pagantraveller-blog

[pagantraveller-blog]

Watershed 1st Oct 2019

Watershed 1st Oct 2019

1

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Four years ago I arrived on ‘my island’ … I am now about to go on the biggest adventure of my entire life in less than 3 weeks.

Gosh its been a waiting game!

  From the moment of the first application last November, through the interview and then exam process, then awaiting selection and contract affirmation. At times I would start to doubt myself despite…

[pagantraveller-blog]

WELCOME

via WELCOME

[pagantraveller-blog]

The last few weeks have been a total rollercoaster ride.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Feel afraid I may have let one too many through the door … of my home, my heart, my life.

My instinct is to shut down. Run. Abandon. Abort project.

Yet… who am I running from? Him? Myself? Who knows.

Will I ever be completely open and happy to allow another individual into my space, my Life, the Life I feel I fought so hard to build down here, away from all the old familiar pain, grief, faces, places.

Soon I will be going away entirely – another new step… another new stage in my life.

A much needed challenge and one I will be grabbing eagerly with both hands and my mind!

Photo by Aleksandar Pasaric on Pexels.com

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Photo by Amar Saleem on Pexels.com

Yes, leaving my Isle behind – but not forever. Enough time to build up another type of future for myself and my family.

So much has fallen into place lately. In my mind particularly.

Coming off meds at last has given me so much clarity and confidence in who I am again and who I am possible to be?

I can deflect negativity far more easily and compartmentalise far more succintly… a true blessing. Less mindless mind fog!

Photo by Marlon Martinez on Pexels.com

If this new opportunity reveals itself as totally unsuitable – only that foolproof adage of Time will tell….then nothing is lost only gained.

  So watch this proverbial space … a new blog is in the offing!

  Thanks for following my journey so far – intermittent as it has been x

Photo by Miro Alt on Pexels.com

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

  Holding On to Me … The last few weeks have been a total rollercoaster ride. Feel afraid I may have let one too many through the door ...

[pagantraveller-blog]

The Cuckoo In Their Nest: Anxiety, Adoption & Survival

Check out this book on Goodreads: The Cuckoo In Their Nest: Anxiety, Adoption & Survival http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/39834536-the-cuckoo-in-their-nest

[pagantraveller-blog]

Today has been so strange.

Yet it has persuaded me to write at last.

Yesterday a parcel was on my doorstep. A parcel from America.

I was thrilled, anticipatory, but on my way out of the door to an appointment so I hastily put it in the porch until my return. Friends came back with me later that night and again, I left the parcel to wait – this time on the stairway.

Photo by Mihai Constantin on Pexels.com

I awoke very early this morning and thought of the mysterious parcel. I knew it was from my lovely Uncle but had no idea or warning of its possible contents. It was not my birthday or anything remotely deserving of random gifts but I realised later it was a special anniversary for someone dear.

Apt timing in my life never ceases to surprise me.

The Opening ‘ceremony’

The parcel is well wrapped for its long journey. Almost impenetrable! Not heavy but fairly substantial. So many thoughts go through my mind about its contents as I tear open the selotaped binding, rip through to the inner envelope. Again well wrapped and within that layer another of bubble wrap. I have absolutely no idea what this is.

Two straight long lines of material with bound ends lie beneath the see through layer surrounding the item. To take it out I need to pull with some force – and still I remain confused.

Brown leather straps. A large end of metal.

Is it a bag? No. A wall hanging? No.

A belt? Yes it is a belt. But why? Does he not know I no longer have the tiny waist I once proudly adorned with such accessories? My random first thought dissolves as I finally pull it fully out, clearly seeing its faded glory.

My mind is still confused as to the meaning of this random item sent from an Uncle so far away yet often in my mind. It is clearly vintage – a love of mine – and well worn. I like that. It is only then that I notice on its faded brown leather the symbols. Writing stamped on the leather, embossed images at each end.

The names leap out at me and understanding slowly starts to dawn….then rapidly coalesces until I am fairly sure of this epitome of thought and gesture lying before me now.

Sands, Bobby; ……Hughes, Frankie…McCreesh, Raymond…O’Hara, Patsy…McDonnell, Joe…Lynch, Kevin …..the infamous list goes on….engraved carefully across the belt’s surface.

These names are familiar to me from a childhood littered with references, and behest by songs, irish ballads and stories of strife.

I knew a man who sang such things very movingly in his deep, Gaelic brogue, his green eyes glinting with passion for the cause and his dark, jet black curls nestling on the collar around his swarthy neck. Standing, hand in one waistcoat breast pocket, tweed jacket slung over one shoulder. The pub around him lay silent, all eyes upon him as he entertained, enthralled with that voice and sent shivers down the spines of those in the know. Those in the cause or affected by it.

The belt is now symbolic to me and the accompanying letter gives evidence, credence to my seemingly irrational thoughts. My breath catches as I realise the significance. And today of all days. Almost like he sent it too. Because I needed solid proof of his existence, of his once proud and great days.

I need this reminder today.

Of who I am. Of where I am from. Of who made me.

My original blood.

Parcels from the US of A. Today has been so strange. Yet it has persuaded me to write at last. Yesterday a parcel was on my doorstep.

[pagantraveller-blog]

Well – I did it ! 

I finally completed the second interview stage today and tonight received a random email late tonight from the recruiter cc me in to the University Academic Manager telling him I had done very well and to make me an offer I cannot refuse! Then silence…given the time difference of 8 hours I am going to think positively and aim to wake up to that offer!

I also did it!

I wrote my cinema review on the strange wonderfulness that is The Favourite – see reblog below –  and placated my book reviewer editor that my overdue book review will be in this weekend. He was mercifully accommodating. I am pouring over the book of short stories, enthralled by each one and the sensitivity that they are written with, but that will be shown in my final review which I have decided to share here.

  Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Photo by Skitterphoto on Pexels.com

Finally…I kinda did it! 

I have booked a theatre trip ready to fulfil my writing obligations to the island theatre reviews and also to pump up my flagging social life ! Sounds riveting huh? Having said that things are fairly busy lately with 3 writers clubs to attend monthly, starting swimming and meeting up with new friends for coffees and the odd night out. My self imposed hermitage may even soften this year too…

Tomorrow sees a far more lucrative connection taking place as none of these seemingly illustrious roles are paid ones – just my final push to be taken seriously as some kind of published writer – and to indulge my love of reviewing books and artistic endeavours. I am finally going back to homestay teaching after an 8 year break! Lucrative as it was and often rewarding if all consuming,  my son, then aged ten, almost begged me to stop having these endless annoying students in our house each summer. He didnt seem to mind the adult ones but I decided to listen and therein was my downfall. When he questioned why we no longer took rather lavish holidays or money dried up more frequently, I had to remind him over the years that those sometimes long and arduous summers with homestay students had supplied our extra treats. The irony lay in that I then took on summer stints away from home in London, Dorset etc which meant we still didnt get much of a summer together and I still returned impressively skint! The ad hoc life of freelance self employed tutoring does not to luxury often lead. If it were not for my genuine passion for my subject I would have been long gone. The lure of this beautiful isle and the fact that I have lived alone here for 3 years getting by on the occasional one to one and fresh air have both combined to discuss a very timely offer made me 3 months ago.

New vow  – check your LinkedIn box more than once every 2 months darling and always answer the connectives – both this week’s teaching leads and 3 others came from LinkedIn and missed gmails that I discovered and hastily replied to, lamenting the fact they had lain silent and ignored on the mailbox floor. Sadly, I had missed the boat on a few, particularly one that I had coveted – I think GMail is plotting against me and invariably hiding the good ones! It was writing concepts for selling ideas – doing stick drawings for scenarios but developing that into powerful descriptive copy. There was a fun initial test and then a Skype interview to follow. Damn! I did try to follow up but had well and truly missed that one. Having thousands of emails on Gmail account prob doesnt help – unless I type in the actual company or name I am patiently waiting to hear on I never find out at all sometimes! Missing a very important interview day in London before Christmas was one such disaster…time to tackle the gmail stacks rather than just keep opening new accounts! I made inroads pre Christmas break but how boring to sit and delete for hours on end copious rubbish and how frustrating to uncover such gems as above nestled in its pedantry…

  Photo by Lukas on Pexels.com

Photo by Lukas on Pexels.com

Photo by Lukas on Pexels.com

Photo by Lukas on Pexels.com

So perhaps there ARE some good things ahead if only to beam through the gloom of the post Christmas and New Year apocalyptic spending realisation haze. Tackling that head on first is my priority…she says, with unopened bills still taunting her on the hallway stand.

  I will be ‘in touch’ about the imminent interview results/job offer … let’s just hope the guy is too!

  Photo by Lukas on Pexels.com

Photo by Lukas on Pexels.com

Photo by Lukas on Pexels.com

Photo by Lukas on Pexels.com

  Wishing you all a speedy freefall and smooth transition into February.

  There is ‘some’ after all…Part Two! Thank you to the Anglo Saxon King… Well - I did it !  I finally completed the second interview stage today and tonight received a random email late tonight from the recruiter cc me in to the University Academic Manager telling him I had done very well and to make me an offer I cannot refuse!

[pagantraveller-blog]

The Favourite. My Favourite? Jury’s out.

The Favourite. My Favourite? Jury’s out.

[pagantraveller-blog]

There is none....

There is none….

via There is none….

[pagantraveller-blog]

There is none....

There is none….

Well it feels like forever since I even opened my laptop.

Photo by O M K A R on Pexels.com

Because it has been a long 6 weeks!  I visited Oxford for 2 and stayed for 5 and am only now addressing some sense of normality back into my days by attempting to find some more work and cagily eyeing up the remnants of NaNoWriMo that I have still not attempted to edit.  I still have a whole book to read –…

[pagantraveller-blog]

2018 Team

via 2018 Team

[pagantraveller-blog]

OK …so my week is probably as erratic as I am and therefore suits my idiosyncrasies perfectly

No one week is ever the same.

Unless, of course, I commit the cardinal sin of agreeing to – god forbid! – regular hours across a number of consecutive weeks. Hang on please while I wipe the sweat from my beaded brow at such a thought! It is not that I am lazy, or work shy, or have any known impossibility why I shouldn’t work just like (almost) everyone else in mind numbingly boring routine days to earn an honest crust.

Yet I can’t. Oh, don’t get me wrong. I have. I have faced the trammelled rat race in both London and beyond for many a year, have subjected myself to the apathy of the early coach commute, or worse, the dreaded packed rush hour train with the sweaty heat death of the tube hot on its heels. Day in, Day out. No more, no thank you.

Very much indeed.

Photo by Life Of Pix on Pexels.com

How is that an existence? A life? Living to work instead of working to live.

Long ago I made my decision to quit on my terms. The most commitment I will make these days – and that includes in my personal life 🙂 is to agree to an advanced block booking of lessons. September to January I can cope with. One full year I cannot. Freelance teaching has its pros and cons like any other self employment but yes, the biggest pro of all is being yourself. Making your own decisions, your own schedule, your own lifestyle. Ten years ago a jaunt in Madrid doing business English in high chip financial companies and taking the equally packed Metro out to flash apartments for top businessmen taught me a valuable lessons. Being out and about on the road between lessons was good for the Soul. Remaining incarcerated in one building all day was not. While the sun beat mercilessly down in the height of summer it was far better to be out and about in it – even if that only constituted legging it for the bus or cramming onto the Metro, sometimes forfeiting an extra few vino blancos and grabbing the nearest taxi. I trawled Madrid on foot after lessons and learnt to love that city with a resident’s passion, shunning the tourist footpaths and ‘happening’ upon such sights as The Palace under starlight with no idea it was about to invoke such emotion from me that late evening under its dusky Madrilenean sky. I never cared how late I got home – and still don’t. These meanderings were – and still are – part and parcel of my teaching day. The tuition itself, passionate as I am about my subjects and protegees, becomes almost secondary once I hit the daylight between tutorials.

Photo by Iván Rivero on Pexels.com

A new area, a new environment, new cafes to be explored – all satisfy my thirst for travel, for knowledge of new places and to feel free within the normal confines of a working day. Even if that is the local Wolds travelling by train from village to village, or sporadically veering between the island and the mainland, usually on a last minute booking, or craving Oxford’s dreaming spires once more so committing to a longer sojourn there, each and every opportunity to travel, to peruse, to linger and mingle in new places, chat to passing people is one I cherish.

Photo by fotografierende on Pexels.com

Photo by Kristina Paukshtite on Pexels.com

I have been job searching now for over 3 solid weeks. Pretty depressing stuff, actually. Particularly when you are in fact incarcerated within your four walls through lack of work. Plenty of social options, yet you soon find funds do not support all this free time and its copious invites, so its literally back to the drawing board. Endless lists of leads, contact numbers, websites and agencies compete with endless lists to finish house chores – or even start them, to fix long latent house items and to finally sort that garden out. The joy of ticking at least a few intentions off the chaotic growth of each list does not surmount the rising panic as I hear the bills thwack on my mat day by day. I do not think I have ventured into the porch to collect the post for 3 days now….

Photo by Edoardo Tommasini on Pexels.com

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

I fill my weekends with fun and the weekdays with ‘work’. Even if that means self initiated work it fills a gap and makes me feel productive. Next job is – finally – sorting out a ‘real’ office in the hope that some random Feng Shui principle will elicit work to pour in. All too ironically I have been too busy working to date to get around to a proper office setup at home. Now I have no excuses yet I do – I linger surreptitiously on the edge of the door into the designated room. I design how it will look right down to the photos and framed certs on the wall (something I have never achieved since graduation many moons back) – then I backtrack to the kitchen and just one more coffee…

Photo by Craig Adderley on Pexels.com

  Well, a few aims are ticked off today, a few more emails and touting messages sent. After 3 days of following up every contact I know, every lead I have researched and sending my CV and hopes off to even the most remotely interesting and possible tutorial stint, surely I can relax now. No. Because I cannot sleep. Would that my true ambition were realised and I could make a living from my ultimate passion – yes, writing of course, – then it would not matter. Penning my thoughts at all hours would be lucrative and then if it tips into the dawn chorus as it often does of late who can complain. A dollar has been earnt. Yet we all know that writing is not often pursued as a craft for money. That would be an added and wonderful bonus. There would not be so many of us here in the blogisphere punching out random thoughts into the ethernet if we were not in it for Love of the Written Word itself.

Photo by Startup Stock Photos on Pexels.com

So, tomorrow I shall go along to my writers meeting on the other side of the island. I shall gratefully abandon my list of jobs at home that I have no intention of doing.  I shall breathe deepfully and thankfully, ingesting the clean island air. I shall visit the beautiful bay and maybe write some poetry in the dying Autumn light, under these incredible Elysian skies only my isle knows how to emulate. I shall meet a new friend for a languid, lazy coffee hour before joining my fellow writers to hear their own tales of a wasted few weekdays.

Photo by Gavin Rodrigues on Pexels.com

I know I shall walk away satisfied in the knowledge that they too have felt anguished by the daily routines and mundane chores that take us away from our very essence – our writing. Yet if only one or two of the group can say they have pinned down a few thousand words this week, or had a 3am epiphany on how their character should break free of his own constraints within the burgeoning novel, we all glean some satisfaction from their acheivement. I walk away each time with a warm glow that writers follow writers, that we understand each other despite diverse writing styles, that we champion one another, encourage and delight in each other. Most of all, we appreciate why, as a true writer, it can be incredibly mind gravelling to stick to a routine rat race that feels like it can devour us.

Nevertheless, I currently have no choice but to ambitiously wait now for my hard work to be returned to me with at least a few offers of hiring my other mind craft – my ‘bread and butter’ and paying me a decent dollar again for that.

Photo by Life Of Pix on Pexels.com

  LOOSELY LABELLED WEEKDAYS OK ...so my week is probably as erratic as I am and therefore suits my idiosyncrasies perfectly…

[pagantraveller-blog]

Three gardens

I am at the back of them all. Between them all. I thought they were my old garden and that I recognised them but I dont.

I discover another private garden area with a small  wooden sign just about visible – mum is inscribed on it.

It is filled with flourishing beautiful purple heather

I comment on how nice it is

My husband is behind me

I want to enter next doors garden – very complicated planting with memorabilia scattered amongst it

There is a beautiful large conch shell that i want to take but I meet a young blonde girl and guess that this shell is probably very important to her.

I turn back to my husband to tell him after the girl hands me my own piece of heather that was a flag-like long feathered piece but is now broken – I scoop up the pieces

I must have all the pieces

The pieces turn into a pagan like warrior girl who I admire

My husband is gone and the gate back into ‘our �� garden with MY mothers remembrance area at the bottom is closed. It is also barred by cushions and debris now. I peer through for his help but he has vanished

I’m trapped in a garden I had thought would be better. Grass was not greener

For weeks now I have dreamt about clothes and packing and retrieving garments from places I have left them.

  Why?

  When the dreams of the night cloud your day…. Three gardens I am at the back of them all. Between them all. I thought they were my old garden and that I recognised them but I dont.

[pagantraveller-blog]

Wow! We BOTH survived intact !

I found it impossible to write while she was in the house.

I had a constant tense nervous headache that would only diminish if we escaped the cottage!

We were snowed in for the first three days!

Now forgive the ungracious tone of my tale – too much history to go into here. Yet …she was adorable – sweet, sad, funny, if scathing in her usual way at times. She seemed lost, grateful, far less picky and critical, and so very very melancholy yet all faced with the strength and determination of a woman half her age! I have definitely seen lesser mortals give up in face of the adversities she has experienced lately.

I felt bad if I felt tense, or rushed, or pressured. I felt a need to protect her for the first real time in my adopted life. Especially as an adult.

We had not spent so much undiluted time together since I was about 7 years old.

We both survived.

  Yet this has been the hardest week I have encountered in a very long, long time.

It hurt yet salved. It stang yet healed. It mattered.

I have been hit by epiphany after epiphany. Years have shredded and fallen away

Understanding and depth and Empathy have replaced suspicion and shallow superficialness, uncaring and doubt.

A complete Revelation.

  I do not feel in a place to write more.

For now.

When Mother came to visit… Wow! We BOTH survived intact ! I found it impossible to write while she was in the house.

[pagantraveller-blog]

Burgeoning.

The word for today is ….Burgeoning.

Not a cliche for Spring and its new abundance, recent flowerings of  crystal white, exquisitely lonely snowdrops, or fleetingly spotted clumps of purple pansies and hyacinths.

Not a euphemism for my ever expanding waistline, encouraged by warming winter fare over these crisp and frosty nights by the open fire, vino in hand.

Not even an allusion to my maddeningly frequent dreams involving overflowing baggage and suitcases and endless repetitious packing throughout my REM 🙂 If you can fathom that one out please let me know!

Burgeoning mind and thoughts and aspirations and hopes.

Burgeoning future and plans and dreams.

Burgeoning relationships.

Burgeoning Life!

  The frosts returned on the isle this morning.        Juxtaposition.

Its almost like a frozen burgeoning. A scene of frosted daffodils and tulips that have only just burst forth. A shimmering wonderland of light and iced droplets in eerily white-etched cobwebs, frozen dew on painted grass, hesitant bird visitors aghast at solid seeds, utter silence and ice-locked trees. A watery sun frowns down benignly upon the scene below, cheated of her recent glory.

The gardening can wait until this sudden frozen, static world melts away.

Burgeoning. The word for today is ....Burgeoning. Not a cliche for Spring and its new abundance, recent flowerings of  crystal white, exquisitely lonely snowdrops, or fleetingly spotted clumps of purple pansies and hyacinths.

[pagantraveller-blog]

Traveller, Teller of tales, sharing Souls

[pagantraveller-blog]

Traveller, Teller of tales, sharing Souls

[pagantraveller-blog]

Feeling surreal...4.10a.m Heathrow Terminal 4....#thejourneybegins