Window into my mind

Is my mind in a permanent state of poverty consciousness that it feels the need to hoard forever by drinking and eating (metaphorically) anything, that in any way, might be of interest or value in my future. Is this one enormous ego that feels it can and will hold onto any snippet of information, any new words or thoughts that may blow in through the window at any given time.


Why is my mind like some hungry Minotaur ploughing fitfully through the underground mazes of lost conscious thoughts that may somehow have survived the ages and now lie quietly waiting to be gobbled up and consumed in entirety.
What is this yearning that makes me feel empty and undernourished in my mind, so I get feelings of unworthiness if in some way I am not making an effort to improve how my brain is functioning? Why do I have such a blatant passion for dictionaries that I cannot go without having them near me, like a comforting blanket that seals in my sanity. I love their scent, their feel and most of all their contents and all that they hand over to me with each page that is turned.
I love looking for new words and reading and thinking about their meaning and as each one becomes clear to me so it becomes like a new friend, someone to hold close and to allow through my window and into the portals of my mind. A friend that for a while I do not want to share with anyone else, lest they should spoil this new relationship, poison my mind and forever break this bond that I have formed.
It is with words, spoken, read or sung, that I am able to loose consciousness of all physical feelings and so become one with words, one with the moment, and yet knowing that this moment is with me for eternity. Once found I cannot loose a word, or it's meaning, for they are kept safe in the archives of my mental beingness, they are one with me.
Should I have the desire to share "my" words with others the sharing is of that moment, but the words will always be mine. Admittedly we are all able to use any words that we want to, yet how each of us uses those words makes each word very different, by thought, pen or utterance we make words our own.
I hope that as time takes it's toll on the physical and the bells of old age grow louder that my mental faculties will stay tuned and the window ever open to allow new words to flutter in and rest peacefully in the corridors of my mind.

Another World

I have had such a glorious time with the planning and preparation of the Squirrel party, the enthusiasm from friends and family alike has been wonderful. We were all so excited as the party date got closer and with guests arriving from far and wide we were sure to have a great time.
Fruit had been preserved, baking aplenty done and the house seemed full of nuts and squirrel treats.
Hearts and souls were given to the occasion and each one of us looked forward to be able to, for a few short moments in time, forget the adult world and return to the land of talking animals and laughing children. The land of just being, the land where nothing ever goes wrong, the land where true fairy tales are made.
It was wonderful to see everyone relaxing enough to be able to laugh heartily at any witty joke or childhood memory of what was once very funny. Time and motion became as nothing as all were wrapped up in the pleasure of the now moment.
To me it was a wonderful party and I was glad of all those present on seen and unseen levels. Glad there were animals present, grateful for the twittering of birds, for the noise of the frogs calling and the gentle flapping of insect wings as they flew over our heads to view the treats stacked on the table.
Mostly, I was grateful to my as yet unknown squirrel friends for allowing me to hold a party in their honour, it was the squirrels that made the evening memorable as somehow their unseen spirits seemed to creep into ours and for a few short and precious moments we too were squirrels.

A Squirrel found

Packed away safely in tissue paper at the top of my cupboard I found my little friend.
I bought him in Venice and have kept him there with my other treasures until I can find the right place to show them off.
I think I will give him centre stage at the party.

Squirrel Appreciation Day

(Reserved for pictures of my squirrel friends)

I am a bunny/tree/anything that moves hugger, and so with great glee on finding out about "Squirrel Appreciation Day" on the 21st January, I have decided to hold a party in their honour. I would like to officially invite any local squirrels, but hate to admit that I do not have the pleasure of being an acquaintance of any squirrels here, or anywhere else for that matter. Something I will have to spend a lot of time sorting out this year, one never knows when one needs to borrow a cup of nuts from a friend or neighbour.


Never to worry, somehow I will manage to host a great party without the Guests of Honour. I have decided to have an afternoon tea party, served outside under our thatched entertainment area. The table settings will be white with small arrangements of colourful seasonal flowers.


I am limiting the human factor to 8, and would prefer the guests to be under 15 or over 80. Although I am not in those age brackets, I find so many people from 16 to 79 have lost that magical touch with animals and the mystical world of childish imaginations, they just do not understand!


So as not to offend any guests the entire menu will be vegetarian with emphasis on nuts, seeds and fruit. All spare time at the moment is being taken up with recipe hunting, the search is on for exotic, yet healthy, raw and cooked dishes that will delight the discerning palates of any squirrels that do manage to attend.

I shall definitely ask the grandchildren, I feel that with my good influence they will continue to choose to believe in whatever they want to, and for them at least the world will be a very interesting place. Obviously there will be a request for their parents to attend the jolly function with them. Invitations will also be sent to two card playing, fun loving, out of control friends. Should things get a bit slow, and the conversation lag at times, we could always play UNO or throw nuts at each other.
I will have to think very hard about the other human guests, not everyone mixes well with and talks to animals like we do.

Continuation - Father Christmas.

Kiger's apology

Dear Father Christmas,
I am very sorry I was such a naughty cat, I did not mean to be. I love you very much and will try to be a good boy from now on.
Love Kiger.

On the country road

I love driving through the country, going slowly, and with camera on the seat beside me. The road I usually travel on (to do the mundane things like shopping) is quiet and as I amble along in my car, hoping that the road is mine and mine alone, I have all the time in the world to stop at will and do my own thing.
There are always guineafowl along the roadside and they insist upon waiting until the last moment to cross right in front of the car. They do not look left or right, they just go, often with their little families of chicks running behind as fast as their little legs can go.
I see cattle and goats grazing quietly in the sunshine, being picky about what they eat. Butterflies float amongst the wayside flowers and rows of birds sit on telephone wires, watching and waiting for who knows what.
Suddenly a vehicle speeds past me and disturbs all of nature with it's rush of civilization. Slowly then, so very slowly, things settle and once again I continue on my happy way.
Is the modern life style really as great as we make it out to be? If so, why do so many of us escape, if only for a few hours, into the country where we can in peace recharge our bodies and souls?
I will always find something along a country road to lighten my load and make me smile. I cannot say the same for the city roads.


Life is short, but on a country road I always manage to stretch it to it's furthest limits.

Father Christmas

As far back as I can remember, my parents always told me that if I wanted nice presents from Father Christmas then I had to be good all year round. I recall reading that delightful little book Struwwelpeter, (if you can get yourself a copy it is a book worth reading), and totally believing every word about why it is so important for children to be good all year round.

I have continued over the years to read Struwwelpeter to children and grandchildren alike, in an attempt to get them to behave as children should all year round. In other words, be good and listen to what your Mother/Grandmother says in the hope that Father Christmas's fairies and elves, who are watching, can go back to the North Pole and tell Father Christmas that here truly are children that deserve the best.
I remember, as I grew up, Father Christmas was always very kind to me at Christmas. I still see Christmas stockings filled with nuts and fruit, and all sorts of lovely things as positive proof that I had been good and so had received what I truly deserved.



The joy of Christmas has never left me, I think it will always be my favourite day of the year. As my children grew up they too have taken on the excitement and pleasure that Christmas time brings. Even though they are both grown up with children of their own they still wake up early with the anticipation of what the dawn of this beautiful morning always brings.

We have always had pets and they too share the excitement with us, and please, do not doubt my word, they really do know there is a present under the tree for each of them as well. As the tree is put up each year all four-leggeds in the house are told about how important it is to be good all year round so that they too are remembered on this important celebration.

We are very lucky in that we have been blessed with fairly good children, human and otherwise, so with great glee every Christmas each of us has been able to open a gift from Father Christmas and receive something we really want.
That now brings me to this Christmas, that is Christmas 2008, we all opened our presents, there was the usual oohs and aahs as wrapping were thrown carelessly onto the floor and all faces were bright and cheery.
Shooter, the dog, really liked her new tennis balls and tug of war ropes. The humans really liked their presents too.

Then it came to grandchild, Kiger the cat, he loved his catnip mouse, and all the little furry toys he enjoys loosing around the house. As each toy came to light it was tossed around and tested for strength and enjoyment. The last thing he opened was a lovely Father Christmas attached to a long piece of elastic and a pole. This now was the greatest gift a cat could or would ever receive.
It is here, dear friends, that my problem came to light, Kiger totally abuses his Father Christmas, the poor man is dragged around the house by one leg, left out in the garden, pushed under the sofa, spat on and chewed. I cannot imagine what Father Christmas, the fairies and the elves think when they witness this sort of bad behaviour.

Therefore, and with baited breath I sit here on the 5th January and worry if Father Christmas will visit this house and it's occupants come December.