slow lane life 3

slow lane life 3

Saturday 19 November 2016

Third attempt

A few days ago, I drafted a blog post about how I was trying to manage a period of bleak hopelessness. You know, how the world is going to hell in a handcart, that sort of thing. Doom, gloom, depression, despair. On a really bad day, Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse in attendance. 

I left it in draft, feeling slightly better for having expressed my deep gloom and anxiety in words, and without passing them on to other people; I don't know about you, but sometimes talking to other angry, upset, scared people doesn't help at all, and just amplifies my own misery. And as these grim periods will, the feelings of despair faded. 

"This too shall pass" (which I once heard said in Gaelic, sounding utterly beautiful) is one of those immensely helpful phrases to keep in mind when I'm feeling low, because of its profound accuracy.

Later, I deleted all that I had written for my blog, and wrote a more positive account, about the haven of home, the reassurance of domestic life, Four Horsemen on the horizon rather than at my elbow.

I even put some cheerfulness into the next post, with photos.

And Blogger ate it. Didn't leave a scrap to show I had ever been there, glooming and unglooming over the keyboard for over a week.

Oh drat. Start again.

So here are some photos, without the previous accounts of my fluctuating emotional state to accompany them.

Looking round my home this morning, on a dark wet day, I wanted to show what was comforting and reassuring. This is what I saw:



The Gardener, cheerfully painting an ugly (not old, not original) black beam in the small cramped kitchen, whose ceiling now looks higher for its beam being changed to a watery grey-blue. He had earphones in, and sang along (tunelessly, as one often does with earphones in place) to something unidentifiable; tomorrow he will do the final coat and then move on to other pressing painting jobs. 

Cats glued to their heated pads, sensibly avoiding venturing out into the rain, whiling away the hours until dinnertime. What a life.

 

Cups of tea and slices of buttered home-made Blacksmith's Tea Loaf for elevenses. I baked! I haven't baked for ages, and had forgotten how much I enjoy it. This is one of those tea loaves that improves with keeping, and on day 3, was just right.




A little set of cleaning tools ordered for Baby E. He loves to chase the broom or the vacuum cleaner at home, and is a high-speed crawler; if you are the one doing the sweeping, you find yourself overtaken and your efforts seriously hampered by a small but determined 'helper'. He's going to love these. 



They prompted me to find a very old photograph of Baby E's own father, aged about two, also 'helping' his Grandma as she scrubbed the tiled hall; he preferred to sweep the pavement:



The post came; an order of tulips, which if all goes to plan, should yield containers in the Spring filled with these beauties:

  

Christmas presents, mostly books; I can't share what they are, but they are serious and informative, offering a wider and more balanced view of what is going on in the world than the biased reports of our hate-filled media. I think the recipients, serious and well-informed themselves, are going to be pleased.

And so the day went on, placidly, purposefully, and really rather productively. I didn't set foot outside at all, as dark, wet and windy is not my ideal weather, but I sorted through cupboards and trunks, found the Christmas decorations - and the lights all worked! - and the gift I had put away safely (i.e. forgotten where I'd put it) for my sister, whom I will be visiting in a week. The Gardener walked the dog, I made dinner, and we lit the wood burner. Cats forsook their heated pads to join the dog in front of the fire; we toasted our toes. We had a FaceTime call with the family, Baby E pressing up against the computer, fascinated by the small on-screen image of his Grandpa, and we all looked forward to Christmas, when we will be together, here.

I feel better. Home is where the heart is; my heart is always in my home. I know the Four Horsemen are out there somewhere, rattling their ghastly weapons and threatening to ride forth, but here in our little haven of a half-painted cottage, today was pretty tranquil, cheerful and - dare I say it? - almost optimistic. 

Hoping you all have something or someone to help you feel grounded and secure in these uncertain times.

21 comments:

  1. Grounded by the everyday minutiae. With little outings with friends to see local art.Birdsong.Books.Wine.Coffee.And a valiant "Abraham Darby" putting forth more blooms in the face of 33 degC and ferocious Noe-westerlies.
    (Turning off Farcebook for while also helps! insert smiley face)

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    1. Oh, an Abraham Darby would surely help lighten the load.....

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  2. The news is pretty depressing, isn't it. All this uncertainty does add to one's anxiety levels rather a lot! Home is where my heart is too, and you've obviously made yours a warm and cosy place to feel safe when the world seems so scary. x

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    1. I try; my ideal is a calm, tranquil home, gleaming and tidy, filled with light and warmth. The reality is more about dust and pet-hair, heaps of clutter and dog toys, but it is certainly homely!

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  3. Oddly, I have found myself smiling at random people when out shopping. Perhaps it is because I dislike doing what everyone else is doing.

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    1. All I could see for a while was mobs with pitchforks - hard to smile at them! But everything passes, and the madness of today will pass too, I'm sure.

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  4. Hunker down until the storm passes. It's all we can do really. Life goes on.

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    1. It does indeed, and being responsible for other people or pets helps one to focus on the here and now.

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  5. STOP PRESS...The cats moved???
    I often feel small and helpless against the state of the world, but, like you, remember that I make the little world around me, and that is something I can influence. At least with getting older, we can say that we have watched world events come and go, and, thankfully, some of the present issues will eventually go as well.

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    1. So true; perhaps if we didn't have 24-hour news and the ever-present social media, we wouldn't be so hyper-aware of all the bad things that are happening, and have probably been happening in one form or another, for centuries.

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  6. The constant bombardment of bleak news is very draining and not a complete or fair picture it's just hard to see that at times...I feel like the quoting the first 5 minutes of 4 Weddings and a funeral...
    nice to see you back!

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    1. Am I right in thinking that the first 5 minutes consisted chiefly of the f-word? (insert smiley face here)

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  7. Living here in the States where the media assures me that I should definitely be in a horrible mood - I don't find that I am. I'm looking forward to the Holidays. Wednesday we're flying to the wilds of Montana to see my fiance's family which is always fun. I get to cook with my Father-in-Law and drink wine with my Brother-in-Law's girlfriend. At Christmas we head to Northern Nevada, Reno to see my best friend and her mom. Which I have adopted as my own since I lost mine just before Thanksgiving 2006.) Somewhere in there I hope to fit in a visit with my 2 boys. All of this activity, for me helps me avoid the calls to rend my garments and pull out my hair that the mainstream news tells me I should be doing.. I hope you and your family and all the cats and dogs have a lovely Holiday season!

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    1. Yes, I think it was the determined shroud-waving by practically everyone I know that got to me so badly! Your plan sounds delightful; I hope you enjoy every minute of it.

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  8. Like you I have started baking again. Like yours it was it was a tea loaf. Pumpkin and raisin, surprisingly good.

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  9. I can so relate to your sentiments, this is a lovely post. When all is doom & gloom, including the weather, it's reassuring to bring the focus back to home and hearth. Enjoy the fire and bake!

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  10. Thank you, C. Home is very useful when the 'here and now' needs a change of scenery!

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  11. Popping over from Lucille's place at her recommendation. Glad I did. You've inspired me to linger over my tea and muffins this morning. I'll slather the muffins with butter and the honey sent to me from my beekeeping brother. I'll indulge in loose leaf for the tea and use the felted wool penguin cosy my husband bought me for my birthday (it always makes me smile). I'll have seconds of both. And then I will re-read your post for good measure.

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    1. Thank you, and welcome - I have just popped over to your own blog, and must find time for a good trawl through your archives. Stand by for comments - I have many!

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