Newport was beautiful on Sunday. It was Restaurant Week and I had gone down there to lunch at one of the participating restaurants with my son and his partner.
The restaurant was in a hotel which had maintained its old grandeur, boasting beautiful wood and brass fittings, complete with an old style cubby board and real room keys! No key cards here!
On the whole it wasn't the greatest meal we had ever had, but the chowder was excellent and of course the company was perfect!
Following lunch I was taken to a little market, Le Petit something or other! There I spent far too much on cheese, crackers and French mustard. It was worth it! Paired with the onion, garlic chutney I had bought at Vendors' Day at the Glass studio the previous day, the creamy 3 milk cheese is delicious.
The sun shone, but time and the blustery wind prevented us attempting the Cliff Walk. However, we drove round the coastline and stopped for a short walk to the Castle Hill lighthouse. The sea was cresting way off the coast and homing in on the rocks. I love the ocean. It was such a lovely day, and to be able to walk without pain over those rocks was a terrific experience. I am so glad I had the knee surgery.
On Wednesday I took some bobbin lace tree ornaments to the craft store. It will be interesting to see whether they sell. Then I went to exercise at the hotel pool. Again I had the pool to myself. The trees out in the courtyard and beyond are almost competely bare, but the sun was shining and the scene was pleasant. Although it is becoming very cold we are so lucky to have had so many beautiful days this fall.
That night I watched the episode 'Orchis Fatalis", one of the Midsomer Murders; a series always amazing for its views of beautiful cottage gardens, thatched roofs and country scenery. This episode was packed with stunning arrays of orchids. It almost made up for the fact that I missed the Orchid Show at Tower Hill a couple of weekends ago. I have to put these events on my calendar!
I have yet to become adept at cultivating orchids so that they continue to bloom. I try but I am better at maintaining succulents and lesser houseplants, although most flowering plants are beautiful in my opinion. One day I will have the orchids of my dreams. The orchid is a very sexy plant as one of the characters on Midsomer Murders announced to Detective Inspector Barnaby!
Friday, November 15, 2013
Sunday, October 27, 2013
Discovering My Roots
When I was maybe 10 or 11, and both my brother and sister were away at school, my mother's Parkinson's disease was severe enough to have convinced her to receive the experimental brain surgery being offered in Edinburgh as the future in cures for the disease. Each surgery relieved the worst of her symptoms, but only temporarily. Because she was so severely affected by the disease, if I ever suffered more than a head cold I would be shipped off to my grandparents.
I loved the times I spent in Whyteleafe, where you could walk down the hill and pick up a train to take you to Croydon or into central London; where my aunt had an aviary of canaries and my grandpa tended his garden and greenhouse. He must have been able to see much better then than he could in later life, by which time he had only shadowy peripheral vision.
Granny died a lot younger than grandpa and consequently my attachment was greater to grandpa and to the aunt who had stayed at home with my grandparents and cared for them as they grew older.
My aunt took me to my first pantomime at the Palladium in London and although I don't remember it well, I know I was star struck!
When I became a member of Ancestry.com it was with the intention of finding out more about my mother's side of the family as my brother had already unearthed information about that of my father, using a British site. Because memories have faded and there are few people left to answer questions the task of tracing a family tree is not easy. Ancestry.com has a British site but the archives are not nearly as well developed as they are for the U.S. When I think I have found something helpful I am hampered by not knowing enough even of the history of my grandparents.
I am hoping that a cousin back in the UK will do better and share her findings with me. She grew up much closer to my grandparents in terms of distance and may have spent more time with them.
Although the first (christian) names of my grandparents' generation are somewhat different to ones in vogue subsequently, the family name is not unusual enough to make it stand out in a search.
I remember meeting cousins, but I don't remember their names. Oddly, what I do remember is a white casement window with crystallized flowers spread there to dry....or was that in Worcester and cousins of my father's family?! It is frustrating that I cannot remember clearly and that I am only now interested in my roots. If only I had wanted to discover them when there were family members who knew the answers!
I loved the times I spent in Whyteleafe, where you could walk down the hill and pick up a train to take you to Croydon or into central London; where my aunt had an aviary of canaries and my grandpa tended his garden and greenhouse. He must have been able to see much better then than he could in later life, by which time he had only shadowy peripheral vision.
Granny died a lot younger than grandpa and consequently my attachment was greater to grandpa and to the aunt who had stayed at home with my grandparents and cared for them as they grew older.
My aunt took me to my first pantomime at the Palladium in London and although I don't remember it well, I know I was star struck!
When I became a member of Ancestry.com it was with the intention of finding out more about my mother's side of the family as my brother had already unearthed information about that of my father, using a British site. Because memories have faded and there are few people left to answer questions the task of tracing a family tree is not easy. Ancestry.com has a British site but the archives are not nearly as well developed as they are for the U.S. When I think I have found something helpful I am hampered by not knowing enough even of the history of my grandparents.
I am hoping that a cousin back in the UK will do better and share her findings with me. She grew up much closer to my grandparents in terms of distance and may have spent more time with them.
Although the first (christian) names of my grandparents' generation are somewhat different to ones in vogue subsequently, the family name is not unusual enough to make it stand out in a search.
I remember meeting cousins, but I don't remember their names. Oddly, what I do remember is a white casement window with crystallized flowers spread there to dry....or was that in Worcester and cousins of my father's family?! It is frustrating that I cannot remember clearly and that I am only now interested in my roots. If only I had wanted to discover them when there were family members who knew the answers!
Saturday, October 5, 2013
On Swimming and Flying
I feel good! I had the pool to myself this morning, so I swam round and round in circles as well as doing my exercises!
My preferred stroke is breast stroke but, in such a small pool, I can only do 8 to 10 strokes across when there is anyone else there! I think the breast stroke is good for my legs as the frog like action strengthens my hips as well as rehabilitating my knee.
I recall that at school I would get to do the breast stroke portion of a relay race because every one else preferred front or back stroke! I also remember getting sun stroke one summer, waiting on the edge of the pool, already wet from swimming. Not to be recommended! We know so much more these days about protecting ourselves from the sun.
I was sitting on the bench in the pool, bicycling away, day dreaming and admiring the trees in the courtyard, which have changed colour since I first started using the pool. I emerged from my reverie when a small plane, presumably out of Marlboro airfield, flew into view. It reminded me again of how much I would have liked to complete my flying course and achieve my pilot's license. But the FAA does not allow anyone with mental illness to pilot a plane.
At the time, several people suggested I fight this rule, but I consoled myself with the thought that since it was such an expensive pastime I wouldn't be able to afford it anyway!
The subject of flying had come to the forefront of my mind last Sunday, when Chris and I went to Nancy's Cafe at the Minuteman Airfield in Stow. One of Nancy's slogans is 'fly in for breakfast'! I think that would be kind of romantic, or would it just be elitist?!
Chris also has aspirations to fly. I can't remember if he achieved his license, but he has put in a few hours in the air, which I never did.
We were delighted to see (initially for me it was to hear as it was so loud) a small plane which may have been circa WWII, taxi in. Chris actually saw it land; I missed that. We were were sitting outside waiting for our call and my line of vision was blocked.
Nancy's Cafe was a delight. She sources her ingredients locally. Clearly she also grows some of them as tomato plants could be seen growing at the edge of the airfield. Of course they were way past their best last Sunday! It's serious apple and pumpkin picking time in this part of Massachusetts. Even the lamb on Nancy's menu comes from a named farm.
She greeted her customers at their tables and drew our attention to an article about the restaurant in the Boston Magazine. She handed me a copy from a pile of bookmarked magazines. In fact I had discovered the existence of her restaurant while perusing an earlier copy of the magazine in the waiting room of a doctor's office!
We were there for brunch, but I would love to go back for dinner. It is really quite quick to get there from here!
My preferred stroke is breast stroke but, in such a small pool, I can only do 8 to 10 strokes across when there is anyone else there! I think the breast stroke is good for my legs as the frog like action strengthens my hips as well as rehabilitating my knee.
I recall that at school I would get to do the breast stroke portion of a relay race because every one else preferred front or back stroke! I also remember getting sun stroke one summer, waiting on the edge of the pool, already wet from swimming. Not to be recommended! We know so much more these days about protecting ourselves from the sun.
I was sitting on the bench in the pool, bicycling away, day dreaming and admiring the trees in the courtyard, which have changed colour since I first started using the pool. I emerged from my reverie when a small plane, presumably out of Marlboro airfield, flew into view. It reminded me again of how much I would have liked to complete my flying course and achieve my pilot's license. But the FAA does not allow anyone with mental illness to pilot a plane.
At the time, several people suggested I fight this rule, but I consoled myself with the thought that since it was such an expensive pastime I wouldn't be able to afford it anyway!
The subject of flying had come to the forefront of my mind last Sunday, when Chris and I went to Nancy's Cafe at the Minuteman Airfield in Stow. One of Nancy's slogans is 'fly in for breakfast'! I think that would be kind of romantic, or would it just be elitist?!
Chris also has aspirations to fly. I can't remember if he achieved his license, but he has put in a few hours in the air, which I never did.
We were delighted to see (initially for me it was to hear as it was so loud) a small plane which may have been circa WWII, taxi in. Chris actually saw it land; I missed that. We were were sitting outside waiting for our call and my line of vision was blocked.
Nancy's Cafe was a delight. She sources her ingredients locally. Clearly she also grows some of them as tomato plants could be seen growing at the edge of the airfield. Of course they were way past their best last Sunday! It's serious apple and pumpkin picking time in this part of Massachusetts. Even the lamb on Nancy's menu comes from a named farm.
She greeted her customers at their tables and drew our attention to an article about the restaurant in the Boston Magazine. She handed me a copy from a pile of bookmarked magazines. In fact I had discovered the existence of her restaurant while perusing an earlier copy of the magazine in the waiting room of a doctor's office!
We were there for brunch, but I would love to go back for dinner. It is really quite quick to get there from here!
Wednesday, September 25, 2013
Autumn
The humming birds have left and, as if in defiance, the Morning Glory has started to bloom. The mornings start cool. Sometimes the days stay cool, sometimes they reach summer temperatures. Autumn is upon us and the glorious colours are on their way.Work is less stressful at this time of year; no budgets to create and expense tracking does not reach its height until the first quarter figures are published. But I miss being at the heart of the building amongst the staff and clients. In the new building my office is fairly isolated. Of course this is a benefit in terms of getting work done! It is the social element that is lacking.
I have finshed physical therapy and am now going to try to get to the pool at least twice a week. I need to keep exercising my knee and strengthening those hips that have seen so little exercise throughout the years!
I listened to an interesting interview with Stephen King on NPR. I know King is a great writer and an accomplished mentor to emerging authors. I just wish I enjoyed reading the genre in which he made his name. I never read The Shining or watched the movie in its entirety, but maybe I will try the sequel. The character development sounded intriguing, and it is time to get out of my tea shop/arts&crafts/gardening murder mystery comfort zone!
'Play me, I'm Yours' has come to Boston. What a great idea, pianos in the street for anyone to play! TV News has happened on some pretty good pianists!
Sunday, September 1, 2013
The Widow Attempts the "Normal' Life.
This is an entry from my personal journal of last year, but it addresses the issue of getting away on your own, perhaps even vacationing, when your family and friends are not available to accompany you.
The experiment...a day trip by myself.
The 495 was fine but then Mark (GPS) took me off on route 3, that familiar trip to Burlington. Haven't done that since Graeme died. Of course we ended up on rte 128. I should have checked the route before I started, but still I got to Salem by 11:00 am. I ignored Mark and parked in a car park I remembered, at museum Place. First annoyance, wrestling with the prepay parking machine. Why does each town have a different system?
After fumbling around, keeping people waiting, I headed for the Museum, where I got confused about the admission so didn't pick up a ticket for the Chinese House. This is when you realize you are on your own. Since I can remember the visit to the House with Graeme so well, it was probably better for my state of mind to just browse the galleries. The Asian galleries are stunning but Ansel Adams was the Museum's feature artist. His photographs are amazing. I would not care to judge his status as greatest photographer, but he put himself in the middle of the most outstanding scenery. He must have loved to hike and climb. Even in black and white his water is real. Geysers, waterfalls, foam. At the Water's Edge you could almost get wet!
I ate a sandwich at the Atrium. Thank god for mustard! The raspberry tea was good. Then I was struck by the incessant noise. There was a reception going on with a constant clacking of heels on the stone floor, banging of doors, and museum staff emerging so fast they could knock you down. I think this is what you notice when you are alone.
I wandered around a little more, checked the museum shop, hmm, and left. Outside I checked the town map, memorized the address of a parking garage down on the water front so I could program the GPS and wandered down through the market stalls, displaying their tourist gimmicks, until I realized I couldn't get back to my car that way. I was getting hot. Why hadn't I worn a cotton tee instead of that black blouse?
Then I got into it with Mark. "After 300 yards" means nothing to me, so we spent 10 minutes hauling me out of one housing estate after another! Still we made it home.
I was pleased that I did this, but if I take a day trip again it will be to somewhere where I can park and forget the car. Salem is just incredibly noisy and the roadworks during tourist season ridiculous! It wasn't a good choice, especially as I really wanted to see the sea and all I got was an inlet Harbour.
One year later I have yet to try vacationing alone, but I do have a new knee.
The experiment...a day trip by myself.
The 495 was fine but then Mark (GPS) took me off on route 3, that familiar trip to Burlington. Haven't done that since Graeme died. Of course we ended up on rte 128. I should have checked the route before I started, but still I got to Salem by 11:00 am. I ignored Mark and parked in a car park I remembered, at museum Place. First annoyance, wrestling with the prepay parking machine. Why does each town have a different system?
After fumbling around, keeping people waiting, I headed for the Museum, where I got confused about the admission so didn't pick up a ticket for the Chinese House. This is when you realize you are on your own. Since I can remember the visit to the House with Graeme so well, it was probably better for my state of mind to just browse the galleries. The Asian galleries are stunning but Ansel Adams was the Museum's feature artist. His photographs are amazing. I would not care to judge his status as greatest photographer, but he put himself in the middle of the most outstanding scenery. He must have loved to hike and climb. Even in black and white his water is real. Geysers, waterfalls, foam. At the Water's Edge you could almost get wet!
I ate a sandwich at the Atrium. Thank god for mustard! The raspberry tea was good. Then I was struck by the incessant noise. There was a reception going on with a constant clacking of heels on the stone floor, banging of doors, and museum staff emerging so fast they could knock you down. I think this is what you notice when you are alone.
I wandered around a little more, checked the museum shop, hmm, and left. Outside I checked the town map, memorized the address of a parking garage down on the water front so I could program the GPS and wandered down through the market stalls, displaying their tourist gimmicks, until I realized I couldn't get back to my car that way. I was getting hot. Why hadn't I worn a cotton tee instead of that black blouse?
Mark steered me wrong, "turn right and you are there". Sure, on the opposite side of the road from the parking garage, with no chance of getting the car across. Keeping straight ahead, rather than turning right, would have got me to the entrance to the car park. Grr, now I had to find somewhere to park off a really busy street. I found some meter parking so tightly packed that I missed seeing a low bollard between spaces and crunched my wheel arch. OK, now I was angry as well as hot and I only had a couple of quarters, so time there was going to be limited. Nevertheless I rushed towards South Harbour for at least an opportunity to try my new camera. By now my knees were troubling me and I wished my sensible shoes didn't retain the heat. I returned to the car and decided to return home. I had been in Salem no time at all!
Then I got into it with Mark. "After 300 yards" means nothing to me, so we spent 10 minutes hauling me out of one housing estate after another! Still we made it home.
I was pleased that I did this, but if I take a day trip again it will be to somewhere where I can park and forget the car. Salem is just incredibly noisy and the roadworks during tourist season ridiculous! It wasn't a good choice, especially as I really wanted to see the sea and all I got was an inlet Harbour.
One year later I have yet to try vacationing alone, but I do have a new knee.
Saturday, August 31, 2013
Refound? The Brit I Used to Be
I will always grieve for my lost love, the husband who was taken away from me too soon, but maybe the events of this year have given me a new perspective on my own life.
After a summer from hell, too much of it spent in hospital, I have emerged on a medication which seems to have lifted a weight from my spirit and freed it to reveal the person I once was, the Brit who can stand up for herself. Perhaps not quite the youthful Brit who had the confidence, with the support of her team of colleagues, to stand and speak in front of an audience, but the self who knows she can write tolerably well and is not afraid to have her words publicized.
Welcome to my (second try at a ) blog, an assortment of writings about people, places and things.
After a summer from hell, too much of it spent in hospital, I have emerged on a medication which seems to have lifted a weight from my spirit and freed it to reveal the person I once was, the Brit who can stand up for herself. Perhaps not quite the youthful Brit who had the confidence, with the support of her team of colleagues, to stand and speak in front of an audience, but the self who knows she can write tolerably well and is not afraid to have her words publicized.
Welcome to my (second try at a ) blog, an assortment of writings about people, places and things.
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