Blackberry-picking by Seamus Heaney

Blackberry-Picking

Late August, given heavy rain and sun
For a full week, the blackberries would ripen.
At first, just one, a glossy purple clot
Among others, red, green, hard as a knot.
You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet
Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it
Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust for
Picking. Then red ones inked up and that hunger
Sent us out with milk cans, pea tins, jam-pots
Where briars scratched and wet grass bleached our boots.
Round hayfields, cornfields and potato-drills
We trekked and picked until the cans were full
Until the tinkling bottom had been covered
With green ones, and on top big dark blobs burned
Like a plate of eyes. Our hands were peppered
With thorn pricks, our palms sticky as Bluebeard's.
We hoarded the fresh berries in the byre.
But when the bath was filled we found a fur,
A rat-grey fungus, glutting on our cache.
The juice was stinking too. Once off the bush
The fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour.
I always felt like crying. It wasn't fair
That all the lovely canfuls smelt of rot.
Each year I hoped they'd keep, knew they would not. 

Seamus Heaney

"Hope for a great sea-change..."

Much-loved British poet Seamus Heaney died this week. Several people posted this poem on their facebook walls:

From Seamus Heaney: 

History says, Don't hope
on this side of the grave.
But then, once in a lifetime
the longed for tidal wave
of justice can rise up,
and hope and history rhyme.

So hope for a great sea-change
on the far side of revenge.
Believe that a further shore
is reachable from here.
Believe in miracles
and cures and healing wells. 

I love how he acknowledges that as well as justice there will be cures, and healing. I have come to see that hope is really the thing that keeps us going, gives us the will to keep on at this challenge of life.

Light at the end of the tunnel, the glimpse of the rope dangling down into the dark, only two more essays to mark, three more days till the holidays, five more days till next weekend, Spring will come after Winter, calm will follow the storm, justice will come in the end, God will bring it all together, there will be a renewed heaven and earth, Jesus will reign. 

Mum to Frodo - friend or foe? By Abby

I think we've all heard just how much Mum loves Frodo. A lot. But when he wags his tail for her, or follows her round the house is it just because he's hoping that she'll go soft and give him a treat? or that she'll take him out on a walk by the river where he can run away from us and make me chase him barefooted for half an hour (as was the case one evening)? I don't know. Lets have a look at the facts and figures of the matter.

1. Mum gives him endless hugs, cuddles and kisses, but just because he gives me a long, pleading look over her shoulder when she lifts him up onto her lap, or gives out a huge, heavy sigh when she squeezes him tight, does that mean that he doesn't like it?










      See what i mean? PROOF.









2. I know Frodo howls when I play the piano, but (I hope) it's not because of my playing. However, I wonder if he thinks mum is just downright CRAZY when she takes his paws in her hands, and dances round the kitchen with him singing:

                                                       "Oh, Frodo how I love you!
                                                          Frodo I love you sooo....."

We all have the occasional sing-song in Frodo's favor, but I think mum just beats us all.

3. I have so far stated some facts, but now lets talk figures. As I'm sure you all know, Mum has been doing this 1000 gifts thing. But, I doubt she's mentioned just how many of her 620 (so far) gifts are about Frodo: 30. It might not seem much, but it means that 20 percent of her gifts are about Frodo. (blame the internets calculator if that's wrong). some of which are:

• Frodo's waggy-waggy tail
• Frodo's fluffiness
• cuddling Frodo
• the fun of clipping Frodo 
• and just "Frodo" in general. 

Do you think he realizes what embarrassing things she's been writing? I doubt it.


4. One of the things she wrote was "the fun of clipping Frodo." I have to admit it was funny, and you'll probably laugh too when I tell you that Mum cut the end of Frodo's ear with scissors - producing a high pitched YELP!!! - and also gave him a big bald patch on his back.
Mum wrote it as a gift, but I don't think it was to him. While Mum was cackling away brandishing her implements of torture, Frodo was hanging his head gloomily, thinking "what have i done to deserve this...?"

And this is a picture of what he looked like when Mum was through with him. He looks like a scrawny victim to some terrible torture, or a "mangy hyena" as Dad called him.




5. Mum's walks can't really compare with Dad's long romps in the park and endless late-night strolls through the streets, whatever the weather, and hers include:

• Sometimes not letting him off the lead (which is probably why he took his opportunity to make a break for it at the riverside walk)
• NOT taking him places at night
• NOT enjoying going out in the rain
• NOT liking to take him to Armscroft park where all the big dogs are
• and finally, not paying attention and trying to drag him with all her strength when he's squatted down to do his business (which resulted in me yelling out, and Mum finding a very confused dog desperately waddling at the end of the lead.)

So, even though Mum loves him with all her heart, gives him treats and would probably let him get away with murder (which actually DID happen, when he killed our friends' guinea pig when we had lunch with them - he was VERY pleased with himself, we're embarrassed to say) when she asks him faithfully "Frodo, do you love me best in all the world?" what do you think he's saying to himself? You decide...

Packing

The legacy of living the ex-pat life for 18 years, is not only a mountain of emotional baggage in general, but, quite a heap of emotional baggage about packing. Any person who has travelled extensively has their own list of funny and/or infuriating stories about airports, luggage check-ins, excess baggage etc.

I came to hate packing over the years. I even came to fear it. The amount of stuff just does not fit. Especially returning after a Christmas trip home, when people have given you so many lovely presents. Or after a long leave when you stock up on food items or something like... a kettle, or... rollerblades. Especially when you are flying on a British airline and have only 23 kilos luggage allowance. And when someone said you could bring a baby car-seat, a computer bag and a handluggage bag, and the officials tell you, they want to weigh it all because it looks so much. And it is far too much and then you either have to pay several hundred pounds or leave stuff behind.

Now, packing is simple - we just go to Cornwall for a week, or away for a long weekend - but, the reluctance, the actual hatred of packing is still there. I wonder how long it will stick around. Ugh. I'd better get started.

Castles in the air

We have had a crazy few days in Northumberland, visiting a part of England none of us really knew before. We were staying with a friend, who kindly gave us use of their house for our holiday. It was only five days altogether, but with the journey each way taking the whole day, we had three days only to see everything - so we basically made six day trips in the space of the three days, and went out each evening as well. I have been reminded that while my idea of a holiday is to relax in a beautiful place, eat well, and see some of the local sights, (without stretching yourself) Dan's idea is to rest for not one single moment, but to go go go go go and see everything there is to be seen, and eat if there's time on the way...

If I show you in pictures what we saw, you will get an idea of the amount of ground we covered...

Northumberland is the north east corner of England, with huge sandy beaches, rolling farmland, moorland including the Pennines, Hadrian's Wall built by the Romans to keep the Scottish hordes out, and many many castles, built over the centuries to protect this exposed coastline from the Scots, the Vikings, and the French in turn... It has so much going for it, including the lovely seafood literally jumping out of the sea into your frying pan (lobsters, kippers, prawns, salmon and much more). Its islands have some of England's beautiful but rare wildlife: seals and puffins. You will know how excited I was to see them, the puffins especially. 

A medieval gateway in Alnwick - the road drives right under it.

Alnwick Castle, home of the Nevilles if you read Tudor historical fiction! Also used as Hogwarts ...

Lindisfarne Priory, built in 635 AD as one of the first Christian sites in England, it was raided so often by Vikings that in 875 AD the monks fled from it with the coffin containing the bones of St Cuthbert and the famous Lindisfarne Gospels (which we saw in Durham). Although the priory was later restored, it was closed by Henry VIII as part of the dissolution of the monasteries, and the roof was ripped off then.

Lindisfarne Castle - built by Henry VIII to protect the coast from French and Scottish invaders.

Called Holy Island, it is joined to the mainland by a causeway so you have to choose your time to drive over. and back, or you'll get stuck... The islands around are the home of seals, who make an eery high-pitched moaning sound which we could hear the whole time.

Bamborough Castle, a Norman castle right above the beach.

a chance to swim in the sea.

A boat trip to see the puffins, at Coquet Island off Amble. Frodo was allowed on the boat and found his sea legs!!

A puffin??!!!

Our photos were hopeless, so this one is from Google... but they really do look like this, they are beautiful and funny!

Again a lifted photo as it was quite dark when we were there... but this is the Tree in the Gap on Hadrian's Wall,  - you might recognise this from the Robin Hood film Prince of Thieves. It is a beautiful spot.

Our family at Hadrian's Wall, including Canis Canis Frodoensis.

Frodo visiting Durham Cathedral.

Another "borrowed" picture, of the Lindisfarne Gospels, made on Lindisfarne in the 700s AD. When the monks fled with it and Cuthbert's coffin, it fell into the sea, but was undamaged. They all ended up at Durham Cathedral, (as did the tomb of the Venerable Bede.) It was trimmed and re-covered by the Victorians. But the illuminations are incredible, original and unspoiled. 

Durham

A medieval street in York. With quite a few tourists in it...

... and a ghost

 I actually feel as though we did "English History 101". It was amazing. And slightly exhausting...