‘The Millennium Centre looked bold in its bronze armour…’ You Can’t Go It Alone by Jessie Cahalin
Storm Dennis raged in Wales, and I sought sanctuary in the Millennium Centre for an experience on my bucket list – my first opera.
The space age reception area of the theatre prepared me to be transported to the alien world of opera. ‘Beam me up, Mozart,’ I muttered as I waited for The Marriage of Figaro to begin. Convinced I would need to abscond from the three and a half hours marathon during the interval, I planned the best route for the exit.
The space age reception area of the theatre prepared me to be transported to the alien world of opera
My great uncle, a coal miner from Barnsley, was a great fan of opera and blasted out the music on his gramophone. I never met Great Uncle Jimmy but of family legend deemed him eccentric for a Barnsley lad. Always amused by an opera loving miner in the family, I had to discover if one could inherit this passion.
Opera seduced me with the very first note. The poetic actions of the performers showed me the way into the narrative. And the incredible harmonies of the signing convinced me that my Level 2 seat was in heaven. Performers blended their actions and singing and taught me the emotional language of an operatic performance. Suspended in the drama, I hardly looked at the subtitles.
Inside the theatre before the performance
For three hours, I felt as if I was able to interpret the Italian language that seemed perfect for the expression of the emotions. Wow! I now understand that Uncle Jimmy would enter a trance like state to escape the darkness and toil of his life under the ground. And I know he warned my late father, ‘Don’t go down the pit, lad.’
There were layers and layers of humour and then emotions. I do not think I blinked throughout the entire performance because I could not miss one single detail of this musical tapestry. I loved the way the opera tested loyalty and love and relationships, but I was not prepared for the wonderful comedy.
I am in love with opera
To me the final scene seemed to be an expression of joy and happiness when everyone found their equilibrium. I reached in my handbag for water to ease the emotion in my throat. I couldn’t believe it! The curtain call arrived too soon. It couldn’t possibly be the end because I hadn’t heard Figaro’s Aria – the tune I’d attempted to warbled for months before this experience. Where was it? Well, now I realise this is in the Barber of Seville. A perfect ending for me as I will have to return to watch the Barber of Seville later in the year.
I am in love with opera. However, I’m unsure if this love is passed down through Uncle Jimmy, my father’s uncle. My mother also attended the opera for the first time and adored it too. I have found a new love!
“I speak of love awake I speak of love in my dreams, To the water, the shadows, the mountains, To the flowers, the grass, the fountains.” Mozart, The Marriage of Figaro.
On our pilgrimage to Canterbury, we decided to stop in Wye in Kent, for provisions. When we collected our daily bread in Wye Bakery, I found myself lost in another age. Allow me some creative liberty in my tale…
The quaint Wye Bakery is accessed via an ancient corridor constructed three hundred years ago.
An ancient, mysterious corridor constructed three hundred years ago
Walking through the corridor transported my imagination back in time. The Franklin, from The Canterbury Tales, invited us inside to taste the bread. Alas, we did not wish to dip the lovely bread into wine, particularly at such an early hour. We thanked the Franklin for his hospitality and bid him to return to Chaucer’s England. The ancient vision dissolved, as the aroma of fresh bread brought us back to the present day.
Mother and daughter are passionate about the health benefits of traditional, slow baking.
Inside, we were greeted by the baker Mrs Hickson, and her daughter. Mother and daughter are passionate about the health benefits of traditional slow baking. It is hoped that Mrs Hickson’s daughter will be able to apply her Nutrition Degree to the business.
The pastries were buttery, crumbly and utterly delicious. The bread had a wonderful robust structure and a delicate taste like sour dough. Is there anything more comforting than simple bread and butter? One could taste the attention to detail in every single crumb.
I heard Robert Browning say:
‘If thou tasteth a crust of bread, thou tasteth all the stars and all the heavens.’
‘If thou tasteth a crust of bread, thou tasteth all the stars and all the heavens.’
I urge you to visit Wye Bakery. It is refreshing to listen to Mrs Hickson wax lyrical about a business that consumes sixteen hours of her day. Taste the delights of the labour of love that could be your daily bread.
Morley in the seventies. Nothing much has changed apart from the cars parked on the roadside. Photo from David Atkinson Archive, Morley Memories.
Hiraeth is a delicious Welsh word as it captures that nostalgic longing for home. As a Yorkshire lass living in Wales, I often yearn for Morley, a town in Leeds, where my family still live. Yet I also feel at home in certain places in Wales that connect to the spirit and soul of place I long for. Maybe it’s the spirit of the industrial past that connects me to South Wales.
Morley is a large town in West Yorkshire that was constructed from the blood, sweat and tears of coal and textiles. The stone buildings of Morley are crooked and leaned towards me with whispers of secrets. I always identified a beauty in the urban landscape of home and feel so happy when I return to visit my family. There is a community spirit in Morley and people will always chat and make me laugh.
I imagined Jim driving along this road in his Zephyr. The photo is from Wales online and is captures Cardiff fifty years ago.
Last year, I stumbled on some newspaper photos of Cardiff in the sixties and seventies and the people huddled together chatting connected me to a familiar community spirit and evocated a nostalgia. When imagining the people’s stories, I met Pearl and Jim, characters from my novel,Loving You (working title), searching for their dreams in a fictional Welsh town near to Cardiff.
Photo of the Welsh factory woman in the sixties is from BBC News in an article written by Gwyneth Rees, BBC Wales News
Pearl is a seamstress who dreams of becoming a singer. Jim is a car mechanic who yearns to be an artist. Secrets about Pearl’s late father thrive in Aberynys as people still gossip about him. Pearl and Jim’s dreams push them together and pull them apart. Pearl is immersed in a community, but Jim is a loner. Both characters are shaped by their lives in Aberynys and want to escape in different ways. Pearl’s friends in the sewing factory are influenced by the people my grandmother brought to life for me when I was a child, and their sense of humour is both northern and Welsh. Of course, a colourful cast of characters also barged into the book, and my fictional town of Aberynys is a port which was also influenced by visits to Barry Island, Cardiff Bay and the Valleys.
This photo of the Valleys inspired Aberynys.
Aberynys is the nostalgic place in my heart: a place built on stories I listened to when chatting to folk in Yorkshire and Wales. I created a place name with lyrical Welsh words: Aber is the Welsh word for estuary and ynys means island. Aberynys is a montage of my life experiences and a place that makes folk dream their dreams. Loving You remains one of my works in progress as I just love to visit the place in my heart where I can seek sanctuary from what is happening to us all at the moment.
Which place do you call home and is this different to place you live in now?
Imagine walking into a bookshop and buying the entire shop. Three years ago, Mel Griffin bought a bookshop. It was an honour to meet the woman who is living my dream. Step inside Griffin Books, located in Penarth, and turn the pages of Mel’s bookshop story. Meet Elin who is the social media guru for the business.
Jessie: Owning a bookshop has been my dream since I was a little girl. Tell me about your story. Why did you decide to buy a bookshop?
Bookshop in my Handbag
Mel: As a teenager, I had a Saturday job in a bookshop and dreamed of owning one. Having worked in a global IT company for thirty years, I decided it was time for a new challenge.  I visited this bookshop regularly and it rekindled my ambition to own a bookshop. The owners talked of retirement, so I asked if they wanted to sell. An impromptu question changed my life. Following a two year hand over period, I received the keys in 2014.
Jessie: It must have been exciting to receive the keys to your new life. Wow! This sounds like the narrative for a feel-good story.Â
Mel: I suppose it does but it is also hard work. It was great fun to rename the bookshop then build a new identity. My daughter helped me to choose the name. Initially, we were considering ‘Books, Books, Books’. In the end we decided to use our surname – Griffin – which then enabled us to create a great logo based on the mythical creature.
Jessie:Â How has the bookshop changed?
Rachel and customers present reviews and recommendations for the readers
Mel:  I’m trying to emphasise contemporary literary fiction as well as more popular fiction and the classics. The stock is split equally between: fiction, non-fiction and children’s literature. I aim to stock unique books: different to the supermarkets. I’m delighted when my customers compliment me on my choices. Customers, friends of Griffin Books, are encouraged to write the reviews we display around the shop.  I select books to suit my regular customers’ taste – it is their bookshop.  For example, I bought the first in Julia Chapman’s Dales Detective Series with a customer in mind – the customer then wrote a very positive review which built up a bit of a following for Julia locally, eventually resulting in an invitation to the author. We hosted a lovely afternoon tea with Julia where she talked about the series and her future writing plans.
Jessie:Â Is it the customer focus that gives your bookshop its unique identity?
Elin: We have a regular customer base and it’s a friendly, warm environment: the bookshop is the hub of Penarth. Customers know we can make recommendations. But, the bookshop’s ethos involves more than selling books. We reach out to the community in lots of different ways.
Mel:Â Yes, this is a bookshop for the local community. The monthly book club is so popular we have set up a second group. Story time for the under-fives is great fun.
We also like to tackle issues to support the wellbeing in our community. Recently, we organised an event to help people reconnect with those suffering from dementia. We invited two local, self-published authors who had written about dementia.  Elizabeth Webb-Hooper’s ‘Pennies from Heaven’ is about her personal experience of caring for a father with Dementia. Jane. M. Mullins’s ‘Finding the Light in Dementia’ is written from her viewpoint as a dementia nurse. Members of the local community supported the event and it was very successful.
To celebrate World Book Day, we visited the local schools and took the free books to the pupils. We are also happy to act as a base for ticket sales for local events.
Jessie: I’m impressed with the way you’ve developed a significant role in the community. I noted you narrowly missed Independent Bookshop of the Year 2018. Do you work with other independent bookshops?
The author events have also been building up over the years
The author events have also been building up over the years, because we have been working with Bookish, Crickhowell and Cover to Cover, Mumbles: we have formed the South Wales Independent Bookshop Consortium thus enabling us to attract higher profile authors. On Sunday, 3rd June, former Chancellor and PM Gordon Brown will be featuring in an event to talk about his memoirs: My Life, Our Times. Griffin Books is also organising the Penarth Literary Festival from 6th – 8th July. This will have an emphasis on writing from and about Wales, including local authors.
Jessie:Â What is the most popular genre?
‘Children’s books are the most popular genre.’ Elin
Elin: Children’s books are the most popular genre. I featured A Year in the Wild, by Ruth Symons and Helen Aspornsiri, on Instagram. Children like the experience of choosing a book here, as we have such a vibrant selection. I have been coming here since I was a child. I completed my Work Experience here and now I am working here. I love it! It is exciting to watch the business develop.
Jessie: Elin, your enthusiasm is evident, and your job will inspire job envy amongst the bookish community. I love your tweets about the statements your customers have made – so funny. Â
Mel, do you have plans to buy more bookshops?
Mel: No, I want to keep my arms around this shop where I am living and feel part of the community. I’m dedicated to developing the shop as the hub of the town.
Reading Journeys
Step inside Griffin Books, located in Penarth, and turn the pages of Mel’s bookshop story.
I was made to feel very welcome in Griffin Books. Walking into the shop is like stepping into a friend’s house. It was incredible to go behind the scenes and find out more about the life of a bookshop. I certainly don’t think there is much time for reading. However, I couldn’t resist finding out what inspired Mel and Erin’s reading journeys.
Mel, Elin and Rachel laughed about the impact of Enid Blyton Chalet School Series and Malory Towers Series. Apparently, they enjoyed the midnight feasts, skiing and adventures. Mel recalled reading Swallows and Amazons books at the age of six. She is currently reading Midwinter Break by Bernard Maclaverty.
Meet Rachel, Mel and Elin at Griffin Books.
I recommend you visit Griffin Books if you like to talk about books. Mel, Elin, Rachel, Dawn and Annie will be delighted to welcome you and offer you a complimentary cup of coffee while you browse. A bookshop very similar to Griffin Books was responsible for inspiring my own love affair with books. I wish I could cram this entire bookshop in my handbag, so I could escape there at a moment’s notice.
The quirky vintage appearance of this shop symbolises the essential old-fashioned focus on the customer. However, the website and social media pages display Mel and her team’s vision for a twenty first century bookshop that reaches out to the community.
I hope Griffin Books will celebrate Independent Bookshop of the Year 2019.
‘Autumn is the best time of year for me to write because the tranquillity inspires reflection.’
The light is magical in October and bathes everything in a warm glow. There is also a stillness in the air, suggesting nature is waiting to go to sleep so that it can create more colour in the spring. Autumn is the best time of year for me to write because the tranquillity inspires reflection.
As leaves flutter to the ground, characters come to life. The promise of the festive season hovers as winter waits patiently to present the first shimmer of frost. It is no wonder, then, that I am delighting in penning a Christmas scene at the moment.
I am writing a novel set in World War Two. It is a joy to escape to the era where my grandmother was a young woman and the festive season required creativity. At Christmas time, my grandmother made her own festive wreaths and table decorations with foraged holly, ferns and berries and added bows and gold paint. She told me stories of how my great grandfather spent months making and renovating toys in the lead up to Christmas. I have given this resourceful nature to the characters. Everyone was creating Christmas decorations the last time I visited my novel.
‘Thanks to my grandmother’s memories of the era, love and laughter are shining in the scene packed with friends and family.’
Thanks to my grandmother’s memories of the era, love and laughter are shining in the scene packed with friends and family. Furthermore, families are collaborating to celebrate Christmas and there are some heartwarming moments, especially when gifts are exchanged. Romance is also sparkling but a mystery lurks beneath the Christmas magic.
‘As leaves flutter to the ground, characters come to life’
When I listen to the characters chat, I reflect on how we can create a unique Christmas without all the expense. Recent events have made me very aware of how much people matter and my characters teach me new things all the time. I am excited to share this heartwarming story one day, but for now I am enjoying the process of cutting back the scenes and walking amongst the words that have fallen.
Wishing you all a calm and creative autumn.
For more information about my writing and how Wales inspires my stories, please click on the links to the Frost Magazine below.
Each day the hills became easier and easier until I broke out into a consistent fast pace – almost jogging.
Writing takes me to another place and lets my mind travel. Alas, my imagination doesn’t burn off the calories and wandering through cyberspace does not count as exercise. In January, I knew I had to fight the constant fatigue caused by a sedentary lifestyle and word workouts. As a writer my income does not furnish me the opportunity to pay £700 in gym fees, so I used my imagination to build a fitness regime. Back in cyberspace, I found new trainers and decided to rediscover the power of walking.
At first, I completed half a mile each day and thought it better than no exercise. On my travels, I found concealed lanes and grabbed snippets of people’s lives along with stray sentences from conversations. I soon became hooked on the daily escape from my desk and decided to switch off my phone. Each day the hills became easier and easier until I broke out into a consistent fast pace – almost jogging. Within a month, I travelled to supermarket on shanks’s pony rather than firing up the car. I also let my mind do some walking when I pound the pavement. It is a two mile round trip. My rucksack replaced my handbag as is a brilliant way to carry the shopping and enhance the benefits of the walk. On opening my front door, a flood of words arrived without any effort. Better to let the words walk out of the mind rather than squeezing them out when sitting stationary at the laptop.
Within two months, the exercise boosted my energy and inspired me consider other changes to my lifestyle. The easy change was to reduce the portion sizes of my food. I love food and have no idea how these portions have crept up. I blame my husband’s wonderful cooking. I also abandoned my trusty builder’s tea for a selection of green teas as they aid digestion. I learned that green tea is loaded with antioxidants so thought I’d give it a try. Believe me it was difficult to give up my mug of dark brown Yorkshire tea, but as my habits changed, I became accustomed to it. Now I can’t face the many cups of brown tea and prefer the light refreshing tea; sometimes I rehydrate with a cup of warm water. Though I admit I do still drink my filter coffee as I can’t resist the aroma and taste. Habit had turned me into a serial tea drinker.
Cheers to your health and a creative approach to staying healthy and happy.
Over time I also noticed my stomach was swollen and uncomfortable. Having taken antibiotics, I researched the dangers and noted they can upset the gut flora. I realised that sauerkraut could make a difference. The bought sauerkraut is pasteurised, so I had to make my own. It did improve my digestion and I love it. Little did I know there is a whole trend in the consumption of fermented food. I highly recommend the homemade sauerkraut but be warned that you need to buy a fermentation jar with an air release valve. It is also essential to use salt without an anti-caking agent – it must be pure salt.
Researching healthy foods, I also stumbled on Greek yogurt which is a probiotic with many benefits. I have switched my plain yogurt for this delicious alternative. I eat the yogurt with chopped walnuts. The nuts have vitamins and minerals we require for a balanced diet. I love the texture of the Greek yogurt and like to pretend it is ice-cream. Sometimes I add a little Manuka honey to the combination. Pure luxury!
I love a happy ending! These simple changes have made a huge difference. I have a spring in my step again and am full of energy again. However, I must admit that I do allow myself treats and still can’t resist an afternoon tea: it’s about achieving a balance.
However, I must admit that I do allow myself treats and still can’t resist an afternoon tea: it’s about achieving a balance.
The journey to better health has been painless and I wanted to share them with you. Cheers to your health and a creative approach to staying healthy and happy.
If you have any health and wellbeing tips then please pass them on by leaving a comment. I am also happy to answer any questions.
The gentle sun glowed on the Spanish Steps and caressed the nude tones of the buildings huddled together.
The gentle sun glowed on the Spanish Steps and caressed the nude tones of the buildings huddled together. I paused. The silhouettes shuffled in the streets below. Ancient bells chimed and clattered in a duel with electronic beeps.
I rested on the steps and shared the moment with the strangers.
I rested on the steps and shared the moment with the strangers. Removing my sunhat, I retrieved my notebook from my rucksack. The shining steps bathed in orange light tempted me to rest my legs.
‘Madam stand up please,’ demanded a woman dressed in a yellow jacket.
Words had dissolved into the shadows so I stood up to snap some photographs and hoped the light wouldn’t hide from the frames. Part of the crowd, I waited for a space to capture impressions of the moment.
‘So sorry,’ I apologised when I nudged a couple of British women with my rucksack.
The women turned their back on me, closed the gap for my camera and removed phones from their pockets. ‘For goodness sake, why does everyone try to steal our view?’
Ancient bells chimed and clattered in a duel with electronic beeps.
I grabbed their words before re-joining the scene. And then a siren clawed at noise of lives tuning up for play.
Whispers fluttered playfully amongst the languages flowing down the steps towards the fountain. A moped grumbled. Previously, I complained about the incessant noise of Rome but here it softened into a symphony. Words now loitered on the shining cobblestones, so I picked them up with my pen. I synchronised with the heartbeat of Rome and connected with the romance of the city.
A tunnel of perfume and the clomp of footsteps announced a woman with brownish orange hair coiffured tightly to her head like a helmet. The shadow of her late husband followed her. Lovers sighed. There were touches, glances and giggles. No one bought thorny red roses from the men trying to sell romance.
Ancient bells chimed and clattered in a duel with electronic beeps.
An arm moved around me. ‘When we came here twenty years ago, you raced me to the top of the steps,’ said my husband, now tired of waiting for me to make notes.
We joined the silhouettes in the streets and searched for a restaurant.
I’ve become so familiar with the seafront in Penarth that I’ve never ventured from the main path. Contented with the changes in the light, I found comfort in the same view. On Boxing Day, crowds of people in Penarth forced me to walk a new path above the seafront.
An unfamiliar perspective of Penarth pier that allows me to look at the bigger picture
As I looked down on a familiar view from a new perspective, I released some of the characters in my work in progress. Maybe these characters will remain forever lost or appear in another story. Who knows? I’ve worked in my tiny writing room, with my cast of characters, for many months. In the new year, I will print out my work in progress, read it aloud and look at it from a fresh perspective.
I realised that I needed to release some of the characters
It’s certain I will remain with Pearl and Jim who will also need to digress from their familiar paths. Alas, they can’t text each other, connect via social media or email each other. When the characters are a distance apart, they must physically travel to meet up or write a proper letter. They can’t even use a landline as they don’t have telephones.
As the sun sets on another year, I wish you and my characters some happy and new destinations.
Attitudes and beliefs in this era continue to shock me. My twenty first century perspective means I can support my characters a little yet cannot control their anxiety. The girls in the factory are currently on strike and they can’t google the legislation to find out more. It would’ve helped if they could connect with the Dagenham strikers in a Facebook Group, but social media is decades away. Of course, they’ve seen the headlines and the world seems to have gone on strike. And I’m in despair because some of the women have been tempted to parade in a fashion show of clothes for the bosses. In future, they will learn about the Miss World protests. I know these destinations are ahead of them but how can I navigate them and force them to take new paths?
Like me the characters are facing January, but the January of 1970 was a harsh one. I have twenty ideas for the title of my next novel and all suggestions include the word ‘love’. Love will guide my characters. In the words of Dylan Thomas. ‘Though lovers be lost, love shall not…’
As the sun sets on another year, I wish you and my characters some happy and new destinations.
I am sending you all a big wave, a smile and hope you’ll grab yourself a coffee and send me a message.
Step inside my virtual front door to celebrate kindness, pop in for a virtual chat and see if you want to accept a doorstep challenge.
Chatting with friends and family on the phone and via social media made me realise how much we value the freedom to interact with each other and strangers. Everyone said they missed daily interaction when out shopping, and even commented on how they loved to chat at the bus stop. To bridge the ugly social distancing gap, I have telephoned people so they can displace anxiety then embark on a happy chat. Others commented on the fact they were going for walks in the countryside, but people were walking metres away from them and it made them feel as if they didn’t exist. Today, I shouted greetings at other people on their walks and loved the smiles beaming at me.
Let’s open a virtual door to celebrate the kindness of neighbours.
As the books in handbag lady, I considered how books have always been my companion and a welcome escape. I will place books in bags and take them to neighbours who want a collection of good reads to help them escape. A friend here in Cardiff has decided she will bake Welsh cakes, wrap them up beautifully and leave them on neighbour’s doorsteps. Obviously, we will telephone them to see if people want the gifts first.
A bag of books ready for delivery
Other friends are pooling their resources and swap goodies rather than fighting for goods in the supermarkets. Again, we place them on the doorstep. It makes sense and does encourage us to dig deep into the cupboards for those unwanted items. I have found home for all those cosmetic gifts sets I have been storing for years. It’s like Swap Shop all over again, and now I am showing my age. Nod now if you remember that Saturday morning show from the eighties.
Kindness is free so let’s share it. I have left a recipe for you on my virtual doorstep.
Could you call on someone who is self-isolating and leave them a bag of goodies on their doorstep? The challenge is you can’t buy anything new and must create something from whatever you can spare in your home? Sharing really is caring.
Wishing you all good health! You are always welcome to visit my blog and leave a comment, or you can find me on Facebook and Twitter. I make of point of responding to comments, so there is no need to be alone. I am sending you all a big wave, a smile and hope you’ll grab yourself a coffee and send me a message. Stay safe, everyone and we’ll get by with a little help from our friends!
The ritual of making tea always punctuates the flow of my day. I meander to the kitchen between words. Making the tea helps my thoughts to flood out. Builder’s tea is my preference, but a friend challenged me to try something more refined. Thus, we went to Bath in search of tea and Jane Austen.
Bath Market has a wonderful array of teas. The selections are stored in jars like a sweetshop, but woe betide you if you venture to pick up the jars. The assistant will guide you through the tea sniffing journey.
Selections are stored in jars like a sweetshop
I noted the different textures of the tea leaves: some leaves are larger and crisp while others are smaller and smoother. It was all rather overwhelming to learn selecting tea can be an art form.
I was forced to make my selection on the scent rather than the taste. I pontificated for some time. It had to be Lapsang Souchong, because I liked the sound of the words. It is a black tea, and the aroma of the tea leaves is beautifully smoky. The assistant said, ‘It is packed full of antioxidants and supports well-being.’ The tea sounded like a medicine delivered by a therapist. Apparently, ‘ this tea strengthens the immune system, prevents cardiovascular diseases and fights inflammation.’ Moreover, the Lapsan Souchong can assist with a hangover. What more could one ask for?
Which tea would you choose?
My selection was carefully wrapped in a parcel, labelled and presented to me. I couldn’t wait to try the tea at home. Initially, the tea was smoky with a hint of disinfectant. However, as the tea reached room temperature, the taste was pleasantly smoky and quite soothing. As I drank the tea, I decided to write this blog post.
According to Lin Yutang, ‘There’s something in the nature of tea that leads us into a world of quiet contemplation of life.’ And this seemed to work for me after the taste of the disinfectant had subsided.
I did meet with Jane Austen on another trip to Bath. On this occasion, I heard whispers as I strolled past the Royal Bath Crescent. A woman’s voice confided:
‘But indeed, I would rather have nothing but tea.’ Mansfield Park by Jane Austen
I prefer builder’s tea
Perhaps, the esteemed Miss Austen visited one of the grand houses to take tea with the lady of the house. However, I suspect tea making was also a glorious, thought-provoking ritual for Jane Austen.
Let me know what you think of speciality teas. Do you prefer a robust builder’s tea or a speciality tea? Is coffee the only fuel for your words?
As a Valentine’s Day gift, my husband planned a winter holiday to Cornwall. Severe weather warnings via every form of communication heralded the beginning of our adventure.
On the first day, we went to look at St Michael’s Mount, but it was closed. No worries, I wanted to visit the Barbara Hepworth Museum and Sculpture Garden, as I adore The Hepworth in Wakefield – well she was a Yorkshire lass. Alas, you guessed it, the museum was closed. Off next to Trengwainton Gardens but it was closed until Sunday. The bitter cold drove us back to the log cabin for the evening.
Glorious cliffs sculpted by time and nature: Land’s End
No one can close Land’s End, so we travelled to the famous landmark and planned to grab lunch there. Land’s End is accessed through an entrance you would find at a theme park – so it could be closed. We walked past the souvenir shops before we reached Land’s End. Glorious cliffs chiselled by the elements and reminiscent of Hepworth’s sculptures greeted us. Lunch in The First and Last Inn was not possible as it was closed. I wore two coats, two hats and a hood teamed with my waterproof trousers to keep out the arctic temperatures.
Mousehole is the ‘loveliest village in England’ according to DylanThomas.
Amused by the name ‘Mousehole’, we called at the village for a very late lunch. Quaint stone houses welcomed us in the sheltered harbour. We ate cheese sandwiches in a friendly coffee shop tucked away at the end of the village. Apparently, Dylan Thomas described Mousehole as ‘the loveliest village in England. And, there was an ice cream parlour called Jessie’s, so we ordered vanilla ice cream.
We stood in the amongst the silhouettes of people found in a Lowry painting.
Rejuvenated by our rest in Mousehole, we braved the cold to visit beaches. Golden white sand marked with endless footsteps greeted us at Sennen Cove. We rambled along the beach. Light showcased the beach in all its glory, and we stood in the amongst the silhouettes of people who had escaped from a Lowry painting. The next day we hiked around the coast in St Ives and marvelled at the magical beauty of the golden light. Sadly, our camera could not capture the texture of an artist’s brush.
We marvelled at the magical beauty of the light in St Ives
Winter is the best time to view the beaches of Cornwall. Forget the art galleries and tourist traps and enjoy nature’s treasures. Step onto the beaches and walk inside a painting to enjoy nature’s pallet. Snow fell as we drove home. Thankfully, the Severn Bridge remained open until we got home. Visiting Cornwall in winter felt like having the world to ourselves – an idyllic romantic winter paradise. Shh, don’t tell anyone…
For me, the thrill of chasing ideas is the most exciting element of the writing process.
Words can take us to any place and any time. I was delighted to discover words I wrote in my notebook during a summer holiday in Devon. My thoughts were scattered on the page, so I picked them up, revisited my photo album and returned to a time when I suffered a creative drought.
Words let us travel to any place, any time and any season.
The heat stifled ideas and frazzled my creativity. I complained the holiday cottage was too dark for me to write. After a few days, I worried my ideas had taken leave. I blamed the environment because small windows trapped the darkness in the room, and I seemed to have reached a dead end with the story.
I found the ideal house for an author.
Entering A la Ronde, created by Jane and Mary Parminter, confirmed that the correct environment is essential. My creativity opened again as soon as I wandered around the eighteenth century house. I found the ideal house for an author. Imagine a sixteen-sided house that allows you to follow the light around the house. Perfect!
In this house, I would be able to chase my ideas around and around in circles until I found the correct room to write. Ideas travel around like the wheels of a windmill until I get them on paper and stop them circling. Sometimes, I release ideas too early and they must be abandoned. For me, the thrill of chasing ideas is the most exciting element of the writing process.
There is a beauty in the towering mills of the town, and I am ‘chuffed t’bits’ Yorkshire is still welcoming newcomers that will enrich the town’s future.
There’s ‘nowt’ like going home to Yorkshire. Because I haven’t lived in Yorkshire for over twenty years, I love to identify what is the same and how it is changing. However, I can always rely on the warmth of the people and a hearty welcome.
The signature Yorkshire warmth was commented on in a programme of Hairy Bikers recently when Si and Dave visited Yorkshire Dama Cheese shop in Sowerby Bridge. Razan Alsous, a pharmacist, came to the UK from Syria with her husband and family and set up the cheese factory where she makes Haloumi cheese and other products. Razan explained how welcome she and her family had been made to feel in Yorkshire. After hearing Razan’s story, we stopped off the visit the shop. We were greeted by a very enthusiastic employee who loved the products and convinced us to buy a selection of cheeses.
The squeaky cheese selection
On returning home to Cardiff, we sampled the halloumi cheese which is labelled a squeaky cheese. Little did we know that a taste sensation awaited us. We fried the cheese in a drizzle of olive oil, sprinkled the cheese with smoked paprika and served on some banana bread I made earlier in the day. The combination of sweet and savoury really worked, and the cheese did squeak. Perfect comfort food! We also bough ricotta and have frozen it so we can use it during the festive season.
The combination of sweet and savoury really worked, and the cheese did squeak.
The shop is tucked away in the mill town of Sowerby Bridge. There is a beauty in the towering mills of the town, and I am ‘chuffed t’bits’ Yorkshire is still welcoming folk that will enrich the town’s future.
My version of Sue’s banana bread is delicious.
Recipe for banana bread provided by author Sue Bentley
It’s super easy.
Here goes.
Mash five very ripe bananas then add one beaten egg and I teasp. Vanilla.
In another bowl combine one and a half cups of any plain flour, 1 teasp. Bicarbonate of Soda, half a teasp. Cinnamon, Half a cup of chopped walnuts, dash of salt.
Mix dry ingredients into banana mixture. Stir to combine don’t over mix.
Pour into lined loaf tin.
Bake for 40 to 60 mins on Gas mark 4.
Let cool and enjoy! When using cups as a measure just choose a medium sized one and use the same cup to measure everything.
Nobody followed me to the No Sign Bar, Swansea – a regular haunt of Dylan Thomas. Seated next to the window, I searched inside of my handbag for Collected Stories by Dylan Thomas and found The Followers
A ping from my phone confirmed a signal, but I ignored the emails. I sat in the bar Thomas renamed the Wine Vaults. I read the opening lines of the story, but there was no sign of the beer I had just ordered. Without anything to quench my thirst, there was nothing I could do apart from read on. Between words, I felt compelled to search for two pairs of eyes outside of the window, but there was no sign of anyone.
Seated next to the window, I searched inside my handbag for Collected Stories by Dylan Thomas.
Outside the window, ‘the rain spat and drizzled past the street lamps.’ No one wore ‘squeaking galoshes, with mackintosh collars up and bowlers and trilbies.’ Alas, the ‘rattle of bony trams’ was silenced long ago. Only the swish of car tyres, hum of engines and slamming of car doors filled the silence on the streets. Gazing at the decaying red window frames, I did not see ‘a young man with his arm around a girl’. Instead, I glimpsed a young couple hand in hand dashing across the road while there was a break in the traffic. Outside, there was a mass of coloured jackets and everyone wore jeans, leggings or trousers. No one looked inside the tatty building. They didn’t seem to care that Dylan Thomas had once frequented this watering hole.
Dylan Thomas (1914-1953). This famous Welshman wrote poems, short stories and scripts for film and radio, which he often performed himself.
Reading the short story, I pursued the followers, as they scurried through the alley. Inside No Sign Bar, I could smell the old musty wine cellar. No one was responsible for the spontaneous spark of colour in the open fire. The pitted floorboards had been battered by tired and drunken feet for centuries. Words echoed around cavernous room. Perhaps, these were the words that inspired Dylan Thomas’s story The Followers – his only ghost story. And I heard the rise and fall of the Welsh accent that probably escaped into the pages of Thomas’s mind, as he imagined the story. I read the final sentence, ‘And we went our separate ways.’ I departed.
Artist’s impression of the ancient Salubrious Passage. Thomas renamed it Paradise Alley in The Followers
Near to Paradise Alley, I heard a voice echo.’ Spare some change, madam?’ The homeless soul was clutching a synthetic, fleece blanket. His watery, bloodshot eyes regarded me as he rolled himself a cigarette. I spared him fifty pence, but this wouldn’t even buy him a beer. He caught the meagre offering with a grateful nod that punched my conscience.
I heard the distance tapping of footsteps and turned around
I ran to the car park. The rain drizzled until diluted my memory of the bar. I heard the distance tapping of footsteps and turned around. Thankfully, there was no sign of anyone following me. Checking Twitter, I did note I had two more followers.
No Sign Bar and The Followers
No Sign Bar is believed to be Swansea’s oldest pub and dates to 1690. The wine cellars date back to the 15th century. The name ‘No Sign originates from legislation of licencing when public bars had to have a recognisable sign. This building was not public house and did not require a sign, hence was later given the name No Sign to announce its presence!
Dylan Thomas Collected Stories
Dylan Thomas frequented No Sign Bar, as a young man. No Sign Bar is featured as the Wine Vaults in Dylan Thomas’s story.
Here are useful links if you wish to visit Swansea and find out more about the writer, poet and playwright.
It is almost 2020 and I have discovered I do not have twenty twenty vision. I can see clearly now the blurring has gone. It turns out that my Kindle companion was a way of coping with my less than perfect sight, and I have astigmatism. Joy of reading a physical book has been revived for me. To look at the front cover, blurb and mark my favourite pages is a luxury I had forgotten.
I will take a step at a time and negotiate the paths no matter how difficult they are.
I am currently drinking in the stories of the books but without picking up my review notebook. Maybe this is because I can see the words now and don’t need to break from the strain of reading. It is wonderful not to suffer the terrible migraines that previously impacted on my day. And I know why I was constantly complaining about the way the light reflected on my book or keyboard.
Now I have clearer vision, I intend to reread a printed version of my work in progress. I will read it without a review pen in hand and think about weaving in some secrets. I am attempting to consume my work in progress as a reader viewing the novel for the first time. Whilst on handbag leave ideas have been popping and bubbling, and I hope they come into focus.
For the time being, I am abandoning the kindle for the book so will need a considerably bigger bag.
I must admit I also rather like my glasses as a new accessory. Books in Handbag with Glasses could be a new direction for me. I’ve also spied an opportunity to shop for snazzy glasses cases. For the time being, I am abandoning the kindle for the book so will need a considerably bigger bag. However, I must confess I am not getting along very well with the varifocals as they make me a little dizzy. I need to focus on one thing at a time.
I will take a step at a time and look forward to the destination.
My vision for 2020 is to write, write, write and to look ahead. I have no specific resolutions. Adventures will come into focus as the year unfolds. I will take a step at a time and negotiate the paths no matter how difficult they are. I look forward to you all joining me on my adventures and feel privileged to have your company.
“The horizon leans forward, Offering you space to place new steps of change.” -Maya Angelou
Wishing you all a Happy New Year, and the strength to let your dreams unfold and surprise you. I will leave you with Maya Angelou’s advice:
“The horizon leans forward, Offering you space to place new steps of change.”
‘As a woman my country is the whole world.’ Three Guineas, Woolf
My country is the world. There are no borders, no passports and no countries in the world of social media; only portals to other people’s imagination and musings.
In Three Guineas, Virginia Wolf wrote, “As a woman I have no country. As a woman I want no country. As a woman, my country is the whole world.” And via social media, I have connected with writers from all over the world. My endless stream of consciousness travels around the world through: tweets, my blog and Facebook posts. People of the world open the virtual door to peek at a representation of my world, and I can walk over the threshold to visit their thoughts.
“A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction.”
I weave in and out of articles, thoughts, pictures and moments of others. Everyone is documenting stories from their own viewpoint with unique and shared images. I have the liberty to hop aboard someone’s narrative then return home to my own world. Social media allows me to explore the texture of other people’s lives to search for inspiration.
A writing room of my own, connected to the world.
Like Virginia Woolf, I have a room of my own, but I have the company of a computer connected to the world.
While contemplating this brave new world, I wondered if Virginia Woolf would have engaged in social media.
Owing to the power of social media, I could knock on the virtual door of an internationally acclaimed Woolf scholar. Professor Maggie Humm wrote this in her email:
Waiting for Snapshots of Bloomsbury
“I think Virginia might well have used social media. She did write for Vogue with a photo of herself; did photograph from the age of 15 (I included over a hundred of these in my Snapshots of Bloomsbury); spoke on the BBC several times and enjoyed seeing a range of films from The Bengal Lancer to newsreels.”
Maggie Humm’s eloquent response made me feel as it I was speaking to Virginia Woolf, in cyberspace.
Snapshots of Bloomsbury
Snapshots of Bloomsbury showcases the photographs of Virginia Woolf and her sister, Vanessa Bell. Humm’s commentary provides a critical insight into Woolf’s world and ‘the culture and artistry of the period’. Virginia Woolf represented her intimate world in photographs, decades before we became attached to our mobile phones. Now, this is a book I would be proud to own, but I will place it in my battered briefcase. Snapshots of Bloomsbury needs to be enjoyed in the physical rather than digital form. However, I can’t help wondering what images and words Woolf would have chosen to share via social media. If only, I could invite Virginia Woolf to my Chat Room.
The Tryo must have spent a lifetime perfecting their art and teasing out every single note.
Enchanted by a musical trio, we joined a crowd as they danced, swayed and tapped their feet to the beat. The international language of joy spread across everyone’s face.
Situated next to the Roman Forum, musical notes suspended us in a moment. The entertainers beamed at their audience’s response. As I tapped my feet, I realised how few people placed money in the guitar case, and no one would part with ten euros to buy the compilation. Many people expected the impromptu entertainment to be free.
The Trio must have spent a lifetime perfecting their art and teasing out every single note. I tried to imagine their stories. Who were the loves of their lives? How did they manage perform the music with such soul? As a gesture of kindness from a writer to musicians, I decided to pay the ten euros for the CD. The trio smiled again but looked a little surprised. My action prompted a few others to buy the music.
I believe people had forgotten that we can’t always expect to be entertained for free. Alas, other people continued to record the music on their phones and never looked up. However, I did hear the happy clang of coins hitting the guitar as I walked away.
‘I leave you with a sense of humour and memories. Think of me when funny things happen.’ That’s what my late father told us when we discovered he had only got weeks to live. He insisted that we didn’t sit around the hospital bed and weep but laugh at memories. He started a conversation with, ‘Do you remember when…’, and then engaged us in funny stories of past events. Everyone in the ward laughed along at the stories – it was magic. I can still remember my dad holding his belly as he laughed out loud. What a great way to distract us all from the sadness! That was thirteen years ago.
Dad’s philosophy helped us through this year. As we haven’t been able to get together with extended family, we have treasured memories of past events and shared photos of past get togethers. We aimed to find photos that capture laughter!
I found a photo of me when I was about nine years old.
I found a photo of me when I was about nine years old. I urged Mum to take a photo of Dad reading the newspaper, so we could record the progress of his bald head and present the photo as evidence. He loved this and said, ‘Hair today, gone tomorrow.’
Photos that capture a moment are a gift. For example, in Northumberland, I decided to take a closer look at the sea and when I jumped off the wall, I was rewarded with a splash from a freak wave. I was the only walker who did not escape the water, and my husband was able to snap the moment as he was taking photos of the sea at the time.
I decided to take a closer look at the sea and when I jumped off the wall, I was rewarded with a splash from a freak wave.
‘Please tell me that wasn’t planned,’ said an elderly gentleman, crying with laughter.
‘No, it was especially for you,’ I replied.
He held his stomach as he waited for the laughter to subside. It felt as if Dad was there with us in that moment, instigating his usual mischief.
Of course, sharing stories and old photos is not the same as the face-to-face contact, but it cheered us up. For us, Dad is an absent present in those moments of hilarity and it’s comforting. My heart goes out to those people who have lost their loved ones, and I am thinking of you and wishing you comfort in those memories captured in your heart.
Which photos capture your fondest memories and make you smile?
