Sunday, November 09, 2008
Quiet Remembrance Sunday and Bembridge windmill.
It has been a fairly gentle Sunday.
It wasn't raining first thing so we set off for Dorking car boot sale followed by the one at Horley.
It turned out not to be worth the effort. I spent just £5 on things to sell.
A charming trio (cup, saucer and tea plate) with images of London and the new king and queen in 1937 was the best buy.
Later in the day I finally wrote up the books bought last week along with this week's paltry collection.
It is of course Remembrance Sunday and words, images and music continue to tug at my heart strings.
The first world was such hell. All war is hard, leading to massive death and destruction - but can the conditions ever match those trenches with the filthy mud, the cold, the uncertainty and fear?
At one time in my life I might have been ashamed to admit my most tearful moment today - maybe my cynicism would have prevented the tears.
We heard about how Rolf Harris had discovered recently that his father and his uncle were fighting together in the war - the uncle died.
It gave a very personal, poignant meaning to "Two Little Boys".
I have heard of several people who have only recently discovered of the war time experiences of their parents or grandparents. One man had not even realised that his father had been on the battle fields; he knew he had a disabled father, but when he, as a lad, asked about this Father shrugged and said "It happened in an accident." Father died when the lad was 9 years old.
Poets (and many people turned to poetry or prayer) expressed in words what they experienced - but many just couldn't give credence to their experiences by giving them words. So we descendents are, 90 years on, now beginning to fully appreciate the enormity of our earlier generations' war.
That is slight poetic licence - of course we have been learning for a very long time. I just like my words to complete what I am writing.
Bill has put up 4 tiles today, where there had been a gap when the new cupboards went in. That shows just how much major work has been on our minds today!
He also got busy with the vacuum cleaner whilst I cooked some dinner.
Tomorrow we are going to Ikea at Croydon, we think. There is a list of things that we could use to finish off things. This includes some more shelving for our bedroom and the spare room. The new kitchen is setting off a need in us to get more rooms de-cluttered and organised.
My Isle of Wight pictures today show a place we almost certainly would not have visited if we had not joined The National trust the day before - Bembridge windmill.
Now we do like windmills - and would have admired it briefly from the outside perhaps.
But of course, admission is now free for us to visit any National Trust property so we enjoyed a look inside, climbing up the steep ladders to the top. It was good to get out of the wind and the chilly air. The skies around us looked gloomy and grey.
Bill brightened up his picture with the red autumn berries.
The view from one of the tiny windows between the sails to the green undulating fields beyond.
It wasn't raining first thing so we set off for Dorking car boot sale followed by the one at Horley.
It turned out not to be worth the effort. I spent just £5 on things to sell.
A charming trio (cup, saucer and tea plate) with images of London and the new king and queen in 1937 was the best buy.
Later in the day I finally wrote up the books bought last week along with this week's paltry collection.
It is of course Remembrance Sunday and words, images and music continue to tug at my heart strings.
The first world was such hell. All war is hard, leading to massive death and destruction - but can the conditions ever match those trenches with the filthy mud, the cold, the uncertainty and fear?
At one time in my life I might have been ashamed to admit my most tearful moment today - maybe my cynicism would have prevented the tears.
We heard about how Rolf Harris had discovered recently that his father and his uncle were fighting together in the war - the uncle died.
It gave a very personal, poignant meaning to "Two Little Boys".
I have heard of several people who have only recently discovered of the war time experiences of their parents or grandparents. One man had not even realised that his father had been on the battle fields; he knew he had a disabled father, but when he, as a lad, asked about this Father shrugged and said "It happened in an accident." Father died when the lad was 9 years old.
Poets (and many people turned to poetry or prayer) expressed in words what they experienced - but many just couldn't give credence to their experiences by giving them words. So we descendents are, 90 years on, now beginning to fully appreciate the enormity of our earlier generations' war.
That is slight poetic licence - of course we have been learning for a very long time. I just like my words to complete what I am writing.
Bill has put up 4 tiles today, where there had been a gap when the new cupboards went in. That shows just how much major work has been on our minds today!
He also got busy with the vacuum cleaner whilst I cooked some dinner.
Tomorrow we are going to Ikea at Croydon, we think. There is a list of things that we could use to finish off things. This includes some more shelving for our bedroom and the spare room. The new kitchen is setting off a need in us to get more rooms de-cluttered and organised.
My Isle of Wight pictures today show a place we almost certainly would not have visited if we had not joined The National trust the day before - Bembridge windmill.
Now we do like windmills - and would have admired it briefly from the outside perhaps.
But of course, admission is now free for us to visit any National Trust property so we enjoyed a look inside, climbing up the steep ladders to the top. It was good to get out of the wind and the chilly air. The skies around us looked gloomy and grey.
Bill brightened up his picture with the red autumn berries.
Miller Bill.
Wooden cogs and wheels.
Wooden cogs and wheels.
The view from one of the tiny windows between the sails to the green undulating fields beyond.
To the left of the sail are some small "dots" in the field.
They are the Hebridean sheep which The National Trust own - our sheep I suppose!
Its wild wet and windy now outdoors.
