The above story celebrates some of the 80 books I read in 2023 and it’s fun to create a short narrative featuring a few of the titles. The book titles included are in the list below.
Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami
My Evil Mother by Margaret Atwood
House Rules by Jodi Picoult
At The Seaside Nobody Hears You Scream by Janet Gogerty
The Shadows We Breathe by Sarah Brentyn
A Winding Road by Miriam Hurdle
Happy Place by Emily Henry
The Sheltering by Khaya Ronkainen
Life is Like a Bowl of Cherries by Sally Cronin
The Lilac Notebook by Carol Notebook
The Lost Bookshop by Evie Woods
The Lies We Told by Diana Chamberlain
A Terrible Kindness by Jo Browning Wroe
More than Coffee by Lauren Scott
The Vanishing of Margaret Small by Neil Alexander
In Someone Else’s Shoes by Jojo Moyes
Where The Story Starts by Imogen Clark
The Family Tree by Sairish Hussain
In The Five Years by Rebecca Serle
There is Light the Never Goes out by David M Barnett
This Beautiful Life by Katie Marsh
Below are images of all the books I’ve had the joy of reading last year! I just made it over the finishing line of the Goodreads Reading Challenge in 2023 and this year I am reducing my sights to 52 books!
Wishing you all a New Year blessed with good health, happiness and light – may 2024 be filled with creativity!
What is it about a tree house that beckons us so alluringly? A structure much loved over the years, one feels it promises so much, to step amongst the tree-tops, reach ever so slightly closer to the sky, feel the sense of mystical as one, for once, gazes down upon the earth.
The tree-house this morning was handily equipped with sturdy steps and railings, no need to clamber through twisted branches, avoiding bare sticks ready to blind and scratch. Handy yet not quite so adventurous!
Inside the magical tree house, a large branch spiked its way into the centre of the surprisingly spacious wooden crow’s nest and I danced around a little, pausing to admire the view. Before the wood was fully grown one would have been able to look out for over fifteen miles but I did not mind the retreat, nestled and surrounded by many more trees. Safe and secure up here, cosy within Nature’s richness!
Down on the ground the sense of a time warp continued; I left my childhood self playing in the tree house, while my adult being, back on terra firma, wallowed in the immersive tranquility of the gardens. Stepping away from the busyness of everyday life to utter peace, the haven was an abundance of treasures!
I scrunched a path across the deep pile of gravel to absorb the quiet and beauty of the restored Italian Garden.
A heron majestically flew across the lake at the far end of the gardens.
The silence in the walled garden was only interrupted by the flitting of the butterflies.
I stopped to talk to a volunteer gardener about their fragile guests and he said how these numbers were nothing compared to the previous week when he was surrounded by a cloud of butterflies!
My imagination played riot with this event, conjuring up the wonder of walking among a cloud of butterflies, the sight, the sound and no doubt the sensation of the wings! The picture is still in my mind! I took many photos on this little outing but the image engrained in my brain is from this one line. May I return in time next year to experience this incredible encounter!
After a grey and unusually cool summer in England, the September heatwave was a stunning surprise and an opportunity to enjoy the sunshine. A week later it is time to bid adieu to the summer for real, a tentative cool has swept in, the tart morning chill a fresh and welcome start to the day.
It is that sweet time of year, the flowers still clinging on to some of their resplendence; I’m thankful for the beauty and colour before the starkness of winter.
Note: The photos feature from a visit to The Forgotten Gardens of Easton Lodge, near Dunmow, Essex mid-September which is only open to visitors every Thursday and one Sunday a month.
Sometimes one just needs an embrace and Sally Page’s The Book of Beginnings is a huge enveloping hug of a novel!
The heart and soul of the book is about friendship and just as the characters in the book became firm friends, I felt just the same reading the chapters, joining them on their trails, their joys, and their journey to finding their true selves. By the end, it was hard to say goodbye to them all.
Within this beautifully crafted novel the author, through the close third person point of view, captures Jo Sorsby as she arrives in London and her uncle’s beloved albeit rather dated stationery shop. Sadly her Uncle Wilbur was recently diagnosed with dementia and Jo’s mother kindly asked if she would mind looking after the shop for a while. The answer was an unequivocal yes. (‘Sometimes a heartbeat is all the time it takes to reach a decision’.) Not only is Jo a stationery nerd with many happy memories of joining her uncle in his beloved place as a child, but she is also suffering following a recent break-up.
Quickly the reader is drawn into the profound loneliness and heartache of Jo’s life which is in the middle of a devastating flux following the break up of her long-term relationship with the infamous James. A man she realised everyone else detested. At last with the care and love from unexpected and unlikely new friends and childhood and work friends, Jo begins to understand James’s manipulation and control over her.
Her salvation is the shop and its quirky set of characters – two especially become her rock.
One is the wonderful and wise Vanishing Vicar, Reverend Ruth. What caused her to suddenly depart her parish home mid-meal? Ruth’s wit, inherent wisdom and kindness help Jo and others around her, yet at times such deep anxiety and sadness overwhelm her. How can Jo come to Ruth’s aid? A septuagenarian called Malcolm is another regular visitor and he seeks shelter in the shop following an accident. The tight-knit trio is formed and it is a joy to follow their quirky and close friendship as their journeys unfold and this includes their excursions to Highgate Cemetery to help Malcolm write his first ghost book; here they flit into the lives of some of the deceased, imagining their conversations.
Furthermore, as Jo begins to revel in the joy of discovering herself along the way she longs to unravel the stories and secrets around her including that of her best friend Lucy since primary school. Why has Lucy suddenly become withdrawn? She feels the distance and loss keenly, aware this is harder to bear than losing James. (‘Could an out-of-step friendship make you feel ill? Now, she thinks it can’)
As the unusual group becomes ever closer, Jo’s new neighbours also become pivotal in her life. Two neighbouring shops are the opticians and a tattoo parlour. Lando and his family become good friends. Meanwhile, Jo slowly begins to realise that Eric The Viking as she mentally labelled the optician, and embarrassingly blathered this out loud to him, could become important to her as they share much more than just a deep interest in fountain pens and poetry! Alas, following various misunderstandings her awakening of her feelings towards him seems to be too late.
Throughout the book, the customers of the shop are a delightful mix of people, their love of all things stationery creating fleeting friendships as she effectively creates a self-help environment.
Sally Page’s writing is superb, skilfully weaving the characters and their stories into this beautiful novel. At times it is almost lyrical, one saying Uncle Wilbur’s sayings runs like a chorus through the book, and Jo quickly realises that her uncle was referring to much more than fountain pens and paper when he said: ‘A place for everything and everything in its place.’ May we all remember this in our own lives!
I love how this wonderful whimsical cross-generational tale of friendship breaks down the barriers of loneliness and isolation faced by people at crisis points; friendships which continue into their everyday lives. After all, ‘the joy of having a best friend was one of humanity’s best-kept secrets.’
I love how quickly I became caught up in Jo’s and her friends’ lives.
I love the warm and engaging writing and story-telling.
I love stationery shops and by the end of the book eager to head out to buy a fountain pen, maybe one like the new ones bought into stock by Jo. Just like her many customers, I too have my own favourite fountain pen story!
Finally, as a huge fan of the author’s debut novel The Keeper of Stories, I am overjoyed to feel that her second novel is even better … I just hope I don’t have to wait too long for her next creative endeavour!
Many thanks to the publisher HarperCollins UK for granting my request to read a pre-release copy of this book via NetGalley in exchange for an honest and impartial review.
RATING: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
PUBLISHER: HarperCollins UK
PUBLICATION DATE: 28th September 2023
GENRE: General Fiction (Adult), Romance, Women’s Fiction
AVAILABLE: AMAZON UK: KINDLEPAPERBACK Amazon US – hopefully it will soon be released in US soon.
ABOUT SALLY PAGE
After studying history at university, Sally moved to London to work in advertising. However, in her spare time she studied floristry at night school and eventually opened her own flower shop. She soon came to appreciate that flower shops offer a unique window into people’s stories and eventually she began to photograph and write about this floral life in a series of non-fiction books. Later, she continued her interest in writing when she founded her fountain pen company, Plooms.co.uk.
In her debut novel, The Keeper of Stories, Sally combines her love of history and writing with her abiding interest in the stories people have to tell. Sally now lives in Dorset. Her eldest daughter, Alex, is studying to be a doctor and her youngest daughter is the author, Libby Page.
Down a narrow side street in a small market town in Suffolk is the entrance to the home of one of Britain’s most renowned artists – Thomas Gainsborough. Born in the town of Sudbury in 1727 the home of his birth and childhood is now a popular and iconic house / museum.
In the past few years, the ramshackle previous home has undergone a major refurbishment and it was with excitement and slight trepidation that I headed down the street, past the house from the 1400s to the new main entrance – a bold modern three-storey building.
We were warmly greeted by staff and the new museum was explained in detail. First, we were advised to head to the top floor for panoramic views overlooking the town. What excellent advice and although I know the area well I could not help but be awed by the views of below and especially of the building and garden of our destination – Gainsborough’s House.
Standing there, in the newest of buildings, looking out to one built six hundred years ago, one would expect incongruity, a clash of centuries, but the addition and changes blend thoughtfully and cohesively together.
Once downstairs, having seen a couple of extra exhibitions on the other floors, we pushed open the heavy dark door leading to the start of the visit proper.
Initially, the dour gloom overwhelmed me before I took a sudden gasp of breath; within the gallery room hangs the most wondrous display of Gainsborough’s paintings.
I had seen many before and it is as if I were welcoming friends. They are perfectly lit.
The heavenly light from the landscapes emits its own brightness and life.
The portraits are exquisite, the women captured with depth and elegance.
The men display at times hidden pomposity, ensuring their grandeur and wealth are on display for all. One wonders how the artist had the patience with them all, only to learn he did not! Gainsborough did not enjoy having sitters and probably as a result turned out to be an extraordinarily fast painter.
All around is such incredible art I can’t help but sit down in the tranquil reverential silence and absorb the magical beauty surrounding me, including the stunning painting of these two dogs, their eyes so full of life I felt they were about to come bounding out the picture.
From this unexpected and dramatic introduction, we headed out to the serenity of the garden. Here an ancient four-hundred-year-old mulberry tree still bears fruit.
The yellow-painted house was just ahead and it was with intrigue I entered the house.
As Gainsborough’s House originally dates back to the medieval period some of the original beams from the era are visible. Also on show is an example of the style of the original build using wattle and daub (sticks & mud basically!). Gainsborough’s father, a merchant, ensured the family home was revamped in the modern Georgian style and much of the house remains as such.
On previous visits, the downstairs front room was a higgedly-piggledy collection of a tiny squashed cafe, a little shop corner and displays. Now the beautiful entrance hall leads us to the painting room.
This is the contemporary interior of what would have been a typical studio. As was the norm it is north facing (to avoid issues with changeable shadows through the day) and the room contains a rich array of artefacts. An easel with a canvas by Thomas Gainsborough’s nephew Thomas Gainsborough DuPont, who was the artist’s only assistant, is casually on display while nearby artist’s brushes are set on a wooden table ready to be picked up and used.
A glass case houses a unique collection of paint bladders – these are small animal bladders which contained the artist’s paint and a wooden stopper to ensure they were kept fresh. A large selection of these were found in the attic and there is good reason to believe they belonged to Gainsborough himself.
In the middle of the room is a most magnificent Star Printer which creates pictures from copper plate etchings and there is a stunning one made by Gainsborough on display.
Walking around the house one cannot help but reflect what it would have been like for Gainsborough to grow up here. His passion for painting was nurtured and encouraged by his father and Gainsborough was allowed to leave for London to learn more about the craft aged thirteen. His passion for nature, particularly the county countryside, is evident in his work although he turned to portraits, partly as a necessity to earn a living and he was a great admirer of Van Dyck’s work which is reflected in his paintings.
Gainsborough’s other love was music and the Music Room upstairs, which is accessed by the elegant and sweeping staircase, houses the country’s only double-manual harpsichord and this dates from 1738.
In the Constable room several of this other famous artist’s work is on display. John Constable was a close friend of Gainsborough and is said to have been influenced by Gainsborough creatively. Constable’s landscapes are legendary and great to see some of the smaller ones here. A case displays some of John Constable’s original set of brushes and also one of the artist’s most treasured items, a model of a horse made by Gainsborough.
With our hearts and minds replete with art and history we headed back to the garden and the new cafe. In harmonious quiet we contemplated the incredible history on our doorstep, the stunning art in such a close and intimate setting, all in the original home of the great artist. Mulling over the visit, we turned around and laughed – as we enjoyed our cakes we noticed another Gainsborough hanging nonchalantly behind us!
* “We love a genius for what he leaves and mourn him for what he takes away.” Thomas Gainsborough
Bronze statue of Gainsborough in a long overcoat, open to reveal his waist coat and cravat, as he looks over the market square in Sudbury, towards Gainsborough House, pausing from painting and resting a brush on the palette.
“As we look at his pictures we find tears in our eyes and know not what brings them.” John Constable
Sadly cancer is a disease that touches nearly all of us. Either by being personally afflicted or knowing family and friends with the illness or even worse, losing or tragically lost their lives to it.
It was during a planned operation that Miriam Hurdle’s cancer was discovered by chance, and just in time to possibly give her some chance of survival. In The Winding Road: A Journey of Survival Miriam Hurdle chronicles her battle with a particularly aggressive and dangerous form of cancer, melanoma on the inner organs. Specialists doctors were consulted and a gruelling ‘treatment’ plan was drawn up, and yet her chance of survival was slim – 10-20%.
Although one might expect a book about cancer to be grim, Miriam Hurdle’s is anything but this. There are two streams of narrative throughout the book and both are perfectly interwoven.
The factual details of her life before, during and after the cancer is full of clarity, as well as being exceedingly informative and explanatory. Interspersed are sections in italic which capture her thoughts, emotions and above all her love for her family and friends.
This enduring love for her husband and her daughter as well as the loving care from her friends is paramount and one feels that they helped boost this courageous woman through some of the toughest imaginable treatments. I imagine she lost count of the loving emails and cards she received as well as the meals cooked and delivered with such thought and kindness.
Although I am not a person with outspoken faith I can understand how Faith gave much support and comfort to the author, particularly during the challenging year of treatment; one feels it almost carried her through.
Throughout the writing is fluid and an extra sense of immediacy is achieved by the use of direct speech; the ones between Miriam and her daughter, Mercy, are incredibly emotive.
I am in awe of Miriam’s strength and perseverance during her cancer battle but also in her courage to revisit the year by writing this book. Her title could not be more apt as it was indeed a long and at times torturous ‘winding road’.
I highly recommend this moving, powerful and inspirational book to all interested in both personal cancer experiences as well as to those wishing to clearly understand what cancer patients are going through or perhaps, sadly if one is personally struggling with the disease.
Miriam Hurdle’s memoir about her cancer ordeal, The Winding Road: A Journey of Survival is one-year-old today July 30th. For two days from Sunday, 12:00 am, July 30 to Monday, 11:59 pm, July 31, 2023, the book will be available for free on Amazon.
ABOUT MIRIAM HURDLE
Miriam Hurdle is a member of the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators (SCBWI). She published four children’s books at twenty-six years old. Her poetry collection received the Solo “Medalist Winner” for the New Apple Summer eBook Award and achieved bestseller status on Amazon. Miriam writes poetry, short stories, memoir, and children’s books. She earned a Doctor of Education from the University of La Verne in California. After two years of rehabilitation counseling, fifteen years of public-school teaching and ten years in school district administration, she retired and enjoys life with her husband in southern California, and the visits to her daughter, son-in-law, and granddaughters in Oregon. When not writing, she engages in blogging, gardening, photography, and traveling.
Please connect further with Miriam Hurdle on the following links:
Beneath God’s arches resides the travelling table, Its glistening onyx boards a contradiction.
After all, it should not be here, how is it possible after its 5000-year journey?
One fair day as the Stone Age drew to a close an acorn took root amongst the giant oak forests in the East Anglian Fenlands.
As the moon cast its ethereal light upon the monumental 60-metre trees the sapling flourished.
It joined the canopies of the other oaks Shrouding the people beneath Protecting, becoming part of their landscape.
This, the Jubilee Oak, was indestructible. Until the world altered. Until the sea levels rose. Roots loosened, it crashed To its airless grave.
Untouched for five millennia Resting in the pitch black of peat A preserver. Untouched until the 21st Century, When at last Unearthed!
Fourteen metres of black oak released from its shroud of earth Fourteen metres of jet-black oak trunk Survived, intact.
The magical fusion of the ground’s iron and the tree’s tannins creating the black in the oak ensuring this holy grail of wood.
Experts consulted, advised and directed, a sawmill from Canada flew to help To saw on site Ten perfect consecutive boards.
With the craft of carpentry the combination of skill and passion the unity of artistry and knowledge ALL paid HOMAGE to the beloved Oak Tree
A table designed, boards planed and dried. The Table for the Nation completed.
In majesty, it resides beneath God’s arches.
Now it is time to pay OUR respects.
In reverential silence, visitors gaze upon the table, making a pilgrimage along its length Then back up on the other side.
Fingers caressing the boards, eyes admiring the sheen of darkness. A play of light and dark, An incongruous anomaly in reality.
Now and then people bend down, Admiring the copper sheath below, Then up they appear, once again walking along tracing the winding mysterious curves of the boards
Sweeping curves mirroring the expansive Fenland Landscape, as sweeping as the sea that failed to devour it.
Note: The above post was inspired by a visit to view the Jubilee Oak tree while it was in residency at Ely Cathedral, Cambridgeshire, UK. (It is currently at Rochester Cathedral, Kent.) The table was unveiled in honour of HM Queen Elizabeth II in 2022, the year of the Platinum Jubilee and hence its name.
The ancient oak trees grew to a height of 60 metres (197 feet) and dwarf oaks of today whose average height is about 20 metres (65 feet).
Read more about The Fenland Black Oak Project here.
He didn’t know if he had a name. The very concept of names did not exist. Rather a memory fluttered at the edges of his emotions, the fuzziness of fun, a memory of rolling on the ground, play fighting with the other brown bear cubs. Overall an undefinable affection for others existed within this bear.
Then two years of isolation had wrapped itself around him like a winter duvet and through it Bruno (let you and I give him a name!) revelled in each and every season.
Through the colourful Spring, flowers erupted with dazzling displays and wildlife awoke around him. In Summer Bruno feasted on berries and odd morsels of elk meat however the midges became as bothersome as a thorn in his pad and the heat baked his fur. He sought shelter under the towers of spruce, a humming retreat of whispering shade and cooling plush moss. Autumn felt like the twilight of his life, a brightness remained yet the welcome bite of cold taunted his senses. Winter was Bruno’s favourite season, a time to strike out across the snow, sinking into it with a slightly satisfying scrunch, a caress.
Yet this second winter a loneliness gathered upon him just as the snow rested upon the fir tree branches, layer upon layer of inexplicable malaise.
The wolf, shall we say, Lobo, had been tracking Bruno for days. Rather ineptly Bruno felt, the wolf’s scent drifting across the landscape, his noisy traverse audible for all able to hear subsonically.
There he was across the frozen lake, a dusting of snow upon the icy tundra. Bruno stood still in the safety of the trees before stepping cautiously forward. Lobo mirrored Bruno’s stillness across the lake, and then he suddenly appeared from the camouflage of the dark trucks. Halfway across they were nearly nose to nose; Bruno and Lobo paused.
Bizarrely Lobo lowered his head into a subservient pose in front of the bear and meekly he inched forward to Bruno, his neck twisting away and with one final step rested his head upon Bruno’s neck and buried it into his thick brown pelt. Bruno reciprocated by bending his head forward and together the two wild beasts hugged in camaraderie.
The unique moment captured in a photo, their unity and togetherness preserved beyond the few seconds.
In a perfect synchronistic motion, they pulled away, as if on a general’s command to part ways, each stepping back a few steps, the longing yawning aching arch of friendship collapsing into the opening chasm. With a barely discernible nod between them, the bear and wolf returned to their lonely existence deep in the forest.
What better way to dispel the gloom and weariness of a long winter than visiting a 900-year-old outstanding Norman castle and its beautiful idyllic grounds on a sunny Sunday in February!?
The imposing Hedingham Castle is visible from miles around, towering above the quaint village, the stone stark edifice both daunting and majestic.
Following the Norman invasion of England, the majority of the Anglo-Saxon lands were taken over. The lands of Hedingham, North-East Essex, England were given to Aubrey de Vere I by William the Conqueror in 1080 in recognition of the knight’s fierce valour and loyalty. The family were zealous crusaders! The original castle was built of timber in the traditional motte and bailey style however Aubrey de Vere II ordered this to be torn down. It was replaced in 1140 by the building of the remarkable Norman castle and as the family were extremely rich they could afford to face the whole building in stone which was unusual for the time! As one of the great Norman castles Hedingham Castle hosted many royal visitors including Henry VII, Henry VIII and Queen Elizabeth I (probably en route to Gosfield Hall, read more on my post here)!
The de Vere family became powerful and influential members of the royal court, many of its ancestors holding important positions within the royal circle, including that of Lord Chamberlain to the monarch. Furthermore, they provided vital military force in their own right and became ennobled when granted the title Earl of Oxford.
Hedingham Castle, a key military stronghold, is built on a hill which gave it an excellent defensive position. A deep moat runs around the castle and in Norman times the area would have been kept clear to ensure visibility of approaching enemies from miles away. As its defensive significance waned in the eighteenth-century trees were planted to create soft woodland witnessed today on the long moat banks carpeted by snowdrops in February and these are still popular in the 2020s.
The original point of entry onto the castle grounds would have been a wooden drawbridge however this was replaced in 1496 with a Tudor bridge. On the grounds just outside this brick bridge a new owner of the castle, Sir William Ashhurst (a banker and politician) ordered the building of the Queen Anne House in 1719 and this still exists and it overlooks the lakes and landscaped gardens. The house replaced the 1498 buildings which included barns, stalls, granaries and storehouses.
The large green expanse surrounding the castle is known as the tilting lawn and here the knights would practice their fighting skills as well as hold regular jousting events. Also, archery and other battle skills were honed and displayed here. Nowadays, throughout the summer, there are mock traditional jousting festivals replicating the activities of the medieval knights – the power of the horses and the ability of the ‘knights’ are truly awe-inspiring.
In the seventeenth century, the castle became superfluous as a defensive building and it was quickly falling into a state of disrepair. As a result in 1600 the 17th Earl of Oxford demanded that the majority of the castle be pulled down and what is left today is the main keep. This keep is one of the most impressive keeps in the country; another famous one is at the Tower of London.
The keep is neck-achingly high and standing below it one can barely see the top 37 metres / 110 feet above. The walls are incredibly thick and strong at nearly 4 metres / 12 feet wide. This was a castle and keep built to keep the enemy out and its nobles, knights and families safe!
On the lowest level of the castle were the dungeon and storage. A stone staircase from outside leads onto the ground floor of the castle and here, on the garrison floor, the soldiers would have been sequestered. The small slits of windows surrounding the room let in just enough light and were wide enough for archers to shoot out at approaching enemies but small enough to make sure that no missiles entered the keep.
A garderobe (primitive toilet) is housed in one corner of the garrison floor, and is mostly a seat with a long open drop to the outside!
The beautiful mysterious staircase runs within the walls up to the other levels of the keep. The original stone steps were replaced by brick in the fifteenth century and the next floor leads to the stunning banqueting hall.
The hall is one of the finest domestic interiors still fully intact. It is a splendid room and towering across its length is an awe-inspiring breathtaking arch. The arch is the largest existing Norman one in England at 8.5 metres / 28 feet wide and 6 metres /20 feet high. The room would have been the headquarters for the Earl of Oxford; here the Earl lived with his family and from here the castle and estate were administered. The walls would have been covered by rich tapestries and rugs. The vast space would have been kept warm by the giant fireplace with its distinctive elaborate double chevron patterns renowned in Norman times – carvings seen throughout the castle.
Compared to the rich and luxurious carvings and wall hangings, the furniture would have been simple, with trestle tables, benches and wooden chests while rushes covered the floor.
Medieval helmets!Goose or swan feathered quill in ink pot.
The diet of the time was based heavily on game such as deer and pheasant while the diners were entertained from the minstrel’s gallery above.
The ever-narrowing inner staircase leads to the minstrel’s gallery, a haunting corridor tunnelled inside the thick castle walls and running all around the banqueting hall. From here the travelling musicians, jesters and magicians would perform their craft, clearly visible from below.
The Minstrel’s Gallery
A typical medieval banquet menu!A explanation of Medieval Money!
The top level of the keep was the dormitory section of the castle and more simplistic in its decor and layout.
It is time to exit through the magnificent double chevron-carved arched double doors of the castle. These doors date from the 1870s and were originally from the Blue Boar, a local pub in the village.
The main double-door entrance onto the tilting lawn
After a memorable morning of exploration, one becomes fully immersed in the incredible history of Hedingham Castle. A castle which was twice successfully besieged for short periods, once by King John in 1216 and a year later by the future King Louis XV11. A castle whose owner, Edward de Vere, 17th Earl of Oxford, is strongly rumoured to be the true writer of Shakespeare’s work (if interested read more here). A castle filled with the aura of its extraordinary past.
The dovecote which was built 1720
Stepping out into the sunshine was that the sound of battle? The voices of medieval folk on the tilting lawns? With a head full of facts and figures, with imagination over-heating on stories from the past, a refreshing stroll of the grounds beckoned. A time to stop and admire the snowdrops, the beautiful gardens and the lakes. Near one lake stands a dovecote from 1720 whose 460 nest boxes supplied meat and eggs for the family.
A sense of scale to the castle – I’m waving hello!A breather after a fun time stepping back 900 years!
The twentieth century saw Hedingham Castle fall back into the fold of the de Vere family. Its new owners, the Lindsays, are part of the famous family through inheritance. Through their hard work, the castle and its grounds are once again part of the community through its open days of jousting, car shows and open-air theatre as well as being a popular place for school educational visits. Furthermore, it is a unique and memorable location for weddings!
I stumbled across Everbody’s Free (To Wear Sunscreen) for the first time last week and was struck by its profound wise message. Certain sections of the sage advice caused me to cry up at my youth, and others had me laughing at how the world never changes! How could anyone sum up life in just a few minutes but they did!
Here are just a few snippets:
‘The older you get, the more you need the people you knew when you were young.’
‘Don’t be reckless with other people’s hearts, don’t put up with people who are reckless with yours.’
‘Know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubblegum.’
‘Do one thing everyday that scares you.’
‘Keep your old love letters, throw away your old bank statements.’(Exactly what I did last summer when sorting boxes in the loft!)
If you’ve heard the song before I hope you enjoy listening to it again. If you’re hearing Everbody’s Free (To Wear Sunscreen) for the first time, prepare to feel as if your emotions have gone through the tumble dryer, coming out uplifted, seeing the world with new clarity and peace! And don’t forget to slap on the sun cream! I always do!
The song is based on a hypothetical commencement speech by newspaper columnist Mary Schmidt for the Chicago Tribune which was published in June 1997. Like so many others, musician Baz Luhrmann thought the essay was one given at a graduation ceremony at MIT by Kurt Vonnegut but as Baz Luhrmann tried to gain permission to use it for his song he discovered its true origins. Everybody’s Free (To Wear Sunscreen), also known as The Sunscreen Song, reached number one in Ireland and the United Kingdom.
‘More than Coffee’ by Lauren Scott is a beautiful and reflective celebration of life; a book of poems and prose that flows with ease between memories of the author’s life, of the six decades of a loving marriage of her parents and of her family, to present day hiking trails, between the wonder of nature and the seasons to the amusing encounter with spiders!
The pieces are imbued with warmth, love, light humour and sadness; overall togetherness. Life in all its facets is explored and ensures that the reader reflects on their own lives and those closest to them, reminding us of the treasures within even the most insignificant of items or events.
A late-comer to hiking and camping, Lauren captures the magic and enriching moments of being in the wonder of solitude in nature.
‘It’s about those quiet, nostalgic moments sitting on a smooth slab of granite, captivated by the sights and sounds of wilderness surroundings.’
The book begins with her first ever hike in her fifties and in ‘Silver Heirlooms’ she describes setting out her mother’s silverware which brings moving reflections on how this previously normal household cutlery is now filled with nostalgic significance and poignancy as her grief over the loss of her parents eases to help her move forward.
The power of nature is captured throughout and it is a privilege to join her on the trail, pausing to appreciate that ‘listening to the whispers/among the trees/our time here/is a gift.’ Just as Lauren Scott feels that the ‘tranquility embraces’ so the reader is enveloped in a heartwarming embrace.
The book fulfils the promise of being a ‘snapshot of memories’ and one of my favourites could easily be turned into a novel, I feel. ‘Ninety-seven candles’ is a beautifully penned piece about her father-in-law Wil and his extraordinary life. During his nigh hundred years of life, Wil has twice been joyously married yet endured two heartbreaking losses. However, his positive attitude and gentle humour still shine through.
A humour shared by her father, who when asked the secret to reaching his nineties, declared with aplomb, ‘the olive in the martini’.
Through her gifted writing, Lauren captures the fun first meeting with her husband; who knew selling a fridge could be so life-changing! On their first date, it was ‘as though we’ve danced together a million times before’. Lauren has a gift for seeing beyond the ordinary and in ‘Cake’ she weaves in descriptions of her bridal shower, her parents and children – the universal force of love and life is re-affirmed.
Since singing is part of Lauren’s being it is perhaps not surprising that the powerful and intense poem ‘Belonging’ is a love song to her husband and soulmate, Matt.
‘Do you trust me? Will you take my hand and let me lead the way to a place transcending the boundaries of our reality? Let us get lost in the tranquility – dancing to the majesty of the surroundings, feeling the rhythm vibrate through our bones. For as long as our hearts desire, this is our destination. For time is but a memory. Its existence leaves no trace on the path where we tread. There is only you, me, and the intensity of our belonging to each other.‘
‘The Phone Call’ especially resonated with me as a recent ‘empty-nester’; I related to the gems of long chats with children moved away, the love and pride as they make their way into the world, but the pain too. As Lauren’s son is soon to embark upon his path across the country he tries to reassure his parents and show them how this is a positive experience for them – a comment that had me laughing out loud and so typical! ‘Mom and Dad can reap the benefits of having the house to themselves.’
In ‘More than Coffee’ Lauren realises her dream to be ‘the narrator of my own stories’ and it is with gratitude, joy and chuckling that I could sit down, with a cuppa, and join in this wonderful, uplifting and absorbing collection; peace settling upon me. I only hope I will learn to collect my memories with equal clarity, wisdom and warmth, to reach a deeper understanding of life and its joys and tragedies. ‘More than Coffee’ is a true tonic for the soul and I cannot recommend this book highly enough!
Lauren writes poetry, memoir, and fiction short stories who lives in California with her husband of thirty-three years and their chocolate lab; they have two grown children. She has authored two collections of poetry: New Day, New Dreams (2013) and Finding a Balance (2015). Her latest book, More than Coffee: Memories in Verse and Prose was published in 2021. And in 2022, she contributed four poems to the anthology: Poetry Treasures 2: Relationships. Lauren writes about family, experiencing loss, finding joy in the smallest things, and nature from her many backpacking and camping adventures.
Parallel to her passion for writing is her love for reading. Whether it is a gripping thriller or a heartwarming romance, she enjoys exploring different worlds and meeting diverse characters, drawing similarities to reality that translate into her own writing. Her writing projects are sometimes serious – drawn from painful subjects and raw emotions – or they spotlight her silly side – pulled from humorous moments captured in photographs.
Lauren is inspired to write from her love of nature and the marvelous wild world that surrounds her: the smell of the woods, the sound of a babbling brook, and the chorus of birds singing. Recent backpacking trips with her husband along the California coast and Sierra Nevada mountains have stirred up thoughts to pen about love, lost friendship, family, and the possibility that anything can happen. Hikes along the Paper Mill Creek remind her that life is fragile. From trout hatchlings to swallowtail butterflies, Lauren marvels at how the world is interconnected and that every living thing matters. She hopes her readers will find a little nugget of delight, comfort, or understanding in her poetry and stories – some detail that resonates with them beyond her words.
Finally, Lauren Scott shares her beautiful poetry, vignettes on life, and fiction short stories on her engaging blog Baydreamer~ a thread of words from every stitch of life ~. Enjoy meeting her there and join Lauren for a cup of virtual coffee and chat.
Annika Perry 