Here Comes the Sun

Little darlin' it's been a long cold lonely winter.  I remember my brother playing this on his guitar many summers ago.  As we start to believe that these sunny days may last, I welcome the warmth and promise of better days ahead.

I just found a diary fragment from 2014, a bad year for me in which I had a major depressive episode which rendered me unable to enjoy every aspect of my life, from eating to being with my family and friends.  Discharged from hospital in the spring, I found the first signs of summer - new growth on the trees, birdsong, the sun on my face - unbearable, and drifted about indoors, wishing for rain.  It was a glorious summer, with a new grandchild born in June, but I felt nothing, except a huge sense of guilt and loss.

The right medication and psychological help eventually helped me back to a kind of equilibrium, but it's only over the past year that I've felt secure enough to be happy.  One of the first signs of recovery was falling completely in love with my grandson.  Being with him is a constant joy.

On Thursday we we were back to seasonal rain for our trip down the Clyde by Steam Puffer VIC 32.  Our motley crew of retirees had a jolly time in spite of the weather.  Black smoke from the funnel and the toot of the steam whistle conjured instant Para Handy recall.  Two years ago I would have been unable to cope with talking to strangers in a confined space!  But I  chatted, sketched and enjoyed an excellent lunch with a few glasses of wine.

Beauty notes:   I've been noticing how many women over 60 have no eyebrows.  I counted at least four in our group today   Years of plucking have taken their toll and necessitate drawing in pencilled arches.  I only once had mine professionally done before my wedding in 1970, resulting in wedding photos marred by my minimal brows.  Mine are still fairly bushy but starting to grey.

  I use Laura Mercier gel brow definer in Fair, applied with an angled brush (Bobbie Brown does a good one).

I've also become a fan of MAC cosmetics, currently offering free delivery. I tend to browse the counters, get colour matched, then top-up online.  I've just invested in their Pro Longwear Waterproof Foundation and matching Pressed Powder, guaranteed to last all day in any climate conditions.  I'll see how they perform in my month-long trip to the US in July.

We've finally ordered our Volkswagen campervan.  It has to be built in Germany so we have to wait until Autumn for delivery, but we're having fun researching and buying things like melamine plates and a Remoska cooker.

I'd welcome comments if there's anything that strikes a chord with you.  Email me personally if you'd rather not post publicly.

Here Comes the Sun

Little darlin' it's been a long cold lonely winter.  I remember my brother playing this on his guitar many summers ago.  As we start to believe that these sunny days may last, I welcome the warmth and promise of better days ahead.

I just found a diary fragment from 2014, a bad year for me in which I had a major depressive episode which rendered me unable to enjoy every aspect of my life, from eating to being with my family and friends.  Discharged from hospital in the spring, I found the first signs of summer - new growth on the trees, birdsong, the sun on my face - unbearable, and drifted about indoors, wishing for rain.  It was a glorious summer, with a new grandchild born in June, but I felt nothing, except a huge sense of guilt and loss.

The right medication and psychological help eventually helped me back to a kind of equilibrium, but it's only over the past year that I've felt secure enough to be happy.  One of the first signs of recovery was falling completely in love with my grandson.  Being with him is a constant joy.

On Thursday we we were back to seasonal rain for our trip down the Clyde by Steam Puffer VIC 32.  Our motley crew of retirees had a jolly time in spite of the weather.  Black smoke from the funnel and the toot of the steam whistle conjured instant Para Handy recall.  Two years ago I would have been unable to cope with talking to strangers in a confined space!  But I  chatted, sketched and enjoyed an excellent lunch with a few glasses of wine.

Beauty notes:   I've been noticing how many women over 60 have no eyebrows.  I counted at least four in our group today   Years of plucking have taken their toll and necessitate drawing in pencilled arches.  I only once had mine professionally done before my wedding in 1970, resulting in wedding photos marred by my minimal brows.  Mine are still fairly bushy but starting to grey.

  I use Laura Mercier gel brow definer in Fair, applied with an angled brush (Bobbie Brown does a good one).

I've also become a fan of MAC cosmetics, currently offering free delivery. I tend to browse the counters, get colour matched, then top-up online.  I've just invested in their Pro Longwear Waterproof Foundation and matching Pressed Powder, guaranteed to last all day in any climate conditions.  I'll see how they perform in my month-long trip to the US in July.

We've finally ordered our Volkswagen campervan.  It has to be built in Germany so we have to wait until Autumn for delivery, but we're having fun researching and buying things like melamine plates and a Remoska cooker.

I'd welcome comments if there's anything that strikes a chord with you.  Email me personally if you'd rather not post publicly.

From Paris to Penguins

Recently I had a most enjoyable weekend celebrating my birthday.  Strangely, after many years when birthdays seemed largely irrelevant, and even slightly embarrassing, it now seems good to have made it through another year.  Because I planned the weekend instead of waiting for someone else to suggest doing something, I spent it with people I wanted to see and spoke to others who were further away.  It felt really good to have fun and celebrate lasting relationships.

However, there was a grim backdrop to the festivities - the dreadful carnage and terror in Paris, a city close to home where we spent Easter Weekend, a familiar place, now on the list of atrocities carried out by a group of people known by several names.  I've been trying to work out what to call them, listening to broadcasters and politicians. Islamic State, Isis and Isil all seem to carry some suggestion of legality, of statehood.  Apparently, Daesh is disliked by the terrorists.  An Arabic acronym, it can also be an insult which can mean 'to trample and crush' or 'a bigot who imposes his views on others'. This name has been used by Hollande and Obama since the Paris attacks.  Today, I kept hearing the term caliphate used, with pictures of troops marching in Raqqa.

I still don't know what to call them, or what should be done.  As a child born into post-war austerity, I grew up with bomb sites, railings cut down to stumps for munitions and an awareness of what a terrible time it had been for my parents.  Later, I learned about the first world war, and how lucky both my grandfathers had been to survive it.  As a teenager, I became aware of the threat of nuclear war, with talks at school about how to build a shelter under the stairs, then the Cuban missile crisis and that day when we thought the world might end.  I joined CND (I'm still a member) and have consistently opposed all the wars to which the UK has sent troops.  I feel the same this time - although an enemy which defies identification and strikes where least expected is almost impossible to engage with.  It has young people willing to die in suicide vests.  Bombing will inevitably result in civilian deaths.  I've just been listening to Emile Zola's Blood, Sex and Money  (BBC radio adaptation of his novels) in which ordinary people try to bring about social change through fighting.  It always ends in death and tears.

 I suppose getting older and having lived through decades of history, several things happen.  You know you don't want to wear or furnish your home with anything 'retro' or 'vintage'.  You realise that no-one learns from history and that most things that happen have happened before.  I feel my world has shrunk a little.  I am very unlikely to travel to India or South America, primarily because of health issues, although holidays in the Canaries and Seattle are planned for 2016.  I spend my time doing things that make me happy (art classes, knitting, shopping. and drumming) and being with my family and close friends.  Of course I still care about what goes in the wider world and do what I can to help.

As well as CND, I'm a member of Amnesty and support several charities, I sign petitions, vote in elections and read the The Guardian and The Observer.  I listen to news and discussion on the radio. But what I love most is to be in the moment, with my little grandson, seeing the world through his eyes.  The moon is a thing of wonder to him just now, as he sees it change shape as the days pass. I'm glad he's not old enough to have seen and understood  John Lewis' Christmas advert about the man on the moon.  Last year's penguin one was so much better.  This year I bought myself a Christmas jumper (a new departure).  It has penguins on it.

From Paris to Penguins

Recently I had a most enjoyable weekend celebrating my birthday.  Strangely, after many years when birthdays seemed largely irrelevant, and even slightly embarrassing, it now seems good to have made it through another year.  Because I planned the weekend instead of waiting for someone else to suggest doing something, I spent it with people I wanted to see and spoke to others who were further away.  It felt really good to have fun and celebrate lasting relationships.

However, there was a grim backdrop to the festivities - the dreadful carnage and terror in Paris, a city close to home where we spent Easter Weekend, a familiar place, now on the list of atrocities carried out by a group of people known by several names.  I've been trying to work out what to call them, listening to broadcasters and politicians. Islamic State, Isis and Isil all seem to carry some suggestion of legality, of statehood.  Apparently, Daesh is disliked by the terrorists.  An Arabic acronym, it can also be an insult which can mean 'to trample and crush' or 'a bigot who imposes his views on others'. This name has been used by Hollande and Obama since the Paris attacks.  Today, I kept hearing the term caliphate used, with pictures of troops marching in Raqqa.

I still don't know what to call them, or what should be done.  As a child born into post-war austerity, I grew up with bomb sites, railings cut down to stumps for munitions and an awareness of what a terrible time it had been for my parents.  Later, I learned about the first world war, and how lucky both my grandfathers had been to survive it.  As a teenager, I became aware of the threat of nuclear war, with talks at school about how to build a shelter under the stairs, then the Cuban missile crisis and that day when we thought the world might end.  I joined CND (I'm still a member) and have consistently opposed all the wars to which the UK has sent troops.  I feel the same this time - although an enemy which defies identification and strikes where least expected is almost impossible to engage with.  It has young people willing to die in suicide vests.  Bombing will inevitably result in civilian deaths.  I've just been listening to Emile Zola's Blood, Sex and Money  (BBC radio adaptation of his novels) in which ordinary people try to bring about social change through fighting.  It always ends in death and tears.

 I suppose getting older and having lived through decades of history, several things happen.  You know you don't want to wear or furnish your home with anything 'retro' or 'vintage'.  You realise that no-one learns from history and that most things that happen have happened before.  I feel my world has shrunk a little.  I am very unlikely to travel to India or South America, primarily because of health issues, although holidays in the Canaries and Seattle are planned for 2016.  I spend my time doing things that make me happy (art classes, knitting, shopping. and drumming) and being with my family and close friends.  Of course I still care about what goes in the wider world and do what I can to help.

As well as CND, I'm a member of Amnesty and support several charities, I sign petitions, vote in elections and read the The Guardian and The Observer.  I listen to news and discussion on the radio. But what I love most is to be in the moment, with my little grandson, seeing the world through his eyes.  The moon is a thing of wonder to him just now, as he sees it change shape as the days pass. I'm glad he's not old enough to have seen and understood  John Lewis' Christmas advert about the man on the moon.  Last year's penguin one was so much better.  This year I bought myself a Christmas jumper (a new departure).  It has penguins on it.

Memento Mori

When I was training as a dramatherapist in the 90's,  and studying Carl Jung's work on symbols, I became interested in Tarot.  Using the first 22 cards, the Major Arcana, representing the journey of life, starting with The Fool and culminating in The World, I studied the images as a means of reflecting on my life. From time to time I still draw a card as a way of exploring my current situation and my feelings about it. This week's is Death, portrayed as a dancing skeleton. Beneath the bony feet, in the moving sea of transition, are green shoots of new growth. Rather than depicting the end of life, it shows the start of a new cycle.  It can represent change, a move from one life stage to another. That's the way I usually interpret it, but this time, death itself seems to be on my mind.  I read obituaries, check the ages - my age, younger?

My generation, baby-boomers, fans of the Who ('hope I die before I get old') saw ourselves as ageless. Now we are old, with a finite lifespan.   More years lived than still to live.   As Terry Pratchett said, So much universe, and so little time. A close friend will turn 70 soon.  Together we've been through having children, major life events, loss of parents. We live in different continents but keep in touch, planning another visit....thinking now we shouldn't put it off. Looking back at old photos, I can't believe 20, 30, 40 years have passed so quickly. 

The other day I came across this website (sponsored by Sun Life)  www.myperfectsendoff.co.uk  It’s a questionnaire in which you answer questions about funeral choices.  I found it made me think about my own death in quite a positive way. I plan to complete it (or something like it) and make sure my family know about it.  I heard a beautiful Scottish tune the other night, The Gentle Air that Wakes me, and added it to my ultimate playlist along with Bob Dylan's Forever Young.

Perhaps I will have many years beyond my approaching three score and ten, in which case there is no pressing need for my detailed plan, but it is good to be prepared. I like this line from Pratchett's Good Omens:

DON'T THINK OF IT AS DYING, says Death, JUST THINK OF IT AS LEAVING EARLY TO AVOID THE RUSH.

If life is a social function which one attends for a while, mine has featured fun with friends from different parts of my life, good food, nice wine, doing quite a few party pieces (singing, acting), enjoying being with the people I love.  Being aware of death makes life more significant.  The moments that make up our days are special, however trivial. My little grandson's latest word, 'lorry', his first haircut, a really good cup of coffee, the last flowers in the garden, putting on my slippers, some liquorice allsorts for later, are some of today's small pleasures.   

What do you think? Should we think more about our inevitable deaths and plan accordingly? Can ageing be a positive experience? Share your thoughts by emailing me directly or leave a comment in the box below.

 

Memento Mori

When I was training as a dramatherapist in the 90's,  and studying Carl Jung's work on symbols, I became interested in Tarot.  Using the first 22 cards, the Major Arcana, representing the journey of life, starting with The Fool and culminating in The World, I studied the images as a means of reflecting on my life. From time to time I still draw a card as a way of exploring my current situation and my feelings about it. This week's is Death, portrayed as a dancing skeleton. Beneath the bony feet, in the moving sea of transition, are green shoots of new growth. Rather than depicting the end of life, it shows the start of a new cycle.  It can represent change, a move from one life stage to another. That's the way I usually interpret it, but this time, death itself seems to be on my mind.  I read obituaries, check the ages - my age, younger?

My generation, baby-boomers, fans of the Who ('hope I die before I get old') saw ourselves as ageless. Now we are old, with a finite lifespan.   More years lived than still to live.   As Terry Pratchett said, So much universe, and so little time. A close friend will turn 70 soon.  Together we've been through having children, major life events, loss of parents. We live in different continents but keep in touch, planning another visit....thinking now we shouldn't put it off. Looking back at old photos, I can't believe 20, 30, 40 years have passed so quickly. 

The other day I came across this website (sponsored by Sun Life)  www.myperfectsendoff.co.uk  It’s a questionnaire in which you answer questions about funeral choices.  I found it made me think about my own death in quite a positive way. I plan to complete it (or something like it) and make sure my family know about it.  I heard a beautiful Scottish tune the other night, The Gentle Air that Wakes me, and added it to my ultimate playlist along with Bob Dylan's Forever Young.

Perhaps I will have many years beyond my approaching three score and ten, in which case there is no pressing need for my detailed plan, but it is good to be prepared. I like this line from Pratchett's Good Omens:

DON'T THINK OF IT AS DYING, says Death, JUST THINK OF IT AS LEAVING EARLY TO AVOID THE RUSH.

If life is a social function which one attends for a while, mine has featured fun with friends from different parts of my life, good food, nice wine, doing quite a few party pieces (singing, acting), enjoying being with the people I love.  Being aware of death makes life more significant.  The moments that make up our days are special, however trivial. My little grandson's latest word, 'lorry', his first haircut, a really good cup of coffee, the last flowers in the garden, putting on my slippers, some liquorice allsorts for later, are some of today's small pleasures.   

What do you think? Should we think more about our inevitable deaths and plan accordingly? Can ageing be a positive experience? Share your thoughts by emailing me directly or leave a comment in the box below.