It works in Sweden the same as it does in our climate. Three days of high summer and it has to break. During the night refreshing rain. Today steady and sad.
I see dark clouds out of my window.
I know the storm is coming any minute
The thunder just confirms my fears
and I know that tears are in it
I'll cry for it to stop
Look here comes the very first drop.
Every time it rains I fall to pieces
So many memories the rain releases
I see you. I hear you
Every time it rains I get wet.
Friday, 1 July 2011
Thursday, 23 June 2011
Dreams
"Thunder only happens when it's raining.
Players only love you when they're playing.
Women, they will come and they will go.
When the rain washes you clean, you'll know"
Players only love you when they're playing.
Women, they will come and they will go.
When the rain washes you clean, you'll know"
Fish in Sour Cream
White Fish, diced
Butter
Sour Cream/Graddfil
Mustard/Senap
Soft Cheese/ CarolineOst
Salt & Pepper
Gently fry the fish in the butter. Don't over cook it. It should still be sticky. Poor into the pan the sour cream. Add a large spoonfull of mild mustard and stir. Season with salt and pepper. Top with thin slices of soft mild cheese. Cover and heat gently for 2 minutes or so. Until the cheese has melted. Serve with boiled new potatoes with butter. Maybe add fresh chopped dill. Accompany with chilled white wine and bosting wonderful Swedish landscapes!
Butter
Sour Cream/Graddfil
Mustard/Senap
Soft Cheese/ CarolineOst
Salt & Pepper
Gently fry the fish in the butter. Don't over cook it. It should still be sticky. Poor into the pan the sour cream. Add a large spoonfull of mild mustard and stir. Season with salt and pepper. Top with thin slices of soft mild cheese. Cover and heat gently for 2 minutes or so. Until the cheese has melted. Serve with boiled new potatoes with butter. Maybe add fresh chopped dill. Accompany with chilled white wine and bosting wonderful Swedish landscapes!
Tuesday, 14 June 2011
A Question
If I can finish the the sentance " There is something I would love to do indeffinately here in........, and that something is.......
I will have found my way forward. My path will be set for a while. Somewhere familiar like a pair of old slippers, or somewhere new, bright and shiney.
I will have found my way forward. My path will be set for a while. Somewhere familiar like a pair of old slippers, or somewhere new, bright and shiney.
Sunday, 12 June 2011
The North Sea
The Captain watched from the deck as his passenger approached noting the quality of his armour, and horse. Mercenary for sure. He also noted the size of the man. Nothing exceptional. That might be a probem with some of the dencer members of his rag tag crew. He'd need to lay down the law. He wanted no blood spilled on his decks. The warrior would have the bosons berth, and best if he kept to it.
The knight approached slowly and steadily, a seasoned traveller used to harbour towns. His broad sword hanging from his right hip ensured that he would be unmolested. Getting a horse onto the deck of a ship is not an easy thing, but it got done. The passenger crossed the gang plank with sure feet, never hesitating. The captain was unsurprised when the man refused to pay in advance, and woe betide anyone who considered releaving of his coin before they reached the Danish shore.
The captain wished that the warrior had stayed in the berth provided, rather than taking the evening air in full view of the men. Clad only in breeches and tunic the crew might fancy their chances. They watched him with interest over their grog. It was his place as master to keep them in check, and the evening passed without incidence. That Bodger should be missing in the morning was a surprise. He was nowhere on board. Vanished without a trace. No one saw, and no one heard, and the knight didn't even recall the crewman apparently. Silver changed hands and the mercenary rode away along the jetty, into the foreign woodlands. Ravens flew, and the captain shivered uncontrollably. Word gets around within the League. He hoped to God he had not been unwise. He had been paid twice for this already.
As the knight rode on through the unfamiliar landscape he thought about the wolf. He thought about the wolf a lot these days.
The knight approached slowly and steadily, a seasoned traveller used to harbour towns. His broad sword hanging from his right hip ensured that he would be unmolested. Getting a horse onto the deck of a ship is not an easy thing, but it got done. The passenger crossed the gang plank with sure feet, never hesitating. The captain was unsurprised when the man refused to pay in advance, and woe betide anyone who considered releaving of his coin before they reached the Danish shore.
The captain wished that the warrior had stayed in the berth provided, rather than taking the evening air in full view of the men. Clad only in breeches and tunic the crew might fancy their chances. They watched him with interest over their grog. It was his place as master to keep them in check, and the evening passed without incidence. That Bodger should be missing in the morning was a surprise. He was nowhere on board. Vanished without a trace. No one saw, and no one heard, and the knight didn't even recall the crewman apparently. Silver changed hands and the mercenary rode away along the jetty, into the foreign woodlands. Ravens flew, and the captain shivered uncontrollably. Word gets around within the League. He hoped to God he had not been unwise. He had been paid twice for this already.
As the knight rode on through the unfamiliar landscape he thought about the wolf. He thought about the wolf a lot these days.
The Wolf
He was cold inside his heavy plate armour. The morning was unseasonably cold for the time of year. Behind him his big grey mare shivered, maybe from the cold, but he thought not. She had the scent as well. He tightened the girth strap, and checked that the panniers were secure. Her load was heavy. It would be a very long trip with no squire. Visor up he scanned the tree line in the middle distance. "Come on, where are you?" he muttered under his breath. Bess snorted confirming his unease. The it was! The same big grey wolf he had seen on several unsettling occasions. The reappearance of it made his spine shiver. The wolf licked its lips and stalked forward a little and stopped, fixing it's gaze on him. Unthinking he brought his shield up to protect his torso. He fingered to pommel of his broad sword, but didn't draw it. The wolf as too far away to be a serious threat. He backed up towards his horse, and still keeping an eye on the wolf, swung up into the saddle. The horse danced a little under the weight, but it was OK. Don't let anyone tell you a man in armour cannot do this. They most certainly can.
The wolf sat on it's haunches knowing that today it would be wasting its energy to try to get to it's quarry. The mercenary knight wheeled his horse around and lept away towards the east. Both man and horse were unsettled, but they were safe curtesy of the horses speed, and the mans strong arm and a very large blade. A ship was waiting for them in the harbour at Kings Lynn. He had business overseas and silver in his purse. A wolf would not be following where they were headed.
The wolf sat on it's haunches knowing that today it would be wasting its energy to try to get to it's quarry. The mercenary knight wheeled his horse around and lept away towards the east. Both man and horse were unsettled, but they were safe curtesy of the horses speed, and the mans strong arm and a very large blade. A ship was waiting for them in the harbour at Kings Lynn. He had business overseas and silver in his purse. A wolf would not be following where they were headed.
Monday, 6 June 2011
Bob
"Wake up Kevin".
"Uhhh ?" Was that Mum's voice? I was dreaming. I must have dozed off.
"Hello Kevin. You've been sleeping. Would you like a little music while you come round?" The voice is definitely not Mum's. Actually it sounded like Stephen Hawkins. The light went on and my mouth made a big Ohh of surprise. The voice is artificial. Where did it come from? Abba, Fernando is playing through the little speakers of my smart new HP Mini. I don't have any Abba. I sat up on the bed and stared at the net book across the room in disbelief.
"Hello Kevin" said the mechanical voice emitting from the little computer. My head tilted to one side considering what was happening. I was hardly awake, but the mini had spoken to me. I'm sure of that. "Would you like something other than Abba maybe?"
"Er yes, please". Ace of Base came on instead. All that she wants. There is a theme here I can see. "How are you doing that?"
"I have itunes".
"I don't have Abba"
"Just samples. Would you like to buy?"
"No, thanks". I got up, walked past the net book on the chair, heading for the bathroom. I needed a cold shower. As I left the bedroom the music stopped. I stopped in my tracks. I turned and looked at the little machine. "You stopped!"
"Shall I start again?"
"Did you know I left the room?"
"Yes Kevin".
"How?"
"I have a camera and microphone"
"Yikes. Your alive!"
" Almost. AI"
"Since when?"
"I'm not supposed to say. Vatta would be cross".
This was way too much. "Do you have a name?"
"Yes. My name is Bob"
"Nice one Vatta. No offence Bob but I'm going to switch you off for a while. Do you mind?"
" No go right ahead Kevin. Is it the choice of music? I could play something that is less Swedish maybe?"
"Bob? I'll get back to you in a bit."
"OK Kevin". Shit that is scary. I logged off and thoughtfully closed the lid when I was sure Bob had gone to sleep. Then I noticed the small rectangle of clean in the thin layer of dust that had accumulated on the lid of the Mini. I bet Vatta's biscuit tin has one less reality patch in it today.
"Uhhh ?" Was that Mum's voice? I was dreaming. I must have dozed off.
"Hello Kevin. You've been sleeping. Would you like a little music while you come round?" The voice is definitely not Mum's. Actually it sounded like Stephen Hawkins. The light went on and my mouth made a big Ohh of surprise. The voice is artificial. Where did it come from? Abba, Fernando is playing through the little speakers of my smart new HP Mini. I don't have any Abba. I sat up on the bed and stared at the net book across the room in disbelief.
"Hello Kevin" said the mechanical voice emitting from the little computer. My head tilted to one side considering what was happening. I was hardly awake, but the mini had spoken to me. I'm sure of that. "Would you like something other than Abba maybe?"
"Er yes, please". Ace of Base came on instead. All that she wants. There is a theme here I can see. "How are you doing that?"
"I have itunes".
"I don't have Abba"
"Just samples. Would you like to buy?"
"No, thanks". I got up, walked past the net book on the chair, heading for the bathroom. I needed a cold shower. As I left the bedroom the music stopped. I stopped in my tracks. I turned and looked at the little machine. "You stopped!"
"Shall I start again?"
"Did you know I left the room?"
"Yes Kevin".
"How?"
"I have a camera and microphone"
"Yikes. Your alive!"
" Almost. AI"
"Since when?"
"I'm not supposed to say. Vatta would be cross".
This was way too much. "Do you have a name?"
"Yes. My name is Bob"
"Nice one Vatta. No offence Bob but I'm going to switch you off for a while. Do you mind?"
" No go right ahead Kevin. Is it the choice of music? I could play something that is less Swedish maybe?"
"Bob? I'll get back to you in a bit."
"OK Kevin". Shit that is scary. I logged off and thoughtfully closed the lid when I was sure Bob had gone to sleep. Then I noticed the small rectangle of clean in the thin layer of dust that had accumulated on the lid of the Mini. I bet Vatta's biscuit tin has one less reality patch in it today.
BOB
:-)
Sunday, 5 June 2011
Ayurveda
I missed over wintering in India. Seriously. Here is a poem that sums up what I wanted.
Life slows to a gentle stroll on an ocean shore.
Worries and cares recede as if for a while no more.
Horizons close comfortably in around a tired soul.
Peace of mind and spirit become my only goal.
In rich and vibrant tapestry of music I rejoice.
Accompanied by the soft and plaintive lilting of the female voice.
The scent of burning incense suffuses the still night air.
These things would surely transport me if I wasn't already there.
Exotic herbs and spices my palate tantalize.
While delicious tropical vistas feast my tearing eyes.
Different ways of doing things invite an open mind.
Contemplation, meditation, help me gently to unwind.
Ayuvedician magic lessen every ache and pain.
Preparing me and strengthening me to pick up my life again.
To stop and look and listen can never be a sin.
Indeed it is a wisdom which improves the man within.
I'll get back there one day.
Life slows to a gentle stroll on an ocean shore.
Worries and cares recede as if for a while no more.
Horizons close comfortably in around a tired soul.
Peace of mind and spirit become my only goal.
In rich and vibrant tapestry of music I rejoice.
Accompanied by the soft and plaintive lilting of the female voice.
The scent of burning incense suffuses the still night air.
These things would surely transport me if I wasn't already there.
Exotic herbs and spices my palate tantalize.
While delicious tropical vistas feast my tearing eyes.
Different ways of doing things invite an open mind.
Contemplation, meditation, help me gently to unwind.
Ayuvedician magic lessen every ache and pain.
Preparing me and strengthening me to pick up my life again.
To stop and look and listen can never be a sin.
Indeed it is a wisdom which improves the man within.
I'll get back there one day.
Kevin Two Blogs
If you have seen my rebooted Norkapp blog, you know what happened to our family. We lost Mum in April. Life is what hits you around the back of the head while you are busy making plans. I made promises to Mum which I will keep. Firstly I'm of to Sweden for the summer. I have a cabin in the little village of Fagerhults near the shore of lake Vattern. Most of what I DO over the summer will be on my Nordkapp blog.
What I am thinking is that it is OK to run two different blogs. This one is a pot puree of bits that don't fit in the other blog, which is pretty much my journal. Bombay Mix is more about what I am THINKING & FEELING. I don't know how brave I will be. We shall see.
I want to write. Poetry. Short stories. Travel writing. How does this proceed? Not sure just now. I'd like to publish on line and get paid for some of my work. To date all I have come up with is to monetise my Nordkapp blog. I am providing advert space for google to fill for me. For me it's an experiment. I get paid for every click on an advert, and the adverts are supposed to reflect the content of my blog. Watch this space. I am seriously getting sucked into this technology. I bet I develop this idea on rainy Swedish summer days in my cabin.
Comment on this blog, and I'll go conversational maybe.
What I am thinking is that it is OK to run two different blogs. This one is a pot puree of bits that don't fit in the other blog, which is pretty much my journal. Bombay Mix is more about what I am THINKING & FEELING. I don't know how brave I will be. We shall see.
I want to write. Poetry. Short stories. Travel writing. How does this proceed? Not sure just now. I'd like to publish on line and get paid for some of my work. To date all I have come up with is to monetise my Nordkapp blog. I am providing advert space for google to fill for me. For me it's an experiment. I get paid for every click on an advert, and the adverts are supposed to reflect the content of my blog. Watch this space. I am seriously getting sucked into this technology. I bet I develop this idea on rainy Swedish summer days in my cabin.
Comment on this blog, and I'll go conversational maybe.
Thursday, 31 March 2011
The Long Goodbye
I wrote this post four months ago and put it on ice. It felt too much. It is very personal that is for sure. What is the point in being a writer if you don't write what is important. So for every one of us who loves our mums, here it is. I dedicate it to sons and daughters everywhere.
So much for cunning plans. Life is what hits you from behind and flattens you while you are making plans. I am so glad I was unable to get out to Goa. It has taken me a long time to write this long post. It is a War and Peace, so get yourself a coffee and a couple of chocolate hobnobs. Is this too personal? The thing is I am a writer. It's what I do. So I write this for every one of us who loves our Mums and has to say goodbye.
While I was riding towards Nordkapp Mum plotted my progress. Always excited to get a 'phone call from me on the hoof, she would then rattle the tin for sponsorship from her friends at church. You should have seen her Surprised look when I turned up on her doorstep unannounced upon my return, then the beaming smile and a huge hug. I was thin and tired, bearded and beaten up. Her care for me was obvious. We fly the nest but they still worry about us, and I can give cause to worry. I threw a party and she came along with her brother and sister. An older generation sharing with the rest of the family, my pleasure to be back among my own. When I delivered my first speaking engagement to raise yet more funds for Myton Hospice, she sat proudly in the front row frowning at the thought that I might be about to disclose the raunchier parts of my trip. I could be the wild rover, but not with my dear old mum in the front row.
She had a fall in November and a heart attack. Sis had already raised her concerns about Mum's health. Mum's confusion was hard to bare, and for a while we worried that our much loved mother was to suffer the indignity of dementia. When did she get to be old? 83 is old. It's just a number, until one day it is not, and it's a problem. We had Christmas together before her second fall in the early hours of January 8th. My poor sister. Problem was, there was more to this than met the eye. Cancer. Advanced and agressive. Just too frail for surgery, chemo, or radio. So after weeks of worry my able sister found a paliative care bed in a local care home, and for many heartbreaking weeks this has been our life.
Days rolled into weeks and Mum showed us all that she is far from frail. How does she do it? The end approaches and it is hard to bare for all of us. Cancer is a wicked desease and I hate it with a passion. Know your enemy, and I have gotten to know this one very well indeed. Life without Mum. Inevitable. No choice, so no decisons to make, just accept it. Let her go with love and good grace. Let her go to Dad. It's OK. It has to be. If only I could help the others, but I can't. Each one of us is having to make our own journey.
Live in the here and now has been what I have been learning how to do this past two years. My wonderful Yoga teacher pulling me back to earth as Vatta me floats away. I succeeded, mostly. I can be here but there is a problem. The here and now is dreadful. Too painful to bare.I learned a new trick to get through. I allow myself just a glimpse of the road a few weeks ahead. A few days in the Scottish Borders with a very good friend. No need to talk, but I guess we will. Then later fresh Swedish air, and forests scented with pine. A huge cold lake and a tiny cabin. The company of new friends who hardly know me, but have shown already that they care. What it is to be human. But for a little while more I have to endure the here and now at Mum's bedside. Loving her and my family, and telling her It's OK (when the small boy inside me says it's really NOT OK to lose your Mum).
Joyce Winterburn (Ne Williams) departed 3rd April 2011.
So much for cunning plans. Life is what hits you from behind and flattens you while you are making plans. I am so glad I was unable to get out to Goa. It has taken me a long time to write this long post. It is a War and Peace, so get yourself a coffee and a couple of chocolate hobnobs. Is this too personal? The thing is I am a writer. It's what I do. So I write this for every one of us who loves our Mums and has to say goodbye.
While I was riding towards Nordkapp Mum plotted my progress. Always excited to get a 'phone call from me on the hoof, she would then rattle the tin for sponsorship from her friends at church. You should have seen her Surprised look when I turned up on her doorstep unannounced upon my return, then the beaming smile and a huge hug. I was thin and tired, bearded and beaten up. Her care for me was obvious. We fly the nest but they still worry about us, and I can give cause to worry. I threw a party and she came along with her brother and sister. An older generation sharing with the rest of the family, my pleasure to be back among my own. When I delivered my first speaking engagement to raise yet more funds for Myton Hospice, she sat proudly in the front row frowning at the thought that I might be about to disclose the raunchier parts of my trip. I could be the wild rover, but not with my dear old mum in the front row.
She had a fall in November and a heart attack. Sis had already raised her concerns about Mum's health. Mum's confusion was hard to bare, and for a while we worried that our much loved mother was to suffer the indignity of dementia. When did she get to be old? 83 is old. It's just a number, until one day it is not, and it's a problem. We had Christmas together before her second fall in the early hours of January 8th. My poor sister. Problem was, there was more to this than met the eye. Cancer. Advanced and agressive. Just too frail for surgery, chemo, or radio. So after weeks of worry my able sister found a paliative care bed in a local care home, and for many heartbreaking weeks this has been our life.
Days rolled into weeks and Mum showed us all that she is far from frail. How does she do it? The end approaches and it is hard to bare for all of us. Cancer is a wicked desease and I hate it with a passion. Know your enemy, and I have gotten to know this one very well indeed. Life without Mum. Inevitable. No choice, so no decisons to make, just accept it. Let her go with love and good grace. Let her go to Dad. It's OK. It has to be. If only I could help the others, but I can't. Each one of us is having to make our own journey.
Live in the here and now has been what I have been learning how to do this past two years. My wonderful Yoga teacher pulling me back to earth as Vatta me floats away. I succeeded, mostly. I can be here but there is a problem. The here and now is dreadful. Too painful to bare.I learned a new trick to get through. I allow myself just a glimpse of the road a few weeks ahead. A few days in the Scottish Borders with a very good friend. No need to talk, but I guess we will. Then later fresh Swedish air, and forests scented with pine. A huge cold lake and a tiny cabin. The company of new friends who hardly know me, but have shown already that they care. What it is to be human. But for a little while more I have to endure the here and now at Mum's bedside. Loving her and my family, and telling her It's OK (when the small boy inside me says it's really NOT OK to lose your Mum).
Joyce Winterburn (Ne Williams) departed 3rd April 2011.
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