Life. Changes. Everything...

So a new year arrives and we look ahead with renewed anticipation but no clarity of vision for who can truly predict the future. New Years resolutions are made and quickly broken but life moves on in its inexorable course for better or worse, for richer or poorer. Things change and things stay the same.


Things have changed for us recently. We've made decisions and brought to fruition plans to make the present easier and the future better by selling up and downsizing from a large detached house to purchase outright a small, semi-detached house at the top of the village we've lived in happily for nearly fifteen years. No more mortgage payments, no more stress and worry about making ends meet and no more hefty bills for heating such a large house from liquid petroleum gas, which had proven to be fiendishly and painfully expensive. Many Winter nights in our last house we simply couldn't afford to heat the place and instead added layers of clothing and climbed under duvets together to watch TV from the couch and venture out from the warmth only when necessary. It's wasn't a comfortable or dignified way to live but financially we had little alternative. But that is behind us and life moves on.

Of course there are small sadnesses in leaving the place we'd spent nearly fifteen years in. A house we shared for the majority of that time with two marvellous little characters in the shape of our cats Bailey and Jess. The gave us many smiles and me more than a few tales for the blog, especially back in the days when I had plenty of nothing but time on my hands after being made redundant. I spent many late nights and very early mornings blogging away accompanied by one or other of them, either prowling close by or draped in a more intrusive way across whatever I was trying to do. I often think of and miss them but life moves on and part of that process is loss great or small. Life teaches us to appreciate moments and cherish memories.

I'll miss the garden too. I enjoyed prowling around its private corners, often barefoot when weather allowed. I'll miss the fruit trees and their annual gifts of pears, plums and apples and I'll miss my friends in sparrow squadron as I came to call the argumentative families of the commonest birds here, but I'll miss those many other visitors too, birds who could always rely on a feed or a drink from spots around the garden and who in return gave me hours of shared companionable curiosity. I won't miss the amount of work needed to maintain the garden though, especially the effort needed to cut the hedge that stretched across the front of the house and drive before turning down to the road. That was a job I came to hate.

I'll miss my pal the old pear tree that stood at the front of the house and dripped its leaves and sometimes its fruit across the roof of the car as we'd pass under coming up the drive. A gentle touch like a comforting caress that said "You're home now." I came to appreciate its rough character and what it must have stood witness to in what we found to be about 125 years of its life. It must have seen some changes but surely also saw that in our ancient village, much also stays the same. People come and go - I was undoubtedly only one person in a chain of others who had tended and cared for the old tree, many perhaps like me who came to cherish her ability to listen well and keep her council and my worries told in confidence. I hope that there is now another in the chain who will appreciate and enjoy her and keep her in good fettle as I tried to do. I would be upset to hear she came to harm but life changes everything and my ability to influence that is passed.

I won't miss our old house, although I will definitely miss its space. Somehow I never thought of it as anything other than a house despite my attachment to the site it occupied. We had lots of great times there but I never felt attached to the house. I never thought of it as 'home'. Maybe because we had always spoken about moving on at some point I never made that emotional connection, unconsciously protecting myself from feeling any loss over it. Who knows?

So we moved on. Now we have a house at the top of the village. Oddly, an older house but in a newer space for while our old house was newer it stood in an old spot while this is an older house but in a location of newer houses. Having said that we have a house from the 1700's just three houses away but that too is new compared to our old near neighbour of Sparrow Castle with its foundations from the 1200's. Now instead of nestled in the heart of the village we stand at it's edge and look out to sea over the heads of most of the village.

The 'new' house isn't old. It's only 60 years old and for all that time was lived in by one lady who lived independently here until well into her nineties. The house is small but well cared for and has a feel more appealing somehow. It needs time, money and effort invested but we can do that. In the few weeks we've been here it's begun to tell us its story and perhaps to hint at what it could be. We in turn have listened carefully and changed our ideas completely from what we thought might be done initially. There's still space to build a two story extension at the side but apart from that we will be less disruptive and more respectful of what we now feel is the integrity of the place. The garden is much smaller and made to be looked after by someone elderly. It will change. We can let it grow into something else. It too will tell us in time what it should be and that will no doubt be different to what I now think it could be. Time will tell and we will listen. In the time we will be here we will appreciate and we will cherish. Birds will be fed and at some time down the line fruit will be grown. I may try and get a cutting from my old friend The Pear Tree. It would be good to let her see new things. It would be good to still have her to talk to and shelter the new arrivals who arrive hungry or thirsty.

While many things change much abides.  A new year begins and we look forward with unknowing anticipation to what may be. We make plans but who can knowingly predict the future.

Life changes everything and nothing at the same time.

A Little Bit Of Snow

The Old Smiddy

It's been snowing most of the morning.The first real snow of Winter is coming and will be here on and off over the next three days. It'll be over just as I go on holiday so I hope it stays around long enough to get some photography done with the swanky new camera The Lovely G bought me for Christmas. Earlier this week we had a little foretaste of what's coming with a couple of inches overnight Monday into Tuesday. I took the chance to get out and take some photos around the vicinity of the house. I stuck them onto my facebook page the other day but for some reason couldn't get them to upload onto the blog. Here are the some of them at last.

A Neighbouring cottage

 

Peanuts for Breakfast

 

The lane

 

Light filters through the trees

 

Unwalked

 

Toward the Kirk

 

Across the bowling green to the house {center}

 

 

I'm going to be working away until tomorrow afternoon, so hopefully G will be snug and cosy in the house. We are hoping to be able to attend a funeral on Saturday morning - a colleague is going to cover me for a few hours - but that will be dependant on weather conditions. After the weekend I'm on holiday, using up the last of my work annual holiday entitlement before I lose it on the anniversary of my employment. I'll have been working a year in just a couple of weeks. It seems much less than that.

 

Another shot of the house across the green.

 

I was on holiday for a week last week during which we had some welcome visitors come to stay. Hopefully I'll get some of those pics uploaded and a few lines about what we got up to later tonight maybe.

 

See you later.

 

Listening to.

 

A Silence Of Snow

The piece that first got me into Vangelis' music.
One for a dark room, headphones and high volume.

Hullo ma wee blog,

The window of the bedroom is closed for the first time in as long as I can remember. Normally the only time it's shut is when we are away from home and the last time I can think it was possibly closed was almost a year ago, during the worst of last Winter's nightmare weather. Tonight as I lie in bed I'm grateful that it's not open. The temperature in the room is freezing in these few hours of the night before the central heating system kicks in to heat the house for the start of the day.  {our heating system is LPG as we live in a small village not connected to mains gas which is a lot cheaper. This year our gas has gone up by crippling 55p a litre and - with only one supplier - they have us over a barrel.} The overnight temperature is forecast to get down to -6C but even that has failed to stop snow falling, except now it comes down as hail and it's this that has wakened me.

I lie for a while and listen to the sound of the hail shattering itself against the window in the howling wind. I would get up and have a look but I'm not brave enough to face it this morning, so I lie in bed and relish the warmth seeping across from my Lovely G close beside me. I run a hand across her hip and waist and slowly on up the slope of her ribcage to her shoulder, a soft but deliberate movement which elicits an intake of breath and a slow stretch from somewhere deep in her slumber. I smile and continue the movement, now gently using my fingernails to further mess with her dreams as my hand follows the dip of her spine back down to rest eventually at her hip again. A few moments later, as I drop off back to sleep, my fingers are nudged by a restless Jess who is lying nestled in the curl of the other side of G's body. I ignore her in the hope that she'll also drop back off to sleep but she has other plans and her nose, warm and wet, again nudges my fingers, followed a moment later by the tap of her paw. It too is warm and soft but insistent as it taps me once, twice and then a third time. I push my arm across G and search Jess' furry body with a gentle hand until I can orientate her in my mind and, having found responsive ears and neck, I begin to knead her shoulders and neck as purrs begin to pour from a satisfied cat. We remain connected by the lazy movements of my hand until we both fall asleep, the three of us together now under the duvet, safe from the wind and the brittle sound of hail on glass.

Some time later I wake again. The house is silent, not even the occasional tick from a radiator beginning to heat, so I know it's early. I lie for a while listening and then, as I often do, I get up to avoid waking the  Lovely G with my restlessness and, stopping to pull on trousers, tee-shirt and jumper, I head downstairs to kitchen, coffee and computer. The clock on the oven says its 4.15am as I head to the table, cup in hand and press the power button on the laptop. As I've come down the heating has just come on and the hum of the boiler tells me the house will soon be warming up for the day.  Waiting for the sign-in screen coming to life I press the light-switch on the wall to the left of my seat. The light outside over the patio comes on and I pull the vertical blinds slightly to the side to see what's been happening during the night. Outside snow - and proper snow this time - is coming down thick and fast in huge flakes, tumbling and whirling in eddies by the nearby walls. It looks like another three or four inches have come down and this will add to the four or five inches already there. The laptop screen turns blue and I sign in and head for my blog's dashboard to check if anyone has posted on the blogs I follow and to check if any comments have been left on 'Crivens Jings...'

After a while I again take a peek out at the patio and see snow still falling as thick as before. Impetuously I reach for a fleece and pull on my boots that are lying at the kitchen door. "What on earth am I doing?" crosses my mind as I step out into the snow and walk round the side of the house and head down the drive to where the streetlights are showing the end of the drive lies. The snow underfoot is soft and fresh and even in the darkness the snow gives off a kind of light despite the stuff coming down all around. I hear the gentle crump of snow compressing with each step and feel that I'm not actually walking on the drive but somewhere vaguely above it, not quite in control of my balance as I slip into holes left by previous and now invisible footsteps. I make a mental note to keep an eye out for the depressions ahead, those puddles normally that are a trap waiting for me hidden as they are under the snowdrift in front of me. I give the area a careful and wide berth and head on down the slight slope to the road. I step out of the drive and again find myself taking extra care at hidden ruts of frozen snow at the side of the road as I step out into the middle of the completely empty street. The silence is........ Well, it's complete, absolute, perfect. It's stunning! The sound of silence is....... stunning!

I stand alone in the middle of the street and no matter which way I turn I hear nothing. I resist a childlike giggle and the urge to shout something into the snow falling round me. It is only about 5.00 after all. I can't hear a thing. Even the sound that is a quiet but almost constant here - the A1 main East coast London to Edinburgh road noise - is absent. Usually you can hear lorries on the hill past the village at any time, day or night.

Nothing.......

I'm in a silence of snow.

I look back toward the house but I can't see it. I can probably see about 30 or 40 feet but not much more. I look at my fleece in the light from the streetlamp. It's covered in snow and my arms are completely white. If I stay out too long I'll be the best snowman for miles around. But the feeling is utterly beguiling. Soon though I begin to feel the cold seeping through the fleece and jumper and I know it's time to head back inside. I've not been out long but it's been enough and I turn to retrace my steps up the drive and around the house to the patio door at the side of the kitchen. I step inside having kicked the snow off my boots and I shake the snow off the fleece back out through the open door before closing it on the snowflakes that seem keen to follow me inside.

Time for coffee I think. But, as I sit down a few minutes later with the warm cup in my hand I can't stop the silly grin on my face.

That was braw!!!

Now I can wait for day to slip in through the night and the careful but exciting journey through the snow to Dunbar and my Lovely G's morning train.

see you later.

A short diversion........

TOOT - a road sign I like.

Hullo ma wee blog,

Just taking a quick break from working in the garden this afternoon. It's hot and I need a drink and a seat out of the sun for a moment. Us Scots aren't used to sun you see. As I've been scanning through some photo's uploaded recently I thought I'd lazily just post a few while I'm relaxing. A flavour of the village and locally.

Top - TOOT - a road sign locally urging motorists to toot their horn at a blind corner on a very narrow road - near Abbey ST Bathans  - I've never seen another like this anywhere.

A sparrow feeding on our old pear tree.

The village Kirk - the round tower dates from the 14thC.

The Kirk hall.

Old house in the village.

This is in a dilapidated state and I ache to have the money to buy and restore it the way it deserves.

Traprain Law {hill} From Dunbar clifftop walk.

Traprain is one of several volvanic plugs in the area - Bass rock, North Berwick Law, Edinburgh Castle Rock are all similar.

Public bench - Promenade, Spittal, Berwick Upon Tweed.

Must go.

see you later..........