Friday photo – childhood memories

I don’t always make a shopping list and I had forgotten lemons (or limes) which are an essential item for us. As I was driving back to where we were staying I remembered there was an old fashioned greengrocer with produce piled up. I found the lemons and some were still wrapped in this beautiful, colourful tissue paper. My mind immediately floated back to childhood where a great uncle had a fruit van and he would produce oranges with beautiful wrappers. Fruit seemed a lot more special back then when carefully wrapped and more seasonal. Now fruit can feel a bit functional – have I eaten my five a day yet? I am often surprised by the way that memories return from tiny triggers. It was a very special lemon and I appreciate more fully those who cultivate and pick them!


Wondering Wednesdays – childhood memories

The M25 on a Friday afternoon is not a great place to be. As we saw the time creeping up we had to make a call – could we get to Southend in time for Paul to get a Rossi’s ice cream? Yes we could and memories of a four hour journey evaporated. Southend holds happy childhood memories for Paul and an annual pilgrimage enables the reliving of some of them as most of those he shared the memories with are no longer around to reminisce with. Places have a power to evoke memory and emotion and in this instance good ones that nourish and replenish.

Wondering Wednesdays – child like


I began reading a book on poetry as medicine last week. One of the poems struck me and I was reminded of it today as we spoke about play as part of a lecture:
My heart of silk
is filled with lights,
with lost bells,
with lilies and bees.
I will go very far,
farther than those mountains,
farther than the oceans,
way up near the stars,
to ask Christ the Lord
to give back to me
the soul I had as a child,
matured by fairy tales,
with its hat of feathers
and its wooden sword.
(Federico Garcia Lorca)
I long for the child like wonder to return – there are glimpses of it at times, particularly in nature but I long sometimes for the freedom of that joy filled child who didn’t yet understand the expectations of others and the things which constrain.

Friday photo – nostalgia trail


Mum joined us for a few days on holiday and one of the things we did together was to visit Polperro in Cornwall. Polperro is a name I have known since I was very young as that was what Mum’s Godmother and husband had called their house. They have been dead so many years now and there are no relatives left who might know the story. But we wandered down the lanes wondering where they might have stayed.

I have written more than once recently about visiting aspects of my childhood. At Polperro we played amongst the rhodedendrons, watched the fish in the pond, saw adults playing on a full sized snooker table, collected eggs from the hens and met lots of family members we seldom saw as different branches of the family came together. One of my favourite childhood memories comes from a photo where several of us were sitting in a hammock. I am enjoying revisiting some of these memories while Mum can fill me in about all sorts of things which are only fragments.

Wondering Wednesdays – nurturing or nullifying


I spent most of yesterday preparing a session on children’s spirituality for a module on multidisciplinary spiritual care later this month. I got to revisit books I had read long ago and was again inspired by how wonderful it is to spend time with children. The quotation that I am using which struck me most is this:

If the spiritual dimension of children’s lives is not listened to, and nurtured it can become suppressed and damaged by socially and historically constructed processes. This can lead children, as they grow older, to repress, neglect and even discard the spirituality first experienced in a significant way during their childhood. (Hyde 2008:59-60)

It is with sadness that I recognize the truth of this, the loss of wonder, excitement, the jadedness which can come at a comparatively early age. I most often use nature to get me back in touch with this wondering, monday morning it was a baby bird hopping around the garden from branch to branch, I was sorry I had not got round to replenishing the food!

Hyde. B. (2008). Children and Spirituality. London: Jessica Kingsley.

Friday photo – the unexpected

pears 2

We walked into a building labelled “Mushroom House” – dark and damp – using my phone as a torch while my eyes adjusted to the lack of light I saw not mushrooms but pears! Although the pears looked lovely and I did have to resist the temptation to take a bit out of them I was a little disappointed not to find what it was I was expecting. I seem to be in a connecting with childhood mode at the moment and remember with great fondness a giant toadstool that sat in the middle of the long gone hut we used to meet in.

I sometimes get torn between feeling cheated that something wasn’t what it said it was and excited because it was something unexpected. This was perhaps a bit of both!

Wondering Wednesdays – the big hoot

the big hoot

One of the fun parts of the summer has been wandering round the city seeing all the different owls that are part of the big hoot – an arts and fundraising project for Birmingham Children’s Hospital. They disappear from their perches on Sunday and I am disappointed that there has not been an opportunity to see them all but I have loved coming across them in all sorts of random places as I have gone about the city, even when I handed my thesis in!

On Friday I was part of a fascinating conversation about what shapes our interests and desires and I have in my overnight bag a copy of the Owl Service by Alan Garner, a childhood favourite book. The first painting I ever chose for myself was as a student in Brighton and features a barn owl. I am also drawn to explore the idea of wisdom and the saying as wise as an owl is one that sticks with me along with the enormous fun of brownies as a child – led by “owls”. I love tracing back parts of who I am and what I enjoy and being aware of who and what fashioned who I am today sometimes in the same careful way as the artists approached painting their owls.