Tag Archives: poignant memories

Cherishing The Changes of the Season: The Charabang Outing.

15 Tuesday Sep 2020

Posted by in Change is a coming, For the live of dogs, Goodbyes, Learning and Evolving, My family and other furry creatures, My home, new adventures, New Paths, poignancy, Reflections, sunrises and sunsets, The adventures of living life in the French countryside, The continuing adventure, The seasons

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Autumn has never enthralled me more than since moving here. I have written about it So often.

Autumn is a time for letting go, and no more so than this year.

So last Sunday, before I returned to work for what I thought was going to be a long stint, I realised that when I returned home in October the evenings would be dark, and the opportunity to sit in my garden on these warm autumn evenings would be passed; that this would be the final weekend evening ever when I could savour my garden as she began her preparation to move from summer to autumn. Because all things are changing.

It has been incredibly warm here for September, with the temperature in the early thirties most days, so as the sun went down RD and I decided to take a walk around our garden, and savour what we have, at times, taken for granted.

Off we went up the chemin (ooh matron!) that divides our main garden from our field behind our barn, as the sun started to set. Needless to say the Welshies were with us, excited that mummy and daddy were walking around the garden with them, as if they wanted to show us all the things we might miss. Like the crab apples, and Cobb nuts, crunching beneath our feet.

As we passed Daisy (fondly known as Pussy Upsey the Bond Villain ) she watched with interest…

And not put off by Welshies at all decided to join us on our walk. She is fondly known as ‘cat Dog’.

Up she came behind us, stalking the serial killer known as Wiglet (she is a Bond villain after all!) not put off my Wiglet’s penchant for killing small things, because Daisy is a bit of an oompa loompa!

As we walked on to the field behind our barn, with its newly repaired roof (the boy done good) the sun set reflected onto the old building, built in 1812, it shimmered in the sunlight, as if knowing that yet again it was being left behind. That building must have so many stories to tell. We are going to become part of it’s history now.

As we stood taking in the sunset RD reminded me of the fabulous view from just over the horizon of the field behind us. In five years I had still not walked down to see it. I will make a note to do that when I get home.

I looked at all my beautiful animals, and was reminded of just how much they love us.

I savoured the sunshine, and thought of all those beautiful creatures who we have lost in the last five years, poignant memories, the kind that make you smile with tears in your eyes. Autumn reminded me, as always, of the things we take for granted.

I realised then that I rarely show you the view from this side of our garden, or the sun setting from this angle. So time to share this walk with you, with all who have followed this adventure with me. From the fields surrounding us, to the old statuesque oaks, standing so tall in our garden. They will give someone else shelter next year.

I miss my home….

Rosie

Grateful: Sepia tinted memories

02 Sunday Feb 2020

Posted by in Goodbyes, mental health, People, Reflections

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I was born on my auntie Edie’s thirty-third birthday. My poor mum, it was five minutes to midnight and auntie Edie was screaming at her to push! Because of the significance auntie Edie was told she could name me, she suggested Claire, and my mum told her to sod off! (I am certainly not a Claire!) So with the help and suggestions of the Doctor in attendance Moira was chosen (yep Rosie is my pseudonym).

We had our ups and downs auntie Edie and I, we were probably too alike! But in the midst of what could be an awful, belittling toxic family (with my mum being the youngest, so normally the one vilified and put down, and I being her youngest child) auntie Edie was the aunt who stood up for me; she was the one who told me not to listen to them when they said what a horrible child I was (my strong personality and toxic insecure people don’t tend to mix). She was the one who told me to ‘tip them arseholes!’ She was the one who always believed in me, along with my late uncle Mac, I loved him so. Even though he used to refer to me as ‘that little cow’, he was right I am!

When I was sitting my A’levels auntie Edie took me out to the rose garden of the affiliated working men’s club that she ran with my uncle Mac, and she helped me choose the roses to take to take to my exam and draw. She had an artist’s eye, and could sew, paint and knit anything she turned her mind to. I will always remember when she painted the ceiling of their Victorian flat a deep green, people thought she was mad, until it was finished, and stunning.

Like me auntie Edie could be a cow; she would argue and we argued, until she realised that I wasn’t like my mum, I wouldn’t capitulate and cry, I would stand my ground. I know that overall she loved me for that.

The memory of auntie Edie for me was when I visited her after RD had left Me. I was crying and said how I wanted to stop, she looked at me and said ‘why don’t you then?’ I did. She then gave Tom money to buy Kentucky fried chicken, because she knew I couldn’t afford it, and that he was struggling seeing his mum in the mess that I was.

That moment was a massive turning point for me at that time in my life, and auntie Edie features in my book in the days of our recovery. I had no mum by then, and she knew that, and she took that responsibility seriously.

I did visit auntie Edie once after I moved to France, the one time I have returned to the UK, I had to visit my favourite aunt, in the knowledge that time was limited.

Sadly auntie Edie died last night, alone as so many elderly people are nowadays. From what I understand she died in her sleep, a blessing in what had become a sad ending to her life. I have no doubt that uncle Mac, young and handsome came to collect her, and I will think of them, jiving in heaven.

Rest In Peace Auntie Edie I was blessed to have a character such as you in my life.

Moira

If anyone knows of an old person near to them who is lonely, please consider spending just half an hour a week with them, for companionship. Let’s change the world this year in small steps.

Two Christmas’s

25 Wednesday Dec 2019

Posted by in Friends, Galavanting, laughter & giggles, My family and other furry creatures, People, Simple things, The adventures of living life in the French countryside, The continuing adventure, The seasons

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It’s been a whirlwind few days after our son Tom surprised us on Saturday. We have tried to cram so much into three days, because he had already committed to going to my sisters house for Christmas day, and it was only right that he fulfilled that commitment.

We decided to have two Christmas’s one with them and one on the day.

On the Saturday we went out to visit someone who has been nothing but kind to us. She is alone and for me Christmas is about understanding and giving something other than gifts: time. We had already arranged to visit her, and Tom and Chris (the boys) volunteered to come with us. Trundling into the back of RD’s van (totally illegal!) and moaning about their arses hurting them.

When we arrived these two young men were so polite and kind, even sorting out some technical stuff for her on her computer. I was so proud of them both: another gift.

We then took a detour to the medieval city of Domfront, with its beautiful lights, and had a few drinks in a quintessential French tabac. The weather was awful, but it couldn’t damp our spirits.

It’s strange how we can all revert back to being ‘mum and dad’ with our kids. Tom has a good job, lives in Newcastle, contacts me when he wants and needs to, and I pretty much leave him to his own devices. He is an adult I am not an ‘over motherer’. I had him to live his life. But on Saturday they went out late and drove to a town near us to see if any bars were open. We didn’t go, we would have ‘cramped their style’, and also we were knackered! But they said they were coming back for chicken burgers and we waited up for them, knowing the bars in France do not stay open late. But when they hadn’t come back by 1am we started to worry, wtf! I looked at RD and we both started to laugh, because he felt the same. Our son looks after himself in Newcastle all the time, and we never worry, yet as soon as he comes over to us we become worried parents. I gave in and rang him. A very pissed Tom rang me back from a house in Lassay, they had been invited by some French girls they had met in a bar (nothing changes!) Tom thought it was hilarious that his mum was ringing him. I cooked the chicken burgers and left them out for them. When we got up the next morning they had obviously cooked chips, because they were everywhere. Nothing changes!

We visited Mayenne on the Sunday, where Christmas activities were taking place, and had mulled wine and hot chocolate.

When we got home we had an alternative Christmas dinner, of roast lamb and all the trimmings.

Followed by an evening in front of the fire and TV. Bless Chris he had driven for over ten hours to get Tom to us, so that was him!

On Monday we went shopping, I cannot begin to tell you the amount of wine and cheese they bought! We played Monopoly, and ate spaghetti Bolognaise very very late.

It was a joy to see RD with them. I realised just how much he misses the banter of being around men. They always used to love tormenting RD, but they never won, he always got them in the end, and nothing changes. I love this video, it sums these few days up.

https://www.facebook.com/moira.swindell/videos/2869801423030602/

It was all going too fast, and Tuesday came too quickly. Very early in the morning, in the dark before dawn, we hugged them goodbye. Am I crying now? Of course I am.

So it’s Christmas day, and we are still in bed, even the Welshies are worn out from the whirlwind of fun.

We will have our traditional turkey dinner, and have a very quiet day. But we will have the greatest gift of all: memories.

Have a mellow Christmas folks.

Rosie

This poignant time

03 Sunday Nov 2019

Posted by in For the live of dogs, Reflections, The continuing adventure, The good, the bad and the ugly., The seasons

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Since you went away the days grow long
And soon I’ll hear old winter’s song
But I miss you most of all my darling
When autumn leaves start to fall

Anyone who reads this blog knows that I love Autumn, for its colours, for what it symbolises: letting go; and because it never fails to remind me that everything must change. That yearly reminder that things must die to make room for the new. It has that constant air of poignancy for what was, for the time that has past and for the things we have lost.

But this year it has been particularly poignant. We both adore our dogs, we believe that dogs teach you about unconditional love, and we are both members of some social media sites that celebrate the Welshie breed, with their smiling faces, and love of cuddles, and wickedly stubborn temperament.

I recently wrote about the tragic death of Dylan the Welshie puppy who was counted as part of our family, but since her death two other young pups have died in tragic circumstances, one was drowned by a goose, and the other, just fourteen months old, was hit by a car. As I write this now my eyes brim with tears for the loss, and for the pain that all those left behind feel. So this year when I look out on the grey rainy days that we have here, and the leaves and walnuts falling from the trees, I am reminded, yet again, that where there is life there is death; there can be no life without it.

“the longest-lived and those who die soonest lose the same thing. The present. The present is all that they can give up since that is all you have and what you do not have, you cannot lose.”

Marcus Aurelius

Treasure every moment, treasure every sunbeam, every raindrop, every rainy day. Hold those close to you tight.

Rosie

Autumn leaves written by Songwriters: Giorgio Canali / Francesco Magnelli / Gianni Maroccolo / Massimo Zamboni / Giovanni Lindo Ferretti

A feeling of disbelief and incredible sadness

14 Monday Oct 2019

Posted by in For the live of dogs, Friends, My family and other furry creatures, The continuing adventure

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Last year I shared a series of posts from our wonderful, crazy summer, with our friend Karen and her naughty little bundle of mischief Dylly Dyls, the puppy Welsh Terrier that had joined Karen’s life the year before. Karen blogged about the antics of Princess Wiglet and Dylan, they were best buddies, on her blog Dylans Welshie world.

We celebrated birthdays, and the world cup, hosted here in France, and the dogs had a summer of chasing each other, swimming in the pool, playing tuggies with mops (Dylan’s favourite toy in all the world) and Dylan loved riding on the lawn mower with uncle Richard, with whom she celebrated her first birthday on the same day.

The catchphrase of the simmer was ‘Dylan what have you got in your mouth.’ That puppy loved to pick Up everything, and I mean everything up in her mouth, and run with it. Sticks, socks, pants, phones, lighters, packets, you name it. Dylan was a one year old bundle of mischief.

Punctuated within all of this fun and frolic was lots of sleeping, as you do, wherever you fall.

But as autumn drew in things changed and Dylan had a new family. By the late spring she and her mum were off on a new adventure: to live in Spain with her new family and new baby sister, who although a pup was five times bigger than her. But that didn’t deter Dilly Dilly, oh no! She was top dog, and shouted at everyone as they swam in the pool. She spent hours with lots of other dogs, and life was the best.

Dylan was my friends baby, she saved her at a time when so much had changed. Along came this little, fat tempestuous puppy, who was nearly named Chubster, and she gave Karen’s life new meaning and form; and as dogs always do she gave her unconditional love, and taught Karen about giving love, and allowing herself to be vulnerable.

Last Thursday Dylan and her sister pulled down a bin bag that her loving parents thought had been put out of reach. When they were found Dylan had eaten chicken bones, and despite Karen’s determined attempts, the little bugger swallowed them. They perforated her intestines and Dylan collapsed. She was rushed to the vets where Karen pleaded with them to do all they can. But sadly Dylan died in Karen’s arms. Karen could not bring herself to tell us until yesterday, she believed that if she wrote it down it would make it real.

We spoke today, both cried together, I am still crying now. Karen? She is lost, and distraught, and caught in the grip of despair. I wrote years ago about how Harley nearly died, and how a guardian angel saved his life. That angel was Karen, Harley would not be here if it were not for her. What do you say to the person who saved your dog, but nothing could be done to save theirs? Where do you begin? Just listen I suppose, which I will always do. We feel so powerless, so weak, there are no words that can offer comfort.

Dylan had the most adventurous life in her two years of life. She spent a summer with us in France, lived in England, lived in Spain, swam in pools, met new dogs, and made people fall in love with her wherever she went. She persuaded uncle Richard to squirt cream directly into her mouth, chased cats, pulled cupboards down, and had me running after her as she ran straight into our French neighbours house. She took on cows, and sometimes Harley and Wiglet. She was such a little bugger.

She left too soon, there is nothing more to be said. But she taught us all so much, and will leave a lasting legacy, and so many memories.

I am writing this in homage of Dylan for my friend. There is nothing more I can do.

Farewell Dylan, run free on rainbow bridge my darling.

Auntie Moira

Counting my blessings: Day 5

28 Friday Dec 2018

Posted by in My family and other furry creatures, My home, Reflections, Simple things, The continuing adventure

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This is Molly, my beautiful girl. Nineteen years ago, just after Rich and I got married I found a little ginger female kitten behind our shed; even to this day Rich does not believe me, and thinks I actually went and collected her from somewhere! Sadly Pussy Willow, as she became known, died when she was just two years old, but not before she had kittens, who were born in our cupboard; and we kept two of them. One, Milly Kitten, was a reclusive cat, who liked to be outside most of her life. She died at the ripe age of thirteen, after spending a year sleeping indoors every night. We loved her dearly, and Molly missed her

Molly was a different story, she loves the sunshine, but hates the cold, rain or snow. She is now very old, eighteen and a half years, but all the time she eats, and sleeps (pretty much all the time now) we know she is okay. She has had her moments over the past year but she still loves life and she is a blessing that we count every day.

She was the cat who lay beside me, with Snowy our Westie when war had devastated our lives (see my other blog http://makingthisbetter.com) they literally made a sandwich either side with me as the filling and she loves me still.

Molly kitten is my blessing.

Over the years other kittens have been brought into the house starting with this pretty little thing: Diddyman dod. She is part of our story because we gave her a home a year after ‘The War’; she was our band aid baby and only Five weeks old when we got her. Molly adopted her and taught her all she knows; we can’t believe she is ten years old, time has just flown.

Then we got Daisy, we brought her home with the shopping, as you do! Tom had gone to university and she was our ’empty nest’ baby. She is a huge, but incredibly gentle cat, just happy with life, and a bowl of milk and cream.

Sadly our last baby: Tinky Tiny Tilly, or Tillybet, was a naughty one, who gave Daisy so much confidence, they were the Black Hand Gang. But Tilly went out one day in March this year and never came home, and my eyes still fill with tears for my baby. You can read all about her in my post Tinky Tiny Tilly.

All of these cats, including sofa loaf, (A story of hardship, serendipity, and love -Sophie The Sofa Loaf) are our blessings, they make us laugh, and I know they will make us cry, just as Tilly has; and Molly will. But if you don’t open your heart to love, even knowing it will cause you pain; then you have not lived. It is all a blessing.

More and more are starting to share their blessings, spread the word let’s take people into the new year on a positive. Please share.

If you want to visit my other blog you can find it here https://makingthisbetter.com

Moisy

Changes have blown in on the autumn wind…

11 Thursday Oct 2018

Posted by in Change is a coming, My family and other furry creatures, The continuing adventure

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It’s been awhile since I have blogged on here, we have been busy with the roof, and I have been even busier with my new blog. The response to it has been phenomenal, thank you all.

But as I have said the Moisfrenchadventure blog is my ‘home’ because it is my first blog and it is about the here and now; and our life together, now.

Sadly one of the changes has been that our two little Amigos, also known as the Princess and the Pea because they were so close, are now at each others throats, literally! We cannot even have them in the same room together on leads and blood has been drawn on a number of occasions; we are at the point that they cannot even go for a walk together.

I feel so sad about this, as I am writing this blog I am looking through the photos of the last year and them together and it is bringing tears to my eyes. Wiglet could do no wrong in Dylan’s eyes.

They played with mop monsters in the garden, Wiglet taught Dylan how to get the chicken’s tail through the fence and worried about her when she was riding with daddy on the mower.

They searched for rats and mice in the woodpile, and Wiglet taught Dylan how to dig her first hole. Wiglet was truly Dylan’s hero, they were inseparable.

But in the summer another dog was in the mix for a week, another Welshie, she attacked Wiglet first in our garden and Dylan got caught up in it and bit Wigs as well. They made it up, but the same dog then attacked Dylan in the rental property Karen was staying in and a week later the unrest began.

We hoped it would die down in the weeks that Dylan had been in England, but it hasn’t and in fact it has escalated.

I am so sad, it is the end of happy times, and I just hope against hope that as Dylan gets older they will be friends again.

But as I say everything changes, and we have to go with that, and autumn is blowing the changes in quickly now.

Goodbye Princess and the Pea, it was real fun while it lasted.

Moisy

The Long Hot Summer just passed us by…..

21 Tuesday Aug 2018

Posted by in Change is a coming, My home, People, The continuing adventure, The good life, The seasons

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Almost ten weeks ago (all but two days) Karen and Dylly Dyls arrived for the summer. It has been a spur of the moment decision made after Karen returned to England in April and decided that she did not want to be surrounded by buildings and people, with roofs on the skyline, any more; she decided that she needed space, and the plan was hatched for her to come to France for the summer and see what life showed her.

Because, as we know, life will always show you the way – if  you listen!

And what a summer we have had: from house hunting all over the Pays de Loire, seeing sad lonely houses to grand houses with neighbours that looked as if they should be playing a banjo and sitting on a porch! The house was stunning, neighbours were creepy!

There were houses near stunning villages, with river walks nearbye, and beautiful secret gardens, and Karen came close to making an offer, but none offered this view…..

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Over the months we have all had people visit us to stay; and lessons have been taught; in that sometimes you cannot go back, where people you knew are concerned, and you realise that your life has changed you too much and you no longer have anything in common; or in some cases where people seem to think that you are a hotel, and their tour guide, chief cook and bottle washer, as well as chauffer! (It has to be said, that is the reality of taking an adventure such as this, and I really don’t know why!)

It was definitely a learning curve for Karen, she hasn’t even bought a property here yet, but it taught her what she wants and also how important it is sometimes to just say ‘No!’

We have seen each other every day during this summer of sport what with the World Cup, where Karen and I became football pundits, mainly commenting on if they had recent changes to their hair, or in one case how the England goalie looked better in green rather than yellow!  You should have seen the look on Rich’s face! We took it as an omen when France won, an omen that we were all in the right place and making the right plans.

We have had fields of gold, hay bales of orange and gold, blood red moons, ghostly moons and starry starry nights….

There has been fun in the Swimming pool, with us laying on lilo’s on hot sunny days (too hot sometimes), and I will always have memories of looking up at the blue sky and saying to Karen, “who would have thought thirty five years ago that we would be doing this now! In my garden!”

The dogs have loved the pool, not least our darling Harley, and after nearly losing him last year it was a blessing to see him barking at the side of the pool for  you to splash him. They have been on blow up aeroplanes, dunked and Dylan learnt to swim, as you can see from thr photo it wore her out!

We have had owls hooting at night, bats flying over our heads in the late evening and swallows teaching their young to fly and catch the late afternoon insects. Let us not forget the pink moths, dreaded bitey flies and the toads, one of whom scared the life out of Karen after coming into the kitchen and hiding under a bag

common-toad-bufo-bufo-crapaud-commun-france

We have visited Churches, cathedrals, castles, medievil towns and waterfalls, all too numerous to mention.

Aperitifs have been enjoyed, with our French friends,; we have had BBQ’s with friends, liquer coffees, beer, and lots and lots of red wine.

Birthdays have been celebrated…

After Jen joined us we had a holiday within a holiday, and it gave us a reminder of just who your good friends are, those who come along with you for the ride and join in. It helps you know that they are the ones that you need on your mini bus of life…..

Of course we have had the Welshies, zoomies, toys, swimming in the pools, blowing bubbles for them, and sadly sometimes some fights (but they are terriers and they love each other too.)

Right now Wiglet is laying beside me lost, she has wandered round the garden looking for her baby, and huffed and puffed because she knows that this time Auntie Karen and Dylan won’t be back down the road today.

I have not even began on the topic of the vintage furniture, vide greniers, shoe shopping and having to buy a new car – I cannot tell you how pleased I am to finally have a French registered car, we are starting to feel, finally, that we are engaging with the country in which we live, and the country that we love.

But more than anything this summer we have laughed every single day, at each other, with each other, about what we have seen, and we have never judged each other. We have just accepted each other for who we are.

We knew that this summer would be a catalyst for Karen, as it turned out it has been a catalyst for all of us, and if all the plans come together a new adventure will commence. Adventures in adventures, isn’t that what life is all about?

So yes I have cried today, we all have. Tomorrow will be weird because she will not he whizzing down the road with the Dylly monster in the car with her. I know and understand that endings are new beginnings and you have to let go for new adventures to start; but I also know that the next adventure won’t be the same (we may not have old Molly kitten with us, none of our futures are guaranteed). So it us okay to feel that poignancy when something comes to an end.

There is one thing of which I am certain though … I know we are going to have one hell of a ride and it all started with the summer of 2018…….

To good friends, and good times………

Moisy

The beauty and poignancy of Christmas decorations, my favourite part of Christmas

19 Tuesday Dec 2017

Posted by in My home, Reflections, The continuing adventure

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Ever since I was a child I have loved decorating the Christmas tree. My mum (God bless her soul) would bring out our white artificial tree (so 60’s and 70’s, but back in vogue now) and all our old deco’s accumulated over the years. The vivid green elf with his red hat, grinning maniacally it looked like something from a horror film!! The carefully wrapped long glass baubles with gold inside (probably worth a fortune now, as so vintage).

My favourite, however, was the fairy. My mum had improvised one year, got one of our tiny dolls and dressed her in a dress made of pink loo roll (with the tube from the middle stuffed up her skirt to ‘give it volume!) Then we sprayed her with gold and sprinkled glitter over her and then, just to add to her indignity, stuck her on top of the tree with the tree stuck up her arse!!!

Every year that doll came back out, had different coloured loo roll put on her, depending on the fashionable colour of the time; and each year she was sprayed with glitter paint, silver, gold again, bronze one year, she looked like she had spent the summer holdaying in Bermuda!!! But I was hooked, I loved Christmas decorations.

As the years wore on my decorations have become more subtle, but I have never been one for those sterile trees, where all the baubles are the same, round and all one colour, like the types you see in shopping centres; for me they are soulless. When I first left home I bough some expensive decorations, and this year thirty two years later, I have used them again. They bring back memories of when I first left home and moved to Wolverhampton, or a small village nearby, of the lovely old neighbours I had, of the excitement I had of decorating my own tree.

From then on I bought decorations every year. Anyone who knows me will tell you I love things that glitter and sparkle, that ‘catch the light’ they mesmorize me. So over the years I have accumulated a lot. I progressed to garlands and they became more and more elaborate. I would have frost themed garlands, with colours of the sea when I lived by the seaside in England, or garlands laden with fruit decorations (very Georgian).

So this year my surroundings and circumstances have influenced me again. With the colours of the surrounding countryside, and the cold; the fact that our house is damp and drafty and over 200 years old, I was inspired to make up a Dickensian garland. It has berries, and deep red flowers, cherubs, and iced ivy leaves, with poinsetta running through it. There is a sparkling icicle garland that I picked up somewhere over the years, and the beautiful vintage candleabra that my lovely Mother in Law gave me, covered in crystal droplets. It just makes me think of Miss Haversham, sitting at her Wedding feast, where the ivy has grown i to the room and it is covered in cobwebs.

 

Since living here Rich has always wanted a real tree (which are inexpensive in France) and a dear friend gave us a gift of money so I finally relented and we bought one. My garland inspired me to carry on the idea and I got out my beautiful red and gold ribbons and threaded them through the tree ..

 then I added all the red and gold baubles that I have not used for years (I tend to be a silver type of girl, it sparkles more!) I added to that some of the hundred or more crystal droplets I had also accumulated and now I love it. (Although I have to confess that the first ginpme I did it I had a few wines and was doung it in the dark! Add to that just as I finished a set of lights right in the middle went out and I added some over the top! Mmmmmmmmmm……..when I got up the next day it looked like someone had thrown things at it!!! So I took it all apart and redid it!)

As I hung the baubles I remembered the lovely purple glass one had been brought from Woolworths, now long gone, in Herne Bay

The gold round glittery ones, bought from Beatties Department Store in Wolverhampton, sadly also now long gone. The ribbons were inspired by my beautiful Edwardian House in Herne Bay, now a holiday home. The sparkling red baubles that glittered on the tree when my son and I snuggled up together as I read him ‘The Hobbit’ by lamplight. I was a single parent then with electric on a meter, so we had a blanket over us as we sat by our red shaded lamp and the lights of the tree twinkled, and it is a memory that will live with me forever.

Even the star is the first star I bought thirty two years ago, again from Woolworths, God I miss that place, and I miss my mum, who was with me at the time.

i look at the garland and remember going late night shopping with my mum when I found the iced ivy garland, now on my fireplace in France; and I think of my mum, who is no longer here. Or the garland on top of my armoir, simple with greenery (good old Woolies again) and silver stars, which were bought in France when Rich and I came over the first Christmas after our wedding. God! Little did we know then what we would endure, only to come out stronger the other side (but you will need to read my book for that story!)

The artificial black tree, smothered in crystals, including a crystal garland, and white decorations, makes me smile because I think of the little kitten that is Diddyman who would climb up into it, because after all she matched it’s theme! She was the kitten that helped to save Rich and I, and she would peek out at us from the foliage, and make us laugh.tDaryl and Tom

 

Someone said to me this week that I had missed my vocation, i should have been a professinal Christmas Decoration dresser, or window dresser. They are probably right they do inspire me. But what is important to me is that Christmas decorations should inspire memories, and create memeories for the future. So that when people, or a time, or places are gone we remember them and they make us smile.

This year our dear friend and her puppy are coming to stay, and my son, who I have not seen or hugged for three years is also coming with her. It will be especially memory making because his birthday is on Christmas Eve, and because you never know what life holds for you I intend to cherish every moment.

I urge you all to do the same.

 

Moisy