Silent Sunday
Saturday and a salute to Snail Mail!
As a child I had pen pals; half a dozen or so in various countries near and far. We would send each other letters, snapshots and gifts to and fro; learning about family life and different cultures. The procedure was long, as the letters would take weeks to arrive. Air mail was quicker but more expensive and there was a weight restriction. Service mail was cheaper but much longer we would have to plan letters to coincide with birthdays and Christmas with care.
Then there was the time spent absorbing the new knowledge and dispelling more with a perfect hand, spelling and even better grammar!
My home life was not as happy and comfortable as I would have liked. Through these letters I was able to elaborate on the joys and not dwell too much on the less attractive bits. Looking back, my letters probably read little like ‘Swallows and Amazons.’ All the delights of living on a river, sailing and firewood collecting ; overlooking the discomfort and the post war shortages.
I also enjoyed painting and drawing I would spend hours in a world of my own imagining myself in colourful and rich surroundings. Sadly, my girlhood dreams to be an artist and or a writer were not fulfilled until 50 years later when my family had all grown up and left home leaving me space to be creative. I now enjoy losing myself in my blog or artwork. To add further joy I have found a pen pal she is a professional artist and lives in Wales. Not so far flung as I have previously enjoyed but still very sophisticated and able to share the delights and despair of being an artist.
To day, I make wishes for a long and lasting pen and paint friendship with Amy no 2! (my daughter is Amy no 1) And also a salute to a friend who devised this cunning plan; Jaz the one and only 😉
PS the image is further romance from Google for which I cannot take credit but remain grateful xxx
A snapshot of another library ….
On Wednesday this week I went to London; among other things I went to the St Bride Library. I have been wanting to go for a long time but I was ill prepared. I work in a library reading room I should know it is not the place to go without preparation. Fortunately, I was able to find my way around the database and look as if I knew what I was doing ; and locate books using a rather ‘different’ classification system. So although at first it seemed a pleasant place to rest after a long day in London ; I learned a lot especially that the reading room is only open to the public on Wednesdays ; other times is by appointment. So it was a happy experience. I am also interested in chap books and there is an extensive collection there so next time there will be no awkward moments for me in the hushed and holy surroundings.
‘The St Bride Library Reading Room is part of the St Bride Foundation. In the 19th Century, Fleet Street was the natural home for the printing school and the St Bride Foundation Institute was built both as an educational and social centre for the local workforce. They benefited from the substantial library, training facilities and many additional features including a swimming pool.
Now the newspapers and printers have moved away, the St Bride foundation remains as a proud keeper of a unique collection and items relating to the craft of printing from more the 500 years of publishing and communication.’
Alphabe Thursday S is for Simple Simon
Simple Simon met a pieman,
Going to the fair;
Says Simple Simon to the pieman,
Let me taste your ware.
Says the pieman to Simple Simon,
Show me first your penny;
Says Simple Simon to the pieman;
Indeed I have not any.
Simple Simon went a-fishing,
For to catch a whale;
All the water he had got
Was in his mother’s pail.
Simple Simon went to look
If plums grew on a thistle;
He pricked his finger very much,
Which made poor Simon whistle.
These are four verses heard in the nursery or at our mother’s knee. I can remember reciting this to my brother and thinking ‘what a silly boy.’ However, we was for centuries recognised as the simpleton in chapbooks that circulated in Elizabethan times.
A ballad called Simple Simon’s misfortunes and his wife Margery’s cruelty also know as Dead and alive dates back from 1685
Wednesday … without work
There will be no blog post today from the land of Nela Bligh. I am taking a day off. I am going to take a walk I am not entirely sure where yet but it will be in London. I hope to go to the Grand Union Canal and then to the Thames without using the Tube. Sadly, the much needed rain has come today so it may not be as dry as I hoped. Nonetheless it will be an adventure; and I hope to document it fully. So I wish you all well and look forward to sharing with you at the weekend perhaps …. Have a good day!
Weekly Photo Challenge …. Endurance
Doc Martens and endurance are synonymous
These little sweeties will probably out last me!
This week …
Just noticed that there is an autumnal feel this week. However, there is still some colour and late summer sun that reluctant to fade yet.
Silent Sunday
Saturday; a poem
I wrote this poem when my daughter left home to live in Brazil.
At the airport
No strolling out one summer’s morn,
Almost, she strides from the fading wintery sun.
Gone the hesitant step of yesterday
The whys? What ifs? And When?
Have all been asked.
Each kilo weighed and unweighed
Every winter woollie put away to grieve,
Instead summer slithers fit each crevice to offer protection from the sun.
Each strap strained and pulled
The planes face west, more west.
No rest now,
The plans come to an end and new plans awaken.
Lorca, Neruda and Laurie Lee you are to blame,
But even you she has laid aside with love I know.
You will not pay the rent or mediate with officials
But wait,
Your political poems and plays – prize winning language of love,
Neruda’s green ink of hope,
Will nourish her mind and remind her from where she came.
This all seems like a lifetime away and much has happened; perhaps another poem would read quite differently. I think novel might appear, or a soap opera with its joys and disappointments.
Over the last few months I think we might have forgotten that we are just a couple of gals finding our way and sometimes we loose the path and even our footing and tumble. At times we feel that we will never get back on track [what and wherever that is] but until we do … my prayer to the one who listens is that I remember ‘ I would rather love/live and be lost than to never to have loved/lived at all’
Friday’s library snapshot …
This little book landed on my desk ; in need of a little tlc. It is called the Song of songs which is Solomon’s illuminated by Owen Jones. I know nothing about it and a little about Owen Jones (1809-1874) an English born Welsh architect. He was considered a versatile architect and designer. He was among the most influential design theorists. He contributed to the modern colour theory and his concepts on flat patterning and ornament are still valid with contemporary designers today.
He is remembered for his studies of Islamic decoration at the Alhambra and his drawing which were at the forefront of he new standards in chromolithography.
Jones was involved in the formation of the South Kensington Museum that went on to become the V&A.
Jones was also responsible for the interior design for the Great Exhibition of 1851 and its later incarnation at Sydenham. Owen Jones’ work the Grammar of ornament ; the global and historical design source book is perhaps his masterpiece.
Jones is remembered for his search for a modern style unique to the 19th century that was starkly divorced from the art of neo-classicism and the Gothic revival and inspired as we see by Islamic World.
Coat Hanger Doll's House 