Pick and Mix

In one of those 'association' moments that occur, ever since I wrote a post on elasticated underwear and tuck, the phrase 'pick and mix' kept returning to me with the idea of pick and mix religion attached. The main concept seems to be that people pick and chose the elements of a variety of religions that they like, or agree with, and wrap them up by describing themselves as 'religious' or 'spiritual'.

Buddhism is often a likely first stop, and in my experience - a citizen of a Christian society - a little mix of both often offer a handy life choice that covers most eventualities but doesn't require too much effort.

I began writing 'I am as guilty of this as...' , but then I realised the word 'guilty' was wrong. I don't feel guilty about it. My knowledge of Buddhism is probably as light weight as my knowledge of Christianity. The primary difference is that I made a choice to read a little about Buddhism . whereas my Christian 'knowledge' consists of remnants of cultural ideology and half forgotten sermons and hymns from school and childhood.  

I can recall the Buddhist idea of enlightenment. The idea being that you should recognise  yourself and  deal with elements of your nature that make your life challenging or shallow, or aspects that you want to change. The stages go something like this:

Finding the Ox's traces (the Ox is a metaphor)

Glimpsing the Ox

Catching the Ox to turn it round

Leading the Ox onto the path

Riding the Ox home

Boy and Ox both forgotten

The beauty of the world is all

I don't know enough to understand if this is a 'one life' thing or if the stages can be applied many times. Reading other posts on this blog will quite clearly demonstrate that I am nowhere near enlightenment; nor do I ever think I will be - too much of a 'pick and mixer' even for that, but I have caught the Ox and occasionally  I even believe I am leading it home. 

Spring

Spring has arrived with a massive leap from snow at the end of last month to glorious sunshine and temperatures in the high teens today.

One moment I was busy with Streetlight Watch;  every couple of days between the Winter Solstice and March 1st I text a variety of people the time that the streetlight to the side of my house comes on... if you pause during your laughter here, may I just point out (not only does it have a dusk to dawn sensor) it is invaluable for SAD sufferers. Every few day I tell my 'followers' how many minutes of daylight have been gained - and the next it was blossom and bloom and bees everywhere. 

At a party recently a couple laughed until one of them cried when another party goer mentioned my Streetlight Watch. Later the one of the couple gave me her mobile no and asked me to include her at the end of this year (was she just trying to make amends for laughing so heartily!) 

Enjoy the sunshine and the blossom and blooms and the birds and the bees (ooh err) and feel the sap rising.

Squeezing our fat bits, pinching our shrimps

I read in The Times a week or two ago an article suggesting that the huge economic success of Spanx (elasticated underwear that holds all your fat bits in... apparently), could be seen as a metaphor for Britain's economic woes. I won't direct you to The Times Online because you have to pay to access it (now, is that a sign of the times?) However - you get the gist.

I actually thought it was nonsense and presumed that we are all lazy and have excess fat - both literal and metaphorical - that we are too undisciplined to deal with.  To continue in a similar fashion I suggest that most of the people I know have no excess 'fat' to squeeze and squidge to fit into the Coalition's version of elasticated restraint wear. But prepare to breathe in because the budget is imminent. 

On a lighter note, I have an idea that what we need is a return to the days when 'never a borrower or a lender be' was considered sensible advice.

As a pupil  at  boarding school though most of the 70's I became accustomed  to my pocket money being sent to the school in half-termly increments and doled out at weekly intervals. I can't remember how much we were allowed to have, but it was pence rather than pounds.

Each week we had to 'purchase' a stamp from our allowance, we were obliged to write a letter home every Monday morning, a list was made of the amount to be taken (I wonder how much a stamp was in 1972?). Every school day we were allowed access to the Tuck Shop where such treats as Black Jacks, Fruit Salads and foam shrimps were available. Anything we 'bought' was added up and recorded in the book and by Saturday the weekly spend was deducted from our pocket money.

On Saturday morning, before our trip into Teignmouth or Torquay, we waited outside Miss Batt's office for her to call us in, one by one, to hand us what was left of our money. in my case It was usually a very small amount (I still can't resist the lure of  'tuck'), but I always knew I had 'saved' something for Saturday.


What this ritual of using debit did was give me a very realistic and grounded perspective where money was concerned. I don't anticipate Osborne being equal to Aunty Nora (Miss Batt), but she had something right didn't she.



If you have the urge for a shrimp try  www.aquarterof.co.uk/Best_Retro_Sweets or in Worcester Zendels at 98 The High Street.

  

The open road

I read a friend's blog about coincidence a couple of days ago http://www.forthefainthearted.com/2012/03/07/the-little-people-are-out-to-get-me/

Yesterday he wrote about childrens' literature, quoting the close of  Milne's The House at Pooh Corner http://www.forthefainthearted.com/2012/03/11/disappearing-years/

‘Then, suddenly again, Christopher Robin, who was still looking at the world with his chin in his hands, called out “Pooh!”
“Yes?” said Pooh.
“When I’m – when – Pooh!”
“Yes, Christopher Robin?”
“I’m not going to do Nothing any more.”
“Never again?”
“Well, not so much. They don’t let you.”
Pooh waited for him to go on, but he was silent again.
“Yes, Christopher Robin?” said Pooh helpfully.
“Pooh, when I’m – you know – when I’m not doing Nothing, will you come up here sometimes?”
“Just Me?”
“Yes, Pooh.”
“Will you be here too?”
“Yes, Pooh, I will be really. I promise I will be, Pooh.”
“That’s good,” said Pooh.
“Pooh, promise you won’t forget about me, ever. Not even when I’m a hundred.”
Pooh thought for a little.
“How old shall I be then?”
“Ninety-nine.”
Pooh nodded.
“I promise,” he said.
Still with his eyes on the world Christopher Robin put out a hand and felt for Pooh’s paw.
“Pooh,” said Christopher Robin earnestly, “if I – if I’m not quite” he stopped and tried again – “. Pooh, whatever happens, you will understand, won’t you?”
“Understand what?”
“Oh, nothing.” He laughed and jumped to his feet. “Come on!”
“Where?” said Pooh.
“Anywhere,” said Christopher Robin.

Tomorrow my youngest child is off to India. My eldest sister sent her a card on which she had quoted Toad from The Wind in The Willows:

 "We'll go for a jolly ride! The open road! The dusty highway, the heath, the common, the hedgerows, the rolling downs! Camps, villages, towns, cities! Here today and off somewhere else tomorrow! Travel, change, interest, excitement!"

Is it a coincidence that two people in a short time used quotes from two of English literature's greatest children's books - or that both relate perfectly to how I feel about my baby today? 

Is it wrong that (despite of the outcome of this excursion),  I want her to be a Mr. Toad rather than a Christopher Robin?

"Shout "Hooray" - for Mr. Toad. Sound your horns, fire the cannons, shout "Hooray", for it's Toad's grrrrreat day!"

Fortunately I think she is.

  



Mid Life Crisis

I have an excuse for my slackness in posting this past few days: I hennaed my hair and had a huge allergic reaction to the henna. Instead of covering the grey as I had hoped, I had a massively swollen face and severe facial pain for almost 3 days. Oh the price of trying to look a little better - younger maybe?

50 has taken me by surprise, or maybe it was losing my job that made me more aware of how age has crept up. Logically it is probably because I have more time to look and myself and notice the grey hair, or should I take a leaf from the positive approach handbook and refer to my 'grey' as silver.

Esther Rantzen who is well known for her work with developing and supporting Childline, has developed  a new help and support service called Silverline. From what I gather it is intended to be of use for elderly people suffering from loneliness as much as any other form of difficulty, however it is hi-lighted on the Alzheimers uk online forum http://forum.alzheimers.org.uk/showthread.php?39545-Esther-Rantzens-new-campaign-Silverline-24hr-telephone-service

We recently celebrated my eldest grandchild's 7th birthday, her whole class attended, plus little brothers, sisters and my great nephew and niece. My sisters (3), 2 good friends of mine, and my children and grandchildren. Will I be lonely in my older age? I don't think so, but I am aware of many others who are and thinking of this (plus the pain of the allergy - I'm no saint) has made me reconsider my vanity.

On a lighter note a very old friend (she will hate that, but we have been friends for 31 years), was looking at me intently and stated 'well, they say you either keep your face or your figure, you have kept your figure'...
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