Your thoughts and prayers are needed

Tonight, one of my dearest friends is facing one of life’s toughest tests. Her husband is critically ill and fighting for his life. The circumstances that have brought this about are irrelevant; all I know is that she is a beautiful person who must be truly suffering. Whatever the outcome of this ongoing situation, ultimately, it will be life changing for all those involved, including their children who are with her at the hospital.  Please keep my friend and her family in your thoughts and reflections tonight and if you have a faith, please offer up your prayers for them. 

Birmingham Museum and Art Gallery

Although I don’t know Birmingham well, I needed to find a quiet place that wouldn’t be playing Christmas muzak as I had to join two telephone conferences during a change of trains.  In desperation, I headed off to the Birmingham Museum and Art Gallery and found a spot in the Tea Room with a refreshing pot of tea. Between calls, I explored the museum and was delighted to discover several paintings from my childhood “Art Book”, the Staffordshire Hoard, a gallery celebrating local social history and a Henry Moore sculpture!  I’ll definitely be returning to this wonderful city centre gem!

The Blind Girl  by John Everett Millais

There may be a platform alteration.....

I had my fingers crossed all day yesterday as I was heading South by train. I rarely have a hassle free journey so was astonished (yes, really) when I arrived in  Birmingham unscathed.  I headed off for a cup of tea and a conference call to a place of culture before resuming my journey.  And that’s when my travel disruption powers automatically activated, for my train to Reading was delayed for 90 minutes!  Clearly my inner desire to view hitherto unseen railway architecture had worked, although the remodelled New Street Station fails to meet my criteria of a beautiful station!

Beauty is all around

A pair of flying swans, their long necks and beating wings iridescent against charcoal clouds, swollen with rain; A rainbow, soaring into the sky across the patchwork of fields and stone walls below; The pink and orange cushion of dawn light, chasing away the darkness of night. 

I‘m very fortunate to have witnessed these simple yet memorable sights over the last couple of days, being lucky enough to live in a part of the world that has so much natural splendour. But, anyone can find something to delight in as beauty is all around us if we look closely enough….

Repent, repent

The countryside surrounding the Scottish/Anglo border is littered with legacies of those violent centuries when land and property ownership was hotly disputed by Border Reiving families. Standing on Trailtrow Hill, the Repentance Tower formed a watchtower for nearby Hoddom Castle. The tower is known as such because Sir John Maxwell, who had made allegiances to the English, was bribed to support the Scots in exchange for the hand of Agnes Herries and the title, “Lord Herries”. But as his actions cost the lives of several of his loyal supporters, Maxwell allegedly built the tower as a sign of his remorse

Winter Roses

I thought winter had arrived the other morning as I needed to wear gloves on my cycle to work for the first time in months but, I couldn’t help noticing when I was shutting the back gate on my way out, that there were still over 2 dozen roses in bloom.  I thought  I’d picked the last of them 3 weeks ago before we went away to Wales but there were rather more buds hidden under the leaves  than I had realised.  It lifted my spirits to see them, reminding me that beauty can often be found in unlikely situations

Literary Mountains

I enjoyed another literary evening yesterday.  The theme of “mountains” resonated positively with me but surprisingly, I couldn’t find any poems that produced the emotional response I was seeking. Instead, I found several passages of descriptive prose that reflected my thoughts.  The supper contributions were all delicious and enhanced the convivial ambiance of the evening but it was the breadth and depth of the readings chosen and in one case, composed, that made the gathering memorable.  I’m intending  to explore the work of Norman MacCaig  as his poetry was as powerful, beautiful and resolute as the mountains he described

The Mutiny on The Bounty

As a chil, I remember being horrified by the film, Mutiny on the Bounty, starring Marlon Brando and Trevor Howard ("I love you Laura. I will love you always until the end of my life"; infinitely more preferable! ) which inevitably, despite its historical inaccuracy, was a favourite of my blood-thirsty brothers. In later years, attempting to broaden my knowledge of the ill-fated mission, I began to read "The Bounty Trilogy" by Charles Nordhoff and James Norman Hall but didn't get beyond page 56. But, irrespective of that, I was delighted to visit recently the site of Captain Bligh's London house

London Necropolis Railway

I’m always astonished at London’s secret past.  Last Thursday I discovered the terminus of the former London Necropolis Railway at Waterloo. Opened in 1854, it offered a solution to overcrowding in London's existing graveyards, providing transport for coffins and mourners to Brookwood Cemetery in Surrey. The building was specifically designed with private waiting rooms which could be used to hold funeral services, and a hydraulic lift to raise coffins to platform level from the railway arches where bodies were stored before their final journey. It closed in 1941 after a bombing raid but remains an incredible insight into social history

War Horse

We’ve just watched “War Horse” and despite knowing the story, it was a roller coaster of genuine emotion.  Some of the images, particularly those of fighting from the trenches during the shelling, were incredibly powerful and moving.  Mr Glis’s Grandfather fought at the Somme and was one of the lucky ones who survived. His brother, sadly, was one of the thousands who died. What was clear from this film was that there was nothing glorious about this war (and countless others) and a generation of young men was needlessly wasted. And yet we still haven’t learned to love one another

Moel Siabod

 Moel Siabod has all the essential requirements of a favourite mountain. An interesting walk in, through old mining and quarrying works, a splendid ridge to the summit and an interesting but straightforward descent with some varied scenery.  It’s also our primary mountain weather forecasting tool as its summit is in view of our holiday cottage.  If we can see it, it’s either been raining or is just about to rain: it it’s invisible, then it’s actually raining. Our recent journey to the summit was on a splendid autumnal day with only a hint of rain, giving us wonderful summit views

                                                                                                                                                            

St Gelynnin, Henryd

Tucked away on the side of a hill above Henryd near Conwy nestles a small chapel dedicated to St Gelynnin .  Discovered through our geocaching adventures, it represents worship from years gone by, when the agricultural dwellings scattered across the hillsides provided homes for large families who, in fear of God, the local Minister and their neighbours, attended chapel each Sunday. Although the pews looked to be suitably uncomfortable for  enduring those “hell fire and damnation” sermons, there were some delightful features, such as the ancient writings on the East wall and the font at the back of the chapel

St Cwyfan - the little church in the sea

Our recent week in Wales introduced us to several more hidden gems by way of geocaching . Our first find was a tiny chapel, dedicated  to St Cwyfan, perched on an island just off the coast of Angelesy.  We had to approach by a causeway at low tide which was something of an adventure but we all managed to make the crossing without slipping on the seaweed.  Sadly the chapel was closed to visitors but we were able to peep inside and imagine how former parishioners would have sat and listened to sermons to the accompaniment of the crashing waves

Our Week in Wales

Our annual week in Wales seemed to come and go in a flash.  As a pre-winter restorative, it works very well, although after just one day back in the office, a week wasn’t nearly long enough!  Almost inevitably, and despite my best intentions, I have eaten far too much (although I did avoid hot toast at breakfast in an untypical burst of puritanical self-righteousness) and now feel that I should embark on a healthier eating programme that, sadly, doesn’t involve daily rations of home-made cake with a cup of tea.  Somehow, carrot juice just doesn’t match up to carrot cake