Remembering...

Snapshots of a life enjoyed...

 

I have been really fortunate to have travelled and lived in lots of places. My mum was in the horse racing business and it was through her work that my childhood and teenage years took me to wonderful, new countries. A love that stays with me and moves me too often for my daughter’s sanity! When aged about 9, she sweetly asked where ’home’ was – I answered that if the dog and I were there….then we were clearly at home.
Anyway, these are a few of my favourite images, because sharing them makes me smile and remember…

Luxembourg for Christmas because of the pure white snow that neatens everything. The mood is infectious, everybody is your long lost friend and large European hugging and kissing rituals assault you at every turn – enhanced moods possibly down to the mini Swiss chalets about the square; selling lakes of clove scented, warm mulled wine. How businesses get through December with a drunken workforce escapes me.

Mallorca (an island off Spain) during the celebration of the Three Kings around Christmas. Camels are ridden down from the hills and riders throw sweets at the hoards of children gathered in eager anticipation. There is absolutely no concept of the danger involved when throwing small, hard candy into a sea of soft, fleshy children. The locals accept the risk and then hold their babies skyward in the hope that they too may catch the candy gently between their eyelashes.

Australia at anybody’s bar-be-que, even if I have become a vegetarian since the last time I went to one. I just want to feel that comfort of being in a crowd of people with no ego, at their leisurely best. No-one does leisurely like an Australian.

The southern Belgian countryside to stay again in a village unchanged by two world wars; where bullet holes pock mark the buildings like aged teenage acne. The people sit silently outside their homes in a surreal setting amidst excitable dogs, children, chickens, tractors and field after extensive field of deep red poppies; atop the fertile land fed by seas of soldiers’ blood.

Blackpool seafront on the tram travelling North toward the fishing village of Fleetwood; with a shimmering ocean travelling at my left for a full 25 minutes. It is a Twilight Zone journey. The conductors are still listening to big band sounds in their heads and cracking saucy sexist jokes from days gone by. Just seeing a heavy, metal ticket machine about their waists makes me wonder at how the tram and its employees have escaped everything that happened in the last 60 years.

Hong Kong’s Peak. Hong Kong is an island and the peak offers a near 360 degree view of the thriving humanity beneath. We would have to run cross country for school up there; probably as it is the only bit of grass on this densely populated little island. Rather than fuss with the running, I would sit, have a cigarette and admire the beauty of the elderly Chinese as they practiced Tai Chi. Their moves were pure soul ballet energising old skinned limbs. A chorus line of gymnastic pensioners silhouetted against a backdrop of 6 million stressed people – a priceless image.

Needless to say, I failed Physical Education.

Namaste

Reviews

[Fairplay]

Hi Tina

Travel and education

Who could ask for more

Eric could

[Jackie Blissett]

Hi TinaLouise

I read some of your poetry on UKA, and loved it, so was delighted to see you here. i love your writing, and think that you are indeed a rare talent amongst a sea of mediocrity. Your work certainly stands out for me, and I look forward to reading more of your subs.

Well done and best wishes
Jackie

[RJKT]

" How businesses get through December with a drunken workforce escapes me."

I wish there was a more tactful ,and circumspect way to say this . The short answer (if my short stint ,working in one of those predatory City investment banks, is anything to go by) alas, is - they dont.

At the time ( just 10 years ago) it seemed that life was one mammoth party. Oxford Street and its environs, festooned ,from end to end, with banners , streamers , balloons , steel bands belting out Christmas-sy tunes in front of Selfridges , Debenhams etc. -for weeks ahead of the big day.

Inside the offices, it was one big lark - but only for the Brits and the Euros . Everyone ( and her brother ) it seems were off to the sun-drenched ski slopes of Gstaad etc. ( for the ski-ing and the 'apres' ) ; or to the flesh-pots of Nice and Ibiza for a 'spot' of F & F . Quite the bacchanale - without any ending in sight .

That left us worker bees holding the fort . While the drones were off cavorting -and generally 'aving a jolly good time.

One couldn't help but wish that the circumstances of one's birth had been different - being the drone seemed way more fun than ending up the lowly worker-bee. Even country bumpkins - their snotty noses pressed up against armoured -glass windows ,watching goggle-eyed the saturnalia within - wouldn't have been so tantalized.

Now ,it seems the chickens have come home to roost . Far sooner than imagined . With the Chinese all set to take over the helm.

The drones at least , have fond memories of their glorious past ,to treasure . Us worker bees however ,have little to look back on - nor very much to look forward to.

[Beatrice Boyle (Grandm..]

Thanks for the travelogue...I just traveled the globe and it didn't cost me a dime.
Keep these coming...my suitcase is packed and ready! Can't wait to see where we visit next (I'd love to see London before I die!)

I'm counting on seeing you sworn in to Parliament...don't wait too long!!!

Love ya,
Bea