Sunday, 23 April 2017

Lincoln


A couple of weeks ago, Larry and I went on a few days visit to the cathedral city of Lincoln in the East Midlands (of England).  Lincoln has recently been celebrating 800 years since the Magna Carta was signed. You can read about it here.

It's a fascinating story to immerse yourself in.  We were fascinated to see all these little barons in the shop windows, each one individually painted and displayed.


Within Lincoln castle walls is a vault where one of the original copies of the Magna Carta is kept under lock and key and protected by guards.  No photographs are allowed in the inner sanctum, but copies of the Magna Carta in scroll form are available to buy from the castle gift shop.

Here is Larry standing outside the vault. The Magna Carta is fascinating of course, all written in Latin on sheepskin with King John's original seal intact on one of the three documents.  on the wall behind Larry is a translation of the Magna Carta into English. It fills the wall, carved onto the wall itself in relief with the most important sentences coloured in gold. Very impressive. To see the document, you have to descend some stairs and go through alarmed doors. It reminded me a bit of when we went to the Tower of London and saw the Crown Jewels. Here is the link that tells you all about the Magna Carta.


We stayed in a hotel right opposite the magnificent Lincoln Cathedral. Here it is, lit up at night. Picture taken from our hotel window. We also had a balcony so we could sit out and admire the view! We were treated to the cathedral bells, which were loud, believe me and wonderful, but they were quiet at night, after 10 o'clock so we got our sleep.

The cathedral is enormous and stands proudly on top of a very steep hill.


The hill was so steep that neither Larry nor I felt we could tackle it so we stayed at the top throughout our stay! The next picture gives a flavour of it, although it is difficult to capture on film just how steep it was. Larry took this from a coffee shop where we sat and enjoyed a drink and watched the people go by. They walked in front of us to the left of the black and white timbered house and when they got a bit further on they just seemed to disappear. Larry went and had a look and said that there must have been (steep) steps at the end because the people just seemed to drop off the edge.

By the way, the picture is correct. The buildings really are like that!


There were lots of small artisan shops in the vicinity and we enjoyed looking at those. It was lovely to get away from the big stores for a week and indulge ourselves, talking to the locals and finding out what it was like to live in such a beautiful place. I was particularly interested in how they managed in the winter when the roads were icy or snowy or both. I cannot imagine trying to stay upright in those circumstances.

Then there was the castle, but I'll keep that for another post.



Happy Sunday!

Sunday, 26 March 2017

Sunday and it's sunny - wonderful!


Happy Mothers' Day to all mothers in England. It's sunny today and a blue sky - what could be better!

In my garden today I noticed:

some lovely bright red tulips,


the growth on my climbing rose becoming prolific,


some pretty mauve and purple primroses,



some new growth from the pink phlox, which won't be ready to flower till late July.


and a beautiful cabbage, which I picked to eat for lunch today.


Feeling very blessed that once again we have got through the cruel winter and emerged to enjoy a wonderful Spring.

Our Panda is a smart cat!  He has a habit of getting into our chairs as soon as we vacate them. I suppose he likes the warmth.  This is Larry's chair. To stop Panda getting in it all the time, Larry puts the shopping bag in it. For a long time this worked, but no longer.  Panda looked at the bag the other day and promptly got into it.


and he snuggled down in the bag so we could hardly see him.  'Just try and move me' came the thought bubble from inside.  When Larry got back, I warned him not to pick up the bag because Panda has a habit of grabbing our fingers if we're not careful.  He is still very young and sees everything as a game, especially grabbing fingers.


I'll leave you today with a picture of Ruby, now 9 months old, sitting in the shopping trolley at the local supermarket.  She seems to be really enjoying it, doesn't she!



If you can't comment on here and wish to leave a comment, you can reach me at my email address:
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I know there is an issue with Blogger and my blog and I am trying to rectify it.

Sunday, 12 March 2017

Dylan Update March 2017



Dylan has become extremely interested in football! both playing it himself and watching it on television.  He attends football practise at the weekends and loves running around and getting a bit dirty.  Since he is very tall for his age, he is often chosen for goal-keeper, but I'm not sure that is his favourite position.


He has won several awards.


He is quite a cool dude these days!



and a front tooth just came out last week! The two granny fairies had to dig deep!


He loves his baby sister. Aren't they so cute together?


Oh and in case you missed it on my side panel - Larry and I are expecting a new grandchild to be born in June  2017 .

Have a great Sunday.

Friday, 10 March 2017

My Memoirs, My Little Nanna


This is a picture of my little Nanna, Ethel Mills. She is in her nineties. Also in the picture, on the left, is my stepmother Ronda Mills, who died last year.

Every picture tells a story. I know the story of this one.  On the face of it is a little old lady, standing proudly beside a reproduction dresser, but there is much more to it than that.  This picture may end up in my scrapbook or perhaps inside a shoebox on the top of the wardrobe. When my children find it, after I am gone, they will not know who these people are, unless I tell their story. In My Memoirs, I am attempting to do just that because I would like them to know about the family. They may not be interested now, but in years to come, when their own lives are progressing past the half-way line, they may begin to wonder who went before them.

I wish I had more pictures of my Nanna.  We weren't really very close. I wish we had been, but due to the fact that my mother was not welcomed into the family, relationships became difficult for me to maintain and it was easier to just let things slide.

Ethel was born in 1882, the youngest of eleven children. She was born in St. Albans, Hertfordshire and lived there for quite a short while because when she was two, her father died and her mother took her to Luton together with one or two of her older siblings.  With such a large family, Ethel probably didn't know the eldest ones. They would have flown the nest already. Luton was a cheaper place to live in those days, as it is now and nearer to the work in the hat industry, which provided so many women of this generation a living. My Nanna was taught at an early age to trim hats and I remember her doing that many years later when I went to visit.  There were piles of hats in all corners of their tiny house and ribbons and cotton to trim them on the tables.

Ethel married Frederick Mills in 1905 and set up home in Luton. They had three children: my auntie Connie, my uncle Bert and my dad, who was the youngest.

So, back to the photo.  I think my dad took the photo. Whoever it was, they were standing in the doorway to the outside world.  The front door of this little house opened directly onto the street, no porch, no hallway, no front garden, straight out.

On the left is a sideboard, which I remember well. There used to be a big elephant on it with an Indian boy sitting on its back. As a child, I was fascinated by it, but I don't see it now.  I wonder where it went? A fern has replaced the elephant.

Behind the fern is my stepmother Ronda. My dad married her in Australia many years after he was divorced from my mother. She was a very nice lady who died last year. I was sorry not to be able to communicate with her anymore.

The door behind Ronda led to the back room by was of a tiny square of carpet with a cupboard at the side.  As a child I was a bit frightened of going from one room to the other because the cupboard had a dark, heavy velvet curtain in front of it and I always wondered what was behind that curtain. If there was a monster in that house, that is where it could be lurking!

On now to the reproduction dresser against which my Nanna is leaning.  My mother bought that dresser. She and dad had two of them. This is the smaller of the two, which stood in our dining room for many years. When my parents split up, my dad took the smaller dresser and deposited it in his mother's front room. My mother kept the larger dresser. I don't know if my Nanna wanted the dresser in her front room, but she housed it anyway and there it stood until it was moved to my auntie Connie's bungalow when nanna died.

The dresser remained in my auntie's house until she died and then I had it. It currently stands in my front room!

My Nanna lived in the tiny house all her married life and died there. She was 95 years old when she died. There was a front room and a back room and a scullery where my Nanna did her washing and where the family washed themselves in the sink.  There was no bathroom. I remember my dad standing at the sink, stripped to the waist, washing himself in yellow carbolic soap and singing at the top of his tenor voice. He loved to sing Richard Tauber's songs. The back door to the tiny yard was next to the sink. You could see the light coming through all around the edge because it was more like a shed door than a house door. He didn't seem to mind as the cold wind whistled through the gap.

Outside was a tiny cobbled yard which led down to a handkerchief sized patch of garden. The outside toilet was at the end of the scullery and next to the garden. There were three concrete steps leading up to the wooden door of the lavatory and a latch to shut it once inside. It was dark, cold and full of spiders. I hated going in there and only went in when needs must!

Upstairs were two bedrooms.  They were accessed by a very steep flight of stairs leading up from the middle room and once at the top it was necessary to step off the ladder straight into the bedroom, either to the left or the right.  I never went into either of the bedrooms.  I was too frightened of stepping off the ladder.

In his later years my Granddad Fred suffered terribly from rheumatoid arthritis. He was also gassed in World War 1. When he could no longer ascend the ladder, a bed was made up for him in the front room downstairs, where the dresser is standing in the photo.

The house has now been demolished and replaced with a small block of flats.

My mother was Dutch and to the English in the mid 1940's it sounded as if she had a German accent.  Consequently she had a hard time of it over here, where she came to marry my dad after the war.  They married in 1948. The family, according to my mum, did not show much of a welcome to her when she arrived.  I think they had already sorted someone out for my dad to marry and it wasn't his Dutch girlfriend. However, despite that and cultural differences the marriage lasted sixteen years and produced one daughter - me.

I wish I could have known my Nanna better. I'm sure we would have had a lot in common.

Wednesday, 1 February 2017

Larry's Book - Creating Eric






Larry has been very busy lately, writing his first novel. You can buy it on Amazon for the Kindle, or download it and read it on your I-pad or computer. Here is a synopsis of the story.


"The American way of life survived the first half of the 21st Century, but at great cost. There are those within the government who believe drastic change is the only way to recover America's previous glory. Their plan will take over thirty years. The key to success or failure must be carefully designed. Eric's parents mistakenly believe they are the only ones who have designs on his future. As a genetically engineered child, Eric soon realises the advantages he has over others, but struggles to understand why he must die on a predefined date. Follow Eric's unique education experiences, his interactions with his grandfather, and the difficult choices he must make to save himself, his family and ultimately the Presidency of the United States from destruction."

Wednesday, 25 January 2017

Memories of summer


Memories of summer always return in January. Whilst I enjoy the colder weather, the snow and frost, it is always good to dream about warmer days. My favourite place in all the world has to be Kessingland, a small town on the east coast of England and the place where I spent most of our summer holidays when my little boys were small.

You can read all about it here.  It won't take you long - it's only a small place, but it has a big character.

Here is the town sign:


We used to take my mum on holiday with us quite often and she liked it here so much that she moved here for the last five years of her life.  In those days the sea came right up to the promenade, but I was surprised to see, on my last visit, that the sea had receded almost half a mile where sand has been deposited on the shoreline.  Consequently the holiday cottages that were once in view of the sea and where we used to lay in bed and count the waves coming in, had now found themselves way away from the sea and the sea itself was way out yonder!

This is the bethel, a small church built, I believe, especially for fishermen in times gone by.



This is The Sailor's Home, a public house, which used to be a lot nearer to the sea than it is now! In the picture you can see the family room, which is at the front -  a welcome place to sit if it's raining. The little shop opposite used to be run by Eldercare. It was a charity shop where clothes, books and other useful items could be bought, raising money for Eldercare, a local charity for the elderly. The local senior citizens benefited from trips out to the nearest town - Lowestoft or to the Kessingland wildlife park in a small van, ideal for the purpose. There were also get togethers once a week and a small party at Christmas.  Sadly, I don't think Eldercare exists anymore.



This next picture is taken from the seashore. It shows clearly how far out the sea has receded. The Sailor's Home is on the far right of the picture.


The next three pictures show the High Street, leading away from the sea and into the middle of the village: