Living on an Island

Excuse me, Status Quo fans, for stealing this song title for a blog post but it immediately sprang to mind on the morning of the 24th June. I woke up around 5am after a fitful few hours of sleep to what I felt sure was still a nightmare - but, no, it was in fact reality - the UK (or more correctly England) had voted to leave the EU. 

I sat with my head in my hands.

It still seems incredible to me that almost 52% of voters were happy to go along with Gove's glib assertion that they'd 'had enough of experts'. I had been hopeful that his past experience as Education Secretary might have been lesson enough in what happens when you don't pay heed to experts. It made no difference how many stark warnings were provided by economists, lawyers or academics, the Leave campaign were 'avin' nun of it'. 

Even more incredulous was the unquestioning amount of support given to a nationalist campaign which worked by feeding resentment until it ruptured through the country causing a chasm so wide that it's hard to imagine it ever being bridged. A certain amount of euroscepticism, I believe, is healthy and even the most hardliner Europhile could never claim that the EU was perfect but to believe that it's 'them' or 'us' and to push patriotism as the panacea for the world's ills...

'Island mentality' has won and my hopes are that the people who claimed that they wanted a fairer and more democratic Britain have their dreams answered, though I suspect that those who have suffered the most at the hands of a neglectful and detached government will, tragically, suffer even more in what will be an acrimonious divorce. Though I'm proud to be an 'adopted Scot' I'm also saddened too by what will be the inevitable break-up of the UK.  

So, more than 48 hours later, and down a few bottles of (French) wine, has my shock abated? Not really. I still find myself bewildered at the nation's choice but a certain amount of resignation has also set in. Social media shows no sign of putting the flames of blame out and indignation and accusation look set to continue for the foreseeable future. I've decided that my own Brexit manifesto is going to have to be a peaceful one; despite the worries about the immediate aftermath, and what might be in store for the younger generation in the long term, we have to respect the decisions made. I hope and pray for empathetic and diplomatic leaders who can bring about the co-operation that is needed to sort out the mess and rebuild. For myself, I'm working on getting past the disappointment, drawing a line and moving on  ___________________________________ 

The return of the light...

“Is the spring coming?" he said. "What is it like?"...

"It is the sun shining on the rain and the rain falling on the sunshine...” 

― Frances Hodgson Burnett, The Secret Garden

Well, we've had two weeks of Easter holidays and I'm feeling refreshed though also a little peeved at the weather. It hasn't really felt like spring here in Scotland, more like the depths of winter. We even had a flurry of snow yesterday!

Bad weather, forcing you to spend more time indoors, extends the winter gloom and feelings of negativity.  But no winter lasts forever and there are signs that finally spring is on its way; the daffodils are still blooming even when their heads have been beaten down with the wind, buds are appearing and the birds are busy building (and re-building) their nests. Spring is definitely the most optimistic month - I feel more hopeful when the light lasts a little longer each day and the clouds disperse more frequently to afford increasingly longer appearances of the sun.

Finances (the lack of) have meant that we haven't been away but spent the time at home. De-cluttering, spring-cleaning, and establishing order again, have been very therapeutic and our youngest daughter has even been inspired to clean and tidy her room (wonders never cease). We've had time to spend as a family, playing board games, enjoying film nights and visiting local haunts. We were also able to have my mum to stay for a time. Not long ago we lost my stepfather to vascular dementia and so it was good for her to have a change of scene and be cared for after such a long time of being the carer.

Spring is symbolic of renewal and looking forward and so I'm determined to try and be more positive. Spring-cleaning is not just a physical process; it's good to do a little mental and spiritual spring-cleaning too, don't you think? Too often I find myself holding on to negative thoughts and dwelling on disappointment. You can end up planting little seeds of anxiety and self-doubt and they grow very quickly to become overwhelming - putting happiness in the shade and eroding confidence.

So here's to optimism, moving forward and to the return of the light!

You know you're (almost) an adult when...

Well, it's happened. I can hardly believe it, but my eldest has turned 18! It's quite a milestone for her, and me. She's excited to be officially recognised as an adult and I feel officially recognised as ancient!

I think most people would say that it's not until you're well into your 20s that you feel grown up and possibly not until you're earning and you've paid your own bills! For me, it wasn't until I was a mum, and completely responsible for someone else, that I felt, terrifyingly, like I'd well and truly reached adulthood.

There are earlier signs, though, that you are turning into an adult and so I thought it would be fun to share some of them (well, 18 signs to be exact):


1. You have your own shopping list for IKEA - before you just dragged along behind your parents and whined about getting a hotdog. Now you've looked online and through the catalogue, you know what's new, you've measured, you have a colour scheme and you've written down the aisle number.

2. You regularly go to bed before 11pm - you're yawning by 9pm and off to the land of nod long before younger siblings.

3. You understand light fittings - you know what a 'bayonet cap' is and you might have even changed a lightbulb.

4. You've plucked up enough courage to actually leave a message - and what's more, it made sense

5. You enjoy a trip to the garden centre - it's a serious sign of age when you catch yourself looking at bulbs and spring bedding plants

6. You're excited by a Friday night in - a wild night out just sounds exhausting - Netflix and your fluffy onesie - bliss

7. Your houseplants are alive - sometimes you talk to them

8. You consult the weather forecast before making plans - if it's going to be cold you might even wear a coat

9. You choose to eat a salad - jaffa cakes are no longer considered as part of your '5 a day' and you try to make healthy choices once in a while

10. You don't buy the cheapest bottle  - it's not cheap alcohol you're after, instead you enjoy a glass of decent wine

11. You've managed to kill a spider in your room by yourself - even if that involved throwing a shoe at it with your eyes closed

12. When you have friends round you actually prepare food - an open bag of dorritos doesn't count. You take time to present food nicely and you might even use the oven

13. You don't have to be asked to clean your room - you take pride in making your room look like the picture on Pinterest. You change your (co-ordinated) bedding regularly, know all about hoover attachments and have even been known to dust!

14. You've spent your own money on cushions and candles - you might even have a summer and winter collection

15. You start to reminise - yep, nostalgia creeps up on you and before you know it you're telling 'Do you remember when...' stories

16. You take your make up off before going to bed - you take skin care seriously and begin to worry about sun aging

17. You've scheduled your own dentist's/doctor's appointment - what's more, you don't expect a sticker or lollypop at the end

18. New socks make you happy

So, there you have it: my comprehensive checklist. Even if you can tick all of these, don't grow up too fast, my lovely daughter. Honour the child inside and do something ridiculous every so often (though please not anything too expensive or anything that involves a trip to the police station!)

Happy

I do loathe January. It's just a month I know, and it's entirely illogical to link mood to the calendar, but nevertheless I find myself wallowing in a mid winter gloom that's hard to shake off.

Perthaps it's the post-celebratory comedown following the highs of Christmas and New Year. Perhaps it's the extra flab piled on beneath bulge-hiding jumpers. Or perhaps it's the weather; I don't know about you but here in Scotland I've forgotten what the sun looks like. Most probably it's a combination of all of these factors. Consequently, I haven't really been feeling myself lately. I'm not depressed but I'm definitely a little way down on the happiness index.

I think of myself as generally a happy person. I'm not always resillient but I don't take myself too seriously either. Quite honestly, I'm a bit of loon most of the time - fond of acting the fool and laughing at my own jokes! I tend to view the world in an optimistic way and focus on the nice things (my husband would say I see things in a 'naive' way and I'm drawn to 'fluffy' things!)

Stuck indoors and laid low with a bit of a flare of my illness, I watched a documentary on Netflix entitled 'Happy'. I was struck by its findings about happiness. It wasn't anything really revolutionary but it was revealing. The documentary combines real life stories from people around the world with interviews from leading scientists and psychologists. The focus on the non-material aspects of happiness was uplifting and reinforced the idea of shared human experience and a sense of community as being essential to contentment.

I particularly liked the aged Brazilian surfer who talked about the importance of physical activity and trying to 'work so that you can live your life in tranquility'. Easier said than done I'm sure but that also seemed to be another message in the film: that happiness is not an end goal. There is no defintive point to happiness but instead an ongoing experience. It's gratitude for the small things, kindness and cooperation that increase our happiness as illustrated perfectly by the rickshaw driver thankful for the tarpuline cover on his home in the Kolkatta slums. For me, the most touching part of the movie, however, was the visit to the Japanese island of Okinwawa which holds the record for the highest number of 100 year olds. I think these centanarians have much to teach us about happiness. Here's a little clip:

If you're feeling the January blues too then I'd reccomend you watch 'Happy'. It is as enjoyable to watch as the name implies. And now, although surfing is out of the question, I am going to get outside and commune with nature even if that does mean walking in the rain and admiring the mud!

Favourite Places: Barns Ness Lighthouse

I seem to have a fascination with lighthouses, I'm not sure why. I think it must be a childish delight. On the one hand they make me think of fairytale towers, pirates, smugglers and the lighthouse keeper's cat but on the other, I think of isolation, storms, shipwrecks and that terrifying episode of Doctor Who - 'Horror of Fang Rock'! 

Fortunately, there's nothing terrifying about Barns Ness Lighthouse. Although it is in a fairly lonely spot, standing on a strip of coastline completely exposed to the North Sea, it is enchanting.When we first moved to this part of Scotland I was surprised to discover it as it is incongruously situated between the cement works and the nuclear power station. 

At low tide you can see the layers of sedimentary rocks between the pools and shingle - one of the reasons this is designated as an area of special geological interest. It is also a migration watch point for bird watchers and coastal forragers searching for all kinds of treasure: mussels, whelks, razor shells, corals and fossils. 

The lighthouse itself came into operation in 1901 and was finally deactivated in 2005. Made from local stone it withstood attack during the war Until 1966 it was manned by two lightkeepers which explains why there are two identical cottages alongside as well as the old engine house. These buildings are privately owned today and the lighthouse has become the ideal spot for abseiling, the last brave soul being our local minister who took up the challenge for the Bethany Trust just a few months back. Sometimes I think it would be rather romantic to live in a lighthouse but then I think of the practicality - Barns Ness has 169 steps to the top!  

Today, buttoned up in warm coats and wrapped in hats and scarves, we took a short walk with Luna. It's perfect for dog walking as grassy banks and well kept paths mean no mud! I attempted to capture some of the magic of the place. The light was just beginning to fade and you can just see the moon making its early appearance.

Paris

I had begun to write a post for Armistice Day but  I was finding it hard to write anything that didn't sound glib or mawkish. Having given up and left the post in my Drafts folder, I was compelled to resurrect it when the dreadful news about the terrorist attacks in Paris quite literally exploded onto our screens.

The sense of panic and terror was almost palpable. If it can happen in Paris it can happen here. Our proximity just across the Channel and the fact that, although we hate to admit it, we have much in common with our Gallic cousins, made the attack feel more personal. Perhaps this feeling has been forged from much shared history (if we weren't at war with one another then we were busy forming alliances). The English language alone bears witness to this - 29% of our lexicon is in fact borrowed from French.

There were criticisms of the amount of coverage given to Paris when compared to similar recent attacks in Lebanon and Iraq. I think this is, sadly, a reflection of human nature. We seem to have a limited capacity to care and we are, selfishly, more sensitive to victims closer to us both culturally and politically as well as geographically. The media is biased, this is true, but we as media consumers are also to blame for this inequality in sympathetic response. An attack in the heart of Paris, the city of romance, has had more power to shock and this type of atrocity is less frequent than reports of bombings in the Middle East. Morally we should care the same amount about all victims but it would be hypercritical to say this is always the case.

I'd like to think that this event expands our capacity to care rather than increase any tendency to hatred and division. Yet, it is worrying to hear about the rise of racial abuse and the ignorant accusations hurled at Muslims both here and in France. Fear breeds intolerance and suspiscion. You need only look at the mixed reactions to the first arrival of Syrian refugees in Scotland this week. Abhorrent extreme right-wing groups are quick to stir up anti-migrant sentiments in the aftermath and there are cries to close borders and deny aid to the increasingly desperate trail of refugees.  I hope and pray that the feeling of being under threat will foster a sense of empathy, support and solidarity that will, in the end, be stronger than hate. Love not war.

Oh, I do like to be beside the seaside...

We've moved. Again. And, this time, we're quite literally beside the sea - The North Sea - to be precise and not so much as 'beside' exactly as more 'above'. Perched on the edge of a cliff (I feel a bit weird typing that) the new house has spectacular views and I'm finding myself captivated by the expanse of blue, and thoroughly entertained by the constant parade of marine traffic, whether it's a heavily laden container ship or a jaunty little fishing boat. Not long after we had moved in we were amazed to see dolphins and learned from our neighbours that this is a regular sight; such a thrill to see them leaping clear out of the water.

I think my Australian sister would not think much of the rock and shingle beach below but I love it. I like to be able to amble down the path and walk along the shoreline, trying to distinguish between the many types of gull as they soar overhead while admiring the stillness of a pair of grey herons as they wait patiently on the rocks. The beach is not one to attract tourists as it is not a traditionally pretty beach but a wild and rugged spot. This is a place for birdwatchers, photographers, and serious walkers; the John Muir way passes through here. Neither is it a beach that's easy to discover. It is hidden away and you must walk down the pathway, through the dean and past the old mill house, following the sound of the water.  On one side you look out to the north and on the other the industrial coastline of East Lothian, the power station dominating the headland.

At the end of the path...

The little path down to the beach

We're not just enjoying having the beach on our doorstep, we're also enjoying the new house. I always attribute human qualities to houses and imagine them as distinct personalities. I think of this house as a stoic matronly type of house. She stands for no nonsense from the weather and seems completely unpeturbed by the gales and horizontal rain...so typical of a Scottish summer! One hundred years old, she must have witnessed a great deal and several generations have lived out the dramas of family life within her walls. Her rooms are firmly square and spacious - no whimsical arches, narrow recesses or pokey corners. It's comforting how solid she feels though the bones of her stairs and floorboards creak a little with old age. Despite her maturity, she's a well- kept woman and everything was immaculate and sparkling when we moved in. It made the whole moving process so much easier, only having to clean the one house we were moving out of and knowing that things could be put straight away; now I'm determined to keep the house that way!

So as well as photos of the beach, here is a sneak preview of one or two of the rooms in the house. We're still in the process of making the house into our home: deciding where furniture should go, sorting out pictures and raking through the remaining boxes - you know, the ones with no contents listed, packed at the last minute and containing all manner of random and unrelated items!

The back of the house has an open plan feel with the sitting room leading through to a dining room with a large picture window overlooking the sea. There is a sliding door to the kitchen from here and a sun room to the other side. I can't quite work out which way the garden faces but it seems to get the best of the sun for most of the day.  

When mowing the lawn or hanging out the washing you're liable to get distracted by the beautiful views and it takes discipline to finish the job.

 I end up just standing there admiring the scenery, lulled into inactivity by the sound of the waves.

Our eldest daughter definitely has the best bedroom in the house. She has two large windows that afford all round views of the sea and the coastline. Fabbydoo seems to like this bedroom the most too and can generally be found on the end of her bed or perched on the windowsill, looking out while the house martins and swallows put on a first-rate aerial display every afternoon.

I'm hoping that now we're settled here, and with a change to working 4 days instead of full-time, that this will be the start of more regular blogging. This setting is certainly inspirational!