I will, at the very least, have learned another whole load of new things and raised some funds towards the fight against cancer in the process. Nothing to lose and a whole lot to gain, and that's what's making me feel good today!

Being out instead of in

Looking out the window and deciding it's a day for sitting in front of the fire with my notepad on my lap, changing my mind, getting all wrapped up, opening the door to sunshine instead of showers, heading up the Gargunnock Hills with Alex, wading through overflowing burns, stopping to look at the hills, splashing in puddles, stopping to admire the view across the carse, getting very  muddy, climbing over barbed wire fences, stopping to listen to the waterfall, tripping over ferns in the forest, tramping through a field full of sheep shit, splashing in more puddles, stopping at the village pub, sitting in front of the stove, supping soup and a pint, opening the door to showers instead of sunshine, heading home to sit in front of the fire with my notepad on my lap. 

That's what's making me feel good today :)

Gemma showing me the way

Once I get an idea into my head I usually really enjoy the process of pulling it out and turning it into some sort of reality, even if the reality ends up not bearing any resemblance whatsoever to the original idea! I usually find that the journey is just as - if not more - rewarding and enjoyable than the final destination. I don't usually fret too much over the decision to take the plunge and push on with putting my thoughts into action. And I usually manage not to worry too much about failing or falling flat on my face or making a fool of myself because I know that I'll learn something (and usually have some fun) in the process. That doesn't mean that I don't often get nervous or agonise about how things will turn out, but my nerves or anxiety are usually kept in check with the knowledge that I'll feel worse if I sit and do nothing than I will if I get off my backside and do something - even if there's a chance that that something might go horribly wrong! 

So, I don't have a clue why I've been so irrationally worried about putting my latest wee plan into action!

Gemma and I are taking part in the Women V Cancer 100km Night Cycle in London in May and I want to do something a bit different to help me meet (and exceed) the fundraising target. The idea I've come up with is to create a wee collection of poems, which all relate to either cycling or cancer, along with a few short articles (sort of 'what every woman should know' pieces on breast, ovarian and cervical cancer) and publish them in a book (or, most likely, a booklet) that will hopefully be entertaining and informative in equal measure. I've made a start on the poems and I've enlisted Gemma's help with illustrations and the technical/printing side of things! I've contacted the three charities that the event is supporting and they've all given me the thumbs up to it being a good idea. And, I'll be doing some of the things I love (cycling and writing) with the support of someone I love (Gemma). Surely it's a win win situation?! 

There is no reason whatsoever not to be cracking on with it and turning my idea into a reality. It might be hard work and it might be a bit of a challenge and I might not come up with great poems and I know nothing about publishing and I might not sell very many and everyone might think it's rubbish - but I'm bound to learn a lot and have a really good experience trying! But, until this morning, I just couldn't see it like that. Not like that at all. 

I was having palpitations every time I thought about doing this thing. I felt as if there was a battle going on inside my head between, in the blue corner, the part of me that's frightened that I'm going to make an ass of myself, that some folk will think it's a naff idea, that the poems will be rubbish, that nobody will buy the booklet, that I don't raise much money, that some folk might sneer and wonder who I think I am for even thinking about doing such a thing never mind carrying it through......against, in the red corner, the part of me (the more familiar part of me) that's excited about having a new wee project to get my teeth into, that's passionate about trying to raise money for three extremely important and worthwhile causes, that isn't worried about failing because I know that failing is so very much better than not trying at all, that loves to write so knows that I'll enjoy doing this no matter what the outcome, that doesn't let herself get bogged down by or concerned about people sneering or sniggering at her as what other people think of her isn't the yardstick that she measures her life by, that understands how small this wee project is in the whole scheme of things and that knows how much she values the opportunity to do anything alongside her daughter!

This morning the blue corner was definitely winning the fight and I didn't really understand why. I wondered if it was because I'm about to launch myself into something that involves me putting my writing out there for sale for the very first time? Until now I've written for myself, for fun or for friends or for family. I've never asked anyone to pay for anything I've written. And, even though the profits are going straight to the charities and not into my pocket, I think I find that kind of scary! I don't think I'm worried about people reading the poems and not liking them - I totally appreciate that they'll not be to everyone's liking - so I think it's more about me worrying that folk will think the whole thing's a naff idea in the first place. It just doesn't seem to make sense. I shouldn't be worrying about that! Who cares if folk think it's naff??!! 

I, irrationally, did.

But, that was earlier. That was before I read Gemma's latest blog post. It wasn't aimed at me, but it struck such a big chord and simply couldn't have come at a better time. Included in the post is a link to the recent TED talk given by Diana Nyad - the 60 something year old woman who was the first person ever to swim the 100 miles across the Gulf Stream from Cuba to the States - and it was just the kick up the backside I was needing. During the talk Nyad says:

"Just you go ahead and sit back in your comfortable chair and you be the critic, you be the observer, while the brave one gets in the ring and gets bloody and gets dirty and fails over and over and over again...and lives life in a bold way...none of us get through this life without heartache and turmoil...and if you can get knocked down and get back up again...you find your way."

And, as if that wasn't enough to well and truly knock the blue corner out, Gemma finished her post by saying

" 'to live is to do' and instead of finding reason to back up the idea of stopping, you just have to 'find a way' to do that thing that you really want to do".

I really want to do this wee booklet. And, with the red corner well and truly back on top, I'm off to find a way. And I'm so very lucky to have Gemma holding my towel!

Friends

I consider myself very lucky to have some really great friends. There are lots of things that make a friend special but for me one of the most important things is that I feel totally comfy in my own skin when I'm with them. I don't have to work at impressing them, I don't have to pull on any kind of mask and I can quite simply 'be' how I'm feeling at the time - whether that's happy, sad or something in between. 

And whether I've known my best pals for most of my life or for only a few years there's often very little difference in just how good they can make me feel...

Last night I spent a lovely few hours with my pal Christine, whom I've only really known for a few years. Much of her evening was spent patiently listening while I harped on about the major issue of ... my hair. I haven't had my hair dyed for over 6 months and, consequently, it looks as if it's been very badly dipped and stripped! It's an odd mixture of grey, black, brown, white, yellow and orange! (It's fodder for a whole new blog post in itself...!) I've been determined to persevere with my 'embracing the grey' journey, but it's driving me nuts and, as much as I keep telling myself that I'm lucky to have my hair at all and that it's ridiculous to get so het up about my hair colour, I just can't help feeling a bit self conscious at times. That determination to persevere has definitely been wavering of late!

However, after a good sounding off to my buddy - interspersed with a lot of laughs and a big dose of perspective - my confidence was restored and my resolve was back in tact! 

Poor Christine isn't the only person who's been landed with the lament of my locks; most of my pals have heard it in some way, shape or form and I'm grateful to them all for putting up with my ramblings during my regular wobblies! I was especially grateful - and wept buckets - when one of my oldest friends Caroline sent me a copy of 'Fiere' by Jackie Kay. It epitomises our shared childhood and, even though we're nowhere near being the 'doddery' old wifeys in the poem, we are both embracing the fact that 'oor hair micht be silver noo'! 

'Fiere' means companion or mate in Scots dialect and life-long friendship is very much at the heart of the poem. But it also seems to be saying that friendship is the thing that keeps us young! So, being lucky enough to have a fair few 'dearie's' to be 'havin a blether' with almost guarantees that I'll always be young at heart - no matter the colour of my hair...

Fiere

If ye went tae the tapmost hill, Fiere,

Whaur we used tae clamb as girls,

Ye'd see the snow the day, Fiere,

Settling on the hills.

You'd mind o' anither day, mibbe,

We ran doon the hill in the snow,

Sliding and singing oor way tae the foot,

Lassies laughing thegither - how braw.

The years slipping awa; oot in the weather.

And noo we're suddenly auld, Fiere,

Oor friendship's ne'er been weary.

We've aye seen the wurld differently.

Whaur would I hae been weyoot my jo,

My fiere, my fiercy, my dearie O?

Oor hair micht be silver noo,

Oor walk a wee bit doddery,

But we've had a whirl and a blast, girl,

Thru' the cauld blast winter, thru spring, summer.

O'er a lifetime, my fiere, my bonnie lassie,

I'd defend you - you, me; blithe and blatter,

Here we gang doon the hill, nae matter,

past the bracken, bothy, bonny braes, barley.

Oot by the roaring Sea, still havin a blether.

We who loved sincerely; we who loved sae fiercely.

The snow ne'er looked sae barrie,

Nor the winter trees sae pretty.

C'mon, c'mon my dearie - tak my hand, my fiere!

Jackie Kay

getting out for a Sunday cycle

I managed to make it out for a ride on my bike this morning for the first time in over two months. A long drawn out bout of laryngitis followed by some rubbishy weather along with a wee dose of cannae-be-bothered-itis resulted in a bit of a hiatus from cycling. But, aw man, it felt so great to be back in my saddle today. In fact, one of my favourite Christmas presents from Alex probably sums it up best:

things staying the same...

Well, that's another year over and a new one begun. It's been a funny old year for me, 2013. Lots of things made me smile, laugh or cry and feel happy; some things made me cry and feel sad; numerous things made me puff up my feathers and feel proud; a few things made me fret and feel anxious; a number of things made me curse and feel angry and many things made me step back, draw breath and feel extremely lucky to be living this little life of mine. 

I guess that could be a summary of every year for many people - a mixture of good and bad stuff creating a melting pot of emotions - but maybe sometimes we feel that things have been a bit more of a jumble than in previous years. And I guess that's how it feels for me this time around. 2013 just seemed to bring more in the way of change than usual, some of which I've adapted to without any problem and some of which I'm still trying to get to grips with! I'm looking forward to continuing to do that during the year ahead while, at the same time, meeting any new challenges that crop up and looking out for some new opportunities along the way.

I set this wee blog up on the first of January 2011 and I honestly didn't think back then that I'd manage to keep it up for one year, let alone three! Lots of things have changed since writing that first post, but one of the things that's making me feel good today is the thought that some things have stayed, very comfortingly, the same. Alex is still at the centre of my world and our kids are still at the centre of our universe. My mum and Alex's mum and dad are still looking younger as the years go by and, thankfully, still in relatively good health (and keeping us on our toes!). My special friends are still the same special friends. I still live in the same ordinary house with the same extraordinary view. We still have our own wee business. I still love trying and learning new things. I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up. And I still hope I simply keep on enjoying the journey!

So, I'm heading into 2014 ready and up for any new challenges that might come my way and hoping to make the very most of some new opportunities. But, I'm also hoping that some things don't change at all, because those are the things that I can always count on to make me feel really good. 

I hope 2014 is a year full of things that make you, dear reader, feel good too and I hope you'll continue to drop in on my wee blog. I really do appreciate your visits and I'm looking forward to blethering some more about what makes me feel good along life's way. Whether it's something that's changed or something that's, reassuringly, remained the very same.

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!