Thank you x a billion Croix!!

I went to listen to your song windmills of your mind (which is beautiful by the way... Can't decide whose cover I like better... Probably Dusty).

And then saw a new song. New JB!!! New album in November. Finally! I started crying.

And random is possible if your playlist is all JB songs 😊.

So my happy memory...

Sitting in the dark room with headphones. Reaching out to try a friend's comfort to ease my sore heart.

A new title. But the same impact as always. I close my eyes and listen. Feel the tension inside ease a little.

"I dreamt I fell in a lions den... And you still came for me...

I dreamt I lost all of my faith... And you still prayed for me".

Thank you my friend.

❤ Nat

Hi Croix, Nat and All,

I don't know who Jon Bellion is, but his songs seem to have an impact on you both so I will listen to some of his music later on tonight when my husband is at work.

I'm off to the Op Shop today so will look forward to chatting with customers, finding treasures, laughing with my fellow workers and hopefully have someone child's smile at me to make my day!

A new happy memory was created for me yesterday. The framers have returned the sheep to our place as recent rains have brought up the grass again.

I wandered around amongst the sheep yesterday, they followed me around the paddock for a while, with the friendly ram wanting his head rubbed and ears scratched. The others gave up following me, but the ram stayed by me, sometimes rubbing his head against my jeans if I stood still.

Looking around I listened for the birds, blocking out the noise of the traffic. I watched the sheep and the horses in the paddock next door. I stood with my back to the sun and felt comforted.

Peace is right here with me! I just have to be more aware and seek it out!

Cheers to you all from Dools

Hi Mrs D (with a wave to Croix of course),

I like your happy memory especially when you mentioned standing in the sun. Being outside and in the sun seems to help most of the time.

Today's happy/peaceful memory.

A small paved courtyard. Cream brick, lush green bird of paradise plants and the sparkle of the blue swimming pool. Summer is here.

My friend and I divide existing plants and spruce up the garden beds. Palms. Yukkas. Dracaenas. Frangipannis. Flaxes. Rhoeos. A little tropical oasis.

Sweat and baking heat. The sounds of chaos. Four little ferals (kids) in the pool next to us have decided skinnydipping is the best. Squeals and splashes as they alternate spraying the garden beds, spraying eachother and jumping into the cold water.

All done we see a collection of black stones on the floor of the pool. Two identical frustrated Mum sighs. Not again! She shrugs and goes to wrangle clothes on to the boys.

My two grin cheekily wrapped in towels. I feel the heat off the pavers. The sun burns my skin. I smell salt and sunscreen. Midweek. Midday. Everything is quiet. I shrug too.

A pile of clothes and the giggles of my kids break the silence. The water is freezing. Refreshing. Miss 3 exchanges my collection of stones for a towel. 30 seconds of living in the moment.

Hello everyone,

Nat, what a wonderful description of a peaceful memory I can smell the u screen and feel the heat.

My memory from yesterday, was a lovely couple from Persia(Iran). Who told me how much they loved my shop and how grateful they were to live in Australia. she had so much joy in her voice that it was contagious and she told me about the tasty food she cooks. I was invited to her place for a home cooked meal if I ever visit the town she is moving to.

In a few minutes I was transported into her world of deli Sioux aromas, exotic stories and a gratitude for everything Australian.

I will probably never see her again but those precious minutes of conversations will make me smile every time I think of her.

Croix this is a great thread , I often read but don’t post because I. Ant think of something to write when I have to.

Quirky

Dear All~

Rocks and swimming, um.

Grandmother Nain is sitting on a towel on the beach, which is made of pebbles with rocky outcrops poking though in places, covered in limpets. We are in a sheltered spot beside the shorter jetty, the one old fishermen throw in lines from to pass the time.

I'm in my new waterproof plastic sandals and wade out into the cold water. It gets up to my chest then I feel something touch a leg, freak and wade back to the beach as fast as I can. Agonizingly slow of course.

Seaweed, just seaweed, long strands with bubbles. Grandfather Tide had filled my head with tales of conger eels, often big enough to snap up small boys. Some days I was just plain silly. Nain offers cold tea from the corked bottle.

Teasing grandchildren is apparently an inheritable trait, now I do it.

Croix

I'm not sure about teasing grandkids but my grandkids like to tease me. I'm regularly eaten by pretend crocodiles, bears dinosaurs or are cut up with pretend swords. Of course I am expected to moan & groan loudly as I clutch the injured part & fall dramatically to the floor while the grandkids watch & laugh hysterically. When I complain I am told in a serious voice ' It is just pretend Grandma.

I have mainly grandsons who are very physical. They want to run, jump, climb, wrestle etc. Yesterday was the 5 yr olds birthday & he doesn't have knider on Fridays so we visited. They just want me to play with them. Walking to the playground is fun. As we approached a road we called out for the two boys to stop. The 5 year old immediately grabbed his 3 yr old brother & held tight until we caught up to make sure his brother didn't run across the road. I love seeing them care for each other.

Dear Elizabeth~

That's lovely, both you acting out their ideas of being attacked, but mainly the way the 5 y.o. looked after his little brother.

I also like the way they reassure you.

Love is there

Croix

Okay... my turn with a happy memory about my friend.

Back in 1997, when I visited her. We spent quite a bit of time hanging out, going by train places and enjoying a few days out. One day, she took me to a complete stone village - built completely from stone, even now - and showed me her favourite music store. She was to buy her first flute there with her own money from the Stamford Music Store - such a lovely place. So much to see in that tiny shop - and it had its own sound booth. We caught out a crooked assistant manager who was trying to rip her off. He was trying to sell her a flute with bent keys.

Another time, we had dinner at the Leicester Music Festival in Leicester Square and I had Burger King (Hungry Jacks here in Australia) and couldn't eat it all. I spotted a homeless guy sitting by one of the bins looking at everything people were throwing away and was crestfallen every time he saw it was empty cups, or empty bags. I gave him the rest of my meal and my drink. He was so grateful. He told me that he hadn't eaten in 3 days. It's awful to see food go to waste... and I thought it was best to give to him. Hannah saw that was kinda silly, but when I explained that he may not have eaten in a week, she realised how hard it might be for him.

She also showed me op-shops in the UK with leather jackets and coats in almost new condition for £30 or less... I almost bought more than one! I was stunned at how nice they looked!

These are the great memories of my dear friend - and I'll never forget them.

Mozette

Dear Mozette~

I'm delighted to see you here, your stories are vivid and I think many, both now and in the future will be richer for your memories with your friend, even if they do not know the circumstances. A bent assistant manager to match the keys I guess.

I remember several things thanks to your prompting. As a young man in London I came out of a news theater and ate a new delight, a hamburger called a Wimpy Burger. There were huge cranes opposite towering overhead on an ex-war demolition site which had the name of the firm, also Wimpy. At the time I wondered at the connection. I've no idea idea if Wimpy still exists, it was brand new back then.

There were people on the street who had suffered badly in the war, homless as well as injured I guess. Britain was just recovering even then.

Trains and op-shops. I remember around the mid 70's going into British Rail's Lost Property Shop where they sold off all the unclaimed items left on trains. I came out with a Lock & Co Bowler and Fox Frame umbrella, just like my favorite TV character John Steed. I felt most elegant and debonair.

My partner, who was at least as good looking as Cathy Gale, tactfully pretended to be impressed:)

If all these names mean nothing I'm not surprised, it was a little while ago:)

Thank you Mozette, you have helped me remember long forgotten pleasures

Croix

Hello Croix

I like your thread....My memory is being 9 years old in 1969 and spending a short time in Hawaii...Waikiki...and I remember being disappointed when I had a Coke in a wax/paper cup and all I tasted was bubbly watered down Coke.....There were the 'Hula girls' that were greeting us from the P&O Oriana which dad kept reminding me of yet I have no recollection of them

I just remembered the watered down Coca Cola on Ice.....I miss the simplicity of being a kid Croix

Thankyou for the great thread

Paul

When I first came here I was saying whatever and not reading everything or overlooking the whole system. Feelings were possibly effected. Re- reading I'm thinking why did I say that? I should have sensored myself. I think that's called growth which should make one happy....

Just going to think I'm happy for the day

Dear Paul and M_M

Paul, these things are meaningful to any one, but have more impact as a child, and so they should, there is the tacky taste of the watered coke, plus the new experience of being short-changed. It prints in the memory.

And you a re right, being a kid can be simple like that, time to concentrate on the act of having a drink, and not have to deal with all the complexities that crowd round in adulthood.

M_M, you are right you have grown, and while looking back can give you a measure of your progress it does not do to dwell too long on such things, pain in the past and the actions that resulted should be acknowledged them left behind.

In a lot of ways you have a new life now.

Croix

I was out with a large group of people yesterday for a Christmas Party and sat down with a couple of people I work with in a lovely little cafe. We got talking about the UK. I told them about Stamford - a town my friend had taken me to where time had stood still. She wanted to take me there to show me that the council was building new suburbs in the same way they built them in early 1200's... with stone masons and nothing else. Sure the huge blocks of stone were brought in on trucks and moved by cranes, but people were carving out everything else by hand... it was amazing.

My friends sat there stunned that an English town like that existed and then I told them about the music shop, and how the steps into the shop were stone and had never been replace, so had wear marks of where people had walked on them, the tiny bay windows which protruded from the shop, and into the old concrete footpath outside - so very Dickens and very English! I loved it. I didn't tell them about the crooked assistant manager trying to sell the flute to my friend... it was all about the township and the place.

And it was the first time I talked about her without crying.

When I got outside after about half an hour, I as though I was going to forget her; as though I was going against her memory... sure it felt good to share that memory of her and my time together in 1997, but I still felt guilty in a way. It was a good memory though.

Last week I was admitted to a small country hospital. I had a room to myself which had a door to the outside world... that I discovered was not locked!

Early one morning I could not sleep, so I went out for a walk, it was cool and crisp and so peacefully quiet! Hospitals really do not encourage sleep!

I heard a possum in a tree making quite a racket, it did not like being disturbed by me walking under its tree. I could hear some frogs as well.

I found a milk crate and sat and looked at the stars for a while.

The lighting highlighted the colours in the roses, the perfume seemed so heightened in the coolness as well.

It was so cool, I returned to my room for a blanket...that is when I was sprung by the nurse coming back in the door!

There seemed to be a bit of pandemonium happening after that as nurses dashed around trying to find out who had a key to lock the door!

I had a quiet chuckle to myself and had enjoyed my little bit of peace in amongst what was not such a pleasant time in general.

Dear Mozette~

I think you are discovering the same thing that I have. When a person passes away all one can think of is the last little bit of their life, when it ended. That consumes all.

As time goes on other events and feelings come to the fore, and they happen more and more often. I guess that is why people say 'time heals'. It doesn't really, but you get a balance with the happier memories from your joint lives becoming stronger, mixing with new memories from your life since, and you end up able to be sad - or happy - without the pain.

My first wife is a good example of this. When she passed away my grief was overwhelming. In time I remarried, and now have a mix of memories, with a lot of good ones there.

Croix

Dear Mrs Dools

A pity you could not persuade them to leave the door alone, though I suppose it would annoy the possum.

Night can be a healing time of tranquillity. That's why if I'm able to go for a walk I prefer the night. Walking with the earth revolving under your feet and the stars overhead can give a sense of perspective one does not find cooped up inside. Then again there are possums. rabbits, bandicoots ....

Croix

I know it's not a bad thing to become accustomed to my friend not being in my life anymore - and it's always going to be sad that she's not here anymore. But it's not yet a year (and her birthday's not yet been) and this is what make me feel guilty - that I'm not more broken up about this.

Is it the distance? Is it that I wasn't immediately there when the family needed my support?

It's late at night when I've been thinking these thoughts the most; as during the day, I'm okay and enjoy life better and easier - even when it's raining, like it is now.

Dear Mozette~
Sorry to be so long in replying, had to pop into hospital for a while and only just escaped (nothing serious).

Feeling guilty about grief I'd imagine is very common, mainly because we have expectations of what grief looks like, which of course is simply wrong. There is no 'I should be ..."

Some people cry a lot, or depend greatly on others, others do not seem affected on the outside but make big changes in their life as a result. It my sound trivial but someone I know from then on always gave mony to those begging/busking in the street despite always having disapproved of them before.

Late night is the time these thoughts come to the fore, I guess one of my methods is to get up, have a cuppa and read something cheerful. Hopefully breaks the chain of gloomy ideas.

Being so far away from the person you care about and not being to hand to help as it happens are things many have to face, it is not fault, it is simply circumstances.

My I ask what strategies you have planned to deal with things on her birthday?

Croix

Hi Croix,

Speaking of which. Back in South Africa in the town we lived in there was a Wimpy. It looked out over the bridge crossing the river. My husband and daughter and I used to go there Saturday mornings for brunch. Always ate nr 9 on the menu, burgers with avo, cheese and bacon, with a side of fries and Coke. Best burgers ever!

ZonnekP

Dear ZonnekP~

I'd no idea Wimpy was so far-reaching. A regular family meal is a lovely thing to remember quite apart from the good food.

Thank you for that

Croix

Hi Croix,

Thank you for your insight about grief... and how to see the flipside of how to deal with it. But I still feel at a loss at times. I mean, I've been out at my social art group and for no particular reason, my mind will just stop me from doing what I'm doing and I'll come a block. When you're an artist that's difficult to deal with. I'm also a writer. And this month is National Novel Writing Month; and I got up to 15,000 words and have simply stopped right there... I'm not sure why. It'll come back to me, I hope it does.

As for my friend's birthday? Well, I'm not sure. I was hoping to spend it down the coast at Brunswick Heads, NSW, but my folks don't want me there then. Even when I've said it's better for me - they want my Mum's sister there instead. So, I think I'll go out and have an ice coffee for her in a really nice coffee shop, read a book and enjoy time away from my house. It's what she'd want me to do. It's on a Sunday, I might even go to a local church and just be quiet for a moment or two... see what happens.

Mozette

Dear Mozette~

Having a plan for that birthday is very wise, it is so easy to be taken by surprise and become overwhelmed with grief. When my first partner died I had that problem and frankly I ran away, did anything to be a distraction. It did work though and over time the necessity vanished.

Writer's/Artist's block is a curse and I've no answer anymore than anyone else, it simply strikes. I'm told 'free-writing' may be a help. Quercus and I occasionally give each other a keyword and hope that triggers a happy memory - often does work. Even a prosaic word like "chair" helped me remember meals with grandparents and rice pudding complete with skin:)

How many words do you have to write for that Month?

Croix

Croix,

Yeah, Writer's Block is a curse in itself. I relate it to Brain Fog (which, as a person who suffers with Epilepsy, I get quite often and hate like nothing else!) and I often blame my muse. Yes, us writers have muses. For a lot of us, we picture them in different ways... for me, mine is a middle-aged dude in a pair of jeans, white single and old loafers smoking a dank cigar. He's always sitting in my Reading Chair in the corner laughing at me when I really need his help; and the only time he does help me is in the editing part of a book. There's no name for him, just call him 'The Muse'.

NaNoWriMo goes for the whole month of November every year - and has done for some years now - and we're challenged to write 50,000 words. Yesterday, I wrote a little over 3,000 words and added to my total of 15,000 words. I've nearly broken through the 20,000 word mark. I'm pretty pleased with myself. I'm hoping to get in and work on it more when I go to the coast on Mum's laptop. If not, I'll do some on my tablet or in longhand (notes really to be expanded when I get home) and flesh out everything once home.

When I get blocked with writing, though, I do have books to help me out with it all to push past it and get myself working again. It's better to not force the inspiration though.

Mozette

MR Croixy and all hey ☺

Mozette hi ☺ I'm far from a writer. A couple of thoughts
At bb I've for various reasons been dabbling in fantasy which takes us to another place away from daily stress and pretty much I guess a safe place. Using depression as an example that closes our minds I'm thinking fantasy could be a way of opening them to lateral thinking as well as many other benefits. It's delving into unexplored territory with no restraints pressure or timeline. A particular time I was in a terribly dark place and it helped quite a lot to lift me enough too get through, maybe distraction but It felt good. With fantasy anything goes as opposed to your writing you're following a whatever 😆word block must be catchy. Theme or storyline. While fluffing around in it nothing else like pain problems tension timeline etc we're aware of cause the focus is in the unknown without limitations or guidelines, and especially pressure which maybe subconsciously create writers block I don't know.

The other thing is so often we get stuck on a name or word in general conversation and the more we try and think of it the harder it is. ? similar to writers block. When we think less about it, it seems to pop into our head later so could be when trying to think when the minds out of juice it creates pressure causing block. Fantasy potentially could get the flow happening again because although writers block its a different type of writing with no set regime or guidelines. All the best to you☺

Had a dose of beautiful memories yesterday from childhood.
Waiting for a friend to come back I was looking at nature, love the tiniest little weeds in the ground, perfect little various coloured flowers some barely larger than a pin head. Looking around I saw now comes the tricky part, not sure what they're called, think a nicknames fairy something and you blow them and all these little parts of the flower gently disperse in all directions and float in the wind. They're very light and straight ?petals (like soft slender spikes but not sharp) Theres a little seed on the end of the whatevers again 😆 They grow on a thin stem around a foot high, the flowers about the size and shape of a table tennis ball.

When we were kids it was said when you blow them you make a wish and it'll come true.

🦄

Aaah demonblaster,

You're thinking of a Dandelion. A horror of a weed to have in your yard, yet they are used to make Dandelion Wine (yep there's such a thing!), quite a strong thing - well as my folks have told me - and very sweet.

Yeah, I write fantasy novels and enjoy getting away from the real world a lot. Actually, I'm not one to write non-fiction, it's too difficult to stick to the facts; and people have always pulled me up on what's right and what's wrong. I have been trying to write my life story for some years now, and my Mum keeps telling me 'But that's not how it happened.' then she came to meet Hugh Lunn (a great Aussie writer) and he told her that because it wasn't the way it happened to her doesn't mean it the same thing didn't happen in a different way to me. We all have different takes/memories of something which happens in life. She has just had to read my memory of things and realise it's always different for everyone. There's been once or twice my brother and I had the same story word for word; and it's been funny... we had the same thoughts on things.

I'm also a painter, so when I do get stuck for something in my writing, painting does work a different part of my brain and I paint until my brain works out the book again. Most of the best ideas I get either happen while I'm washing up or watching television - weird right?

Mozette

Hi everyone ☺

Another beautiful childhood memory was again Mozette I'm unsure of what they're called in NZ at the train station there was a bush with maybe Yellowy flowers. In the inside of the open flower which weren't large more dainty there was a kind of stalk and we'd gently pull it and taste a lovely sweet tiny drop on the end of it, not honey much nicer.

Cool thanks Mozette about Dandelion I know a few plant and tree names & that name but was thinking of a different flower.

😅 Well fantasies not going to be much help then 😄 Good luck hope it's not too long. Interesting about the painting.

Yes I wander off often watching TV.

Interesting too about memories of situations. Heard that here and real life (rl) as well.

Dear All~

I remember dandelion wine, my parents used to make wine from elderberries, dandelions, sloe and blackberry. There used to be a row of wooden casks in the cellar, each with a curly glass air-lock in the top. The wines produced were strong. I don't remember any except the blackberry being sweet, I guess my faster preferred dry.

I do remember dandelion leaves in salads. It was not all that long after the war and everything was in short supply, so salads contained these leaves which were very bitter, as a child I'd do my best to shovel them off the plate (and look innocent)

Croix

"Your father was a hamster, and your mother smelled of elderberries"!!!!!!!!

sorry Croix...when you mentioned elderberry wine, I got carried away with a Happy Memory of Monty Pythons Holy Grail.....when the French were hurling insults at the British....."be gone, or I will taunt you again!".........

Sir Galahad: What a strange person.

-C

"fetch me a shrubbery!!"...

well Croix, at least I guess this intellectual exchange has reminded me fleetingly of a "happy memory" - the various dvds my young boys and I enjoyed together (and still quote from to each other occasionally to the bewilderment of anyone listening)....other movies that come to mind are Murder By Death...(a wonderful send-up of famous detectives e.g. Poirot, Marple etc) with a list of famous stars;

and watching two little boys enjoying the first Charlie & the Chocolate Factory (Gene Wilder) with their beloved Grandad...