Archive | April 2015

Fourteenth April Blog. ADENDUM.


In Memory.

Fourteenth April Blog Adendum.

Suzan Collins‎Writing a book to raise money for Alzheimers Research
55 mins ·
As you may know a group of writers are writing a small book and all monies raised will go to Alzheimer’s Research. There are eight writers Lesley Krier Tither Lucille Rayner Jo Wilde Tracy Terry Ann Bowyer Ros Lyons, JB Johnston and me, Suzan Collins author page. It is a chain story about a cat (not Chatty Cat I hasten to add) and each writer has to write following what has been written before. Our 5th writer is now writing the 5th chapter. Originally we planned for the book to be available to buy on Amazon before September, fortunately we are ahead of schedule and we will post on here more news when we get it. Thank you for your support and liking our page. Can you ask your friends to like this page too? Let’s kick Dementia together!
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Fourteenth April Blog


Fourteenth April Blog. 28-4-15.

Last in the April lineup, folks!

Infirm Age.

Soon be May,
I’m sorry to say,
Means that the year
Is slipping away.
And what have I
Accomplished so far?
Polishing off
Half a coffee jar.
Oh yes, I’ve been thinking
Of what is to be,
As the days march on,
As May comes to see.
I should take advantage
Of sunshiny days,
Starting the gardening,
Finishing Fenn Shui.
So, get myself moving,
In life’s busy hum,
To stop my poor body
From getting quite numb.
But, just a second,
Must have a tea,
Or maybe just,
One more coffee, for me?

Copyright Evelyn J. Steward. April, 2015.

Yes, almost May. Perhaps it is because, at my age, I feel the cold, feel all the aches pains that often did annoy me, but that I was able to shrug off in younger times,

People grin, when one states something like that. But wait a few years, see what life throws at you, what you can bear! I hope you all can reach a ripe old age without too much pain and bad health. Some of you will make it to the silver hair stage with not too many health problems, though, from my era, many do not. Not lwithout some illness, accident (none of your own fault, even), tragedy that affects your health and how well or not you slide into antiquity.

It comes to most of us at some point, I am sorry to say. Maybe the younger of you will have a different tennet. Maybe this modern age, where some things are made easier will manage quite nicely, thank you. Modern appliances, cars, better food, more conveniences, work that is not so taxing on the body, all these should be less strain on the flesh. Hopefully, no real bad times where there are no jobs and not much food. Crushing defeats like that age the body, as well as the mind.

The young of the Western World seem to have no idea what hard life was really all about, back in the day. And I am glad of that. I hope it means they will live a fuller, happier, more rewarding life, and a healthier, less painful old age. Of course, there are some who get ‘mxed up’ in world events and are either contributors or innocent bystanders, but still get caught up in the bad things happening around them. We are thankful to them.

I hope no one gets caught up in world events they cannot handle, for that would be cruel. Suffice it to say that I have been caught up in such events, and it was not nice at all. But most youngsters do not know just how hard life can become, si i not understand what old age is about. Problem is, age creeps up on you. There you go, trolling along, beor you know it, you are forty. OK, forty is just a number, right? But soon the grandkids arrive, and they shoot up. Then you are nearly sixty. Where did all that time go, you think?

Next you are, if lucky, getting your pension!

I have kind of side-tracked myself, but that is how my mind works at times.

Be happy, enjoy life. Be safe.


This entry was posted on April 28, 2015. 4 Comments

Thirteenth April Blog


Thirteenth April Blog.


Some people feel it’s unlucky
For thirteen to be on the bill.
It really depends where it comes from,
Or what is your tenet, or will.
Like black cats crossing your pathway,
For some, that’s unlucky, and yet,
Black cats can be a familiar,
Or equally, a real loving pet.
History chooses these signways
For reasons forgotten in time.
Seven, a supposed lucky number,
Others are written in rhyme.
But always it seems that the number
Thirteen, is most hated of all.
Friday the thirteenth, do not venture forth,
The unluckiest day has a ball.
A house becomes 12a or 14,
The thirteen gets left out of sinc.
But thirteen is just a large number
That fades from the eye with a blink.

Copyright Evelyn J. Steward. April, 2015.

I do not personally think that Friday the Thirteenth is any more unlucky than any other day with 13 at its head, or indeed, any other day sporting any other number. I know there are plenty who would not agree with me. And they are entitled to their opinion, the same as I am. Horses for courses, so to speak!

However, down the centuries, whether by myth, or general concensus, certain numbers have come to mean something to lots of people in lots of different countries, groups or religions. As I mentioned in the above poem, most common of these are the numbers thirteen and seven.

It is certain too, that many numbers mean other things in physics, a mathematical discipline, if you will. Like the number three for instance, three in the Christian religion means the Three in One. But also, if memory serves me correctly, it has other signifences. There are also Prime numbers, but they are not necessarily bad or good, lucky or unlucky.

Many cultures seem to adhere to the number thirteen and seven. Is this because it is learned from way back from other cultures, or have they decided the meaning of these numbers, lucky or unlucky, by themselves?

Some are so sure that thirteen is an unlucky number that nothing in their vicinity will have the number thirteen on it, or near, or around it. Likewise for those who feel that the number seven is lucky and will bet on the number seven and keep it close, in many things connected with their lives.

I have not delved too deeply into this subject simply because one need not. It is very much to the fore in most culures. Suffice it to say that I have never won the Lottery with any of these ( or any other) numbers) – if only I had! But that is another blog story.

Happy Monday, good people out there, and be safe.


This entry was posted on April 26, 2015. 2 Comments

Twelfth April Blog


Twelfth April Blog. 22-4-15?

‘Evening shadows make me blue,
When each weary day is through,
How I long to be with you,
M Happiness’

No, not mine, but a fifties song by Connie Francis.

I am sitting watching the sun dive towards the horizon, or, as the Navy says ‘sinking over the yard arm’. Still only April but the evenings are still short. I was thinking earlier that in eight weeks we will reach mid-term Solstice, ALREADY!!!!!

Boy oh boy oh boy! Get near the end of March, and the year slips away. Why does it take so long to get out of winter, when it seems to take only half that time to pass through the summer months???

We watch the buds of spring, so slowly creep above the soil, form little coloured spots, then open to the fresh sunshine. Then, in a moment it seems, they have opened, blossomed, faded. New flowers shoot up, open wide in great swathes of colour encompassing blocks of land. More so than the fragile spring blooms that come forth in ones and twos until daffodils bloom and bluebells cover the forest floor. If we get early warm weather, then it goes cool, as often happens. It seems as if sumner has passed us by.

Oh, we go through the motions, thinking we have all the time in the world. When in reality, the clock is ticking, and, what is more, the clock is ticking swifter as the sun rises to Equinox, then falls faster as it sqirms its way back down to the Equator, or so it appears to yours truly. And another year races ahead of me, faster than a speeding bullet, as they say.

Treading The Pathways.

Rambling, such a fine pursuit.
Up rocky glens where granite blocks
Bar the way. Round roving tracks, treading
On sweet grasses, pleasure unbound.
Following trickling water, the spring of life,
Where clouties hang, giving thanks for
Healthy children.
Coursing a narrow footpath, down to the
Valley, past straight tall pines where
Flighty birds nest, or rest whilst hunting.
Breezes flow through the branches,
Whispering between narrow trunks,
Waving lazily.
Wide skyscaped views where billowy clouds
Scud across the distant horizon. Wild
Shapes that change with each gust of wind.
Flying devils, giant white horses, ships,
Great roaring lions, sleepy sloths. Or just
Indiscriminate patterns.
Bright sunlight and blue sky, summer’s dreamscape,
Glinting on deep water, Loch, lake and river.
Wild flowers bobbing. A dainty deer investigates,
Then flees, self-preservation all encompassed.
Rabbits dart, ears akimbo, watching for the
Hungry hawk.
All is serene in this earthly paradise, where peace
Abounds. Walking, rambling, taking the easy route.
Far away from the city, with its dirt and clamour,
Its bustle and busy-ness. Noise, cars, delivery
Vehicles, the strain of siren brakes, screeching,
Breaking eardrums.

Copyright Evelyn J. Steward. April, 2015.

Open Lens.

Shutter clicking, what does it spy?
Graffiti, in the blink of an eye.
Gaily dressed women, mincingl along,
Click, click, click, like a beetle’s song.
Clacking, clucking, clicking away,
Catching debris the city displays.
Wind-caught, plastic bags fly in the eddy,
The broken lost toy, Jennifer’s teddy
Down in the gutter, but never you mind,
The lens has discovered more of its kind.
The pictures hang in the Gallery,
Crazy still-lifes, for everyone to see.
The swooping seagull, after a chip,
Dynamic photo makes cash on the hip.
Trash cans outside a restaurant,
Or coming up the street, my girlfriend’s aunt.
She’s sassy and daring, she poses for me,
Bit like a short-skirted ‘Liberty’.
Down and out sitting beneath the subway,
Scoffing his meal from a bin down the way.
He makes a fine subject, but one thing in mind,
Thickness of dollars, in tin, he will find.
The eye of the camera, sees all things around,
The silent observer, clicking without sound.

Copyright. Evelyn J. Steward. April, 2015.

Enjoy life, dear friends, and do take care.


This entry was posted on April 24, 2015. 4 Comments

Tenth April Blog


Tenth April Blog. 21-4-15.


Swirling down to deep dark pools,
Streams from high on the mountain tops
Sweep over white rocks, through gritted
Sand bars, seeping into emptying pits,
Collecting grains of pure gold dust,
Depositing them in crannies, treasure pots.
Clear water running over slabs of sandstone,
Cascading down grey igneous rock
From the miasma of long gone eruptions.
Trickling along sloping stones, dipping
Into flatbed waters where minnows swim;
Where kingfishers dart for silver fish,
Their turquoise and orange feathers, like
Swift rainbows, here now, then gone in a second.
Snow and rain fall, becoming as torrents,
Or lazy gentle rivulets. Nosing into valleys.
Meandering through leafy glades, wetting
The ground, richness for meadows, the daisies,
Poppies, yellow gorse, cow parsley. Streams
Where herons wait to spear a silver
Meal, for water voles in muddy banks and weasels,
Looking for a tasty treat, for ducks and geese
To wade and wallow, swim and dive.
The ripples trickle down, become eddies,
Pools, great flowing waters, even to the sea.
All because the mountain gave forth,
Multiplying, burgeoning, outpouring through
This earth, through meadows, across plains.
Great meltwater, feed the soul; nurture myriad things.

Copyright Evelyn J. Steward. April, 2015.

How precious is water? How often do we now squander this life-giving commodity? Wasted! Quite often. I suppose, I hope, most of it drains away to the ocean, here it is otaken up as cloud, filled with drops that rain down on the land, or freeze on the mountains. Where the sun melts the snow and ice, it runs down to form streams, rivulets, pools. On to provide the parched earth with moisture where plants grow, animals survive, and we humans mutilate.

We build dams, not much for the good of the earth, but for hydro-electric plants so we can have light, make things, use it for our own purposes. Occasionally, Nature and Mother Earth, sup from the cup, but it is we who get the lion’s share, we who ruin villages, swamp trees and force wildlife to move elsewhere to live, if they can, so that we can inherit this world with more vigour and gusto.

Yes, I know, all these dams provide work for a certain amount of people. But is it worth it in the long run? Have we killed off species by flooding the area, and, ergo, would they have died off anyway, or has mans’ interference brought about their demise faster. Or again, are there more than enough to keep the speces going, even though this small area has totally annihilated them? Phylosophical questions indeed.

And should we worry if an insect species has been rubbed out by building a dam? My answer is yes, we should worry. Other species, say birds or small mammals, might depend on those insects for their lives, and so on up the chain. It is the old adage of ‘if we went back to the time of the dinosaur and stepped on a bug, would that one event have changed our current history???

Kind of moved slightly off the subject, but I believe they are all connected. Too many occurences now are observed in isolation as in ‘one sees the tree but not the forest’. Perhaps I too have been guilty of the same thing, in that I have only quoted hydro-electric dams, where I should also be quoting open cast mining, fracking ( which I abhor), large scale logging, and so on. And I suppose this has all been said before by better minds than mine. I am just adding my own feelings here.

It is sunny in my part of the world. Hope it is the weather you would like in yours.

Take care, lovely people.


Belated Birthday Bash: Part 1 – The Black Prince and an Archbishop

Sorry it is wring wy around folks, but th ere is some really interesting historical infirmation. Thank you Jane Risdon.

Jane Risdon

Canterbury Cathedral (c) Jane Risdon 2015Canterbury Cathedral (c) Jane Risdon 2015

Last weekend I had a couple of wonderful surprise birthday treats.

I’ll share my experiences with you and I hope you enjoy the photos and snippets to go with them.

My youngest brother organised this one – the other treats will follow next time.

The first of which was a fab day out at Canterbury Cathedral where one of our ancestors was once Archbishop of Canterbury and the last pre-reformation Archbishop.

William Warham Archbishop of Canterbury William Warham Archbishop of Canterbury (c) Jane Risdon 2015

His name was William Warham (1503-1532)

Archbishop Warham (c) Jane Risdon 2015Last Pre-reformation Archbishop William Warham 1503-1532 (c) Jane Risdon 2015

We spent a number of hours looking around the Cathedral which is a World Heritage Site.

in AD 597 missionaries from Rome converted the King of Kent to Christianity.

Augustine, leader of the mission, was consecrated as Archbishop and his cathedra (official seat) was established at Canterbury.

The Cathedral has been…

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This entry was posted on April 20, 2015. 2 Comments

Birthday Bash Part Two: Thomas Becket, Eastbridge Hospital, and Pilgrimage

I have never visited Canterbury, so this is interesting to me.

Jane Risdon

Canterbury Cathedral (c) Jane Risdon 2015Canterbury Cathedral (c) Jane Risdon 2015

Part Two of my belated birthday bash as promised.

As you may or may not be aware, in addition to my love of writing, reading, archaeology, astronomy, and the sciences, I have a passion for history which I share with my siblings, and one in particular, my youngest brother. 

My youngest brother and his partner spoiled me rotten during a fantastic weekend spent with them celebrating my belated birthday.

Part One of my birthday bash found me having a look around Canterbury Cathedral with a special treat;

seeing the tomb of a family ancestor, William Warham, Archbishop of Canterbury (1503-1532).

I wrote about our visit to Canterbury Cathedral last time, and I posted photos I took.

William Warham Archbishop of Canterbury 1503-1532 (c) Jane Risdon 2015William Warham Archbishop of Canterbury 1503-1532 (c) Jane Risdon 2015

We had a fab time wandering around Canterbury, especially the pubs which my brother made a point of taking me in to. 

Those buildings with history and…

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This entry was posted on April 20, 2015. 4 Comments

Ninth April Blog


Ninth April Blog 17-4-15.

18th Century Life.

This is not an in-depth, know it all by me, about this era of English history. No. It is about the uncommon amount of televisual happenings on our screens/pads etc. set in the 18th century. Watch one and you are propelled into that time zone. “Poldark”, for one ( though that is the one I have not yet seen).

However, “Turn”, set in the same era but in America and about the British Redcoats and American Nationalists, is also in the same time frame. Quite interesting for one who knew little about that conflict. Last night on t.v., a film, same era, “The Duelists”. Did not see it all, I must admit.

Then, my favourite of the monent, “Outlander”. The first five episides setting the scene, were not so hot but episide 6 onwards, wow! Have to check if there are more series set in this time zone, but it feels as though I am permanently fighting in muddy places, passing water in buckets, reading in candlelight and riding horses. Not to mention the body odour, both people and animals. Now today I discover, a film in the making about Dick Turpin, same era, more or less.

Has there been a TIME WARP? Star Trek machine to take us to the past (or even future)? Do we have a TARDIS knocking around unused somewhere, all ready for us to whip back to a more innocent ( ha, ha) time; just to show us, perhaps, that when men were men and women had no place in choosing their futures, unlike the presnt day, it was a better time? I don’t think so.

Just romantiscsing really, and that is all well and good, for a lark. But think about it ladies, no condoms! No smelly soap and hair wash. Lots of heavy clothing that gets stuck in the mud. Same dress for days on end, and if you are not a rich person, then the material is heavy and mundane, winter or summer.

As for the guys. Everyone had to be manly, wear the same smelly old garments forever, almost.n Have to learn to ride and handle horses, dogs. Take injuries with a pinch of salt. No mobile phones, no flitting off in an airoplane for holidays and no going to rock concerts or riding motorcycles. Do you see where I am going with this?

So, whilst the film and t.v. Companies give us a romantiscized view of this time period, and we ladies love the handsome leading men, it is really in the realms of fantasy. Love it though we might, it is FANTASY.

Have a great and safe weekend, dear people.


This entry was posted on April 17, 2015. 2 Comments

Eighth April Blog


Eighth April Blog. 17-4-15?

Summer Green.

The summer green of woodland trees,
The meadows edge, aglow
With bounteous grass and sweet, sweet flowers,
And butterflies flitting to and fro.

Branches full of song birds
And insects in the bough,
A righteous feast abounding.
I wish I walked there now.

The rustling of summer leaves
Before the autumn comes,
Before the joy of harvest times,
Before the purple plums.

Rejoice then in this greenery
That sets the emerald copse
And turns it into green, green fire,
Like summer-ripening hops.

To bask within its shady nook,
Beneath the spreading arms.
To laze amongst the sunny beams,
And dream of all its charms.

Copyright Evelyn J. Steward. April. 2015.

“””The valley was ablaze with sunny dells, soft green grass where cattle grazed in woodland glades and meadows full of sweet nourishment and wild flowers. On the surface, idyllic. But there are dark places, in pockets here and there. No telling what lies within the shady woodland, or the dank patch beneath the stream’s overhanging bank. If you looked close enough between the forest’s fallen trunks, who can tell what rotting stench hides a dead thing.
In the darkest grove, where trees grow so close, where sunbeams never reach the forest floor, who can tell how many bodies have found a resting place where only luck might bring their rotting bones to light. An easy harbour for the residue of a serial killer’s remains?”””

So easy to take what looks like an innocent picture and turn it into something dark and sinister. I do not often write in this kind of genre but, now and again, I think it is a good thing to take the mind into darker realms, to explore the blackest fears of mans’ inhumanity. Just for a change. Unless, of course, you already write in that genre. Then It would be wise to take a lighter touch.

Go on, throw caution to the wind. Give it a go, see what comes out of it, just as an exercise in creating atmosphere.

Be happy, good people.


Seventh April Blog.


Seventh April Blog. 14-4-15?

April is whipping on.

Yes, we thought April would never get here, and already it is almost halfway through. How the heck does that happen?

My cherry tree has opened some of its blossoms, though there looks to be less this season. More likely than not, it may be because there was less rain right through the year until the early part of August, when it did rain, but nowhere near enough to make up for the drought the rest of the time, or that is how it seems to me.

Really warm out there today, not that I have the time to enjoy it right now. Early planted tulips, by the local Council, are aready in bloom, I noticed as we drove through town today. With them,were some little blue flowers. Not a clue what they were as we went past quite quickly. Could have been Lobelia but as I say, too fast and not close enough. The tulips were a creamy white colour, and around the base, with the possible Lobelia, were some other small blossoms in a red shade. OK, so they are fond of doing things in the colour range of our National Flag, red, white and blue.

Most daffodils are dying down. Getting in where they can, are loads of yellow dandelion flowers. Wild, of course. And not yet been dug out, hacked away or whatever. Wild plants, or weeds as we call them, grow fast, in season and colonise every square inch they can get a foothold in. So they have to be watched closely and eradicated as fast as possible, if a pristine grass erea is to be maintained, which is what most Councils like to have. Though having the manpower for this maintainence is quite another matter.

I do not, as yet, have any time for garden maintainence. A pity, because it is almost summer warmth out there today. Never mind, hopefully, there will be more to come.

Cherry Time.

Cherry blossoms, on the bough,
Spring is well away,
Birdies singing, sounds like ‘ wow’,
Whiling out the day.
Breezes sighing, trees are greening,
Gentling along.
Happy birdies, often preening,
Whilst they sing their song.
In the meadow, lambs do gamble,
Calves are getting born.
Easter people out to ramble
Early in the morn.
So enjoy the sunny weather,
Flowers gaily bob,
Leave your work, the daytime tether,
Find a different job.

Copyright Evelyn J. Steward. April, 2015

Be careful out there, people.


This entry was posted on April 14, 2015. 2 Comments