Remeniscing

Last night while relaxing, snugly before bed, with Classic FM playing on the air and the lights turned down low, an image from my childhood played before my minds eye. I lay thinking of when I was a child, no older than ten years old. I used to love dancing, to throw my arms and legs wildly around to the music, in no planned coordination. I used to whirl around my bedroom for hours, in my favourite red leotard stitched with gold tinsel. As gloaming approached, I whizzed my preadolescent body around the floor. I danced to (if you can believe it) my mum’s old 33 1/3 RPM’s, called The World of your 100 Best Tunes, which originated from a BBC radio programme. The LP’s featured Beethoven’s 6th Symphony and Ronald Binge’s Elizabethan Serenade, (a piece of music that always sends me reminiscing when I hear it on the radio). Among others was Holst’s The Planets. My favourite of all the pieces is Uranus, The Magician, (it’s not played half as much as it should be!) The music is so theatrical! To my child’s mind the music imagined a fantastical parade of skeletons and wild beasts, overseen by a master who wore top hat and tails!

While thinking of this happy memory, lines from a poem by Ted Hughes, part of his award winning Birthday Letters, popped into my thoughts. The poems all address his marriage to his first wife and fellow poet Sylvia Plath. The poem in question is called: God Help the Wolf After Whom the Dogs Do Not Bark. I think it was the image of my younger self dancing and tinsel adorning my clothes that brought the lines of the poem to my mind.

‘You danced on in the dark house, Eight years old, in your tinsel. Searching for yourself, in the dark, as you danced… Then dancing wilder in the darkness…’

‘Nobody wanted your dance, Nobody wanted your strange glitter –

With Hypnos caressing my eyes and Morpheus awaiting to lace my sleep with dreams, I decided to dig out the poem the next day, re-listen to Holst’s The Magician and write a post bringing them both together. Which I hope I have succeeded.

Thanks for reading,

Christine x


God Help the Wolf After Whom the Dogs Do Not Bark

By Ted Hughes.

There you met it – the mystery of hatred.
After your billions of years in anonymous matter
That was where you were found – and promptly hated.
You tried your utmost to reach and touch those people
With gifts of yourself –
Just like your first words as a toddler
When you rushed at every visitor to the house
Clasping their legs and crying: ‘I love you! I love you!’
Just as you had danced for your father
In his home of anger – gifts of your life
To sweeten his slow death and mix yourself in it
Where he lay propped on the couch,
To sugar the bitterness of his raging death.

You searched for yourself to go on giving it
As if after the nightfall of his going
You danced on in the dark house,
Eight years old, in your tinsel.

Searching for yourself, in the dark, as you danced,
Floundering a little, crying softly,
Like somebody searching for somebody drowning
In dark water
Listening for them – in panic at losing
Those listening seconds from your searching –
Then dancing wilder in the darkness.

The colleges lifted their heads. It did seem
You disturbed something just perfected
That they were holding carefully, all of a piece,
Till the glue dried. And as if
Reporting some felony to the police
They let you know that you were not John Donne.
You no longer care. Did you save their names?
But then they let you know, day by day,
Their contempt for everything you attempted,
Took pains to inject their bile, as for your health,
Into your morning coffee. Even signed
Their homeopathic letters,
Envelopes full of carefully broken glass
To lodge behind your eyes so you would see

Nobody wanted your dance,
Nobody wanted your strange glitter – your floundering
Drowning life and your effort to save yourself,
Treading water, dancing the dark turmoil,
Looking for something to give –
Whatever you found
They bombarded with splinters,
Derision, mud – the mystery of that hatred.

© 1998

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Photo Challenge: H2O – ‘Wild’ Swimming!

via Photo Challenge: H2O

Here goes: I’m going to use this challenge to indulge in some reminiscing. You are all probably getting a bit fed up with this subject. It seems of late, I just have a one track mind… that track is my wild swims!

On my Facebook page, in the past week I posted some pictures highlighting some of my ‘favourite’ swims. So I thought, on my blog I could expand on the theme. So forgive me for indulging… just a little bit! 🙂

Actually, it’s quite difficult to chose an actual favourite, out of the six swims I have done between May to September. I asked David what swim/location he enjoyed the most. We both agreed that Rydal Water had a special charm. Perhaps the low lying mist and the fact that it was early in the morning added to the magic.

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Rydal Water

My very first swim in Derwentwater, has to hold a special place in my heart. I remember being excitedly nervous, but determined to make my dream a reality! I even amazed myself that day!

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Facing Blencathra, Derwentwater

I am already planning on revisiting the shores of Derwentwater again for my birthday treat this October. I secretly can’t wait!

My most epic swim has to be in Wast Water! With giants such as Yewbarrow and Great Gable watching over me, it was scenery to inspire! It was also my longest swim of 20 minutes, though the shivers on shore later were fierce! Wast Water is a place I most definitely want to revisit.

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Wast Water

Another place I want to revisit is Buttermere, my favourite lake! The time we visited, it was a cool, drizzly June, definitely no sign of summer! I also suffered the disappointment of not swimming in Buttermere’s ‘sister’ lake, Crummock Water that day. Now having swam in Rydal Water and Grasmere, another two lakes adjacent to each other, I can safely say I will return to Buttermere!

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Buttermere

Grasmere had a lot to live up to after my magical swim in Rydal Water! I think the whole experience of bagging two swims in one day was quite overwhelming for me! The late summer light on Grasmere made the scenery look like an oil painting!

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Grasmere

The coldest swim I’ve experienced, has to be my only tarn of the season, Easedale. You expect a glacial tarn to be colder than the lakes, but with the weather turning as I slipped into the silent waters, it didn’t help with temperatures. It made for a very moody, thought provoking swim.

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Easedale Tarn

So that’s me all reminisced out! Well, not really… I can go on and on! 🙂 One thing is for certain, I am very happy to have discovered this new hobby. It gives a different element to walks in the countryside, of being totally immersed in the landscape, not just teetering on the edge!

My hope for the coming year: is to continue to enjoy walks/swims around the Lake District and to bag a few swims in Snowdonia too! The Miner’s Track(though it’ll be tough) has Llyn Glaslyn as its jewel and I want to revisit where this passion all started, Llyn Idwal.

I’d like you to come with me on my journey. Perhaps I can inspire you to try wild swimming? We will learn many things along the way and perhaps it will lead to a journey of self discovery?

Thanks for reminiscing with me.

Christine x

H2O

Scrambling and Swimming

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For weeks I have wanted to return to Derwentwater in the Lake District. This time to walk the path towards Catbells, overlooking the lake and then to picnic at the lakeshore. Early on Sunday, David and I headed back up the M6 to Cumbria, hoping to do just that!

The two hour drive ran without hiccup. Unlike the last time we attempted to go to the Lakes. That time they shut the M6 due to a fuel spillage and had to re-tarmac the carriageway. Thankfully not this time!

There is a limited amount of free parking by the signed Catbells path. However we passed a field that had been opened up for visitors to the area at £3 per car, for the day. I thought that was reasonable. Saying that, we managed to get a spot in the free car park!  There is also a bus that passes through on its way to Buttermere or you could walk from Keswick. There are many possibilities.

For around 1.5 hours we followed the path towards Catbells summit. The views from the path were spectacular. I wanted to do the walk just to see them! The sun shone warmly down, while fluffy clouds scudded past. There was one part of the path where we had to crawl on hands and knees to climb over a rocky spot. I don’t like climbing. I’m even worse at it than walking! There was a second more treacherous section just before the summit which curtailed any further attempt from me! Though young children and dogs happily leapt over the rock towards the top!

We headed back along a safer route towards the car to pick up supplies for our picnic by the lake.


Can I let you into a bit of a secret? I had an ulterior motive for heading back towards Derwentwater. It all started in February when David and I took a walk around Llyn Idwal in Snowdonia. I stood on the shingle beach, looking at the clear fresh water and imagined what it would be like on a warm, summers day. Of sunbathing and paddling in the lake.

The seed had been planted.

A week later saw David and I, up at the crack of dawn to visit Haweswater and Derwentwater, in the Lake District for the first time. I fell in love with Derwentwater and I wondered what it would be like to put my toe in its waters?

Later, after watching hours of YouTube videos and researching swimming in lakes/rivers in the UK, I was hooked! David thought I was mad! A week ago I purchased a swimsuit, neoprene shoes and goggles. I was all set to go swimming, but where? Though the lake can be busy with boat traffic and the shore popular with dog walkers, I chose Derwentwater to be my first!

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I was a little trepid to begin with. I worried about the temperature of the waters and wondered if I should postpone for a warmer day. However I wanted to attempt it. I had dreamed about it for weeks! I had worn my swimsuit under my clothes on the walk, so I had no real excuse not to try. The day had been pretty amazing up till then. Embarking on my first ‘wild’ swim would be the cherry on the cake (figuratively speaking)!

I didn’t enter the water gracefully. I slipped on a stone and plummeted onto my backside! The air was laced with my nervous giggling! I hadn’t been in water since I was a teenager, (a long, long time ago). I attempted the breaststroke and found that my legs and arms wouldn’t coordinate! I’d forgotten how to swim! However I gained in confidence. My long term memory kicked in and I remembered the technique. I managed to swim backwards and forwards with mayflies flying off the surface of the lake and wonderful views all around. David, who was happily dry onshore, watched on taking photographs.

The lake water was surprisingly mild for a cool day. I found it strange that there were eddies of warmer water here and there. I didn’t stray too far from the shore, my upper body isn’t that strong. I didn’t want the day to end in disaster, not on my first time!

I climbed out after 10 minutes and got dressed. I sat snuggling with David on the lakeshore, shakily cradling a hot cup of coffee. I felt buoyed by the occasion! Buttermere next!

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We ended the day with a little woodland stroll, where we heard the calls of a cuckoo, saw a carpet of bluebells and watched sheep and their lambs get fed. The whole day was wonderful. I went home thoroughly tired but energised. I am eager to go on my next walk/swim.

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Have you been swimming in a lake or river? Have any suggestions on where best to swim or of beautiful scenic walks to take?

Thanks for dropping by,

Christine x

First Impressions.

The Pig and Whistle was like any other old English pub, full of dark stained wood, hazy lighting and chintz. A thick bank of cigarette smoke hovered over the regulars’ heads, mostly men, their surprised faces momentarily raised from their pints as two young women walked in with a cold blast of air from the outside.

With full wine glasses in hand and slightly tipsy from the alcohol already consumed, Charlotte and Anne stood propping up the bar giggling like children.

Harry had seen Charlotte first. He had seen her as she walked into the crowded pub, young looking and with a worried expression on her face that she never seemed to shift. Her hair was brown and fell in straight strands down her back, but it was her eyes that struck him the most, beautiful dark eyes that when you looked closer were of light grey. He had been sitting at a table with friends, gaily drinking and laughing at some joke or other, he couldn’t remember what about now. Then he noticed Charlotte and her friend, her unremarkable looking friend, all the more unremarkable for she was standing next to Charlotte! Harry had always mocked people for saying that love at first sight existed, more ‘lust at first sight,’ he thought. He couldn’t see how with one look a person could be totally smitten by another, and then it happened…

In just one look!

Charlotte had raised her eyes from her glass for a brief second; just to take in the room they were in, when her look met that of Harry’s sitting across the room. It seemed that their eyes locked for a moment, both gazing at each other, eyes widening trying to capture the other person. Feeling at first, surprise at being caught looking and then stricken by wonder at why the other was still holding their gaze. Charlotte broke eye contact first, her eyes had relayed something to her brain and then to her heart that made it quicken and hammer against her ribs like it was a wild animal panicking to get out! Harry felt the same, but being bold, he held his gaze transfixed on Charlotte, his eyes dilated with interest. Did he notice her blush when she lowered her eyes? When she shyly raised her eyes towards Harry a second time, it was Harry’s turn to lower his gaze in a nonchalant manner, and so the game continued until Harry couldn’t take any more of this childish teasing.

Anne hadn’t been naïve to the sly looks her friend had been shooting towards the corner of the room, she was interested as to who could have had such a profound effect on Charlotte. She lowered her head looking to seek her confidence when the tone of a man came from behind her, asking if he could buy them both a drink. The two girls stood in shock, this had never happened to them before! The man’s dialect was rich and seductive, unlike the common tongues they could hear all around the pub. He spoke very like a gentleman should; though to Charlotte he looked nothing like one. None of the man’s clothes seemed to correspond with each other; it looked like he had just grabbed the first things he found in the wardrobe and threw them on saying, ‘this’ll do.’ His mop of brown hair was as disjointed as his fashion, his fringe hung down over his forehead and his curls caressed the nape of his neck. To Anne he looked like an artist while Charlotte didn’t know whether she should be jealous of his hair or be attracted to him! ‘I’m Harry!’ he smiled down towards Charlotte, a perfect wide toothy smile that she reflected back.

‘His smile,’ she thought ‘was perfect!’

Harry on the other hand was more appreciative of Charlotte though he was astonished at how small she was in stature. From behind to a casual glance she looked very like a child, however on closer inspection, her womanly curves and ample breasts betrayed her mature figure. She wore a long black dress, ‘quite Goth like’ he thought though her dress sense was infinitely better than his own! He noticed her skin was pale like porcelain and he wondered whether ‘if I touch her, would she break?’ To Harry she resembled a fine English figurine, the ones your grandmother has behind glass cabinets, all standing prettily carrying parasols and with red lips that are set in a pout ready to be kissed. Harry was overwhelmed with a feeling that he wanted to kiss Charlotte more than anything else!

Christine Lucas 2013.