The "Old Year" is going out like a Lion

Take a seat!!

The old year certainly wants to go out in a blast if the winds of last night and today are anything to go by.  I don’t sleep well  at the best of times and as I dozed, was conscious of the wind stalking  the house for several hours.  The new cowl on the chimney has definitely changed the” tone of the moan” and the former shrieking howl has evolved into the irritable moaning of a fretful child denied a favourite toy.  But at least my cycle to work was enlivened by the leaves dancing and gambolling on the river path

What a difference a fortnight makes!

Running...but unenthusiastically

Muddy shoes drying by the fire

I’ve been jogging today.  I’m determined that 2013 will be the year I get lighter and fitter, just as I vowed  I would in 2010, 2011 and 2012 too.  Once underway, I enjoy running but maintaining the motivation to get out is a problem.  I’ve taken into account that successful resolutions are best NOT made at New Year (hence the premature start) but lacking a competitive nature, setting myself goals doesn’t incentivise me.  I’m not a shopper either, so a self-reward of new shoes or clothes is equally uninspiring.  I must maintain enthusiasm or run the risk of failure, AGAIN

Now Christmas is over when the the Colley Birds sing

I’m aware times change and traditions evolve but I find it rather sad to hear of friends taking their trees down just days after Christmas.  We tend to be fairly traditional, leaving our tree decorating to Christmas Eve and although we don’t have Colley Birds or Maids a’ Milking, we resolutely keep to Epiphany before we pack everything away for another year.   I suspect the practice of artificial trees going up towards the beginning of December, with no falling pine needles to litter carpets, followed by the huge anti-climax of the day itself is irrevocably changing the shape of Christmas 

ANOTHER "Deading" on Downton (semi spoiler)

Was I the only person in the country who hadn’t heard that there was to be a “deading” in Downton? I was horrified when the Christmas Special ended so brutally!

I abhor this need to “Eastenderise” every programme.  I remain convinced that a script requiring a manager for a tea plantation in India or a beef ranch in Argentina  could have been developed instead.  I don’t mind gentle storylines on Christmas Day for after all the festive excitement, I delight in sitting back and enjoying a programme that doesn’t require too much concentration.  But it seems I‘m in the minority. 

Christmas Eve

Christmas Eve is one of my favourite days of the year. The food cupboards are full, the house wrapped in a blanket of fragrant, spicy warmth.  We re-enact our family traditions: mince pies baked as the choir rejoices in the beauty of King’s College, the well rehearsed reminiscences and exclamations over each bauble as we decorate our tree, the hanging of our empty stockings by the fireplace with a shared, excited anticipation of what’s to come. And finally, we make the last additions to our Nativity scene, remembering the first Christmas Eve in a humble stable long ago.

Happy Christmas

Walla Crag

After spending a delightful evening with Miss Glis, Alex and his parents, it was time to brace ourselves and face the shops today. Instead, we headed up Walla Crag with Judith as a welcome alternative! (There's always Christmas Eve for those essential items like presents and food.) We set off into the wind which had howled all night from Great Wood. Up on the top, we caught our breath and had a successful hunt for a geocache. Then it was a back down and a drive into Keswick, ignoring the consumerist temples and settling instead for a cuppa and scones

A cheerless office

The office atmosphere had a jaded feel about it today rather than the excited “end of term” exuberance one normally anticipates at Christmas.  I’m not sure if it was because austerity measures are really starting to bite, with colleagues feeling there is little to celebrate or that the winter seems to have been particularly long and damp after a fantastic summer of regal jubilation and Olympic euphoria.  Either way, the plastic tray of Greggs’ mince pies taking centre stage as the only festive embellishment in the room seemed an appropriate measure of the joylessness that’s been apparent over recent months

Christmas Cavern

Miss Glis is home!! It’s only for a couple of weeks but wouldn’t have felt like a normal homecoming without us meeting her demands for crisps, curry and melted camembert (not all at once) so we were happy to oblige.  But as a little surprise, we created a grotto of fairy lights and baubles in the hall, reminiscent of earlier Christmas caverns in Coanwood, to celebrate her arrival.  Alex managed to stall her exit from the car to give Andy enough time to switch the lights on before she reached the door.  Her delighted reaction was all we hoped for!

A winter sunrise to warm the heart

As yesterday morning awoke, the sky was absolutely stunning.  I often ride into the embrace of a rose-tinted sunrise as part of my journey is in a South-Easterly direction, but yesterday it was breathtakingly beautiful.   The city looked as if it was on fire, the intensity of the red and pink dawn light creating a ruby glow over the timeless sandstone buildings.  It was so glorious I stopped to take a photo on my phone. It was delightful to hear that several friends in Cockermouth, 25 miles to the West had shared the very same joy in the sunrise too

Sadly, the phone doesn't do this scene justice

Seasonal Celebrations

It has to be something special to draw me away from our log stove on a cold December evening, but last night, I left the house with a spring in my step, lured westwards by the thoughts of good company, conversation, poetry and food. The warmth of the community gathered in Papcastle was equal to that of my birch logs, as we shared favourite seasonal readings and poems, both old and contemporary, mined with love from a rich vein of literature.  Despite my sympathies with George Bernard Shaw’s curmudgeonly take on Christmas, what a perfect evening to begin the celebrations!

Festive Flash Mob

I never thought I’d be part of a “flash mob” in Carlisle (or anywhere else for that matter), but not only was I there, singing Jingle Bells along with numerous other geocachers, but the organisation was all mine!!  So what had brought us to the holly bedecked bandstand on a wintry night so cold that our extremities were tingling with imminent frostbite instead of anticipation? It was the date of course - 12/12/12; the last time this century that the numbers will align.  True to form, the Cumbrian caching community turned up to celebrate, enjoying  mince pies and mulled wine

A ONCE MAJESTIC TREE

For so long, a fallen tree exudes an overwhelming sense of helplessness.  Roots, brutally wrenched from the earth, lay bare the very soul of the tree.  Once proud limbs lie broken and twisted, their fingers clawing at the air above them, life draining away, imploring for help.  Vulnerable and naked, the former majestic presence is exposed to plunder, stripped of all dignity.  But then, imperceptibly, delicately, the helplessness is overcome.  For from death comes life, the shattered remnants nurturing and sustaining a myriad of tiny creatures and plants, dependent on the transformed remains for growth, for life, for the future. 

Is it a bird or an orange beetle?

Christine’s exploits on her freezing cycle ride yesterday became reality for me this morning when I set off for work looking like a rotund orange beetle.  The rain on top of the icy river path made my journey fairly treacherous and with my dodgy left toe protesting at being forced into cycling shoes, I was nervous about taking a tumble.  Needless to say, I didn’t have any inclination to admire the scenery through the glacial drizzle.  I concentrated hard so I made it through without any mishaps, although I experienced the terror of a rear wheel slide at one point! 

My colleagues took this in disbelief that I'd cycled through the icy drizzle with a broken toe

This little piggy........

For those of you of a squeamish disposition, do not read on (or look at the photo) for this has been the week of the broken toe.  I was rushing to tend a pot on the stove and managed to reach the kitchen with my left, little toe at right angles to the rest of them, having hit it on the corner of the living room door.  The pain was indescribable so I decided that it would be best to just put it straight myself immediately.  So I did!  Thankfully, it’s improving and the pain, bruising and swelling are reducing

3 days after the event!