Wasn’t it awful watching television footage of Notre Dame Cathedral burning furiously earlier this week? That it is a monument so ancient, recognisable, and steadfast made it all the more shocking. It stirred a deep unease in my heart, its partial destruction acting as a powerful reminder about what is precious yet precarious: everything. I was reminded … Continue reading Tumbling Down
Sometimes April doesn’t keep its promise. It reneges. Burrows back down a hole, pretending it never was. It had been that way this week, when many of us had to check the calendar, only to utter, ‘Really? April 4th? Are we sure about that?’ Character building weather, one might call it, unless one is feeling delicate, … Continue reading April Showers
We walked through hail on the Cheviots, those rolling hills that straddle the border between England and Scotland. I was on the southern side, in Northumberland, when big, fat balls of hail began to prick my cheeks like tiny needles. Starting out, it was sunny and cold with no sign of hail as we trudged … Continue reading Cheviots
Setting off backwards, with a view to the west from my seat on the train, the sun is so bright that it hurts my eyes. A storm is forecast, it should be here by now. The weather is running late. Rabbits are frozen like ornaments in a scrap of scrubby field alongside a stream. The stream … Continue reading Journey
I’ve picked up a virus. I’ve not just brushed against it, but I’ve bagged it, brought it home, and moved it in. It has been a year, almost to the day, since I’ve felt like this. Maybe it’s to become a fixture – clear the decks for the February-flu. Everything in my brain is hazy. Like driving … Continue reading To Weep
To pursue whatever you set your mind to with the joy of a six year-old child: that’s said to be how we should seek to live. This supposes that every six-year old child embraces all of life joyfully, which they probably don’t, as personality and nature come into play. Largely, though, small children do seem … Continue reading Innocence
He had a coffee; I had Earl Grey. His was frothy and a bit cold, he told me; mine was too hot, so I blew on it, not that it made a whit of difference. “From England? You’re walking the whole way from the North of England to Santiago?” “Yes. The one in Spain, … Continue reading There’s a Hole in my Bucket
It’s oft quoted, and it sounds like it might be from the Bible, or from Shakespeare, but the attribution for recording to print that 'the darkest hour is just before the dawn' falls to the English theologian and historian, Thomas Fuller. He wrote it in 1650, in language that is somewhat more archaic than what … Continue reading The Darkest Hour
I’m finding it hard to let go of the weekend. It was such a lovely one, pink whipped morning skies and trails of orange cloud by evening; the evening (when measured by the availability of light) being 3.30pm. Neither my mind nor body have quite made it to Monday and I’m hankering to be back … Continue reading Pigs Might Fly
My visitors are here. Flew in from Canada early yesterday morning. Very early for me, as I got to see the lark-side of this city: wide-awake, bustling, industrious. The sight of if would have made Edinburgh’s enlightened forefathers proud. “How are you feeling?” I asked between hugs on Waverley Bridge. “Fine!” came the universal response, … Continue reading Lashing, Splashing, Dashing
