Yesterday the lunch time news in Britain was headlined by the successful conviction of an IRA terrorist who in 1982 killed 11 people and 7 horses in a twin bombing in London’s Green and Hyde Parks. By 6pm, a new act of terrorism had taken over the news.
At about 2.20pm on Wednesday 23rd May the successful act of terrorism on British soil since the attack on Glasgow Airport in 2007 and the first in London since the 7/7 bombings occurred when an apparent off-duty member of the military was murdered in broad day light in one of the busiest streets in London in manner that would seem too outlandish for a Hollywood movie.
Site of the murder of off-duty soldier by terrorists in Woolwich, London. (Map courtesy of Daily Telegraph)
The innocent victim, Drummer Lee Rigby of 2nd Battalion The Royal Regiment Of Fusiliers aged 25, just a few hundred metres from Woolwich barracks was deliberately run over by two men in a car that drove off the road onto the pavement. They then got out of the car and proceeded to stab and hack at the man with long knives and butchers tools and continued to do so long after he was dead in a hysterical fashion shouting loudly “Allahu Akbar” as they did so. There are reports that they beheaded the man, a scene witnessed by a local school child who said to his parent that he could “see his body where was his head?”
Another brave woman having tended to the murdered man confronts a terrorist.
After a while the two men dragged the body into the middle of the road and started ordering passers-by to take their photos and film them.
Terrorist talking to unarmed civilians seconds after butchering an innocent man.
Here is a video of one of the terrorists. Warning, this video contains live footage of an armed and bloodied terrorist as well as a distant shot of a dead body.
As it is a proud tradition of British police not to carry fire-arms, the local police who arrived in minutes waited for the special fire-arms unit to arrive a few minutes later. As soon the police cars arrived, the two men charged at the police leaving no option to shoot the first man carrying the butchers machete and then the second terrorist raised his gun he was shot two by a policewoman praised as being something like Robocop.
The street was closed off my police and the two attackers were sent to separate London hospitals.
As usual, the Prime Minister of the day, David Cameron stated that it was an attack on the British way of life and that as always, there would be no negotiation or changes in policy due to terrorism. Despite this being an ever-present policy for decades and the great willingness to use forces such as SAS to take on terrorists directly, they don’t seem to notice. The idea quite frankly that any country would change its policy on any issue due to terrorism is laughable.
In any western country, especially Britain, there is no cause that can’t be won democratically. The IRA tried for decades to blow up anyone and everyone and nothing happened. The fact they are in essence part of a regional governing assembly was only gained when peace came and they got no further than if they had just taken the democratic route in the first place that was always open to them. Likewise with referendums in Scotland, The Falklands, Gibraltar, we are uniquely quite open to tearing apart our own country apart peacefully if enough people vote for it.
There has been an outcry in the media as expected about the role of militant Islam in Britain and the flood of undesirable immigrants in general. It does seem bizarre that anyone would want to come to a country that welcomes everyone and then decide they hate it so much they want to commit terrorism.
Certainly no-one forces anyone to come and live here and the popular opinion in the country takes the seemingly obvious “if you don’t like it then leave”.
Now though, these two people with apparent Nigerian backgrounds will be treated by the NHS, paid by the taxes of people whose ideals and ethics they hate. Then if they are lucky, they will be sent to jail where it will cost us tens of thousands of pounds a year to keep them in prison and then hope they don’t do anything similar in 1o, 20 or 30 years time.
Even though, execution is now illegal in the European Union, surely these sort of people deserve it and having been witnessed by dozens of people and filmed with blood on their hand admitting the crime there can be no doubting their guilt. In other nations they would have been shot dead or suffered a medical complication in hospital that ends their lives.
Inevitably this event will see the rise of extremism from the other side, nationalists, patriots and white supremacists who are already have been reported to attacked mosques in the counties of Kent and Essex.
An unexpected side affect of this is a possible boost to the UK Independence Party who are riding high in the polls for Great Britain to leave the EU and once again 100% controls of immigration and allow the possibility of capital punishment once again.
Amongst all the other things it should be remembered that this attack has been condemned by the Muslim Council of Britain. Also that Britain has already stated it is withdrawing from Afghanistan and going by the accent of the terrorist, he has about as much to do with Iraq or Afghanistan as I do and probably knows 1% as much on a good day.
Nowhere does it state that Muslims should kill innocent people and anyone who studies Islam knows it is a religion of peace. Generally speaking, more Muslims are killed by other Muslims and yet no-one seems to want to kill or maim innocent people in predominantly Islamic countries. Surely it is incumbent on any one who comes to live in Britain whatever their religion or colour to abide by the most basic of rules or not come at all just as I would never dream of going to Saudi Arabia, wearing shorts, playing loud rock music and shouting inflammatory remarks. Of course, these terrorist and people like them come to Britain and other similar countries precisely because they can do and say what they like when they wouldn’t be able to in their own countries.
In the midst of all this it should be remembered that a small bit of good came out of this. The people of Woolwich showed their community spirit. A number of women went to be with the murdered man as the gun toting, knife wielding terrorists waited just feet away for a showdown with the police.
One woman in particular has come to prominence. Ingrid Loyau-Kennett, of Helston in Cornwall happened to be on a London bus and when she saw a body in the street, jumped out of the bus and upon seeing another woman already with the murdered man went to confront the murderers.
She said is widely reported in todays newspapers and news broadcasts: “I went to the guy and when I approached the body there was a lady cradling him. And then (one of the killers), the most excited one of the two, said, ‘Don’t go too close to the body’.
“I thought, okay. And because I was down I could see a butcher’s knife and an axe – that’s what he had – and blood. I thought, what the heck? I thought obviously he was a bit excited and the thing was just to talk to him.”
Ms Loyau-Kennett said she tried to reason with the killer in an effort to focus his attention away from other potential victims, as large crowds began to huddle at the scene.
She said: “I know it’s big today but for me it was just a regular guy, just a bit upset. He was not on drugs, he was not drunk.
“He said, ‘Don’t touch, I killed him’. I said, ‘Why?’ He said: ‘He’s a British soldier. He killed people. He killed Muslim people in Muslim countries.’
“And I said: okay. So what would you like? I tried to make him talk about how he felt. He said all the bombs dropping and blindly killing women, children…
“More and more people were starting to come. There were so many people around. I just looked around and I found it so daunting.”
However, Ms Loyau-Kennett said her thoughts were to “just carry on” talking to the man, while several woman arriving at the scene tried to shield the victim.
She said: “I wanted him to concentrate on me and make sure he doesn’t have a funny idea.
“He (the killer) told me he was a British soldier – he didn’t look like a British soldier to me, he wasn’t in uniform. But I thought if another one passes by, or is in the area…”
Asked if she was scared, the woman replied: “No – better me than a child.
“Unfortunately there were more and more mothers with children stopping around, so it was even more important I was talking to him and ask him what he wanted.”
It is thought that the unfortunate murdered man was identified by his wearing a “Help For Heroes” t-shirt, a charity devoted to helping the families of military personnel killed or injured in action. Perhaps what sums up the huge challenge any terrorist faces is that this morning the Help For Heroes website had crashed as it was overwhelmed by people trying to make donations.
Help For Heroes charity overwhelmed by donations.
The feeling in Britain is that the quiet majority of British people have had enough of their own lifestyle and customs not being respected, partly by foreign extremists and partly by successive governments who have failed to act effectively in numerous arenas. Every nation can only take so much and after being a refuge for refugees and people wanting to start a new life for thousands of years but all of these people have wanted to fit in and add to the society while now there are too many spongers and criminals whose natural instincts aren’t compatible with the lifestyle we all enjoy and want us to adapt to them and not vice-versa.
Perhaps instead of making things worse and looking for divisions though, we should instead be grateful that there are so many people who are happy to risk their lives for others and stand up to bullies and murderers. There were many yesterday but non braver than French born Ingrid Loyau-Kennett, exactly the sort of person who is always welcome here.
Mother of two, born in France, lives in Cornwall, hero in London.
Our thoughts also go to the family Drummer Lee Rigby aged just 25 who like many others has given his life for the freedom and safety of others and also to the police and security forces who have foiled 12 serious terrorist attacks in the last few years.
25 year old Drummer Lee Rigby 2nd battalion of The Royal Fusiliers, veteran of Afghanistan
(Photos and some text taken from The Daily Telegraph and Independent).
Every now and then when you go travelling, you come across something out of the ordinary. If you are very lucky, you might see something unique and quite amazing, the Silver Swan is such a sight.
The Silver Swan Automaton is housed in the Bowes Museum, just outside the small but pretty market-town of Barnards Castles in the heart of beautiful Teesdale and in the shadow of the north Pennine hills. If you are in London then it is a good 4 or 5 hours drive away but even at that distance I would quite happily go there right now to once again visit this amazing museum.
The dramatic ruins of Barnard Castle in beautiful County Durham overlook the town that was built around it.
For those of you holidaying in The Lake District, Yorkshire or Durham/Newcastle/Northumberland area then there really is no excuse not to go, I promise you won’t regret it.
Living so close to London, it can sometimes be easy to get a little jaded with museums, especially as I visit plenty on my overseas visits. However The Bowes Museum is simply one of the best days out I have ever had and equals if not surpasses most museums in London, Paris or Berlin.
Surely the grandest provincial museum exterior?
The Bowes Museum was built on the instruction of successful businessman John Bowes and his wife a Parisian actress by the name of Josephine Coffin-Chevallier. John Bowes was one of those typically community spirited individuals that did so much for Britain in the 19th Century. Victorians were all for science, learning and education he wanted to compete with London and Paris in building the best collection he could but he did it entirely through his own pocket. He wanted to build a museum for the ordinary people in his local community and his vision saw a world class museum full of fine art of international significance.
The building was designed in the manner of the finest French Châteaus by French architect Jules Pellechet and John Edward Watson of Newcastle. It was built on an epic scope, like no other building of its time. Such was its size that sadly neither John Bowes or his wife survived to see its completion though they had spent decades buying up and amassing tens of thousands of items of art for the museum.
The museum is set amongst grand formal gardens and naturalistic park-lands, it looks incredibly grandiose and imposing when one drives in through the entrance gates.
Looking more like stairs in a palace than a public museum. You can just about see the feet of a painting of Admiral Nelson (if I remember correctly in the mirror).
Inside, the building is decorate almost like a sumptuous palace with marble floors and pillars, grand stair cases and some of the finest paintings in Europe on display. The museum has a number of permanent exhibits in areas such as textiles and clothing, furniture, ceramics. There are also frequent temporary exhibits which have recently included works by celebrated artists such as Monet.
Just one room of many dedicated to exquisite period furniture
When I visited, we spent about 6 hours there and still didn’t have time to see everything, at least not without rushing some areas. The museum is also home to a fine restaurant and tea-room which also has much better and more reasonably priced food than any museum or gallery in London I’ve been too.
No matter how many fine attractions there are in The Bowes Museum, the undoubted star of them all is the Silver Swan Automaton. It is a clockwork piece designed by John Joseph Merlin with its first owner being James Cox who had a Mechanical Museum of wonders. The silver swan is one of a kind. The swan is life-size and is controlled by three separate clockwork mechanisms. The Silver Swan rests on a stream made of twisted glass rods interspersed with silver fish. When the mechanism is wound up, the glass rods rotate, the music begins, and the Swan twists its head to the left and right and appears to preen its back. It then appears to sight a fish in the water below and bends down to catch it, which it then swallows as the music stops and it resumes its upright position.
The magical Silver Swan at The Bowes Museum
There have been countless admires of this silver mechanical marvel, one of whom over a century ago was Mark Twain who describes it thus…
‘I watched the Silver Swan, which had a living grace about his movement and a living intelligence in his eyes-watched him swimming about as comfortably and unconcernedly as it he had been born in a morass instead of a jeweller’s shop – watched him seize a silver fish from under the water and hold up his head and go through the customary and elaborate motions of swallowing it…’
Due to its great age and the countless times it has performed, it was recently necessary to strip down the swan, repair and clean all of its component parts. Here is a video featuring some of this process.
The silver swan is simply amazing and incredibly life-like and beautiful. No amount of description or photos can do it justice but I can say that it is right up there with seeing the Crown Jewels, Mona Lisa or Tutankhamen’s gold mask. Except that the silver swan is more beautiful and delicately, intricately designed than can be humanly possible, especially 300 years ago. It is simply magical.
For much of the 20th Century the swan was open to the public to touch and was actively run a lot more than today. Nowadays the swan performs just once a day like clockwork at 2pm.
Hurry, it is nearly 2pm and the Silver Swan is going to perform for us! It is hard to see everything on the video, do you watch the swan preening itself and looking for fish, the flowing river it sits on or the little silver fish? You have to be equally quick when you watch it in real-life but then that just makes for a great excuse to visit the museum again.
Here it is from a different viewpoint where you can more easily see the flowing water and swimming fish.
There is evidence that behind the swan, there used to be a silver waterfall but this is likely to have been lost or stolen on one of its tours long before John Bowes acquired it to be the centrepiece of his collection.
The ruinous Egglestone Abbey between The Bowes Museum and the A66
If you have any time left after visiting this superb museum and you are heading back towards the A1M you might just come across the ruined Egglestone Abbey. There are many other great buildings to look at but nearby but this provides just a welcome opportunity to get some fresh air before driving home. Just another great reason when visiting the U.K. not to spend all your time in London.
Wednesday saw the annual State Opening of Parliament centred around the Queens Speech. It is perhaps the key moment for the Queen in political life and in it she explains of the coming policies and proposed laws for the future year in a similar way to the State of the Union speech in the United States. However this being Great Britain, the whole thing mixes modern day events with centuries of spectacular though often curious traditions.
These days many people think the Queen is just a figurehead and has no real power. In many ways they are right but she does still have some powerful rights, it is just that she chooses not to exercise them and some haven’t been actioned for centuries. It wasn’t always the case though. Often historical kings and queens are seen as all powerful, in reality they were just the most powerful amongst many other powerful groups and from achievements such as the Magna Carta (which I will write about in June) and rebellions by brave or principled people such as Simon De Montfort, there was a steady erosion of power away from the monarch towards Parliament.
The monarchs often resented this hugely and still believed that they ruled in the name of God and could do whatever they desired. They often only held Parliament infrequently and often then it was only because the King wanted something from his lords, usually money for wars. Things reached a critical point with King Charles I who tried to rule without Parliament for many years after it stood up to him too many times. Eventually he had to assemble his barons when he became bankrupt.
William Lenthall, standing up to the King
At one point King Charles I became vexed by the Parliamentarian John Pym who was a strong critic of the king. Charles led a force of soldiers to Parliament to have Pym and 4 others arrested. On his arrival, the 5 parliamentarians could not be found and the King asked the Speaker of the House, William Lentall, as to their whereabouts. Calmly, the Speaker proclaimed his neutrality which Speakers in Parliaments in the U.K and around the world have tried to follow ever since by declaring “”May it please your Majesty, I have neither eyes to see nor tongue to speak in this place but as the House is pleased to direct me, whose servant I am here.”
These events are just part of the lead up to the English Civil War, the beheading of King Charles I and the creation of a republic in England. It was all a bit too early for democracy and it was over a century later when these parliamentarians inspired both the American and French revolutions and the concept of equality and freedom.
So King Charles II later became king and he and his successors agreed to reduced powers and in 1701 the Act of Settlement enshrined the primacy of parliament over the monarchy.
However, only the Queen can open and close Parliament and the ceremony has lots of historical elements. Parliament is searched to ensure that there are no possibilities of a repeat of the gunpowder plot. An important figure from Parliament goes to Buckingham Palace and is held hostage. This goes back to the times when such events where necessary for the safety of the Monarch when going to Parliament.
The soldiers at the roadside and the Household Cavalry are all real soldiers. They take it in turns to perform duties such as this and fighting in places like Iraq and Afghanistan
The Queen and Prince Philip journey to parliament in horse-drawn procession with soldiers from her Household Cavalry amongst others. The Imperial Crown is also brought to Parliament separately by a similar carriage as one of signs of ultimate power in the country.
The Houses of Parliament were designed so that if one stands in the middle of the corridor you can see the Queens throne at one end of the House of Lords building and the Speakers Chair at the far end of the House of Commons.
When the Queen arrives, an official known as Black Rod will walk down the corridor from the House of Lords to the Lower House or House of Commons. As he arrives, the door will be slammed shut, this is to signify that the House of Commons is independent and that the Queen cannot enter and issue commands as she pleases as King Charles I and his predecessors tried to do.
No monarch has entered the House of Commons for nearly 400 years so Black Rod is sent to summon MPs
Black Rod will then hammer on the door with his cane 3 times after which he will be let in. He will then proclaim a summons for the MPs to come and listen to the Queens address. Black Rod or these days often another official will then carry the Mace from the Commons to the House of Lords. The MPs will follow in pairs, often joking with each other and deliberately taking a long time so as to go back to the days when parliamentarians would have to demonstrate they weren’t at the beck and call of the monarch.
The slow walk from the House of Commons to the House of Lords
Not many MPs get to see what is going on as generally MPs are not allowed far into the House of Lords just as Lords are not allowed far into the Commons.
Once everyone is at their places, the Queen will be given the text to read out setting out the plans for Parliament in the coming year. These will be based on texts planned out by the government and not herself. It is now that things appear most spectacular and in many ways medieval. The MPs will be dressed in formal suits but everyone else will be wearing ceremonial uniforms, hats, white wigs, swords and symbols of power.
Whilst the Lords is full of gold and regal reds, the Commons is “simple” in its decoration, at least in comparison.
Once the speech has been read out, the Queen will leave the chamber, accompanied by Prince Philip and after a short discussion with senior officials will depart Parliament in one of the many stately carriages at her disposal. The MPs and others will then be told that the Queen has completed her reading and that their presence is no longer required. The Mace and the Speaker of the Commons will then lead the MPs back down the corridor to the Commons where they will bow before the chair and the ceremonial instruments of power will be put in their place and parliamentary business in both houses can take place.
As well as opening and closing Parliament, the current Queen has other unique powers. She can still overturn any proposed law and indeed like her predecessors, signs into statute any and all laws. She can also veto the appointment of any member to the House of Lords, our Upper House. The Prime Minister of the U.K. meets with the Queen weekly and as these meetings are private it is often a useful place for the Prime Minister to discuss problems and the current situation with someone above politics. After over 60 years as Queen, Her Majesty obviously has lots of experience that most other politicians or heads of state can only dream of.
The Queen hosting her weekly talks with the Prime Minister, David Cameron MP.
Amongst lots of other smaller things, the Queen is Commander in Chief of the military, head of the Church, represents the U.K. in some international functions, calls for General Elections and can choose the Prime Minister although by tradition she always picks the leader of the most popular political party. Other institutions are run in her name such as HM Prisons or the Royal Mail.
The Queen reads the proposed laws and initiatives which her government will enact.
Some people might think this is a little strange but for the most part the British are happy and proud of the Queen. She takes a kind of motherly role over the nation and what is lost by the idea of having a monarch is usually thought to be made up for by having a head of state which is above political infighting, interest groups and bribery. It’s a muddle but then as we don’t have a written constitution but instead one based on centuries of precedents and judicial judgements it is something we are used and happy to live with.
The Queen has several bejewelled head-wear but the imperial crown is only worn on certain state occasions.
Whilst everyone else including myself was winding down and looking forward to having the next day off for Easter, my poor mother was dying. This wasn’t the first time that she had suffered from cancer or had serious operations as she had done on and off for about 13 years. Like before, she had been expected to make a full recovery. Her operation had been declared a complete success as had the other aspects of her treatments but it seems that this was one chemotherapy too many. She had been unwell for a few days but there was no obvious sign that anything majorly wrong was occurring and on Thursday 28th March 2013, exactly 2 weeks after her 63rd birthday, my dearest Mam died.
Not living at home it was with great surprise that we received a call with the bad news. Could it possibly be for real? Of course it was, nobody makes these calls for a joke.
How could it happen, she was so well and for a mother, so young. Not even at retirement age. Our kindly neighbour drove us over to my parents house where the paramedics were still there. They had fought for 45 minutes to save her life but it was to no avail.
We waited downstairs until they left after which a doctors visited to confirm her death. Once the commotion had subsided we decided to go upstairs and see my mother. Having seen a number of dead bodies in my time and not expecting a pretty sight, it was still a horrendous shock considering just an hour earlier we were watching a comedy on TV and looking forward to a fun weekend. She looked in a very, very bad way and not at all like the mother I had known for 39 years. Eyes and mouth wide open and discoloured, she looked like she had died years ago rather than not much more than a few minutes earlier.
Everyone took a few moments to take in a scene before one by one leaving, no-one quite being able to come to terms with events or even say a word. I would have liked to have kissed her on her forehead as I had my grandparents but sadly the sight was too awful and so I simply kissed my hand and tapped it on her legs that were under the blanket.
The undertakers were called and at about 1am we went back home, there not being much more to do or say on the matter, It was a very long and sleepless night, the first of many in which my eyes ran and I quietly sobbed my way through the dark hours with the daytime hours being pretty much similar.
Due to Easter being a 4 day national holiday in the U.K. all the normal facilities were shut down and it took a few days before we learned that a post-mortem would have to be held so we were all in a a limbo of misery.
I was immediately inundated by texts, messages emails and even on this blog, dozens and dozens of commiserations. A few days later cards started to arrive in the post. I put them on the shelf next to a thank-you card that my Mam had given me just over a week earlier to say thank-you for her birthday treat, an all expenses spared high tea and sandwiches at the nearby and extremely exclusive Grove Hotel,
I read every card, text, message and email a dozen times or more. I started doing file searches to find the few emails that my mother had written to me. There wasn’t very many as she wasn’t that good with computers and besides she was round at our house at least once if not several times a week.
I felt lonely and sad and cried at least a little each day from March 28th until at least now. It was especially sad as I hadn’t got the chance to say goodbye or tell her that I loved her or hear that she loved me. And now I will never hear it again. It seems hard to believe that I will go for the rest of my life which may be reasonably be expected to be between 30 and 60 years without ever seeing her again for good times and bad. For everyone else things will go on as before but for me they never can and I’m not sure I would want them to anyway.
It seems particularly unfair these days when so many people live past their 70′s and into their 80′s at least. Many people who consoled me are the age of my mother and they still have theirs.
Finally the postmortem was completed and the body was released. We worked like crazy to arrange the funeral. Everywhere was busy and backed up due to the Easter holidays. Our first choice church not longer had the Vicar we knew as he had recently retired and the whole church was in a state of limbo, it didn’t seem right to hold a service there. The second church we tried was very helpful but the vicar was going on holiday in two days so we had to discount that one sadly but we are grateful for her help.
St Pauls Church Langleybury @ Hunton Bridge with the very helpful Revd Ysmena Pentelow
The second church tried was The Church of St Lawrence in Abbots Langley. This turned out to be the worst church any of us had known. They were unhelpful, unfriendly, unprofessional and unsympathetic, Despite many calls and even a visit to their office, we are still waiting a call back from them nearly a month on. We should have guessed as we had heard bad rumours about that church from people who live close by to it but choose to worship elsewhere.
A beautiful village church with an absolutely rude and disrespectful vicar Revd. Dr Jo Spreadbury at St Lawrence Church in Abbots Langley. A more “unchristian” person it would be hard to meet, except she did every possible not to meet us so we’ll hopefully never know.
Finally we approached one of the churches we attend sporadically, All Saints Church in Leavesden, the village where we live. It is a beautiful church on the outside and inside with a lovely congregation and a Vicar whom we all found outstanding. He agreed instantly to help us and so that was that sorted.
All Saints Church in Leavesden, designed by renowned architect Sir George Gilbert Scott who also designed many more famous buildings in London and throughout the U.K. (over 800 in fact)
I hurriedly wrote a letter to express some private words of thanks and love and sorrow, an almost impossible job to compress a lifetime of feelings into 2 pages. I put the letter in an envelope and sealed it with a kiss.
The day before my Mams funeral we went to see her in the Chapel of Rest. Everyone took there turns and from what I can tell most cried their eyes out. I know I did, more than once. The undertakers had made a good job with my Mam, she was looking herself again, more or less and if it can be said, looked pretty. I even took a photo, not that I imagine I will look at it very often.
No matter how much I wrote, I would be leaving so much more unsaid.
Throughout the intervening 2 weeks lots of people had said that they had felt her presence but I hadn’t done which I tho9ught was a bit sad. Unexpectedly something amazing happened. I had been in the room for about 15 minutes when I decided to touch her hands. I did this a little gingerly for I remembered the feeling of my Grandad when he had died, freezing cold. Anyway at the precise second that my hand touched hers both of the twin lights in the room flickered off! I was astounded and not a little bit happy. It is something I will remember always as if she was giving me a message there and then that she was here and loved me.
My mother was always in to ghosts and supernatural occurrences such as this and it was the sort of thing that we must have talked about many times. There were also a witness to this which means I know I didn’t imagine it.
I stoked her finger. It felt exactly the same as I remembered it, knowing the exact contours and skin markings by touch except of course she was very cold. I then kissed her on her forehead and placed my letter besides her and said my goodbyes.
Next up we went to see the Vicar to discuss the service. Most of it was at the suggestion of my Dad with a bit of input from the vicar.
The next day was the funeral, it was two weeks since she had died. The recent prolonged and freezing winter had begun to turn to spring in the last 2 days forcing a change of what I was going to wear. Out went the smart coat and in came a very smart looking black waistcoat. I know my Mam would have said how smart I was looking and given me a kiss.
The funeral was set for 2pm though it was a little late due to traffic problems near our house. The undertakers stood at attention as the hearse drove past and for the first 200 metres the lead undertaker walked in front of the cortège with his top hat, old fashioned black suit and wooden cane with a silver handle.
We followed the coffin into the church and to my surprise it was over half full with 50 or 60 people present. We went to sit at the front with my Mams coffin on display in front of the altar. The vicar gave a short sermon and hymns were sung including her favourite ‘Morning Has Broken’ and ‘Those in Peril On The Sea’ in deference to the many round the world trips my parents had before I was born. The Vicar told the attended crowds how indeed I had my origins in the tropical pacific island of Bali and the story told many times to myself of how she found out she was pregnant with me on an Aboriginal reserve at Groote Eylandt (Australia) having climber 40 feet down a rope ladder outside a cargo ship and into a local log canoe, only to do the reverse trip with a beaming smile on a face on learning I was on my way. With an origin like that, it makes little wonder that I have a niche for bizarre travel tales myself.
All Saints Church In Leavesden where we were fortunate to meet the kind and helpful Assistant Priest, Martin Brown.
It must be said that all I could hear around were people crying throughout the service but I didn’t cry once. Instead I sung my heart out all the way through. I had cried enough before hand and knew I would afterwards, as indeed I have. Below is a copy of the readings which the Vicar said.
Susan Liddell
Susan was a Cumbrian girl, born in Carlisle in 1950 but spent her formative years in West Cumberland in a village called Seaton. Her father was a Postal & Telegraph Officer in Workington.
Now the Post Office had a rambling and fell walking club and by the grand age of nine years the peaks of the Lake District were rolling off her tongue. Great Gable, Sca Fell, Helvelyn . . . she knew them all. She accompanied her dad and a close friend of his, Percy Kelly. Percy and her dad had both joined the Post Office at the same time as telegraph boys. Susan and her dad often went for tea on Sundays with Mr Kelly. Remember his name.
Susan’s mother used to tell her stories of the Glenn Miller Band and how she used to like the smooth, creamy voice of the Miller Band lead singer, a certain Johnny Desmond. Remember his name.
Susan eventually left school and started work, for three or four years. Then she met and fell in love with Graham, a handsome young engineer. Well, he was handsome in those days!
But Graham wasn’t just any engineer, he was a marine engineer in the Merchant Navy. They were married in 1971. Three weeks later Susan found herself on a ship in Bristol, for Graham was allowed to let Susan come with him on his next voyage. A four month cruise he promised her; to Denmark, the Caribbean and America. Well, she went to all of these places, and more. The months rolled by to six, seven, eight, nine . . . visiting Panama, Japan, U.S.A. (again), Mexico, Japan (again), Australia and South Africa. The poor girl had never been away from home for more than a week or so.
You would be forgiven for thinking that was the end of the matter but, after being in her new house for only five weeks, Graham was asked if he would join a ship in Vancouver, bound for Japan. Of course Graham said yes – but only if Susan could come with him! So Susan packed her bags again and off she went.
It was on this voyage that she became pregnant with Stephen. She had her pregnancy test at a remote island off the north coast of Australia. A boat was being sent to collect her. When someone shouted ‘It’s here’ she went to look over the side. She saw a dug-out canoe, crewed by two aborigines, dressed only in loin cloths! The hospital was a mission station, run by two Irish nuns. Susan returned a couple of hours later with a beaming smile. Even the fifty foot climb up a rope ladder didn’t bother her.
A short while after they arrived home, Graham gave up the sea; he wanted to be with Susan and watch his son grow up. The years passed and Gareth arrived. Susan now had three men in her life, she loved them all, so much.
Time passed and she developed a fondness for 1940′s music; Glenn Miller’s in particular. After a year or so she came to love the voice of the lead singer . . . yes, the very same Johnny Desmond.
Susan then began to collect Johnny’s records, eventually accumulating 650 recordings! One day she was bidding on eBay for a little bracelet that was given away at one of Johnny’s television shows in the late 1950′s.
An email arrived saying that a friend of Johnny’s family wanted to secure this unique item as a present for a family member! Susan was in a quandary; she did want the bracelet herself but her curiosity was overwhelming. Susan withdrew from the auction. A month or so later an email arrived from the U.S.A. It was from Johnny’s daughter, thanking her for her kindness. This was to be the beginning of a close and longstanding friendship, with Susan eventually spending several holidays in California with Johnny’s daughter Diane, and his sister Toni. So close was their friendship that Toni agreed to be Susan’s ‘Aunt’ too. Sadly, Susan’s mum didn’t survive to see this friendship occur – but I’m quite sure she would have been totally astounded!
Susan’s life has been so full of similar happenings or coincidences that I don’t have time to tell of them all. But were they truly coincidences? I couldn’t even begin to explain them.
Susan’s life was always filled with love. Love for the three men in her life, her family, her friends. Unfortunately she was struck with breast cancer in 2000. But she was also a very strong woman and fought this malignancy every step of the way. She survived all the treatments that were thrown at her.
Sadly, she was again diagnosed with breast cancer last November. Needless to say, she fought this terrible disease; but the cure was as hurtful as the illness. The chemotherapy was just too much, even for Susan, to bear.
Did you know that every night, before she went to sleep, she asked Graham for a cuddle . . . and said ‘I love you, hubbubs’ (her pet name for him) and he would reply ‘I love you too, Suse’. They never, ever, went to sleep on an argument.
The afternoon that Susan passed, she drifted in and out of consciousness. In her last lucid moment, she put her hand out to Graham who was always with her, and said ‘I love you, hububs’. And, of course, you know the reply!
Susan had a birthday two weeks before she passed, Graham had been wondering for many weeks what to give as a present. He’d found an engraving of a Lake District scene, made by a Cumbrian – a close friend of Winston Churchill – apparently the artist had died about twenty years ago. It was a nice picture, Susan would like it, but Graham had never heard of the artist.
But Susan had! Yes, it was Percy Kelly!
Dear Graham, Stephen, Gareth, Friends. Susan finished her work on earth, and left the stage in a manner that leaves those of us left behind with a cry of agony in our hearts, as the fragile thread of our faith is dealt with so violently. Is anyone strong enough to stay conscious through such teaching as you are receiving? Probably very few. And even they would only have a whisper of equanimity and peace amidst the screaming trumpets of their rage, grief, horror and desolation. I can’t assuage your pain with any words, nor should I. For your pain is Susan’s legacy to you. Not that she or I would inflict such pain by choice, but there it is. And it must burn its purifying way to completion. For something in you dies when you bear the unbearable, and it is only in that dark night of the soul that you are prepared to see as God sees, and to love as God loves. Now is the time to let your grief find expression. No false strength. Now is the time to sit quietly and speak to Susan, and thank her for being with you these few years, and encourage her to go on with whatever her work is, knowing that you will grow in compassion and wisdom from this experience. In my heart, I know that you and she will meet again and again, and recognize the many ways in which you have known each other. And when you meet you will know, in a flash, what now it is not given to you to know: Why this had to be the way it was. Our rational minds can never understand what has happened, but our hearts – if we can keep them open to God – will find their own intuitive way. Susan came through you to do her work on earth, which includes her manner of death. Now her soul is free, and the love that you can share with her is invulnerable to the winds of changing time and space. In that deep love, include me. In love,
Following the service we met friends and family outside the old church. If there was any good point to the whole day it was that I met family members I hadn’t seen since the mid 1980′s. They had come from as far as Greece, Inverness in northern Scotland, Cumbria and Southport near Liverpool. I have to say some of them I didn’t recognise at first but I got lots of welcome hugs and much comment was made of how much I had grown since last they had seen me.
We then made the short journey to the West Herts Crematorium where a much shorter service was held with some more prayers, bible readings, a hymn. The service was book-ended by music from her favourite singer, Johnny Desmond who both she and much earlier, her mother (my Grandma) had taken a liking to. Liking is too mild a word for it, I would say totally obsessed but as obsessions go it was a relatively good one to have. Several years ago my Mam made her own simple website devoted to Johnny Desmond and later became friends with his family, one of whom sent me a card from California.
Once outside, a collection was made on behalf of Macmillians Cancer, the Undertakers mentioned that it was the largest collection they had seen for many years. If anyone cares to contribute then they are welcome to let me know.
By now the sun was out and we headed off to a local pub where a small buffet was held. I got the chance to give directions to an Aunty and Uncle I had not seen for about 25 years which was nice and later I got to chat to several more as well as old neighbours where I had grown up and not really seen for the last 7 or 8 years. Everyone was of the opinion that my Mam was pretty much the nicest person they had met and many thought I was the person who had most of her characteristics.
So that was that, 2 weeks ago as this blog is published. I will probably write one further personal posting in a few weeks or months time. I’d like to say that things have improved but a month after her death, I can’t really say that it had. It seems that life has pretty much gone back to normal, for everyone else at least, but not for me and I’m not even sure it should at least not yet. I’d still like to see her one last time and to hear her tell me that she loves me and is proud of me even though with a happy marriage to a girl she adored, a degree and Masters Degree, a book published and another one on the way, I am fairly sure I have good reason to believe she is.
I went back to the church a few days later to try and take some photos of the interior but the roof is collapsing and in need of serious emergency repairs so I had to plead with the warden to be allowed quick access to take these photos for this blog.
All Saints Altar with stained glass window, taken from the spot where my Mam had laid a few days earlier.
Most of the lights were off as the church was shut.
Looking back from the Altar down the knave past the pews towards the entrance.
Where I met friends and family after the service.
It was a terribly cold and dull day when I went back to the church and I remember feeling saddened that I could dwell in it for longer so after I left I took this photo of the front. Despite the dismal almost misty weather, to my surprise when I looked at this photo for the first time last time I saw a bright white light next to the porch?!? My Mam would have said it was the spirit of someone special watching over me and it is true that out of the 1,438 photos on my iPod, this is the only one with such a glare.
I still cry every day, and feel lonely. I even have a favourite tune to cry along to in the shower, The Scientist by Coldplay.
The words seem fitting and it was also about the last music video we watched together before I moved out and bought my own place to live. They say in space no-one can hear you scream but I find in the shower, no-one can hear you cry.
Susan Gwendolyn Liddell March 14th 1950 – March 28th 2013. Rest In Peace my beautiful, kind, sweet little Mama. I’ll miss and love you always. xxxx
I spend a few moments before the funeral with Mams old teddy circa 1950. Very worn from a lifetime of cuddles and greatly loved. You can just see the stitching on top of his head when he was burnt by a piece of coal that spat out of the fire. He was repaired by my Grandad about 60 years ago.
Back in March I was tagged for a fun little Blog Hop which allows you all a peek into my manuscript(s). I have J. G. Burdette to thank for this. Sorry it took a while to get round to doing this but I’m sure you’ll have read I had a few things happen recently.
Originally the idea was to sprinkle some tidbits on the book being written but as I am currently working on 3 books, I am going to live life a little dangerously and mention a bit on 2 of of them.
What is the working title of your book?— The first book title is going to be “Planes, Trains and sinking boats”, the second is of yet untitled.
Front cover graphics for my new book ‘Planes, trains and sinking boats
Where did the idea come from for the book?— The first book just seemed like an obvious extension from my first Historical Novel as I had done a lot of travelling, in part whilst research that book. Also though, I just wanted something simple and easy to write. For the second one, the idea actually came to me in a dream. I get lots of ideas from dreams both for brand new stories and also for plot points within stories as I am writing them.
What genre does your book fall under?— The first is kind of a humorous travelogue whilst the second is a adult fiction/science fiction.
Which actor would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?— The main character would have to be played by someone like Djimon Hounsou and if she is still acting then Dudu Mkhize
Djimon plays one of the most amazing characters in one of my favourite films. Perhaps one of the most noble on-screen characters of all time.
What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?-– A religious man in a traditional rural village in Africa is plagued by his neighbours doubting his faith so he writes a message in the sand asking God if He is real and the next morning he gets an answer which says Yes.
Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?—The first probably self published and the second two through an agency hopefully. However I have had bad experiences with publishers so I am not too disappointed by self-publishing.
How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?— It took 2 or 3 years to write my travelogue but I would only write in the evenings every few months. If I had sat down to write it one go then it would probably have taken a month or 6 weeks. The second book is still in first draft so I can’t say much more than that!
What other books would compare to this work within your genre?— For the first one, I would compare it with “Holidays in Hell” by P.J. O’Rourke. I have not come across anything similar to my second piece so hopefully it is more or less unique.
Who or what inspired you to write this book?— For my second book, I already had 2 or 3 ideas in my head but this one just came from nowhere and immediately inspired everyone that I told about it. Plus I like Africa, history and science fiction and this premise gives me quite a bit of leeway of hour the story can unfold as opposed to my first historical fiction novel which I wanted to remain faithful to the period and location.
What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?—
I’ve mentioned the science-fiction part of this novel despite it being set in a rural and traditional African village. The revelation later in the story is that they are not in an African village but rather on Martian colony which lost contact with Earth for centuries after a cataclysm.
Here are the writers I have tagged:
A Writers Journey — Shirley is a writer and works on articles and I believe she has a novel in the works!.
Kellyann Zuzolo – Kellyann is a writer who specialises on genies and magic.
Marinixwriter – Mari is a prolific blogger and is working on her first book. I don’t what it is about but I am sure it will be great.
Cruel Sister – This site is the home to David Conway who after being a successful international journalist is now turning his hand to what is hoped to be the first in a series of novels.
Here are the rules “tagees”:
Rules of the Next Big Thing:
Use this format for your post
Answer the ten questions about your current WIP (work in progress)
Tag five other writers/bloggers and add their links so we can hop over and meet them.
Todays posting isn’t going to be about some wishy-washy subject. I’m going to write about something important and something which is killing thousands of people every month, the civil uprising and war in Syria. I’m writing because it is important and we CAN do something. Up to 5000 people a month visit this blog, that is a lot of people who can do something. It is also the same number of people who are dying each month in Syria.
Peaceful Civilian marches and demonstrations for democracy and free elections in Syria.
For over 2 years now, the brave people of Syria have been rebelling against their dictator. At first the protests were peaceful and to a degree they were tolerated. The Syrians were enthused by the democratic changes taking place in Tunisia, Egypt, Libya as well as protests throughout the Middle-East as part of the Arab Spring. Their target was the overthrow of the Assad regime who have ruled over Syria for decades. The President, Bashar Assad, was never brought up to be a President (read Dictator), he spent much time in London working to become a specialist optician but his elder brother was killed in a car crash and he was quickly and badly groomed to succeed his father. He was destined to become an eye doctor but now Bashar Al-Assad is simply Dr Death, the first great war criminal of the 21st Century.
Any leader who has his image on public display outside of election time is a dictator.
The people of Syria had every right to expect assistance from friends and democracies from across the world. When it comes down to it though, there are only a handful of countries who are altruistic enough to help downtrodden people and of those only 3 nations have the history of assisting foreign states and peoples, the United Kingdom, United States and France. Other countries may be richer (Saudi Arabia), stronger (China), bigger (Russia) but they don’t help anyone as they don’t have a history of freedom and human rights and in fact they actively oppose these simple ideas. Of course the UK, US and France look out for their own interests too but sometimes, just occasionally we make a moral stand even when it costs us a lot and benefits others or even everyone, when we could very easily turn a blind eye as they do in so many other places.
This time though it didn’t happen. Partly due to exhaustion and a feeling of “let someone else do the hard work” due to wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. Yet with just a bit of help, Syria could have been resolved as quickly as Libya was and we would have the gratitude of the nation. Largely though, nothing has happened because Syria is too close to Israel and Iran and no-one is quite ready yet to risk starting a huge war and also because Russia does not want to lose practically its last ally overseas.
The rebels now hold much of the country though with main cities torn in two.
The rebels are making progress but it is a slow and bloody progress. Teenagers and young men armed with rifles, fighting a Russian backed army armed with jet planes, missiles, tanks and chemical weapons. If weapons or military assistance is not forthcoming then it might take years for Assad to be overthrown. It might not ever happen.
One of the smaller massacres in Syria by government forces. As gruesome as this is, there are easy to find photos on google of even the dead bodies of little girls all less than 5 years old.
Thousands of civilians and lightly armed rebels are being killed every month. State troops massacre civilians almost as a matter of routine. Children are shot at and bombed in their houses. Fathers and mothers are killed whilst going about their daily business and grandparents see their entire families of 12 or 14 people killed by a random rocket attack or village massacre.
You might wonder why we should care, let alone help these people. Syria after all is not famous for helping anyone in the last few centuries but helping someone shouldn’t depend on what they have done for you. Over 3 million Syrians have become refugees in recent months, living in tents and placing terrible burdens on Turkey and the impoverished but generally kindly nation of Jordan. 10% of Syrians are Christians so for those who think this is a Muslim only problem then just by the laws of average, 7,000 Christians have died in this uprising. They and their fellow Syrians have no-one to help them except us.
This village has been levelled by the Syrian Military. Claims that the rebels are doing this are ludicrous. How many millions of rounds of ammunition from a rifle would it take to level a village?
We though, can help. We have our PC’s and emails. All of us writers and readers on WordPress are nice people, if we weren’t we would be off doing horrible activities instead or writing, reading and spreading love
We can all write to our elected representatives. Whether you voted for them or not, it is their duty to listen and act on your complaints and suggestions. Our taxes pay for their salaries. I have done the hard work for you and found much of the information below. Now, all you have to do is write.
Write to them and tell them you want to help the people of Syria who are only fighting to gain the rights and freedoms that we all enjoy.
Email the Chancellor of Germany, angela.merkel@bundestag.de and ask her why she is happy to spend so much money on the Euro that is causing chaos across Europe but vetoing moves to help the Syrian Rebels.
Or email both William Hague, Foreign Secretary @ haguew@parliament.uk. and possibly the future Prime Minister, Labour Leader David Miliband@ milibandd@parliament.uk
Though as a war criminal himself for his actions in Chechnya, President Putin of Russia doesn’t care about his own citizens, let alone us or the people of Syria, still write to him by visiting http://eng.letters.kremlin.ru/send
Alternatively email the Russian embassy in London at foreignpolicy@rusemb.org.uk or phone their embassy in Washington on Phone: (202) 298-5700
Writing to our politicians and leaders is a good thing to do, it is part of the democratic process which we all have but the people of Syria do not. Syria is home to some of the oldest cities in the world. Damascus, Aleppo and others are up to 8,000 years old. Isn’t it about time they had their freedom too? The longer this war goes on, the worse it will be for them and us. If you were Syrian and you knew the people you looked up to and thought would help turned a blind eye it isn’t hard to imagine them taking a dislike to us. Ask any Libyan what they think of Russia and China.
Just as importantly as writing to the people above is the fact that the people in Syria are dying now because they don’t have enough medicine, food and water and shelter.
Deserted cities, their populations fled or dead after onslaughts by Syrian tanks, jet planes and rockets.
There are a number of international charities you can donate to.
Medicine Sans Frontiers is a wonderful charity dedicated to providing emergency medical aid to people who need it most and yet have no means of accessing local care. http://www.msf.org.uk/country-region/syria
The websites may have UK addresses but I have checked them and if you have a bank card or paypal then you can pay wherever you are. MSF takes currencies all on the same page whatever your nationality.
We have up to 500 people a day visiting this blog. If every one of us donated just £5, $7.50 or €7 then that would be an awful lot of money every day to buy blankets, food, tents, first aid.
Instead of buying a pizza or over priced coffee, give the money and dour body a small favour and someone else a huge one. Instead of writing a blog today or this weekend, write out an email and send it to everyone listed above.
In the last month, I have lost my job and my mother and I can say, in the big scheme of things that doesn’t matter one bit. Don’t feel sorry for me, feel sorry for them. What does matter is helping the 3 million refugees and doing whatever you can to make sure in 2 years time the death toll in Syria stays at 75,000 people and isn’t 250,000.
A young boy lies dead in his father or older brothers arms.
Share this posting with your friends and colleagues or re-post it on your site. Send a link or email to anyone who has a heart, a keyboard and a spare penny to donate. Do something good and help make a difference today.
I was a bit of a late comer when it came to digitally stored music. Partly it was because I was too busy, partly because being a practical sort of person, spending money on a electrical storage device always seemed to be a bit of a luxury. I also like to see my possessions, not have them invisibly stored in a little computerised box. Music and videos to me are like books and should be displayed. I like looking at them, I like browsing them. They are a part of me given that I don’t generally buy anything which I am not really really keen on.
To be honest I would never have even got into iTunes but someone kindly gave me an old Apple iPod. They had barely used it at all whilst within days I was using it to its full capacity, linked it to various bits of kit around the house and had apps for everything for planting seeds in my vegetable patch to tracking the planes flying over head, something which is quite a frequent occurrence when just 15 miles from Londons Heathrow Aiport and several other major airports too.
What I most liked about it though was the facility to store my music and just as good to purchase new music legally. Did you see the last word of that previous sentence? I’ve never been one to pirate music or movies. If something is good enough for me to buy then it is good enough to pay for. We as writers should all be in agreement with that right?
Lots of people complain about iTunes but it also has legions of fans and I am one of them. It’s so easy to port over your old CDs along with album covers and info and have you own personalised little jukebox which just happens to be able to do thousands of things as a bonus.
One bizarrely diverse iTunes collection and that is just for the A’s.
As well as liking the fact that iTunes is 100% legal and pays artists for their work, I like its simplicity and ease of use. I have a hugely eclectic range of music on my ‘new’ iPod Touch. Anything from Abba to (The) Verve. I’m not one though for obsessing over every track from a particular musician. To be honest I don’t really care about them and I don’t have time to become familiar with them and so enjoy them. Whereas in the old days there was little choice to purchase a complete CD or record even if you only wanted their only number 1 hit, now I don’t have to. Which means in effect whereas before I would go without buying any of them, now I can pick and mix and buy the one or two songs that I actually really like. It separates the wheat from the chaff!
Following from this theory I have also bought the selected hits of the various decades. Not for me the hours of exciting music from the 60′s which to my modern ears at least sound bland and samey or indeed the same which can be said of the electro pop of the 80′s or the seemingly talentless monotonous spoken rap and beats of todays chart music. However I can pick the hits that transcend the decades or ones that remind of memories of the distant and not so distant past.
When I have a flashback and remember how much I liked the sound of something or heaven forbid hear something new that I like then it is easy to buy a copy for a few pence and add it to my collection.
As I like travelling and like to think of myself as multicultural then I don’t just limit my music to British or America. I have Scandinavian which I can understand and French that I can’t. I have Mozart or Beethoven which everyone has heard and medieval Iranian nei music on which I’m pretty much on my own.
iTunes is also good for me as I can get tunes that I have heard from my music. I firmly believe that you don’t have to understand the words to like the music, something which presumably everyone outside of Britain and America has to do to a certain degree to enjoy our music. So I have a song from a French Canadian singer which I heard 10 times a day when I was in Paris for a week and the legendary Habibi ya nour el ain by Amr Diab which was blared out of every taxi stereo and Egyptian hotel for a decade, so much so that I can sing along with most of it even in Arabic. The link for the video is here but I make no apologies for that, I only say that the tune is incredibly catching and possibly annoying after hearing it dozens of time http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dK2U-0U0hA4
I also like how on iTunes you can play random songs or by artists, albums or even themed playlists. I have not got several gigabyte of music but to be fair to me, I do listen to nearly all of it. I know exactly how many songs of my favourite albums I can listen to on my drive home, how I can listen to one long track or 3 or my favourite shorter ones when I shower. How I can listen to whatever takes my mood at the touch or a button, or swipe of a touch sensitive screen.
Buddha Bar Paris before it became an overly commercialised multi-national chain
One of my favourite pieces of music is track number 5 on my Buddha Bar Volume 1 CD. I remember my trip to Buddha Bar in Paris very well even though it was many years ago. An extremely trendy and relatively obscure club restaurant that only came to live at about 2am and had the most wonderful mixed and original music. Inside it was themed as a kind of 1930s opium club with much of the largest area dominated by a giant buddha. The night I was there it seemed to be particularly popular with uber rich Russian business mafia types but I still remember ‘What Will Be’ by Zeava Ben. The singer is a Jewish Israeli with Moroccan heritage and the music is a great mix of styles and cultures.
I am sure that most many people will have watched one of my favourite films “The Shawshank Redemption” . There is a scene where Morgan Freeman’s character Red heard some Italian opera that he couldn’t understand but loved dearly. He said “I have no idea to this day what those two Italian ladies were singing about. Truth is, I don’t want to know. Some things are best left unsaid. I’d like to think they were singing about something so beautiful, it can’t be expressed in words, and makes your heart ache because of it. I tell you, those voices soared higher and farther than anybody in a gray place dares to dream. It was like some beautiful bird flapped into our drab little cage and made those walls dissolve away, and for the briefest of moments, every last man in Shawshank felt free”.
That is a lot how I feel when I listen to that song. It’s in Hebrew and from what I can gather it is about two lost lovers looking across a hot desert but more than that, I don’t want to know and don’t need to know but a more touching mournful song is hard to find in any language. Here is a link to the song and video.
I am a novelist and a backpacker and if I can do both together then that is just great. I like to show people around the U.K. with Ye Olde England Tours and go off the beaten path myself. If there is more sand then people than that's ok by me and I me and deserts not beaches.
I like anything historic, the older the better and that goes for my sci-fi too. Original Star Trek is the coolest isn't it?
I like walking in the country and read about things I like not what's popular. I wouldn't mind living in the past or the future but it seems I am stuck in the present. I love blogging, check me out, I am funny and informative and normally very modest. If you don't enjoy it at least you'll boost my page count.
Drop me a line if you'd like to chat. I'm always ready to hear from you. Doubly so if you have an offer of work as I recently lost my day job. I take cash or pepperoni pizza depending on the state of my bank account.
