2015 remembered in 100 ways

Curry, Stramash, Modern Family, ski-ing, flagstones, mist, lime and soda, chutney, midget gems, Carlisle, mountains, Andy, Hebrides, reading, rivers, Nerea, work, weather, Molly, garden, Dolomites, beaches, Alex, walking boots, Kiya, cooking, rain, sparky apprenticeship, Bryn Dowsi, Scotland, cake, Monty, cycling, work, Robin and Cathryn, camping, Lake District, poetry, cheese, Misty, geocaching, Tom Jones, St Kilda, Duke of Edinburgh's Award, Wales, flooding, friends, snow, laughter, blogging, roses, family, blue skies, London, wind, baking, Edinburgh, dog training, Grandma, walking, The Angel of the North, Lewis, sadness, oranges, 21 today, Hadrian’s Wall, rugby, joy, heritage, paper bridge, nest box, Ice-cream, trig-points, Christmas, Newcastle, marmalade, The Archers, birthdays, Spectre, Richard and Mavis, iPad, Orkney, Dr Who, wellies, smiles, cricket, crumpets, woodland, Great-niece, train journeys, Birmingham, log burner, wine, Barra, ISS, Strictly, snowdrops, feet-tickling, Kitchenaid, school-friends.

Dog walking memories!

Walking Molly and Monty along the River Eden today, suddenly reminded me of another dog walk about 25 years ago along the same stretch of river bank, although with the amount of scrub that has grown up since, it’s barely recognisable.  Andy and I were setting off straight after work to visit Terry and Mandy in Lincolnshire so had brought the dogs into Carlisle for the day. Walking Hector and Wesley before the journey had seemed like a good idea until Wesley found a dead salmon to roll on. Suffice to say the 4 hour journey was a stinky one!

Happy Memories

Probably because I’m too easily distracted, I’m still enchanted when happy, long forgotten memories are triggered. A fleeting glance of a photograph or catching the lingering remnants of a particular fragrance can be the catalyst but this morning, it was seeing several vapour trails criss-crossing the sky.  I was immediately transported back to my younger self with a 3 year old Nerea sitting in her seat on the back of my bike. pointing skywards and confidently pronouncing that they were “vapour trails”. It was such a sudden and charming memory I’ve been infused with a glow that’s lasted all day

 

Memory Lane

Yesterday evening I took a wander down memory lane as I needed to visit Coanwood on some Parish Council business for Mr Glis. Once I’d finished, I took a walk along the South Tyne Trail and through Featherstone Castle parkland, places where we’d spent many happy hours during Miss Glis’ country childhood.  Little had changed, apart from some river erosion close to the former Prisoner Of War  camp. It was lovely to meander along, fondly remembering that  chapter of our lives.  But, as moving away had allowed us to create other joyful memories, I set off home feeling very blessed

 

Requiescat in pace, Fiona.

Yesterday, we received the devastating news of the sudden and premature death of a person very special to us. Still reeling from the shock that comes with such news ourselves, it’s hard to imagine the extent of the pain that the people closest to her are feeling.  Fiona had a big heart, a generous spirit and a true sense of fun and adventure.  Sometimes it’s hard to feel blessed in the midst of such sadness and loss so we’re trying to remember that we’re fortunate our lives were enriched by her friendship. Forever in our hearts, requiescat in pace, Fiona. 

Always remembered with love

Just over 20 years ago, Nerea made her debut appearance, bringing us so much joy. We've accomplished so much in that time, creating what I hope are a raft of happy, 

family memories she can recall with fondness in later life. But during this time, there 

 have been moments of unutterable sadness for me as my mum was no longer with us.  

Mum would have been a wonderful Grandma and I'm always so thankful that before she 

died suddenly, 20 years ago today, she'd held my baby daughter in her arms for 

 a few precious hours. Requiescat in pace, Mum

Mum singing a lullaby to Nerea - March 1994

Memories of my youth

30 odd years ago I attended an international Guide camp on a Swedish island in the Baltic!  I hadn’t thought of it for years, but seeing the wind-blown trees in Keilder forest yesterday suddenly brought it to mind.  Although initially I felt a momentary sadness for my gauche, 17 year old self, with a dire hairstyle and frumpy clothes, I soon remembered the joy of making bivouac shelters from the fallen trees around us and cooking our food on open fires. For a clumsy, unconfident girl like me, it was blissful and proved to be a window on the future

Perhaps I'm in denial?

I consider myself to have fairly good recall but it’s still amazing how many deeply buried memories easily come to the surface during the occasional meet-ups with friends.  Yesterday, several of us met in Morecambe to enjoy a delicious afternoon tea at The Midland Hotel 

and as always, we had plenty of shared experiences to dredge up from our bottle-green, convent school days.  The other surprising thing is that although some stories come immediately to mind, once re-told, others, that clearly occupy an important space in the minds of my friends, remain totally absent from mine.  Perhaps I’m in denial!   

Was "wain" always so wet?

Another wet weekend!!  The rain has been relentless today with the local news full of reports about flooding and impassable roads.  Although aware that the passage of time and rose coloured spectacles walk hand in hand, I genuinely have no recollection of rain falling with such protracted intensity during my childhood.  My memories are of walking to school on rainy days when the cloakroom smelt of damp wool and warm rubber, our damp coats and wellies steaming gently as they dried by ancient radiators. Unforgettable, torrential cloud-bursts that soaked us to the skin form no part of my nostalgia collection

Rain pouring into the barrel pond

The puddle outside the back door