Cumbria (for National Poetry Day)

It's National Poetry Day today, so here's one I wrote earlier...

Cumbria

Cumbria travels with me,
a two-inch ragged oval on the atlas
penned in by the blue motorway.

Larger scale, I can contour the kitchen wall,

Exploring hidden valleys with coffee in my hand.

Each mountain conjures a postcard:
Fairfield - where sudden snow lit up the air;
Wetherlam - where muddy sheep stole sandwiches;
Coniston - where a thunder-storm tore the sky and day apart;
Mardale Head - where we climbed
    away from cars and cares
    and lay map-flat on the grass
    listening to the skylarks
    and heather humming bees
just off the pink dotted Right of Way.

Fiona Lewis

You can find out more about National Poetry Day 2012 from the official website, and from the Poetry Society, who also have an events page.

Perspective

Yesterday morning I heard BabyGirl saying "Climb. High." This is a child who is fearless, and at 20 months is regularly found balancing ("look no hands!") at the top of the slide, or on the kitchen table, or on the back of the sofa, so a part of me was suddenly very afraid. I abandoned all hope of a nice long shower, turned off the water and hurriedly grabbed a towel...

This is where she was:

She continued to climb on and off the book for several minutes, before inviting me to do it too, and holding my hand to keep me steady. I wonder what we'll climb next!

Communication without words

Kidnapped, and Penguin

We tend to rely on the written word for a great deal of our modern day communications. But is this as wonderful as we think? Certainly language has its limitations, and is notoriously open to mis-interpretation. Great writers over the centuries have illustrated its power to persuade, confuse, incite and threaten as well as to teach, inspire, inform and entertain. Local and personal idioms render writing less simple than it might at first appear, and we often hear nowadays of the difficulty of reading expression in emails, text and tweets. There are still many cultures around the world that remain entirely oral, whether through their own determination not to write anything down, or because the way they live their lives means they have no need of it – a small tribe, who see each other all the time, and remember their history, might see little need for writing. The Druids, who lived in Iron Age Britain, Ireland and Gaul, are said to have avoided writing down their knowedge in part because they felt such knowledge was powerful and of great importance and should only be passed down to their own, and not spread about the place in the way a written text might be.

What I’m really interested in is the variety of other ways of communicating, from the Victorian language of flowers to much more complex systems. One of my favourites from literature is the wonderful example from Robert Louis Stevenson’s Kidnapped. Set not so very long ago, really, and on our own shores, the scene involves David Balfour and Alan Breck hiding out in the woods, and needing money. Alan decides to send a message to his friend John Breck Maccoll, asking for help. He does this by making a cross out of a sprig of pine and a sprig of birch, tied together with a strip of cloth from his coat, and adding a button which once belonged to his father. David, puzzled by this, asks Alan what he thinks his friend will make of finding such a strange thing on his windowsill.

"Well," says Alan, "I wish he was a man of more penetration, for by my troth I am afraid he will make little enough of it! But this is what I have in my mind. This cross is something in the nature of the crosstarrie, or fiery cross, which is the signal of gathering in our clans; yet he will know well enough the clan is not to rise, for there it is standing in his window, and no word with it. So he will say to himsel',The clan is not to rise, but there is something. Then he will see my button, and that was Duncan Stewart's. And then he will say to himsel', The son of Duncan is in the heather, and has need of me."

"Well," said I, "it may be. But even supposing so, there is a good deal of heather between here and the Forth."

"And that is a very true word," says Alan. "But then John Breck will see the sprig of birch and the sprig of pine; and he will say to himsel' (if he is a man of any penetration at all, which I misdoubt), Alan will be lying in a wood which is both of pines and birches. Then he will think to himsel', that is no so very rife hereabout; and then he will come and give us a look up in Corrynakiegh. And if he does not, David, the devil may fly away with him, for what I care; for he will no be worth the salt to his porridge."

"Eh, man," said I, drolling with him a little, "you're very ingenious! But would it not be simpler for you to write him a few words in black and white?"

"And that is an excellent observe, Mr. Balfour of Shaws," says Alan, drolling with me; "and it would certainly be much simpler for me to write to him, but it would be a sore job for John Breck to read it. He would have to go to the school for two-three years; and it's possible we might be wearied waiting on him."

Alan’s hope that John would interpret his twig cross in this manner (which he does, turning up a couple of days later to offer the help they need), is evidence that within his clan this kind of language of symbols was well understood, and a powerful means of communication; David’s incomprehension also demonstrates the usefulness of such symbolic language for keeping secrets - had a Redcoat found it, they would probably have realised that it was a message of some kind, but they would not have been able to interpret it.

And if you haven’t yet read Penguin by Polly Dunbar, please do – it’s a wonderful picture book about a boy who becomes increasingly frustrated by his new friend Penguin’s inability (or refusal!) to talk or communicate with him in any way.

At last, after the (disconcertingly blue) lion eats Ben for being so noisy (a subtle warning to all those of us who talk too much?), the penguin rescues him, and finally tells him what he's thinking:

 

 Who needs words when you can say all that?

The Handmade Makers Market Getting to Know You Challenge

Today I’m participating in Handmade Makers Market’s ‘Getting To Know You Challenge’. They love handmade and believe in shopping local and direct from the makers, crafters and designers themselves and so do I. Find out more about the Handmade Makers Challenge and answer the questions for yourself here.

First up, give us a quick introduction, who are you, what do you do?
I'm Fiona, I make jewellery using sterling silver, pearls, semi-precious stones, and funky glass beads. I'm also a full-time mum, an amateur musician, and have a heap of unfinished sewing, knitting, crochet and writing projects on the go! 

Give us one unusual or surprising fact about yourself, something we wouldn’t expect!
I once spent a week rowing down the Thames in a Victorian skiff, as in "Three Men in a Boat".

What are the 5 words that best describe you?
Determined, creative, fussy, impatient, passionate.

What do you make? Perhaps you are you a crafter or designer? Is it a hobby or a business? Perhaps you make something less tangible, like happiness or connections between people?
I try to make the kind of jewellery I would like to wear myself, and my five year old daughter is always egging me on to make things for her, so I now have several designs for children's bracelets and necklaces. I also love making patchwork (and have two unfinished quilts in my project pile), and will one day make good friends with my sewing machine and make clothes too. The jewellery is something I started when my older daughter was little: I'd given up work due to post-natal depression, and desperately needed something that was just for me. I wanted to create something beautiful and grown-up, and carve out that little bit of space for me! And when friends and family saw what I was making they encouraged me, so I gave my business a name and now I sell on Etsy as Morgan and Pink. I'm in the process of designing a range of gift vouchers, and am hoping to do a couple of Christmas craft fairs - it's always fun selling face to face.

Describe your normal day (if you have such a thing!)
My days are pretty much dictated by my small children, so the morning is a scramble to get out of the house in time for school, then there's usually something for the little one - playgroup, or toddler music or the like - then if she has a nap I get on with some jewellery making (if I can resist the urge to do housework instead!). Mid-afternoon it's school pick-up time, then once I've navigated supper, baths and bedtime stories, I try to settle down at my desk for a couple of hours work in the evening. There's never enough time!

Where are you happiest?
On a mountain - I love the Lake District, but have also had some spectacularly beautiful walking holidays in the Alps.

What the best piece of advice you’ve ever been given?
Don't be afraid of the 'shitty first draft' - it was advice given on a writing course, but works equally well for other crafts.

What talent are you most proud of and why?
My music; it makes my heart sing to be part of something so powerful as a good orchestra or choir, and I feel very lucky to be able to do that.

What would you like to be better at and why?
Knitting! I love snuggly jumpers and can never find flattering ones, so I'd love to make my own one day.

What would you like to have more of and why?
Time, so I could do more of everything I love; and fresh air and exercise, because they make me feel good and make everything else feel easier to deal with.

If you could be given any gift what would it be?
Patience, humility and the grace to make others feel good about themselves. Oh, and I'd love to be able to fly. Failing that, a week on a Arvon writing course would be amazing.

If you could give any gift to anyone, what would you give and to whom?
To my children, the gift of happiness, and lots of wonderful books.

What’s the next big thing you’re looking forward to in your life?
When my youngest daughter starts at nursery next year I'll suddenly have a lot more time to myself. I'm already planning far too many things to fit into the hours available!

What’s the item your house that makes you smile the most, maybe it’s a piece of artwork or furniture or maybe a secret culinary ingredient, cd or dvd?
The kitchen wall, where we ripped off the sticky mustard-yellow vinyl wallpaper (yes, really!) left by the previous owners, and then covered the space in family photographs and my children's drawings and paintings. It's bright and cheerful and keeps changing as we swap the pictures around - our very own art gallery!

You can find out more about the Handmade Makers Market and their upcoming events here.

Building a den in the woods

As some of you know already, I'm a big fan of outdoor play and fresh air, so as the last week of the holidays began, I decided we needed to get one more good fix of both. I've always fancied building a den in the woods, and it was an easy task to convince my 5 year-old that she wanted to do this too. We googled "how to build a den in the woods" and found this fantastic instruction leaflet. It's beautifully designed, in the style of the instruction leaflets for assembling Ikea flat pack, which appealed in all sorts of ways! And it works.

So first we paced around a bit to get the little one to sleep in the pushchair, parked her in the shade, and searched for a suitable tree. We then found a forked branch of the right length to prop up the 'roof beam' and started scavenging in earnest for the branches to make the sides:

We then added more sticks, and grass to plug the gaps (later in the year I reckon bracken would be a good choice), and took the occasional break to swing on nearby branches:

We were spectacularly lucky with the weather, with a beautifully sunny day, and the woods were kind to us, apart from some scratches sustained in the unnecessarily enthusiastic pursuit of some good branches buried in a bramble patch. My five year-old, more usually attired in pink dresses and party shoes, consented to wear sensible mucking-about-in-the-woods clothes and wellies, and announced unprompted, after an hour or so: "I'm really happy, doing this". We both were - it was one of those glorious times when you become completely absorbed in something, so much so that we forgot the time, and ended up spending a couple of hours more than we'd planned there. Luckily, I'd brought water, tea and biscuits, so it didn't matter that we didn't get home for lunch til nearly 3pm!

And here's the den. With a little more time, we might have made it even more impressive, but for a first go, I'm quite proud of it!

The Woodland Trust site has a link to the den building instructions mentioned above, and much more besides - well worth a look.

Book Review: Stop the Clock by Alison Mercer

Chick Lit comes of age

  

Stop the Clock is the debut novel by Alison Mercer, and tells the story of three university friends, Lucy, Tina and Natalie. With the certainty of youth, they each know what they want out of life, and ten years on, when the story really gets going, they appear to have it – Lucy has an apparently happy marriage, two children and a perfect home; Natalie is married to the boyfriend she’s dated since college, and is pregnant; Tina is living the single life (with a secret affair on the side) and has a byline in a national newspaper, just as she had always hoped. But, as the story goes on to explore, having what you wanted isn’t necessarily what you thought it would be...

It’s an engaging story, and a quick read – the sort where you feel deeply irritated to have to abandon it in order to make meals for your children, or go to the playground – but that’s not to say it’s flighty. It’s got a lot more to it than the sort of frothy high-heels-and-confetti novels that first gave chick-lit its name (and status). It’s not a simple romance, it’s about what happens after that. And it’s not all tied up neatly at the end, because life’s not like that. It also deals unflinchingly with childbirth, which is surprisingly rare in fiction given how many women go through it, and how willing most mothers are to share their birth stories with each other. It’s a brutal portrayal of hospital obstetrics [...Tina cried out, ‘Help me! Help me!’ and the doctor said, ‘Yes I think we will help you,’ and selected a pair of scissors and cut Tina open...] and doesn’t shy away from the effects of motherhood on a woman’s life, physique and perspective.

Most of all, it’s about the sisterhood of good friendships, and what that bond can sustain; the narrative moves fluently from one character to another so that you see all three of them responding to circumstances in their own way. It’s a wonderful heart-warming story of women living life, and dealing with what is thrown at them. Oh, and it’s funny too. Highly recommended! 

Alison has written an article in the Guardian about the birth scenes: you can read her article here.

Enid Blyton

My generation grew up with Enid Blyton, and I know I am not alone in feeling that her decline in popularity is a shame. It became fashionable 10 or 20 years ago to decry her dated style, sexist characters, incipient racism, simplistic plots, unrealistic denouements and limited vocabulary, and in some ways these criticisms are difficult to deny. And yet she has been one of the most successful authors of the twentieth century, and there are an awful lot of us who still regard her work as that which lit the flame of our reading. She's still in print, which says something about our continued affection for her, but I feel it's time for critics to be less grudging about her - she is due a more positive renaissance!

She adheres pretty much to what is now regarded as an essential formula in children's literature - the convention of making the parents or guardians absent or at least peripheral to the children's
activities, thus leaving them free to explore and tackle challenges on their own, getting into trouble, and getting themselves out of it again. This can be an exciting discovery for a relatively young reader exploring their first "proper" books - and she writes about real children, not anthropomorphised animals like so many other children's books. [I should add a caveat at this point: that I never read The Magic Faraway Tree, or Noddy and Big Ears. I began with the Secret Seven, and quickly moved on to the Adventure Series, the Famous Five, and Malory Towers, so what I'm saying is based entirely on those!]

Blyton has that magic touch, and the ability as Susan Hill puts it for "turning non-readers into readers": in simple terms, she writes exciting adventures and you have to be pretty hard-hearted not to get drawn in. The children in her stories are allowed access to the outside world in a way few modern children experience, and as such are pretty resourceful and used to using their own initiative, without the aid of magic or any gimmicks. As a child I was deeply envious of the way they'd just set off into the countryside with a rucksack full of picnic stuff and a map (in much the same way as I adored the Fell Farm series by Marjorie Lloyd, where the children go off and camp in the Lake District on their own) and I think this remains a big part of the appeal.

Blyton's characters undeniably live in a world that seems dated to us, but we can still identify with them, and long to take part in their adventures, whether that's a midnight feast in the dorm at Malory Towers, or tiptoeing through a secret passage by the wavering light of a torch. Yes, some of her attitudes stink (what comes to mind is the girls always doing the washing up, and George being told she can't muck in because she's not a boy...) but they need to be seen as very much of their time - and could provide useful springboards for discussion with a modern child about how attitudes have changed.

Just writing this blog post is making me want to raid the library for an armful of her books, and stock up on torch batteries so I can stay up late and read under the duvet...