Whatever He Says

By Belinda Regular readers here may remember that last October Rob and I made a trip with Mum to North Wales. It was a special trip to celebrate our  Auntie May's 80th birthday . Auntie May is technically not an aunt, but one of Mum's treasured friends. It is 65 years since they met as part of a group of young, carefree women from all over post war Europe, working in a hospital in Farnborough, Kent, as maids to the sisters. Auntie May and Uncle Tommy live by the sea in South Sheilds, in the North East of England, but their two daughters, Diane and Trudie, live in North Wales, so that central point is where we planned to meet again this year. Mum is frail and struggling with a chesty cough that we are watching closely and she was content for us to go and carry her love with us, so Rob and I set out for the drive of just over two hours, first thing this morning. We had researched the route on the internet and I had written out detailed directions. We even bought an Ordina...

By Belinda The evening before last, I took Bruce for his evening walk and then ran inside for my camera and walked again. The light was beautiful; the village as quiet as it would be before dark. Today Rob and I are off to North Wales to visit old friends. More news will follow! :) The Old House on Bear Hill. Legend has it that Shakespeare wrote part of his play, The Tempest, here. The post office, at the bottom of the hill, on the right, by the telephone booth,  where I would spend my precious pocket money entirely on the books that used to be sold there; childhood classics such as  Black Beauty; Little Women  (and all the subsequent Alcott books that I could lay my hands on;)  Great Expectations; Jane Eyre --and on an on. I had a whole library of these thin, red bound hard cover books. I haven't stopped collecting books since. :) I am fascinated by paths leading "somewhere." This one belong...

By Belinda It felt strange and sad, coming to England and knowing that Uncle John is not here any more. I saw him last year in October on the  last day of my visit then . He went to Africa on a missions trip after that, knowing that he was seriously ill, and he died on April 13. I haven't yet erased his phone number from the phone at home. Somehow leaving it there I can pretend he hasn't really gone. Stephen, Paul's cousin, and Uncle John's son, is here though, and today we spent a wonderful day together. He picked me up at 11.00 and after first coming in and chatting with Mum and Rob, we set off for Alcester, where he lives. He took me on a tour of his wild, rambling garden. It is a haven for all kinds of butterflies and other insects; birds and frogs. I came home with a cucumber from the greenhouse, a bag of apples, and a small geranium for Mum's flat. The garden being duly inspected, it was time for lunch. We walked to The Lord Nelson pub, a couple of...

By Belinda It is ten years since the unspeakable horror of September 11, 2001, but ask anyone what they were doing on that morning and they will tell you as though it were yesterday. My daughter-in-law Sue, was nursing her baby: a second child; as the Twin Towers were hit. She had always wanted a large family, but that day she packed up all of her baby things to give away. She had decided she did not want to bring any more children into the world. A friend was in hospital, recovering from surgery, but remembers pulling herself up on the pillows in bed, watching what was unfolding on the T.V screen, in horror. In the local Honda factory people gathered around a car radio listening, trying to find out what was happening. In my journal for that Tuesday morning, I reflected on how exhausting the day before had been. My mum was visiting with us from England and I was struggling to keep up with work while trying to take as much time as possible to be with her. I was feeling tired a...

By Belinda I'm an "involved reader," and an "involved movie watcher" come to that. If you want to watch a movie with someone in peace and quiet--don't go with me; I laugh loudly, jump and cringe, grip the person next to me in scary parts--and cry. So it wasn't a surprise this morning as I read the final letters home of  Private Percy Winthrop (Winnie) McClare , regimental number 488944, 24th Battalion, Canadian InfantryRegiment; to "Mother," "Dad" and his sister Helen; that my eyes began to fill  unbidden with tears and a lump rose from somewhere deep in my chest and worked its way up to my throat. I knew--I don't know how-- that this boy of 19 would not be going home to Nova Scotia. His last letter home, dated April 16, 1917; addressed to "My dear Mother," ended with a request for her to not worry, but to "remember me in your prayer. I know you do that and it helps me a lot." He died May 5, 1917. It wa...

By Belinda Rob and I were talking about the puppies Molson fathered a while ago, (before his more recent unsuccessful romantic liaison!)Three of them were sponsored by McDonalds to be trained by  COPE  (Canine Opportunities for People Empowerment) as service dogs. Hoping to find a photo of the puppies to show Rob, I checked their website and found a video clip of a news cast that include McFlurry--one of the puppies. Aurora, the puppies' mom is featured too, with a newer litter of puppies, but later on there is Flurry, with her young trainer at school. Such a cool surprise. :)

 By Belinda My daughter-in-law Sue's, dad R.J., and I, both share an interest in military history, especially the first and second World Wars.  We share our DVDs and books with one another and I have been reading one of his while here: A War in Words  by Svetlana Palmer and Sarah Wallis. His nephew Luke, bought the book while in Europe with his school on a Battlefield Tour . The book is a deeply moving selection of first hand accounts in the form of journals kept by 28 soldiers and civilians, including children, during World War 1. The writers are Serbian, German, French, English, Italian, Turkish, Russian, East African and more. One of the writers unknowingly records his own end as he stops writing mid-sentence. He could not be identified by the enemy soldier who found the journal in his hands, but he kept it safe until he too, was killed in battle. The book is a treasure and imparts a deep sense of history, humanity and the waste of war. Today my neph...