"Let's go fly a kite"

On many a wet day at Chateau Baws the cry would go up for "Poppins" and we'd gather round the TV  to watch it for the umpteenth time, although we knew it all more or less by heart. This year, on the 11th October, it would be ten years since Gideon died. I thought it would be nice to haul out the old kite and fly it over the marshes behind Two Tree Island, where we used to go with the kids and the dogs. People sent us wishes of love and remembrance, which I printed out on coloured paper. We bought some gold and silver ribbon and made up a long kite tail with the messages stapled onto it. To hold the ribbon tail to the kite end, I attached key rings, still with their dog tags attached . One was from  Wicked Wanda the Warden's Dog (Doberman/Labrador cross :1987 - 2003), the other belongs to Lola Russell - (Jack Russell : 2004 to present.  She has a microchip, so graciously lent us her dog tag for this worthwhile cause).

I hadn't had a chance for a test flight.  Although there was a stiff wind and the kite was at its best in a light breeze, I thought that with the added weight of the dog tags and the tail, it would fly fine. It was a marvellous day of vivid blue sky, light fluffy clouds,  the sun bringing out the colour of the yellow  wheat stubble and green hills. We walked beyond the end of the golf driving range, along the sea-wall of Leigh Back Creek behind the island. On the second bend, facing  towards Hadleigh Castle, we stopped to set up the kite.

I was in charge of the line, Sam was the 'lift' man, Lucy had the 'phone camera and Suzie made supportive noises. The large kite exerts quite a pull and I was wearing gardening gloves to protect my hands against rope burn. The first flight was brief but encouraging. "Try adjusting the string to lengthen it, Sam!" The next flight was better, but still brief. More adjustment. "That's it!" The big green kite soared aloft before plummeting  to earth with a bit of a thud. Sam examined it. "Strut's broken Dad."  The cross strut is two pieces of dowelling held together by a hollow aluminium tube"Can you fix it Sam?" "No, can't get the broken bit of wood out of the metal." I usually arm myself with at least a cheap version of a Swiss Army knife whenever I go further than the end of the front path, but this time I had no tools EXCEPT the tiny two-ended screwdriver on my key-ring, used to tighten screws on my glasses if they come loose. I managed to prise out the broken bit of dowelling and force the two pieces together again. We were ready to try again.

Up soared the kite, with me letting out line as fast as I could. I had made a really crap winder on a piece of batten, with nails as guides! It held a lot of line but was a bugger to unwind fast enough. The line must have caught the edge of a nail. "The line's snapped!" I shouted with an anguished cry. Away flew the kite on its best (and final) flight of the day. It cleared the slope where Sam was standing, lifted over the water filled borrow-dyke and landed in the wheat field on the other side. There was no obvious way we could get it back.

We gathered together for a group hug. "I think it's rather nice" said Sam. " It's as if Gidz has flown into the sky and over the water. We can't reach him, but he landed safely."

Postscript:

Sam and I did try to retrieve the kite but could find no route onto the other side of the dyke that did not involve  the need for thigh-waders and machetes. I consulted a local map and spoke to a friend who used to work on the estate. We planned to go over when my cold got better. The following day the home 'phone rang. "Have you lost a kite? I found  your number on the dog tags." Nice chap with an old Staffie, he brought  back the kite an hour or so later. I failed to ask him exactly how he got to it, although he said he "often walked the dog there". Never mind. Another flight is planned for Gideon's birthday next March.

Bugger!

Sadly we have had to cancel the 'bike ride round Foulness Island which takes place on the 9th September. What I took to be a sprain on the Wazzock Waterfall descents in July has simply refused to heal entirely - a drop of plantar fasciitis and possibly an injured ligament or tendon methinks. At all events, too painful and not at all what you need for efficient pedal power. Luckily this is an annual event - the 'bike ride, not my injury (ha ha Captain Abrasion) - so we can try again next year.

Meanwhile I shall be conjuring up  more challenging ways of raising funds for CRY - watch this space!

"Return of The Wazzock" - 9th July 2018 - raising money for CRY

"The sun beat down - relentlessly, remorselessly". We trudged across the scorched earth, down the dry, dangerous, stony path, sweat pouring off of us, stinging our eyes,  as we staggered down the steep ravine that might, just might, lead us to water.

Well, it was a bit like that. The Four Falls Trail (Llwybr y Pedair Sgwd) in the Brecon Beacons is a popular walk of around 9 kilometres, easy to access but not to be taken lightly. The descents to each of the four waterfalls increase in difficulty, and the last one, Sgwd yr Eira is a 300m steep path, 100m from top to bottom. In the middle of a heatwave it was quite a challenge. My nickname at home is Captain Abrasion so I was fortunate to escape with only a sprained ankle on the final ascent.

Please visit my Just Giving Page across to the right, where you can find more details and some photos.

More treasures

I have unearthed a stash of transparencies and begun to copy and download them onto computer. There is no end to this process: copy, download, save, print, copy, save, in an endless dance with technology. One day, soon maybe, it will become someone else's problem - or not.

Images of Gideon tear at my heart. I love the spring but his birthday is in early March, and times have changed. Here are some words from a poem of passing, by Wislawa Szymborska:-

"I don't reproach the spring for starting up again
I can't blame it for doing what it must year after year
I know that my grief will not stop the green.
The grass blade may bend
but only in the wind.

It doesn't pain me to see that clumps of alder above the water have something to rustle with again.
I take note of the fact that the shore of a certain lake is still - as if you were living - as lovely as before.
I don't resent the view for its vista of a sun-dazzled bay.
I am even able to imagine some non-us sitting at this moment on a fallen birch trunk.

I don't require changes from the surf, now diligent, now sluggish, obeying not me.
I expect nothing from the depths near the woods, first emerald, then sapphire, then black.

I survived you by enough, and only enough,
to contemplate from afar."

Wislawa Szymborska  (1923-2012) Poems New and Collected Poems 1957-1997

Gideon's treasures

I've made a start.
 I have always been good at  bringing order to chaos - it was probably the basis of my professional career - but this is so close to the bone. Still, there have been some treasures unearthed. I am attaching Gideon's gloriously made-up postcard from his college trip to the USA.  And remember, this is pre-Donald. Here's a sample of the text:

"I am living in a house with people who have just come straight out of the jungle -  and failed auditions for 'Boy Meets World'. Save me please, God. The music I am being force-fed makes Alanis Morisette a welcome form of entertainment"

(Blogmeister's Note: I shall try to catch up on the Basquiat movie. I am against widespread graffiti and would happily throttle Banksy for promoting so much visually depressing harm in exchange for so little inspirational good.  As for David Bowie - don't get me 'started. But then there's Hockney - my main man!)

Anniversaries - The Tenth Year

March 3rd is the date of Gideon's birthday and 11th October is the day he died, in 2008. Another year will have slipped by, the pain of his loss no worse, and no better. Some physical connections remain: family photographs, snippets of sound, his lovely artworks, animation with Shynola, the company he helped to establish and grow. And his clothes, his many, many books, his writings - personal stuff, maybe not meant for others to see? And a collection of small things; toy cars, robots, Japanese bits and bobs ( he loved Japan). And so many Cds and photos he took himself, all to be saved on computer. And then - what? I cannot leave these things to gather dust for ever but the pain of going through them will be hard - touching him again so uselessly.........