Of Spitfire & Pheasant.

We went for a walk yesterday near the local village of Barrington. With the sun strong on our backs it was certainly a wonderful way to spend the afternoon.

A White Pheasant flew from amongst the young corn next to the track and arced its way around behind the copse.

Meanwhile a spitfire buzzed around the sky, loop the loops, swooping and going round and round above us.



It's nice not to hurry...

If you find the writing too small, you can click on the page to get a larger version.

I think the key statement here is, "It's nice not to hurry."

Saying that, it is time now to stop blogging and hurry off to work. Oh the irony of it all.

Hunt & Darton Cafe - Café Art!

We have an Art Café openned 3 or 4 doors from the shop - for just 4 weeks.

The idea of 'Art', I was going to say 'not quite traditional', but then, who can define Art for another perceiver?

The two ladies 'running the scheme' dress in Pineapple print dresses, each wearing a Pineapple Top on their heads. they have a London 2012 grant to open the café, which is touring the UK, hence being in Cambridge just 4 weeks. Their daily balance sheet is 'Artistically' displayed on the large wall chalkboard, when I was in several folk were engaged in Napkin Art. The 'Blurb' says your receipt will be artistic too, but I was not offered one.

One waitress was on a break, or maybe peforming, whilst I was in there - she sat manikin like, legs crossed, in an artistic pose, topped off with her pineapple headgear, in the window - maybe hoping to attract the attention and intrigue of passersby.

Still, it is pretty zaney, I wonder what they will be doing with pictures taken on disposable cameras. Intruige will bring me back, and of course the very friendly chatty atmosphere encouraged. I will, no doubt, report more...

Read more about this artistic enterprise either in Cambridge News or on their Facebook Page

There is life..... outside Cambridge.

Today I was invited to visit friends out in the villages. I spend most of my life in Cambridge, living on an estate, surrounded by neighbours I don't know, 24 hour shopping, pubs within a stones throw distance on at least 3 sides... Traffic and aircraft noises an almost constant, dodging cars on my bicycle, busses, busses, busses everywhere - tourists, students...

So 'tis nice on occasion to escape to paradise. (The grass is always green tother side of the bridge.)

I declined the offer of a lift. There is a certain beauty and satisfaction in getting there on my own. In past years I may have cycled, instead opting for the train and armed with instructions starting with: "Leave the station heading accross the fields."
I just love open space, like nectar to this city dweller.

Accross the field, under a road, along the path, follow through to the church.
A nice wild and damp day, brilliantly fresh - just right for walking. Maybe a 20 minute walk to the house.

The sketch may be a little wild, but

wild countryside can be like that!

My host however, looking out of his window decided really I should have a luxurious ride in a warm and dry car, but because I left accross the fields, not via the carpark, he did not catch up with me till I was just a minute from the house.

What wonderful relaxing space this house turned out to be, amazing hosts and good company. A huge thank you to Brian, Janet, Jenny, David, Movern and Sumaya, great afternoon. Only sorry I could not stay longer to complete the feast.

Oh and Brian, I did appreciate the lift back to the train.

St Geoge's Day 2012

I spent much of this morning clearing out a cupboard and sorting the contents aswell as managing to get laundry on the line - which dried despite a forcast of rain!

After lunch, letter writing, something my readers know I love. As with all my letters, well the personal type - not the ones to the bank you know... I added quick little illustrations here and there.

The heading quite naturally illustrated St George riding out in search of dragons to slay. Happy St George's Day, to those who appreciate such things.

The weather quite often features in my heading,
Todays weather, shall we say, has been quite changeable.
But of course, it is April.

I live in suburbia, but would love someday to live out in the countryside with walks such as this on my doorstep. I do so hate the feel of pavements under my feet, far prefering a bouncy meadowy tread, or leaping rock to rock up a mountainside. Hmmmmmm - time to stop dreaming, and back to planet earth.

Looking accross my lawn last week, I noticed how well my dandelions were doing, thinking maybe not so much appreciated by neighbours. So out I went to spray them. Still looking fit and healthy mid week they got the same treatment. They had not withered by Friday, which was when I noticed I had mixed up the spray bottles! Not WEEDKILLER written on this label, this bottle was for feeding roses, and was quite liked by dandelions too!

Today they look somewhat less healthy as I too corrective action.

The Old Bedford Camper Van

From as early as I can remember our family owned an old Camper Van. It was a green Bedford with an expanding roof to give more headroom when the vehicle was at rest.

Two benches ran the length of each side at the back, the seats lifting to reveal valuable storage space. No seat belts in those days, so, you would usually find something to hold on to...

Up, below the ceiling,  2 stretcher like beds pulled out from the sides, hammock like canvas attached to both the wall and a wooden pole. More than once I would sleep up there as we travelled along windy country roads.

We used to 'camp out' on a heath, or by a stream. When it was dry we would abandon the van sleeping out under the stars. I cannot remember ever thinking the ground was uncomfortable.

Early mornings, exploring, picking blackberries, blueberries and anything else we knew to be edible. Usually even before breakfast we would have had our fill.

Cooking was done on a parafin filled primus, we crouched on rocks or logs - or if we were lucky, a camping stool. Cupping our hands round malamine mugs of steaming coffee or hot chocolate the warmth would seep through into our bodies. My mug was light blue with years of tanning inside.

The sunshine would blaze down for ever and ever, beaches, bird hides, walking, windmills, messing about on boats - playing games.

A world of fantastical memories...

Sunrise with a pen...

Holy Week

This week has been full of signposts pointing to Jesus, considering his final week living amongst us embodied in human form on earth.

I have found particularly helpful Sonnets
written and read by Malcom Guite

Palm Sunday  Monday  Tuesday  Wednesday
Maundy Thursday  Good Friday  Saturday  Easter Day

An eclectic crowd gathered for our Christian Writers group this week. I dug out my book and a pencil as Tom spoke, after a while he read us a chapter from his book - an amazing work in progress. My pencil started moving, I wondered how what I was drawing was inspired by what was going on in that room. We seemed to be drawing nourishment and learning through our faith roots together.

Sketch finnished I headed the writing side "Rooted in Faith", but had to stop at that point as we moved on.
I thought I had an idea of words mapped out in my head, but revisitting the page today other words poured out. Those words need reworking, as writers we are continually changing. But I think I understand now just a little of what God was prompting.

I imagined a plastic flower, designed for purpose of looking beautiful.
Sometimes they are made so well, you maybe poke and prod, 'Is it real? Is it not? I thought of a potters passion, or that of an athlete, digging deep into their hearts to produce what is best.

I can learn with my head all the facts on how to make a pot or run a race, and maybe succeed passably at either. But unless I have passion and dedication rooted in my heart and soul for potting I will not throw a masterpiece.

The plastic flower can only give an impression of being alive, a real plant has roots drawing up goodness from the ground.

It is easy to slip into a mechanical faith routine, led by the head and putting on a good display. But it's not being good at something, it is doing it for the right reason.

1 Corrinthians 9:24a Run in such a way as to get the prize.
Our race is not against anyone else, each one of us a solo runner.

I guess this makes me think, because sometimes I ponder the difference between

• 'doing' an act of kindness because it's the way I'm ROUTED through teaching. An action to produce a result.
• or because that's the way my heart is ROOTED in Jesus. A natural responce gaining a result.

In a worldly view, both are winners.
Colossians 2:8 See to it that no-one takes you captive through hollow and deceptive philosophy, which depends on human tradition and the basic principles of this world rather than on Christ.

Hand Written Letters

In this technological age, letter writing by hand is fast disappearing.

I spoke to a 20 year old last week who claims NEVER to have written or received a hand written letter! Emails and Texts all the time, but she thought it must be something rather special to receive a personal letter through the post penned by hand.

When did you last send a letter, not an occasion card - birthday, anniversary etc.?

I love both sending and receiving letters, sadly for every 10 I send I maybe receive one in reply :(

I have used this picture to be the first of hopefully a year long series in the 365 Project.