Another seriously damp and dark day in Yorkshire. After his morning constitutional walk, it was a fight with the mad dog for the best location nearest the fire. That kinda day.
Yes it’s not just Yorkshire that gets RAIN, Switzerland gets bucket loads as well. A wonderful Hotel Owner once told us with a smile ‘It rains somewhere in Switzerland every single day of the year. Switzerland always has Chocolate, Cheese and RAIN.”
Just like on the 23rd August 2015, it rained in Switzerland.
A dark and damp trip up The Niederhorn shows that the WEATHER can’t take away the wonder and beauty of some special places. I would happily take a bit more rain right now, AS LONG as I was in Switzerland.
Pilot having fun or maybe a pilot realising that a packed lunch was left back at The Terminal.
Lovely blue skies from a few weeks back, it’s been definitely not blue skies since then. The fields keep on getting muddier.
Perfect weather to reread Wuthering Heights, no wonder the classic grim tale was set in deepest Yorkshire.
I was chatting with a postman this morning and he talked about a man who lives near a surrounding village. At the start of January, he had moved into an old farmhouse a few miles away from the nearest housing. He told the postman that it had been weeks since he had spoken to anyone. He has no family, he didn’t know anyone in the area and was really suffering from the isolation. He had signed up to a local walking group but the walks have been cancelled due to the state of the paths. He had signed up to the local golf course, but that had been shut for weeks due to flooding. The postman was his only social contact currently. What made it so much worse was that when he went shopping to the local city supermarket, no one would ever make eye contact with him. He described it as being ‘invisible’, like he didn’t ’exist’. The supermarket only has self service checkouts so he couldn’t even chat to someone scanning his shopping.
That got me thinking. How often do I go shopping with my head down, with my walls up.
I strongly suspect that’s happening way more these days, a pandemic certainly hasn’t helped. What is clear, more people are feeling isolated and cut off. More and more people are struggling, feeling unseen.
Tomorrow I’m going to make an effort to keep my head up when I go shopping.
The last storm toppled the walls of this STRAW CASTLE. The Farmer won’t be happy.
At least it is still in better shape than the local stone castle.
One of the first post funeral trips I managed by myself was to a book fair just a few yards from what’s left of this castle. It wasn’t easy or enjoyable but I did do it, a step forward back then. One of the books I brought home was a ‘how to survive bereavement’ guide. It quickly ended up in the bin but I do remember one thing it talked about. How talking to a lost loved one might feel natural but wasn’t a good thing. Apparently it just stopped you moving on.
I clearly didn’t listen to that gem of advice that well.
Even after 7 plus years, if there is any news about her SON, I tell her. To me it’s not about moving on, it just seems the right thing to do for us.
Maybe one day someone will produce the shortest ever bereavement guide. One page. Maybe it just needs to say.
Every grief journey is unique. As time goes on you will start to figure out yours.
Back many many many years, at university, I remember a climbing buddy having an old battered poster on her kitchen wall. It was a beautiful mountain, with its reflection perfectly captured in a lake. In bold the message was something like “Keep looking, there is at least one place where you will fell truly ALIVE”.
Several decades later I was blessed to be able to stand by that very same lake and by that very same mountain. The Poster was so right….
Thanks to Bill Murray, we know it’s Groundhog Day today. Various Groundhogs seeing or not seeing SHADOWS, Six or NOT Six more weeks of winter. Looking at the various Groundhog Facebook videos emanating from across the States, there isn’t just one Master Hog these days. It’s like Boxing with its multiple champions across multiple sanctioning bodies. So might as well add another weather predicting body.
Unfortunately groundhogs are a bit scarce on the ground in Yorkshire.
So it’s HoundDog Day in Yorkshire.
Ok he isn’t a pure Hound Dog, more an accident between a randy Cocker Spaniel and an unsuspecting fluffy German Spitz. But needs most. Another problem, unlike Batman, this hero hasn’t sussed out the concept of shadows yet. Actually he hasn’t sussed out many concepts. Thankfully he has found the delights of SOCKS. So the 2024 winter forecast is based on will the nutter grab the long or shorter sock. Long winter or shorter winter.
And the results….
It’s a LONGER WINTER forecast.
Actually he then picked up the short sock. So what does a Long and Short sock mean. Where is Bill Murray when you need him.
Sometimes you hear things that just pass you by. Sometimes you hear things that you think, that’s interesting. Then very occasionally you hear something that stops you in your tracks and you cry out
‘I’m sorry, say that again…..’
Sat in the Departure Lounge at Geneva Airport, talking to a Swiss Couple also waiting for the same plane. Two couples, two pregnant couples. The subject randomly got onto prospective child names.
“If you want that name then you better have your child in Britain. You won’t be allowed to call your baby that in Switzerland. Swiss Authorities have to approve names and have strict rules…”
Officially stopped in tracks.….
Switzerland, yes the country has naming rules. Can’t use names that might have a negative impact on a child’s future. Can’t use place or brand names. Middle names frowned upon as no room on official forms for them. Double surnames frowned upon. Some names changed to reflect local Italian or German pronunciations.
To be fair the couple did say things had become a bit more relaxed over the last few years, but rules are still there. At one stage there was even a list of approved baby names that you had to pick from.
Switzerland is a stunning, amazing country, it’s also occasionally just a bit barking mad. Coming from Yorkshire, I like that.
Two storms with names this week, that’s 10 named storms this season so far. It is definitely a bit bracing perched on top of a little Northern Hill. I would tell you the average wind speed in our garden but the recently purchased weather station was obliterated during the last storm.
Let’s just say it’s BREEZY and a tad DAMP.
The perfect time to put the recycling out for collection. I dread to think which country our cardboard is currently flying across.
It’s odd that you can live in a little bungalow for over 20 years and still feel completely lost when the lights cut out. The perfect time to test the various torches and battery lamps, because this newfangled piped electricity has proved a bit part time over the last few months. The other odd thing is the different perspective torch light gives on familiarity. Sat by myself in a king sized bed, in a room clearly made for two with half empty wardrobes, all illuminated by a cheap torch….
It shines a flickering, underpowered light on life and loss.
Well over 10 years ago and we were travelling through the Swiss Alps on one of those glorious Swiss Panoramic Trains. My Partner’s Mum had come with us on that holiday. I remember her leaning across the train table and pointing out to me
“Problem with Switzerland is that it is just too beautiful, too many distractions, you would never get any work done here. I always bring a crossword book. Been bringing the same book for years and still haven’t made it past the first puzzle….”
Definitely can understand that. It’s pointless me taking any books to read here as well.
A Yorkshire Seaside Holiday Resort in WINTER. During the Summer Bridlington would be mobbed but this cold, windy day, it was almost completely deserted. Most places boarded up for the off season and definitely NO pirate ship rides.
Apparently the bronze statue is of a young girl knitting a special jumper called a Gansey for a local fisherman.
Many many many years ago, as a child I would come here once a year. It was one of the very few big family day trips. Sixty miles from home. That was as far as we ventured most years, so it seemed like it was on the other side of the world. Now walking along the seafront and it looked almost unchanged from those childhood adventures. Half expected to see my parents coming to meet us laden with newspaper wrapped fish, chips and mushy peas.
A Dad trying to cope with the loss of his Partner and becoming a single parent. 