Gardens ...

I have been seriously hacking back one of my hedges, and collected the clippings into ten large plastic bags, all in preparation for the great day when the tree at the bottom of the garden will be pruned hard ....

Remaining with the gardening theme, I include a few pictures of the college gardens, with special emphasis on the new bed at the feet of Brickmaster Copperleaf.  It used to be totally dominated by ivy, but recent plantings have brightened things up a bit!

Bad News and Sadness in Spring

I read recently that suicides go up in Spring – apparently the contrast between their own misery and the joyousness of Spring is too much to bear for those poor souls.  I find this counterintuitive.  For me January and February are depressing months, too dark and damp and cold, and a let down after the happy harvest of Autumn and the joy of Christmas time.  If I receive bad news in those months it really really gets me down and I feel sad for days.  But if something awful happens in Spring, hey that’s different!  I mope for an hour or two, and then pull myself together and go for a walk.

While walking I see lots of flowers and happy people enjoying the sunshine, the birds sing and build their nests, the frogs populate ponds and lay the foundations for the next generation, and the whole world seems cheerful and brand new.  Even reading the papers with their regular diet of disasters and outrages cannot dampen my spirits!  Somehow every Spring carries the promise of new beginnings and endless amazing possibilities, so it is easy to forget one’s troubles and take courage and hope for a better future.

And even if it won’t be my own better future, at least things will be good for some other people, those who are still young and strong and ready to take on the world and wrestle it to the ground.  I find it well nigh impossible to be miserable while watching young people walk hand in hand, parents with babies in pushchairs eating ice cream in the park, old folk sitting on their favourite benches watching kids feed the ducks on a Saturday afternoon, and all of creation is green and growing and getting into its stride.

Carpe Diem, I say – Seize the Day (and throttle it!)

Life is good.

Lost in London - Tideway Village

I had another great day in London yesterday, mainly noodling around near the Globe Theatre and getting lost again.  This was my second attempt to locate it, but I once again had forgotten my map and V was not amused having to trundle around the London riverside for three hours.  She was even less amused when I discovered the map at the bottom of my handbag later on, but that is another story.

Anyway.  The weather was absolutely stunning in the afternoon, though the morning was a little overcast.  First we had a look around the area of the Houses of Parliament - well, behind the area, there were way too many tourists in the main venues.  But all we had to do was walk towards the side streets and there was no one around at all - so that's where I took a few photos.

We also had a quick walk around the little park behind Parliament.  Towards one end is a children's play area, and it has a musical stepping area - you step on a metal plate and it makes a sound.  Well, it did for everyone but me.  Apparently I step too lightly.  I gotta gain some weight so I can make more of an impression!

During our subsequent ramble we found something really amazing:  Tideway Village!  It is nestling along the waterfront close to Battersea Power Station.  The whole area is one big building site.  We had to snake our way along a long and winding path, searching for access to the river, and suddenly were confronted with a community of houseboats!  Imagine the scene:  on one side of the little path you see dozens of dilapidated old vessels, on the other a group of skyscrapers being build!  Surreal and mind-boggling.

Apparently the little community of doughty water-rats are currently engaged in a battle for survivals with the developers, obviously I signed their on-line petition immediately (hope it isn't too late!) and wish them every success for the future.  Here is the link, if you are interested.

http://tidewayvillage.blogspot.co.uk/

They've even got a security gate in front of the ships!

First post I ever shared on my blog ...

Sharing posts from other bloggers isn't something I do, but I decided to make an exception for this one - it says so much better what I have felt for an awfully long time, but couldn't quite focus in my mind.  Very thought-provoking.  I'll be thinking about it for a long time, anyway!


THE SEA GYPSY PHILOSOPHER: ENSLAVED BY OUR STUFF

Cleaning the House and De-cluttering – the story continues

I spent most of yesterday cleaning the house – not an activity I enjoy!  I don’t mind tidying up, but dusting, wiping, and hoovering are just so not me.  Nevertheless they have to be done periodically, mainly before friends come to visit.  When you are a German living abroad everyone assumes you are a fanatical cleanliness fiend with a special sideline in chlorine and other abrasive chemicals, and if visitors see that your house is even the tiniest bit dusty or disorderly they assume you are sick and insist on you seeing a doctor.  Some decades ago I tried to re-invent myself as one of life’s natural born dust-bunnies, but the stereotypes where too strong for me and I failed miserably.  So now I always scour the entire house before anyone comes to visit, especially people who (a) don’t know me all that well and (b) are quite fond of me – a dangerous combination!

Whenever I thus spent the five or six hours it takes to make the place spotless I meditate - in a disgruntled mood - on the overabundance of my possessions.  That’s how I got rid of two-thirds of my books some years ago, and half a dozen bookcases.  As I dust an ornament I ask myself, am I going to have to do this for another fifty years?  I feel like a slave of my possessions, and I am a rebellious slave!  So while I am dusting I slowly fill a carrier bag with all the stuff I don’t want to ever dust again.  Then I store the bag in my lean-to, and nine chances out of ten within a week or two all the discarded ornaments sneak – I know not how – back onto the surfaces whence I had removed them.  However, the one in ten times that they don’t manage to do this – largely because I take the bag straight to the next charity shop – have sufficed to significantly reduce the amount of clutter over the years.  In a similar vein, when I had the kitchen refurbished six years ago and had to take everything out I ended up throwing away half the stuff I stored there-in, because I was too lazy to clean it all off and try to fit it back into my new kitchen.

The arguments against just making a clean sweep and throwing the lot out have mainly to do with me owning really nice stuff which I imagine might be worth quite a bit of money.  Not that I paid a lot of money for them in the first place – mainly I picked them up cheap at a flea-market.  Nevertheless throwing them out seems a bit like burning money!  However, giving them to a charity shop is of course different – they will sell for a small fortune, or so I fondly imagine.  Oxfam, who got my books, send me a statement telling me how they made about a thousand pounds from them, which on the one hand made me feel good – what a benefactor I am! – and on the other rather angry – all that money I could have made if I hadn’t been too lazy to sell them on Ebay!

The thing is, selling on Ebay and other such places is a mugs game.  Huge effort for very little reward, in the main.  Yet worse, it is almost impossible not to look at the things other people are selling, so you end up buying more than you sell!  The same is true for most people I know who sell stuff at flea-markets and jumble sales – they always spend more than they take in.  So I just fill bag after bag and enable some charity or other to make a windfall.

One thing I noticed about myself is that once I got rid of something I do not replace it.  Since I dumped all those books I have hardly bought any new ones.  I regularly used to go to a second hand book shop and emerge with a dozen likely volumes, but now I hardly ever buy any books at all.  Every time I am tempted to buy one I think of all the books I threw out in the past and cease and desist.  The same with furniture; since I sold about half of my carefully hoarded antiques – reputedly worth a fortune, hah! – for a song I am practically immune to buying any more.  It is true that I acquired a few 250 year old tripod tables for less than £30 – self constraint has its limits!  But generally speaking, I have learned my lesson.  Getting rid of stuff is so much more trouble than acquiring it, and since I am getting lazier as I age I buy less and less.

Consequently the house has gotten much emptier over the years.  The main victims have been the moths who used to have orgies in my carpets and wall hangings!  I had too many of them (both moths and wall hangings) to keep them separate and mothballed most of them in the attic.  Now the moths are on a losing wicket, and I am in negotiations with a local Muslim preacher about donating my excess carpet bags and rugs to refugees who might appreciate a few mementos from their homeland.  Of course there are my scarves, but they take up very little space and require no dusting or cleaning (except occasionally after I have worn them), so I allow myself this exception.  Even my cardigan obsession has faded, and I have had a major clear-out.  Now I am eyeing my porcelain collection with separatist intentions.  It is true that they all fit in the cupboard, so dusting is not an issue, but nevertheless I feel I could easily shed that Old English Rose coffee set.  I already reduced my flower vases by half …..  The trouble is, once I get started my roving eye sees excess everywhere, and if I throw out to much my innate Victorian will eventually emerge and attempt to re-clutter everything ….

Possessions can be such a nuisance!  I swear, if the house burnt down I would get a one bedroom apartment and become a minimalist.  A minimalist who owned two hundred scarves.  Scary or what?