Following in Virginia Woolf's Footsteps

On a hot day in June this year, My Man and I went to visit a local beauty spot, a seaside village - Manorbier.

I have long been interested in the Bloomsbury Group and

gleefully picked up Virginia Woolf A Biography for 50p at a car boot sale a few months ago. I was delighted to discover that she was a regular summer visitor to Manorbier from 1904.

The image above is of one of two houses in which she is purported to have stayed. At the time it was called Sea View. It was known as Blue Dolphins when Lesley Kenton lived there a few years ago and now it is named Vigilant House after the present owners' boat. Taking a deep breath and grasping my courage in both hands, I knocked on their door to ask permission to photograph the outside of their house.  They very kindly said yes and were incredibly welcoming and helpful...inviting us inside for a brief tour, even though they were preparing a supper for visitors who would be arriving later on that afternoon.

We walked where she may have gently strolled, leaving the faintest of echoes for me to feel her essence, wondering, did she visit the old 12th Century Norman Church.....

fall in love with the simple designs of the brilliantly coloured windows inside.....

gaze in a dream at this view from a wooden bench in the graveyard......

feel how sacred this quiet, peaceful ancient site is......

find paths of enlightenment along the way.....

where her husband may have made her laugh by flirting playfully with her.....

and would she have gasped in delighted awe at the Neolithic 'earth fast' chambered tomb appropriately called King's Quoit, for where better place for a King to set his bones so his spirit may fly free

From this vantage point, I wonder if gazing down, she saw a wave such as this and was inspired, as has been mentioned in her biography, to write The Waves.

I found 'The Waves' in another car boot sale last weekend and the first paragraph makes me swoon!

'The sun had not yet risen. The sea was indistinguishable from the sky, except that the sea was slightly creased as if a cloth had wrinkles in it. Gradually as the sky whitened a dark line lay on the horizon dividing the sea from the sky and the grey cloth became barred with thick strokes moving, one after another, beneath the surface, following each other, pursuing each other, perpetually.'

We so enjoyed this day and will visit again soon as we did not get to see the castle or the thirteenth century dovecote and I really fancy visiting the little coffee shop for another sparkling Elderflower cordial, and lemon cheesecake.

Searching for water finding air

Searching for water finding air, originally uploaded by stitch witch.

Last night, Mark, Tilly and I went down to walk on the beach. I did not take the camera with me as the sky had been a uniform grey all day, there had been no light, no contrast and now it was getting near sun(!) set too. Of course, there was a most interesting subject on the pebbles! A tree washed up, encrusted in beautiful pale-blue-lace-agate goose barnacles, making music in the wind ~ a glorious counterpoint to the crashing crescendo of the roiling sea.
A warm wind blew mist and sea-spray all around us. Jelly fish abounded on the shore. My mouth was full of salty air. Tilly had a wonderful time fetching ball. I spread out my arms, put my head back and spun and spun and spun. I love spinning.

When I awoke this morning, even though it was, as it so often is with us, what I call a Pembrokeshire grey, I decided to go back down and check if the sea had reclaimed its gift.

The tinkling chimes of their shells told me before I saw them that they were still there.

As I was crouching down, engrossed in clicking away, I was joined by a young lady, (Jen), and her camera. She and her partner, Bru, were on holiday from the mountains of North Carolina, USA. They were hiking the en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pembrokeshire_Coast_Path, all 186 miles of it. They had not expected the cold weather we have here!! I was passing through North Carolina in the summer of 1986 and I remember we stopped at a roadside garage for petrol and followed the owner's example, standing in front of the open door of the freezers to cool down. It never gets that hot here!!

I loved the way these little beauties danced in slow motion ~ in and out of their delicate shells. I am hoping they will get taken back into the sea soon. The lifeguards had apparently tried to tow the tree with their quad bike, but it is so big and so water logged it was too heavy :~(

Grace



Brave



Dance of the Barnacles







A Windchime Necklace

Twenty Five Years

Mum with me, (right) and our friend Nic, (centre) on the ramp

of our horse-box in a local horse show. Summer 1976

originally uploaded by stitch witch.

My mother passed away 25 years ago today. She was only 54 years old. It was very quick. She complained of an aching in her abdomen in October 1984, but did not go to a doctor until January 1985. It took another three months for them to diagnose cancer of the stomach along with the cruel, heartbreaking news that there was nothing they could do for her. I had been planning to get married to my first husband in August, but we were advised to bring the wedding forward, and so I had my mum at my wedding on a hot, bright, sun-filled first day of June. She wore a wig, for they had decided to try chemotherapy, and she had, as happens to many, lost her beautiful hair. This did not detract from her incredible sense of style. She was slim and smart and I was so very proud of her.
It became obvious that she had held herself together for that day, for very soon afterwards she was too weak to rise from her bed. I was living sixty miles away at the time, but had a very kind and understanding boss who arranged for a leave of absence so I could go and stay at home with my parents and help my father nurse my beloved mother for the last days of her life.
It was harrowing, heartrending, unreal. I felt terribly helpless. I could not take away her pain, and though I refused to cry when I was with her, I would reach half way down the stairs and completely fall apart. For here was my rock, my pillar of strength, my comfort. The one person in my world who knew me and understood me, who heard me and saw me, knew all my secrets and embarrassments and loved me anyway, and here she was, suffering, and there was nothing I could do about it. I could not make it right for her as she had done for me, so many times I lost count.
Nurses joined us daily, administrating morphine and quiet, efficient kindness. They were women who had known my mother for years and felt their own sorrow for such a good life taken so young.
On the last day, she slipped into a coma, and I sat by her side stroking her hand - she had beautiful hands - and telling her how much I loved her.
She slipped from us on July 11th at 4:40 am. My father was with her, and I was awake when he softly called to tell me she had gone.
I was 24.
From this year on, I have lived longer without her in my life than with. I still miss her (so much) now as I did then.

I miss the laughter we shared.

I miss sweeping her up in my arms and twirling her around...she was small and light...I was small and strong! She would squeal with laughter and beg me to put her down.

I miss the mini road-trips to beautiful places....listening to Neil Diamond on the car tape-deck and singing along.

I miss our hugs.
I miss our talks.

I miss her beautiful face.

I miss her total and unconditional love.
I miss that she never knew my son.

I miss her so wise councel.

I miss her.


Mum as a young woman ~



I love that she had a wild side ~



as a young mother with my older brother ~



'Rwy'n cari ti mam ~ I love you mum

Be Kind to Yourself

Like yourself

Smile a lot

Hug a friend

Make herb tinctures

Talk to trees

Ride a motorbike

Dance in the moonlight

Run barefoot through fields

Kiss a loved one

Pick daisies

Write a poem

Climb a mountain

Go bare-back riding

Make a daisychain

Dance in the rain

Watch a thunderstorm

Drink herb teas

Wear funny hats

Paint your toenails

Sing with the wind

Be kind to a stranger

Watch a stormy sea

Be who you are

Laugh out loud

Sit in quiet, sit in peace

Be kind to yourself

Be your best friend

words: Helen Lee 2001