I am so glad living in this country that we know how to use the vote. Spectacularly in this latest by-election when the Tories got slammed in the voting booth for a government that leaves a lot to be desired. We unite as one and put a Liberal in. If Boris thinks he can run a country on his crooked manoeuvring - the lesson is learnt.
But for now I find solace amongst my photos, in the happy faces of family and friends, tomorrow is Paul's birthday and I come across a picture of him lying on a bed laughing at me as I gingerly pick my way around the distinctly grubby carpet of a Travel Lodge.
He always demanded an expensive present, a trip somewhere, this time Stonehenge (in the cold of winter for goodness sake). The grand opening of the new Stonehenge centre, with its funny little trail of carts to take you down to the stones, In the damp and gloom of the weather, we wander round the circle, I gather photos of the Pagans, who are (as always) protesting about free entrance, it was raining and they look ridiculous in their long white robes.
Soon it will be Solstice, the time of the sun standing still and then the slow process back to summer.
Who was it that taught me about the cult of paganism, to look at the world with wide open eyes and not be taken in by any cult. Professor Ronald Hutton, with the professionalism of a true scholar in his book 'Mistletoe and Blood'. It is wise to remember that we love the drama of a religion, the stories that cluster around, especially the one we are approaching. I have never quite worked out the modern day cults, for there are the nature followers as well, but they rarely do harm and appeal to the inner being as well. But for others, the 25th December is not the celebration day but the 21st December when the light begins to return.
Paul was very mystical, at one time he wanted his ashes symbolically scattered over Silbury Hill but then fell in love with Yorkshire and the village we lived in and chose the little Japanese Bodhisattva goddess in the garden instead. Happiness to him was sitting on the bench in the front garden on a sunny warm evening and drinking a beer.
Laughing in a Travel Lodge - Paul looks to have had a wonderful sense of humour. I wouldn't go to Stonehenge now. In the 1960s you could walk amongst them and touch them, as you still can with the Devil's Stones in Yorkshire.
ReplyDeleteBut then came the 80s and hippy time festivals and it got somewhat ruined. Now of course at least £20 tickets and a 'view from the road' as you pass by.
DeleteLoved one's birthdays once they have gone always have a sense of sadness about them don't they -thinking about you. I don't suppose we shall ever meet now that you have moved further away. Reading your last line - lucky the man who finds happiness in such things.
ReplyDeleteHe loved village life, having a pub next door and the church on the other side Pat. Yes it is sad we shall never meet but we see each other every morning in words;)
DeleteLucky the man who knows such happiness as it happens. I like the romance of his soul wanting to be spread on Silbury Hill.
ReplyDeleteTomorrow will be a bittersweet day.
I remember when the archaeologist were trying to stabilise Silbury Hill and he jumped over the gate and took one of the stones they had found inside. There was a smaller mound inside Silbury ringed with stones, I wrote about it somewhere, goodness knows. He was happy and very laid back, always taking his time to do things properly.
ReplyDeleteHow nice that you can celebrate such happy memories of him!
ReplyDeleteYes the sad tinged with happy memories. Not only did I introduce Paul to Yorkshire, but to an old lovable spaniel called Lucy, he had never ever owned a dog.
DeleteYou didn't answer the question: How did I end up in Yorkshire? But may I say that you were very fortunate to do so. These three ridings are surely what God was thinking of when he imagined The Garden of Eden. Great result in North Shropshire.
ReplyDeleteWell it was more a question Paul asked. It was because of me and then my family, who had moved down here. Then when we moved down they moved from North to West and as everyone knows Yorkshire is a small country in itself and difficult to get to from N to W, I won't argue on the merits of Yorkshire but only to say that Britain has many superb landscapes.
ReplyDeleteNorth Shropshire is also exceedingly pleasant.
DeleteNot forgetting Herefordshire, anywhere along the Welsh border as well.
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