Mama

A while back I felt compelled to draw a picture of Mum/Moannie.

I have only ever painted one other portrait, in the '80's of my namesake Sara who was about three at the time...now a married lady.

So I gave it a go...and after several days of looking at the drawing I gathered the courage to add some watercolour..

I was scared that I would overdo the paint and lose the impression I wanted...which was to capture the essence of Mum...which I believe I have in her eyes and lovely mouth..

I did however overwork it...and completely lost the fluidity and looseness I liked before I spoiled it.
Luckily l took a digital image of it at it's best and I had this enlarged and printed.

l presented Mum and Dad with it and they were delighted.

here comes the sun

..and the sun burned through the cloud
breaking the sheet of winter,
permeating through the detritus
left from the early spring chills,
warmth spread through me
like a shockwave of hope,
a lifeline tethered by friendships
and anchored by a steely determination
to believe again,
laughing lessons in life,

and too I live, I laugh, I love...

saz x

a flying visit

I  arrived on Tuesday for a short drive by visit, keen to see Mum/Moannie and Dad/Jp face to face.
I haven't been down to visit this year and with all the drama's both here and in Kent, I knew only a visit would would comfort us all on many levels.


Mum is coping well with the treatments, drugs and ensuing symptoms and side effects. Compounded by changes in her mood and  limitations affecting her energy levels, l was pleased to see they have both now settled into new routines and managing better than anyone expected. Dad's newly diagnosed illness appears to have not daunted him. Like me he is fairly fatalistic and he is not, we are assured in any short term danger.

I am proud in how far they have come since November and how their human spirit and long marriage has served to give them strength over these sudden changes to their quiet and reportedly uneventful lives.

They are both an inspiration.

Saz x

an enigmatic state!?

Happiness. Contentment. Joy. Pleasure. These are words we throw around, but I wonder if rarely do we really think about them and mean them? Understand them? Feel them. Is it a matter of subjectivity or perspective. In part I think yes, but I also believe in general terms the measure is the same yardstick of feeling. Of emotion.

Moannie and I were recently talking about the value of these words. Of how we of course aspire and hope. To feel them. The real deal.

We often innaely dribble out these words, about how happiness is all we want to feel. For ourselves. For our children. For mankind. Humanity. But it is such an elusive and transitory state . A state of mind that is transitory at best. Not available by request. It does not keep us alive. Though these states do nurture and nourish us. Keep us on track. A carrot to keep us on the road of hope.

I do not believe that happiness is a state of mind. I believe that happiness is a momentary state. More slippery than many its contemporaries. Mithering about the lack of happiness in our lives, like feeling regretful is not purposeful nor is it aspirational. It cannot be brought about by desire. It just happens. It is the purist of emotions. An undiluted mix of pleasure & joy.

Contentment is a state of mind, for me. Attainable. Brick by brick we can build ourselves a warm blanket of contentment, safety and security. It is personal. A matter of perspective.

Joy is an emotion we can experience by recall. Of memory. Sparked by music, a song, a letter, a moment past. We can relive. By choice. At our own request.

Pleasure is immediate. Pleasure is Food. Art. Books. Physical. Family. Sex. Breathing life. Different pleasures for us all. Pleasure can be cultivated. Seeded. Ploughed and harvested. Replanted. Bought or home grown. Borrowed. Bought. Given away.

A droplet of contentment, a rash of happiness, a storm of joy, a blanket of good fortune or a flush of pleasure.

I wonder which state do you yearn for?

Moment by moment...

sweet smell of success

l shouldn't have worried really,
on the back of a week of hell
no one could blame me for being a miss doubting thomas

but the proof was in the pudding
and lemon drizzle cakes

and cream scones

and buttered tea bread

' Just the Biscuit'

all manner of kitchenelia

my own stall

'Bag Diva'

...bags of vintage style..

new venture

on the back of my former Vintage website

I have recently  morphed and started to build an old interest and hobby

into a fledgling business, 

BAG DiVA

selling my handbag collection at fairs in the County

as there is nothing in our part of the county

I taken the bull by the proverbials and 

organised Fairs in Carlisle, bi-monthly over 2012

with Stuart, a local fellow Vintage enthusiast and dealer...

introducing Very Vintage Affairs

rather self explanatory...

been 6 months in the planning

and next Saturday is our toe in the water first affair

will post pics of the event ..

wish you all could come...

Saz x

A Fell and a Fall

A couple of weekends ago a friend from work asked me join him on a 'gentle' walk on the Fells. I've lived in Cumbria since 1996 and often wanted to go fell walking, but it never happened for one reason or another and l'm not the type to take myself off alone. After all l've always been told l'm clumsy, awkward, uncoordinated and have a hopeless sense of direction.

This gentle walk started on a  very steep incline, all rocky, and l felt l was scrambling  on all fours more than l was hill bloody walking. If l had been alone l surely would've turned back if it hadn't looked so impossible steep downhill. But my fellow walker was very enthusiastic and supportive, especially over a very icy and slippery stream, and yes l did end up on my arse! Butt then so did he!

As we took a break for water and nibbles for the 12h  time, boy was he right about my inadequate supplies of  sustenance. I took two bananas and a snickers bar with me. he pulled a face and sent me shopping in the market for sandwiches which I obediently did, knowing full well I wouldnt eat them as I don't have much of an appetite these days. HOW WRONG WAS I! My body screamed out for water at every 50 metres and food every 100 metres (or yards in my imperial brain) and thanks for the large bar of Milka which I gnashed my way through on the way down.

Approaching the nub of rocks that formed the summit, I smiled and sighed stating I would wait here, as I hadn't another metre of ascent in me. Adrian told me I had to go up there as the only way down was on the other side.. Smart man!! Simple Sara! He lied.....how do l not know when l'm being lied to. I just swallow every work l'm told. Gullible or stupid! Duh!

I crawled with much noisy moaning to the top, okay summit...and stood in frozen sunlight, in total awe!!

Bessy Boot , Rosthwaite Fell, Borrowdale.

l'm sure you agree it was worth the nearly 6 hours of climb and descent. I wasn't clumsy apparently, nor moaning, if l were uncoordinated I would've made a cockup of the whole day....but l didn't.

It was great fun and very satisfying and I didnt ache all that much the next day, surprisingly!

However as smug as I was not having met with incident nor accident on the fells, I have to admit, that as I walked downstairs to the kitchen to make a cuppa tea, my phone went off and as I checked it, I missed the bottom step entirely.....and sprained my ankle, all puffed up and blue tinged, I limped for three days and its still tender.

What is the message here...?