Pete's Tent.

Pete's putting up his tent.

It's a most brilliant orange

And redolent of holidays

Near mountains, holidays

For lovers of remoteness and hard-walking.

Boots go with it

And wind-proofed jackets,

Kagoules, thick socks and loaded rucksacks.

There's a small stove and its saucepans,

And a lamp for the night.

I like Pete's tent.

It makes me feel young.

Petes Tent

(And here is the tent in Langdale last year)

Thallata

I used to see sailing barges like this one when I was a child. I think they are beautiful.
I can't acknowledge this photo as I don't know who took it.

Leith, Scotland

Peg at Leith, Scotland.

The family at Lands End

The Way into the Secret Garden

The Volunteer Arms, Dunbar

This is a good place to have a light lunch.

The harbour, Dunbar.

This is a beautiful harbour. I hope to go there again someday. I love Scotland.

An Old Arabic Verse

If of your worldly goods you are bereft,
And in your slender store two loaves are left,
Sell one off them and with the dole
Buy hyacinths to feed your soul.

A Frosty Morning

Very still,

Not a leaf stirs,

Gold gleams through trees,

Winter cheer,

Lawn white,

Leaf dotted,

Pools of sunlight

Gladden our eyes.

The Clock

The clock ticks away

The seconds,

The minutes,

The hours.

Our seconds,

Our minutes,

Our hours.

Pixie at Christmas

Pixie came to us with his family as he had a bad foot and had to have care. He was a remarkably good little fellow and made himself at home immediately after he had had a good look round our house.

On the way to La Belle France

I like this picture very much as it reminds me of the lovely times we have had in France.

There Should Not Be

There should not be friction,
Futile argument and discord;
Life's not for such waste
Of Time's precious hoard.

Spring

Spring is almost here. The sun is shining today. The spirits rise. There are crocuses, snowdrops and daffodils blooming in the garden.
It is a shame that I can't put any pictures of the crocuses, snowdrops and daffodils into this blog. Some thing is not quite right and they won't come through at the moment.

Essex

As may be seen on my blog, I have a strong feeling for Essex. All my growing up was done there, and I was fortunate that, although I grew up in a time when there were many hard up people about, my life was spent in a comfortable and happy household. I came to love the fields and woods of my neighbourhood, and a lot of my childhood spare time was spent exploring. What I delight in doing these days is having a chance to return to some of those haunts. My overall favourites must be the Rivers Crouch and Blackwater and their environs. There is still a peace and tranquillity to be found walking beside these rivers, and the wide open spaces and the great skies fill me with delight.
A visit a few years ago to Bradwell and the old church Of St Peter's ad Murum( which I think means St Peter's on the wall), and the Roman fort of Othona was undertaken with some trepidation as I was so sure everything would be changed. We (Joe and I)had not been there for a long time. Would there be anything left of the former loveliness? We were both amazed as nothing had changed. The walk along the track towards the church and the Blackwater river was still the rough track it used to be. The lumps and bumps covered with bushes where the foundations of the old fort still lay were still visible, and the church still stood as it has for many centuries. It was built in the 6th century I believe, and was used as a farm barn for many years. Eventually it was reconsecrated in the 1920s. It is dedicated to Saint Cedd who converted the old East Saxons, after whom Essex is named, of course. Which reminds me that, as I live in Middlesex, I always include the name of the county in my address as a memory of the old Middle Saxons. I understand that Middlesex no longer officially exists.
That is quite enough waffling on so I shall now close. Goodbye for now to anyone who may possibly come across these thoughts.

Peggy's Dream of Essex

Where shall I start? A waking dream is not very easy to transfer to a real life memory. How much of that dream is true recollection and how much a return to a past that seems in the mind to be a time of safety and happiness, the life of a child living a comfortable and fortunate life?
The sun always shines in my childhood dream,except, of course, when the snow falls and the world becomes a wonderful, fairy like place,unbelievably lovely. Icy sliding in the school playground and grazed knees are then the normal state of affairs. It is only later in life that the rain ever teems down.
Spring comes and the woods are massed with windflowers closely followed by bluebells;brilliant celandines gleam against a tangle of leaves and grass. Leaves are golden green and softly pleated. Trees are there to be climbed.
Summer brings blackberries, Autumn succulent chestnuts and delicious hazels.
That is the dream. It is also a true recollection that has developed into my Essex dream.
Or is my dream of Essex akin to the "American Dream" which I believe ia an idea of America that never truly existed. Yet my dream Essex existed but was only a small part of my time. Country lanes existed, working horses existed, fields and woods existed. All these things have blended to become "My Dream of Essex" and through the golden haze of time I see them still.

My New Diary

A big blue diary
With plenty of room for each day.
Now I must fill the days
So there's plenty to write
In the big blue diary.

The Alcantara, Royal Mail Line

My cousin, Ray Jarvis, worked on this ship in the 1930s. He was at sea for many years. On one occasion he brought me a canary from South Africa. This was just before WW2. I was never able to have my canary because the war started and it was not pssible to visit the Hampshire coast where the Jarvises lived for a long time. As happened with many cage birds during that time my canary died due to the impossibility of getting the proper food for them. I was very sad about this.

R.L.S on a Samoan stamp

The Lady Enchantress

My mother went for a day out on this ship many years ago.

Random Thoughts.

I am taking a while to get used to the workings of this blog. I enjoy messing about with it but, being an elderly person, it takes longer to get things fixed into my brain. All the more reason for sticking with it. It does me good.

Swimming in Cornwall

We have some seafaring ancestors who were Cornish.

The salt marshes of the River Crouch in Essex were a tremendous delight to me in my childhood. The wide skies and the great distances to be viewed were wonderful. The occasional visit now still gives me a lot of pleasure.

SALT MARSHES


I remember the marshes,
So wide and sky-roofed
With creeks where crabs might lie.
Adventure was in those marshes,
Glorious childhood adventure.
On the way to the glittering river
Who knew what wonder might be found
On that wide, wind-blown loneliness.



Sitting on the sea wall, eating sandwiches,
The river in front and the marshes behind,
We belonged to the place,
We belonged to the time,
As never before and never since.
Our mud-stained feet and luckily undrowned bodies
Were one with the river,
One with the salt-born loveliness,
And one with Creation’s eternal soul.

Saltmarshes

A Favourite Book

One of my favourite books is "The Story of San Michele" by Axel Munthe. This tells of Munthe's life in France as a doctor and of his gradual building of a fascinating house on the island of Capri. It covers many years and is impossible to encapsulate into a short paragraph. Munthe was a very popular doctor and generally known in France as "Le Suedois". My copy of this book is a beautiful illustrated volume which crossed the Atlantic at some time. It previously belonged to Diane Fenwick of New York. I came across it in a secondhand book shop where I acquired it for £1. This was about 15 years ago. I would reccomend it as a really good read to anyone who might see this paragraph.

Peggy's thoughts

Peggy's thoughts