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You May See Me Crying

Posted on February 19, 2014 | Leave a comment

Stirs memories of less happy times.

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That elusive hour – have you seen it?

Posted on February 17, 2014 | 1 comment

How hard is it to take an hour or two out of the day just for yourself?

I’m not necessarily meaning an hour to do nothing. In this case it was time to write the next blog and to begin work on the third part of The Imp (which is still in the pen.)

This week it has been nigh on impossible and I even had two days holiday from work which in theory should have made it easier.

Someone is definitely stealing hours out of my day when I’m not in the office.

Let’s start at last weekend- it was more or less a creative write off. A sleepover for seven hormonal screaming teenage girls put paid to the majority of it. You couldn’t hear yourself think in here at times! The remainder of Sunday and Monday disappeared under a huge mountain of laundry – the washing machine had died the previous Wednesday and its replacement arrived to a warm welcome on Saturday afternoon. Cue several days of washing and the house smelling like “the steamie” as I tried to get it all dried and ironed.

For a short while Monday night was looking hopeful but, no, it was interrupted by having to chauffeur Girl Child home from a friend’s house at the opposite side of town.

Tuesday  had already been pre-planned and I spent a lovely few hours catching up with a friend over coffee and lunch. On the drive home (I only got lost once) the weather closed in and, by the time I reached home, there was a pleading message from Girl Child looking for a lift home. Cue another fourteen mile round trip to collect her.

I had just settled down thinking that finally I had found the elusive hour when Boy Child messaged me looking for a lift home from the station. Cue another five mile round trip in sleet and snow to rescue him.

Wednesday saw me back at work. Thursday was Girl Child’s birthday so that obviously took priority for the evening. It was worth it to see the look on her face when she received her gifts.

Valentine’s Day, Friday, dawned and, after a busy day at the salt mine, I headed home to cook dinner and to do more laundry- where does it all come from? After a “romantic family meal for four plus cat” the Big Green Gummi Bear and Boy Child retired to the living room to watch a DVD (Planet of the Apes in case you were wondering). Girl Child slipped back into her bat cave.

I’d finally found my elusive hour!

I poured glass of wine, fetched my notebook and pen and settled myself in the warmth of the kitchen with my iPod. Bliss for a whole fifteen minutes then the cat came and sat on my notebook, purring pleadingly for attention.

I surrendered.

If any of you ever find my elusive “hour to myself without interruption” can you please wrap it up carefully and mail it to me. It’s a very precious thing.

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The Perfect Present

Posted on February 9, 2014 | 1 comment

Sometimes…just sometimes… in life you are lucky enough to be given the perfect present.

This happened to me on my last birthday thanks to the Big Green Gummi Bear.

In a way the present was twofold and if I’m totally honest I’m not sure which part I was more excited about.

So what was this wondrous gift? Diamonds? Gold? Designer shoes? A holiday?

None of these luxuries.

He bought me a record player.

The second part of the surprise was that he liberated my treasured vinyl collection from its exile in the loft. After more than ten years cowering in cardboard boxes up there those beautiful black discs had survived! They were still perfect!

Opening the boxes again after all these years was like opening a door back to my teenage years. (I did complain the albums were out of order and the Big Green Gummi Bear confessed the box had been too heavy to lift so he’d moved it in stages). In front of me, in two beautiful tatty cardboard boxes, lay my personal musical road map with all its twists and turns of genre.

Those of you who know me will appreciate that I’ve never been a fan of “popular” music but boy did I buy an eclectic collection of vinyl! Yes there is every Status Quo album from the late 1960’s through to the late 1980’s (my first musical addiction) but alongside them- now restored to its strict alphabetical order- lurk Chuck Berry, Black Sabbath, the Kinks, Def Leppard, Enya, Huey Lewis  and the News and I’ll even confess to Kajagoogoo plus many more. The box of 7” singles is even more varied or worse depending on your personal taste. Amidst a plethora of Quo there’s Diana Ross, ACDC, Wham (why did I ever buy that?), the Boomtown Rats, Iron Maiden, Alvin Stardust and The Love Theme from The Thorn Birds tv series. Each and every one holding its own special place in my heart for a myriad of reasons.

Sliding the precious black grooved disc out of its sleeve and placing it carefully on the turntable for the first time in many years was a wonderful feeling. That little crackle the stylus gives as it finds the track. Ah the tiny sounds of nostalgia! I love them! The novelty of having to turn the disc over to hear the other tracks. The hilarity of explaining double albums to a 21st century teenager when I said the track being played was on side 4. Watching my children discovering the joys of vinyl- even if it did take Boy Child six months to touch it for fear of damaging something.

This re-discovery of my love of music has opened the flood gates. They were already in the process of being prised open but that’s a tale for another blog. All I can say with certainty is that they are most definitely open wide now!

So over the years have my tastes changed since I was saving up my pocket money or scrimping and saving the change from my school lunch money in order to buy the latest release in Woolworths on a Saturday? Not in the slightest! It’s still rock and metal all the way with a healthy dose of folk, country and the obscure thrown in.

And the best find in the magic box? Well it has to be “Appetite of Destruction” by Guns N Roses. Still as fresh over a quarter of a century down line. Timeless …… and the first one I played when I received the best birthday gift ever.

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And we’ve survived “the Festival”for another year

Posted on February 3, 2014 | Leave a comment

If you are a parent, teacher or school pupil within the Inverclyde area then the third week in January can only mean one thing – time for the “Festival.”

This year saw the Inverclyde Music Festival celebrate its centenary year- quite an achievement. The first Festival was a two day event – 25-26 April 1914 – and was held in Greenock’s Town Hall. A century later it is a two week event and is still held in Greenock’s Town Hall. From the tiny tots in Primary 1 right through to adults, the Festival attracts competitors of all ages. It covers a vast range of talents- speech, drama, country dancing, instrumentals, ensembles, choirs, soloists, duets, Burns song and verse. Over the entire two weeks it caters for every taste.

Now I’ll be honest as a child it terrified me. I was “the child” whose mother had to write a letter to the teacher saying I was too scared to step out on that stage. I finally overcame that fear and sang – badly most likely- in the school choir when I was about thirteen. Never again!

Add a few years and I have become the parent. Taking my lunch break at 10:30am to run along to the Town Hall to support either Boy Child, Girl Child or both as they competed with their primary school class in Action Songs  or Singing Games. Add another few very short years and they ventured into the Brass category. Sitting up on the balcony in the main Town Hall or on a seat in the Saloon (a slightly smaller hall) watching your baby play solo is nerve wracking. I was sick with nerves every time. Listening to them play as part of an ensemble, band or orchestra is only slightly less nerve wracking.

Girl Child and her French horn endured a love/hate relationship for almost four years before she handed it back and bowed gracefully out of the arena. Boy Child still plays with multiple bands – he plays trumpet – and appeared three times at this year’s Festival. His school concert band even won their class and a huge silver cup this year! He may be almost six feet tall but when I’m watching him on that stage he’s still my baby boy.

The Festival is now over for another year – “Thank heavens for that!” cries every school teacher and music tutor for miles around who have practically lived in the Town Hall for a fortnight – and next year will likely be Boy Child’s last year performing.

This centenary year also marked a personal milestone. The Big Green Gummi Bear finally came to hear Boy Child perform as part of Inverclyde Schools Wind Orchestra at the Centenary Concert. It was the first time he had seen him out on stage- I hope it won’t be the last…time will tell.

 

The poem below was inspired by previous trips to the Town Hall for both the Festival and various concerts.

 

Maybe This Time

Excitement building

The audience take their seats

The lights dim

The concert band take to the stage

 

Next to me an empty seat

A glance to the doorway – no one there

 

The concert band play

Music fills the hall

With parental pride the audience applaud

With a bow of thanks the band are gone

 

Next to me an empty seat

A glance to the doorway – still no one there

 

Time moves on – more groups perform

The talent and confidence shared.

Soloists and duets; quartets and strings

Achievement and success abound

 

Next to me an empty seat

A glance to the doorway – still no one there

 

Finally the orchestra take to the stage

More formal and precise than before

String, woodwind and brass ring true

A standing ovation well earned

 

Next to me an empty seat

A final glance to the doorway –

Was that a shadow moving away?

If you are interested in learning more about the Inverclyde Music Festival Association and its hundred year history you can find the whole story on their web site – www.inverclyde-music-festival.org.uk

 

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Penfriends – the modern way

Posted on January 27, 2014 | 1 comment

How many of you had a penfriend as a child? How many of you still do?

Over the last thirty years I’ve had several. Some of them were “allocated” to me in school as I remember while others were sourced through various magazines over the years.

My first ever penfriend was a little girl from South Africa who lived on a farm and rode horses. We exchanged letters for a few years then as we moved into our teens the letters dried up, we both moved house and the new addresses were lost – the connection was broken. There was also a very scary boy from the Ivory Coast whose letters took a dark almost sinister turn and were ultimately returned “Not Known At This Address” to discourage him.  I was terrified he was going to turn up on the front doorstep!

I also connected with three others from across the world- from Sweden, India and Greece- and am still in regular contact with them. For more than twenty five years we’ve written freely to each other about our lives, exchanged photos and “grown up” together from across the miles. No thought was ever given to the amount of personal data that was being shared.

Now we seldom write the lengthy paper letters of the past apart from a short scribbled note inside a birthday or Christmas card. We’ve all moved on to social media- to Facebook. Is this the modern equivalent of having a penfriend? In one way it is.

Over the last few months I’ve “met” several new friends, of similar age, similar interests (Ladies you know who I mean!) and from across the world on Facebook. We share stories, jokes and photos and connect on a regular basis. Where’s the difference?

Now that we are all connected through Facebook I began to wonder what it would be like if my three original penfriends could all “meet” each other. I’ve started a group chat with them in an effort to find out. It should be an interesting conversation as they are three very diverse lovely people. I hope it works….time will tell.

When it comes to penfriends though my mum and her penfriend Gail win hands down. They started exchanging letters in 1949 and they are still in regular contact with each other. Both of them were only nine years old when this friendship began. Over the past few years they have progressed to email instead of the flimsy thin blue airmail paper and envelopes of yester year.  (I still find it amusing that my mum has her own pc.) They’ve also been fortunate enough to meet face to face several times over the last fifteen years or so, enjoying each other’s company as much in person as they have done for all these years on paper. It’s a very special friendship.

Who knows in time to come I may meet up with my three penfriends or with some of my newer Facebook friends but for now social media works just fine.

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Like mother like daughter

Posted on January 21, 2014 | 2 comments

A bit of an impromptu post but I hope you appreciate it.

I discovered this morning that Girl Child really is my daughter through and through.

As usual I wakened her before I headed off for my shower. It is like wakening the dead and you do take your life in your hands even attempting it – she’s never really been a morning person. Satisfied though that she was indeed awake I left her room confident that she would drag herself out of bed.

Now normally by the time I am out of the shower her “bat cave” is rattling to the delights on her iPod. Silence is never a good sign and usually implies she still in bed and that I have to dice with death a second time before my first coffee of the day.

This morning – total silence.

Still rather damp round the edges I charged in expecting to find her under the duvet but the bed was empty. Girl Child was sitting on the floor in her favourite spot in front of the radiator on the verge of tears. Tears of fanatic frustration.

Resisting the motherly urge to yell at her for still being in her pyjamas at 7.20am I calmly enquired “What’s the matter? Are you ok?”

“I can’t find the iTunes radio streaming of their new album!” came the wail followed by the tears.

Her favourite band’s new album should’ve been streaming online but her netbook had crashed, her iTunes account was playing up (not helped by our deathly slow internet speed) and her fragile teenage world was coming to an over dramatic end.

Common motherly sense told me to yell at her for wasting time when she should have been getting dressed for school. The rock fan mother in me took a deep breath.

I remembered my excitement late last September at getting a certain signed CD two days before its official release date and having to go out for three hours before I got the opportunity to play it. I understood only too well the irrational desire to hear the music right there and then.

I knew exactly how she felt.

“Let me get my laptop. We’ll try my iTunes,” I heard myself saying.

Within a few – to her endless – minutes I had logged on and found the album streaming. Result – on ecstatically happy Girl Child now getting ready for school.

Normality had resumed. The “bat cave” began to vibrate to the God awful noise!

 

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The Domestication of the Human is Complete

Posted on January 20, 2014 | 1 comment

I like to think I’m quite a free-thinking independent human being so I am struggling a bit to work out how it has come about that I have been domesticated by the cat- or in my case four of them.

If any of you are cat owners- and I use the term loosely as I now firmly believe they own us- you will understand where this is headed.

It has been going on for some considerable time. Ten years ago we were a cat free household then the munchkins and I spent two weeks visiting relatives in a cat filled house in the USA. When we returned home Boy Child was so miserable about leaving the cats behind that we decided to adopt a rescue cat.  (Conspiracy theory here- the cats are all in cahoots!)

Enter Dixie into our lives. The flood gates may as well have opened! Long story cut short- Dixie was an old lady, hated boys, suffered ill health and was only ruling the roost for eight short months. In that brief space of time however we became the adoptive humans of a black fluffy, half Siamese, half Persian male kitten called Sioux. When Dixie passed away Sioux was lonely- enter Gandalf, another rescue cat (I could and probably will fill a whole blog at a later date on him alone) All too soon Sioux and Gandalf had us well trained as to when and what they wanted to eat, when they wanted in and when they wanted out and as to how much of the bed they intended to occupy each night.

A few years down the line the munchkins (obviously brain washed by their feline masters) convinced the Big Green Gummi Bear and I that we needed to adopt a third feline member of the household. Enter Pythagoras who had repeatedly featured in the local paper as the pet of the week in need of a good home. Cue a whole new set of household rules as the three male cats learned to live together and to live with us. It took a while – and the arrival of a fourth feline- before Gandalf and Pythagoras could tolerate being in the same room as each other.

Two years ago the fourth- and final (for now) – feline joined this motley crew. Frankenstein, yet another rescue kitty, came to stay. My domestication was almost complete. Poor Frankenstein, through no obvious fault of his own, had had four homes in two years. As soon as I saw his big blue eyes and heard that charismatic purr …well the rest is history.

Now we live by a strict set of felines dictates-

*Gandalf only enters and leaves via the front door.

Pythagoras prefer to come and go via the first floor windows, having climbed over the garage roof to get there.

Sioux and Frankenstein require cold meat prior to any human resident being served breakfast

In the middle of the night if the scratching is at the carpet at the door of the bedroom- Pythagoras wants out.

In the middle of the night if the scratching is at the chest of drawers- Sioux wants out.

In the middle of the night if the scratching is at the side of the bed- Gandalf wants out

If in the middle of the night a cat is clambering over your head purring incessantly- Frankenstein wants out.

If a cat- any cat- is sitting in front of the narrow cupboard in my kitchen- it wants fed.

If after dishing up a tasty meal it returns to the cupboard- it wants a different flavoured dinner.

If the cat was on the seat first don’t waste your time moving it- it will only return to sit on you.

If the cat’s in the bed first- sleep elsewhere!

 

The ancient Egyptians worshipped cats as Gods. Mine have never forgotten this fact.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Time to come clean- I’m an addict

Posted on January 12, 2014 | 1 comment

My name is Coral and I’m a photo-holic. There I’ve confessed!

I never leave the house without a camera of some sort, invariably my phone. If I go for a walk I usually take at least two cameras. I can’t go for a walk – or anywhere for that matter- without constantly looking for that special photographic opportunity. It drives my family insane!

I love photographs both taking them and browsing leisurely through them. My personal 2013 creative challenge was to produce a Facebook photo album – 365 Days of 2013- featuring a different photo taken each day of the year using the camera on my phone for convenience. I was proud to complete it- first New Year’s resolution I’ve ever stuck to. As the  year wore on I feel that the standard improved and I learned to look at the world around me  in a different light. Now less than two weeks into January 2014 I’m missing taking my “photo of the day”.

It was only recently I discovered the true extent of my photo habit. I was fortunate enough to be given a new laptop for Christmas ( thank you Big Green Gummi Bear) and spent quite some considerable time transferring across nine years worth of digital images from my dying netbook.

Before the digital photography age I still shot more than my fair share of photographs. I must have spent a small fortune over the years on developing costs and photo albums. Do you remember the Doubleprint envelopes that fell out of Sunday supplements and were found on stands in airports? Truprint? Bonusprint? Yes- I’ve made good use of them all in my time. I loved the Doubleprint ones – a 6×4 image plus a wallet sized copy.

I have a tendency to be OCD about my photo albums too and have religiously chronicled my trips to the USA over the last ten years. When the munchkins were little I shot at least one roll of film a month- frequently more- and have memories their formative years stored in album after album. I’ve even wallet sized albums for the wallet sized copies from Doubleprint.

It was discovering one of these tiny albums of precious memories that inspired the poem below. (It was was also my first poem to make it into print)

Passing Childhood

Photos found at the back of the drawer.

What was I actually looking for?

A smiling toddler with white blonde hair

Fond memories swirl round in the air.

All the long years have now flown by

My white blonde boy no longer shy.

A smart young man who excels at school

Now facing a world that is his to rule.

And just how many digital images found their way onto my new pc?-   32356 to be exact and I treasure every last one.

Now where did I put my camera……

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Do you remember when…… fond memories

Posted on January 4, 2014 | 9 comments

Choosing where to start this journey has been pre-occupying my thoughts over the last few days. I’ve kept returning to the same starting point and repeatedly dismissed it as too personal but then again…..

People pass through our lives on a daily basis. Some slip by unnoticed while others leave a huge footprint in our hearts. One tiny little lady who left a huge indelible mark on me and on many others was my Wee Gran. I could ramble on for hours reminiscing about her but won’t ( I may share more tales at a later date – we’ll see)

One thing that always struck me was the amount of change and progress she had seen in the world she lived in. Born in the Outer Hebrides of Scotland in 1902 she saw two World Wars,  lived through the reigns of four kings and a queen, saw man land on the moon and saw technology that we take for granted evolve beyond belief. Simple things that we wouldn’t give a second thought to created memories that lived with her forever. I remember we asked her once  when did she see her first car. She thought for  a moment  or two before replying ” I don’t know what year it was but it was a Tuesday.”

“A Tuesday?” we echoed.

“Yes I was on my way to the prayer meeting.”

Do you remember the first car you saw?  I don’t.

There’s a myriad of similar tales. A lifetime of memories left behind by this little lady. And to those who had the good fortune to know her – who will ever forget the taste of her pancakes?

One of  the most heart breaking moments of my life was the day I walked into her house to visit as usual and she didn’t know who I was. Even now over nine years later  there are tears in my eyes and a lump in my throat  as I remember the scene. Old age had finally caught up and stolen away the Wee Gran I knew and love, leaving behind a frail,  scared, old lady. I only saw her another twice after that day (it was too hard- and selfishly I wanted to keep my wonderful memories of her intact). She passed away a few months later a month shy of her 103rd birthday.

The poem below was written a very long time ago. I don’t often write about those dear to me for fear of offending or embarrassing them. I feel though that this captures my memories of  this very special lady –

My Wee Gran

She sits in her big red armchair, hand touching her left ear

Eyes alert. Swift look at the clock-

It’s not lunchtime- yet.

Up since dawn she stifles a yawn

Ankles crossed- feet twitching slightly

Two clocks tick- only one is wound nightly.

The wireless is on- it’s McGregor again

A daily ritual in number nineteen

Memories flicker into conversation as a man tells of the death of a generation.

She dresses plain- no jewellry to be seen- only her slim wedding band.

She starts to talk using her hand.

Jumper and pinafore- uniform- regulation blue cardigan- well worn

A smile leaps to her lips- more memories into conversation

Two clocks still tick.

Now it’s lunchtime- the ritual is at an end.

Up she gets- wireless switched off- McGregor is finished for today.

It will be on again next day.

The big red armchair stands empty

Into the kitchen my wee gran’s away

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Deep Breaths and Begin

Posted on December 29, 2013 | 7 comments

I feel like I am standing here naked in front of a crowded room- I feel exposed! Deep Breath….

I’ve deliberated and procrastinated and given this a lot of thought- usually at the most inappropriate moments of the day and night- and finally decided “What the Hell”. Carpe Diem  as it says on my charm bracelet.

I’ve never attempted to blog before. Subject matter may vary widely as we travel this road and I do have a tendency to meander off track. So what topics in life do I have to draw on for this creative venture? Well I’m the demented mother of two teenagers (one boy child and one girl child); adopted human slave to four cats; work full time; been fortunate enough to publish a handful of my poetry; am a  keen amateur photographer; writer (like all writers I’m working on what I hope will become my first novel but whether it will ever see the light of day beyond my conservatory remains to be seen); married to a fitness freak “the Big Green Gummi Bear”; enjoy the occasional glass of wine or two; am a self confessed caffeine addict; rock music addict (much to the despair of the Big Green Gummi Bear and to the amusement of my mother) and generally am a chaser of rainbows and dreams.

There should be sufficient subject matter there to inspire a few blog entries as long as I remain focussed, motivated and caffeine fuelled. Oh and as long as there is someone  or hopefully more than one of you that wants to come along for the ride and share the ramblings of this forty three year old recycled teenager.

Personally I’m looking forward to the journey and I look forward to travelling with you.

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