Strictly come dancing and anonymous poets!!

I'm rather under the weather at the moment with a stinker of a cold, sore throat, chesty cough etc. So I've not managed to do much at all this week. No running, no cycling,no writing, just feeling sorry for myself. However I do want to thank Anonymous for the lovely poem she/he left in a comment on my last post, do let me know who you are.

I have managed to plant some lovely Pansies that we bought at the Market on Sunday [not a good photo but it was the best I could manage today] some delicate colours to brighten up the Winter, although the weather has been glorious for the last few weeks, warm sunny days and mild nights. We are still waiting to hear when the builder is going to start, two or three weeks we hope, it will probably start raining then!!!!

A couple of weeks ago the OH and I started Dance classes in the nearby town. The OH wants to learn to jive and we thought it would be a good way to meet people. We have signed up for Latin American starting with Salsa and Pasa Doble this term, jive comes later. It is proving to be good fun but much more difficult than we anticipated. We go on a Thursday evening from 9pm to 10pm, we go with a couple of English friends but the rest of the wannabe dancers are all French. Luckily we all seem to be blessed with two left feet so nobody stands out. We have a couple of drinks at a local bar first just to loosen up, tongues and feet!!! It has done us good to make the effort and our friends appreciate me translating for them. I think it will be hard work tonight but I daren't miss a lesson.

Today I am going to try and get some more of my wip typed up so I can update my word counter. It will be good to see it moving forward again.

Evenings and early mornings

In the early evening I like to sit at the front of our house reading or just sitting as the last of the days sun sinks behind the hill opposite. We are on the edge of the village with just a few neighbours so its very peaceful especially at this time of day.


As the sun dips behind the hill
The last rays are warm on my skin
Muted sounds rise up from the village
People on their way home from work
Voices in the distance, ordinary sounds
That wash over me
Leaving me alone with my thoughts.
Leaves rustling, wood pigeons cooing
Soothing my heavy emotions.
The jarring sounds of crows
Heading home to roost
Interrupts the growing stillness.
The sun disappears and the sky
Turns from hot blue to cool.
Vapour trails from a distant plane disect
The cloudless sky but do not linger.
As night descends the village settles
Into its quiet time.
Shutters closed, fires lit
Time to reflect.


5.00am

Awake in the soft darkness of the night
Hearing nothing but the shallow breathing by my side
Watching grey light seep through the shutters
Listening for the first sounds from the village
Waiting for the slow dawn of a new day.

Sad Sundays

Our son died on a Sunday morning, he had gone to work as he did every Sunday to do the milking for a farmer that he had worked for for many years. He knew the herd very well and had assisted more than a few of them into this world. Amongst them was his favourite cow, Whiskey. This is how I think about that morning.

Sunday Morning

Soft mist over cool green Devon fields
Dew sparkling in the early morning sun
A gentle breeze murmuring through the hedges.
Cows with kindly brown eyes
Stand in silent confusion, heavy with milk,
First a patient lowing then
A shifting of their hooves
A quickening of their breath
A snort, a nudge.
But still the steady drone of the tractor
Stopped forever in a moment of time.

Then the sound of sirens, all peace destroyed
The herd scatters, then when all is quiet
They return silently
Carefully probing the empty tractor.
For a moment they are lost
Something has changed.
But the call of the Milking Parlour is strong
And they must answer.
Only one remains
Whiskey remembers.

A gentle day out

Last wednesday we loaded up the bikes and went off to the Canal du Midi for a bike ride followed by lunch. It was a lovely sunny day, well we don't do bike rides otherwise!! The photo was taken during the ride, I really wasn't sure if the barge was going to fit under the bridge, they had already had to take a load of water to lower the boat. But it just made it.

For a surprise I had decided to take the OH to a restaurant that we first visited 20 years ago when we had our first holiday on the Canal. It could have turned out badly as I didn't even know if the restaurant was still there, we had not been back since. But luckily for me it was and I had even found a photo of our visit in June 1988, I can safely say we don't look a day older. Well I can say that because I'm not showing you the photo, or the one that the proprietor took 20 years later. By the way it was the same owner although he didn't remember us!!!

We had a lovely lunch on the terrace overlooking the Canal. It was that holiday on the Canal that inspired us to buy a property in France and we haven't fallen out of love with France or the Canal since. For more info and some stunning photos about this amazing feat of engineering go to http://www.canalmidi.com/ . We had a lovely day out.

Life continues even though there are bad times we manage some good times aswell. We have lots to be getting on with here, demolition to do before the builders start, stripping walls ready for redecorating, and the OH has started on some retaining walls to stop the garden falling onto the shed he wants to build. And I have managed to write a bit more of my wip, so I think we are moving forward slowly. I will post some photos soon of the work we have been doing. Also some more poems because they help. Then one day back to some farm tales.

Two months gone

Thanks again for all your lovely comments and for sharing this time with us.


It has been two months since our son died. Sometimes it seems like a lifetime ago or that it happenned to someone else. I don't really want to accept that he died. It goes against the natural order of things to bury your children.

I know that I was at his funeral but it feels as if it was someone else there not me. That I was a spectator not a participant. I find it very hard to explain my feelings but utter helplessness comes closest.

Usually I feel in control of the events in my life but now I am powerless, absolutely nothing I can do except find a way forward. Which I am trying to do but it's hard, very hard.

I have managed to start reading again which I wasn't able to do for about 6 weeks and this morning I have managed about 250 words of my wip. I am determined more than ever to finish my novel and dedicate it to the memory of my son.

These are some of the poems that I write in the small hours when I cannot sleep.


I am numb.


I sleepwalk through the waking hours
Shuffling slowly with leaden feet.
Then when the night comes
I lay watchful with sad heart.
Sleep eludes me as images
And thoughts crowd my mind.
So the days and nights pass slowly by.

--------



In the daylight hours I banish thoughts of you
Then when I lay down at night
Your voice and face come unbidden
But they are welcome.
The edges of reality are blurred
Tears fall silently to ease the pain
Are you really gone?

Finally sleep comes
But in the morning
You are gone
And I am desolate.

----------

I hear his voice in the dark "Hiya Mum"
I reach out to touch him
But he is not there, he is gone.



It helps to put my thoughts on paper as I can't express them out loud.
Now I am off for a run which also helps me get things in perspective and I shall be visiting blogs and catching up with the recent innovations here which seem to have passed me by.

Heartfelt thanks

I just want to offer my heartfelt thanks to all my fellow Novel racers who have taken the time to leave a message for us in this very difficult time, and to all our friends who sent cards and offers of support it has all been very much appreciated.

We are still struggling to come to terms with the death of our son and realise that it will take a lot of time. We are trying to get on with our lives, as we must, but it is hard to get through the days.

I have decided to share with you some of my feelings in the hope that putting my thoughts in black and white may help me.

Our son's funeral was in a beautiful village church in Devon, it was full with his family and friends. Grown men cried which showed me how much he was loved and appreciated. He was buried in a little graveyard surrounded by open fields and trees. For someone whose working life had been dedicated to farming this was as perfect as it could be. One day I will find comfort in knowing where he was laid to rest although for now such beauty just makes me cry.

After the funeral we all went to one of his favourite village pubs to celebrate his life. We had written a few words between us about our son which my husband very courageously spoke. This is what he said:

Our son was a decent and honest bloke and didn't deserve to have his young life cut short in this way. He was extremely happy with his lot and together with his wife was living life to the maximum. Even through the hard times in agriculture he managed to keep the dream alive and his new milking contract was going to give them a more secure future.
He worked hard and of course played hard when the opportunity was right. He was as fit as a fiddle which makes the circumstances of his death even more difficult to understand and we feel very angry and hurt by that. Whoever or whatever decides these things gave him a bum script.
At a young age he told us he wanted to go to Brymore[agricultural boarding school] and since then he has followed his dream. He was at his happiest working amongst the farming community in this village, working long hours when needed and caring for your cows as if they were his own, especially Whiskey[his favourite milker].
I can claim to have taught him the indispensable skill of drinking large quantities of beer, we even managed to play rugby in the same 7 a side team. And his Mum taught him the equally important rudiments of skinning and gutting a lamb. What more could a young man expect from his parents. And we were even happier with what he gave us.
However none of us will miss the unmistakeable smell of his very own eau de cologne, a mixture of cow shit and sweat. But when he had had a shower and got dressed up he was a match for anyone, especially on Karaoke night!!!!
Nothing was ever too much trouble for him. If a friend or client had an emergency or a problem he was always the first to help out if he could and we will all be the poorer for the loss of his generosity of spirit, a rare and valued gift.
He died doing what he loved best at the farm he loved best. He will be sorely missed by one and all and that is perhaps the best testament and celebration of life and the affect he had on everyone who knew him.
He will never ever be forgotten.

Just a few words to try and describe a very good person.

Since his death I have been writing my feelings down, just raw emotion really but thats all there is at the moment. These are the words I wrote on the card with the flowers for his coffin:

I have cried a sea of tears for you
But it is not enough.
Your dad feels his grief in other ways
But I can see the hurt in his eyes.
We try to smile for you
But it is so so hard
And we are weary beyond words.

And this is what went in his coffin:

Life is grey without you
Even though the sun is shining
The sparkle has gone out of our lives.
We are weary as we watch the minutes
Drag slowly through the long days.
Life will go on without you
But it is on hold for now.
We are not ready yet to let you go
The pain is too great
We are not ready.
Sleep does not come easily
Images crowd my mind
And will not let me rest.
I am overwhelmed by grief
You should not have died.

Thank-you for sharing this with us. I will hope to resume some blogging soon although I hope you will allow me to continue to share my emotions with you. It helps me to express them in this way.

Devestating news

I shall be away from the blog world for a while as we have had some devestating news. Our son died suddenly from a massive heart attack last Sunday the 20th July. He leaves a wife, two young children and us.

For now I have no words only emptiness and pain. We are getting through each day as best we can but it is very hard

When I am able to I will write about him as he was a wonderful son but for now I cannot bear it.