Today Was Like Summer Clinging On With All It’s Might

Today, here in England, especially here in London, we were blessed with another day of summer, which was a special treat for a day so late in October. It was almost bizarre to have such beautiful weather when next weekend, the clocks fall back one hour and we have to say goodbye to “British Summertime”. I took the time to indulge myself, losing myself in fields bathing in sunshine and trees breathing in the warm golden air.



I went to my secret little corner, a part of the nearby public parkland and commonland that hardly anyone seems to walk through. I know there must be thousands of people jogging or walking their dogs in other parts of the park, but hardly anyone seems to pass the little corner I found around eighteen months ago and have returned to time and again.

I can go and lie down in the long grass and remain hidden for hours. Hidden until a curious character found me! It is the first time I have seen cows here, but as it is commonland, there is no reason why cows should not make an appearance. I used to live next door to a diary farm – so I know to let the cows have their peace and quiet. They did not like me climbing over the fence to take some hey for the sheep in the meadow. (Farmer allowed us to – I was not stealing!)



I decided to give up my secret spot to her and her family as it was time I went back to the nest and started cleaning before Goldfinch arrives tomorrow.

Aaaaaaaaaah Goldfinch! It should not be hard for me to weave the word “magnetic” into a sentence about Goldfinch! But my brain is tired. I am just wishing he would linger on and on like summer has today. Not long until I say goodbye…and then I am sure I will need to go out walking to my secret little corner of the huge parkland nearby…and remember the times I shared my little hidden copse with my beloved Goldfinch. And I shall be clinging to those memories with all of my might.

Since I Lost You

IMG_1345Sunday is here! I have been out all morning and it is gorgeous outside!

Sunday is of course “SONG LYRIC SUNDAY”. Please check out the post from the lovely Helen, host to this fabulous chance to share a musical moment and touch base with a long list of other bloggers.

This week’s theme is:


So many songs came to mind, but I have gone with this one simply because I love Kristina Train’s voice. Jackie Wilson and of course Aretha Franklin’s version may be more well known. But I have been really taken with Kristina’s voice over the past few years and am hoping she is working on new releases. Hearing her haunting notes “…I lost you, I lost you…” causes my eyes to brim over with tears.

I’m wandering, been moving to and from
just wandering, with no place to go,
since I lost you, lost you, all I ever do
is be wandering, ’til I wander back to you…
Oh, I’m wishing, been yearning for your kiss,
oh and I’ve been missing, the warmth of your caress,
since I lost you, I lost you, all I ever do
is be wandering, wandering, wandering,
wandering, I’ll be wandering, ’til I wander back to you…
I look on every corner, down every dismal street,
are you there?, are you there?, oh darling I repeat…
I visit all familiar places, there’s no one there but me,
where can you be?, where can you be?
oh darling, where can you be?…
Oh I’m praying, your touch for me has grown,
oh and I’m saying, for before it’s not been known
I love you, I love you, and all I ever do
is be wandering, crying, wandering, wandering
I’ll be wandering, ’til I wander, ’til I wander back to you
yeah, oh yeah, I’m gonna be, I’m gonna be wandering
’til I wander back to you, yeah, yeah,
oh wandering back to you!


Composer  Berry Gordy Jr., Tyran Carlo
Composition’s Year  1958
First Recording Artist  Jackie Wilson

Lyrics published by

Precious Lace-Like Memories

This week’s challenge from estherchiltonblog is to write a story, limerick or poem on the subject of:

Favourite childhood memories

conquer.jpgRecently Goldfinch and I walked across Richmond Park in South-West London.  We passed a horse-chestnut tree loaded with conkers.

I started to tell Goldfinch about a precious lace-like memory that I have…one of my first memories in life in fact.  It’s a memory that is full of holes like lace, and yet it is such a pretty recollection in my mind and I have clung to it.

It is a special memory of a time before my brother became a troubled teenager and started to drift away from our happy family. For that reason all of my memories of him when he was younger and happy have remained like precious treasures to me. I have always longed for him to be happy again, a part of our family once more.

I am not ready to tell you the painful story of how my brother’s forging his own path in life has turned out for him. It has been a long and winding road for him. I am pleased that he is aware of how eager the whole family are for him to COME HOME! He is taking baby steps to get back on his feet. I would like to share one of my precious lace-like memories with you.

My brother took me to the woods a few minutes from our family home. I remember the exact woods we went to. They ran along side my primary school. Only the trip to the woods was before I ever started school. I may have been three of four years old. My brother was eight years older than I.  So he would have been eleven or twelve.

My memory of those woods is that they were very dark. I was frightened but I trusted my brother and kept tight hold of his hand. We were there to find conkers. We must have found them, because from the woods my memory jumps to our kitchen. Dad was helping us with the next stage of our task.

I remember the conkers being baked in the oven. I remember Dad helping my brother to drill holes through them and feeding string through those holes which were knotted securely.

Then came the action!

My brother was brilliant, spot on with his aim.  He kept on encouraging me to have another turn.  But it was completely beyond me to aim my conker and hit his.

I remember his excitement, his laughter during the game of conkers. But I also remember his affection for me as his little sister. I looked up to him.  I was so proud of my older brother. I remember with fondness how safe I had felt holding my older brother’s hand when we were traipsing through the muddy woods, climbing over broken branches and tree roots.

I have precious early memories of my brother before his troublesome teenage years which he never seemed to recover from.  But it is frustrating that those memories are full of holes like lace, though exquisitely pretty. Favourite childhood memories of my dear brother – happy, full of smiles, full of laughter.  My brother who was so fond of me, and whom I was so very proud of.

I cling to those precious lace-like memories.