Bird song at dawn

It’s not really worth a mention on its own in a newsletter of the year that has to fit on two sides of paper.
But a blog seems a good place for it to have its own little write up.

Around Easter time, a lot was going round my mind, and I had a few nights of not being able to sleep.  At all. I would usually get up and read in the sitting room for a while, but still not be able to drift off.

After a while, the light would gradually start to come up.  So one morning, I opened the window a little, and was able to hear the birds starting to sing. It was incredibly peaceful, and finally drifting off as they continued to sing was even better.

However, it’s one of those ‘can’t step in the same river twice‘ moments.  Even though birds do clearly do the dawn chorus thing on a regular basis, when I tried to capture this again a morning or two later, either the birds had decided to stay in bed longer, or I just couldn’t settle to sleep.

Not so long after, I did manage to get something of the feeling back, when listening to a new Kate Bush album.  I’m sure some readers would consider that Kate would induce sleeplessness in the first place, but the album has two discs – the second is a journey through a day.

And yes, it starts with bird song.  Every time I hear it, a little bit of my memory recalls: yes, it really is that special a sound.

 

Raindrops on roses…

I have no objection to whiskers on kittens either.  But the coffee pot going on on a Saturday morning, that is indeed one of my favourite things. 

Channel 4 can get away with a top 50 of programmes on an almost weekly basis, it seems. I don’t think cyberspace needs these from me as well, but an ode to a few things that make me happy, that should fit in nicely. 

Other happy things include sunny days.  Fairly obvious, but ever more necessary when you are in Scotland in the winter.  It doesn’t matter if it’s cold or hot.  It doesn’t actually matter if it rains at some point. But some sunshine to lift the spirits is good. There’s a nice level of sun building up outside as I type, and the co-incidence of sun and the weekend is particularly good. 

This is really meant to be a post about domestic things.  I like stocking the cupboards with food after the weekly shop. I like getting into bed when it’s been clean sheeted.  And I like sitting on the sofa in the sitting room, looking around me at pictures, cook books, a collection of jugs on the dresser. 

For all of my travels – and I enjoy a lot of them – it’s the coming home that’s important.  The making of meals that wouldn’t impress a visitor but say something about the Frydman home.  And yes, the freedom to make heated beverages whenever I want them (truly the British are not quite as cheerful abroad when a hotel room doesn’t include a kettle). 

 

 

Blogito, ergo sum

“I write online, therefore I am…”

No, it’s not that bad, honest.  I’m just writing lots of posts now to account for the last year.

I’m not a diary keeper on the scale of Michael Palin, who somehow seemed to keep a diary every day, amid the dead parrots and tropical fish called Wanda.

Nor am I a notebook keeper on par with Robert Crampton, writer for the Times, who has bike ride stats for several years at least.
But yes, I used to keep a daily diary.  I do have a notebook a year, with info on visits, meals out and the like.

I promise not to put the back catalogue online. But a little light writing is fun, particularly when: 1) it’s not required for work  2) I don’t have a quota and 3) the evening’s TV is less appealing.

I’ll see how much I keep writing when we’re into the New Year, the evenings (finally) get lighter again, and there are rival claims on my attention (spring bulbs to look at, perhaps?).

Malvern reunion

Malvern was where I spent my secondary school years.  As Mum and Dad moved up to Peebles, in the Scottish Borders, a few years ago, I’ve not been back for a while.

Thankfully, Malvern came to me in July, when my school friend Debbie came up to Edinburgh for a few days.  Between reminiscing with me about school days, and trading American history details with Dan, we kept her well occupied.

We even had some heat, although we explained this was not what a summer in Scotland was about.  We also sneaked her in to the wedding of some friends so she could experience a Scottish ceilidh, and lined up a man in a kilt to birl her roon the dance floor.

Debbie is now hard at work again in Cheltenham, keeping the young ladies in order.  I hope we’ll manage to make it down to visit her in the New Year – and perhaps a trip over to Malvern to see how it’s looking.

Kandinsky on the beach

We had a beach barbecue as a church in early July, at favourite beach Yellowcraigs, one of the main ones near to Edinburgh.

We spent some time digging on the beach with kids.  At one point, Dan drew three different pictures with a spade.  Having done a certain amount of answering ‘What’s that?’ with this particular little boy, it was Dan’s turn to be asked what he’d drawn.

He replied: this one’s Mondrian, that’s Picasso and and the one there is Kandinsky…

The little boy got his own back by doing some digging of his own, creating chocolate cake, chocolate biscuits and other sand-coloured things that could stand for further chocolate food.

You can decide for yourself which was the more creative…