Prairie

Best Wishes for the New Year !

I had a lovely day today, this last day of 2008.  Although it was

a brisk day, I bundled up and took a long walk along the river to 

take photos and visit my cows and little sheep.  Thanks so much 

to everyone for stopping by to visit my blog. Sending you love and 

my best for 2009. Have a happy and safe New Years evening, 

drive safely and easy on the champagne !!  Here are some photos 

of my day.  Warning: Yes, there will be cow photos. 

Sorry - I love my cows ! xxx

 

 

Lambretta Fever

If you were to ask me which one I love better, Johnny Depp or 

this Italian Lambretta - golly gosh - it'd be a difficult choice.

I've never been on a Lambretta and honestly can say the same 

about Johnny.... 

big sigh - staring off into space and drooling on my shirt now.

Both of them are gorgeous - but common sense tells me that I'd

be riding the scooter before I'd ever....drool, slurp, gahhhh....

It's been a fanciful notion for many years now - riding the scooter.

Haven't even told my daughters.  They'd frown on it - just like 

they did when I announced in 2000, that I was getting my 

navel pierced.  They were so tyrannical for a fourteen and 

seventeen year old.  Absolutely no fun those two.

 

This could be me and Johnny on this Lambretta - scooting along

on the Riviera coastline !!  I could ride side saddle like this as this

is how I use to ride horses - Madonna taught me !!  Madge was 

so good riding those horses when she was English. 

 

If you've ever watched the movie - Roman Holiday - starring

Audrey Hepburn, you would see her zipping along the 

streets of Rome on the back of  a Lambretta.  Lucky girl !

 

Even Jayne Mansfield gets to drive one - or shall

we say, pose on it provocatively with one butt cheek 

barely touching the seat and looking very pout(y) and 

pointy. She has excellent posture.  I really love her shoes !!

 

Now this more like it - I look exactly like this woman.

I have dark hair, the cleavage, nice legs, I wear scarves

and I always wear high heels with my shorts.  She doesn't

look like anyone famous - so there's hope for me yet.

 

White or blue ??  

I can never make up my mind so I'll have one of each. 

 

Lovely photo.  This is the one. I'll have the red one please.

My idea of customizing would be a woven basket on the front 

with a baguette, cheese, bottle of wine, flowers and a little

poodle. Just so you know, I wouldn't have the poodle sitting

on the bread or cheese - not very hygienic.

Okay then - sit back, relax with a bowl of popcorn and 

watch this very kitsch, vintage Lambretta advert about 

fifty-five times.  Check out the guys with the cow patterned

suits. Those had better not be real cow suits. 

Ernie

I wanted to tell you about the lovely little book I received 

for Christmas.  Originally printed in 1985, it's a photographer's 

chronicle of a cat named "Ernie."  The photos are charming and 

whimsical, capturing the sweetness and naughty character of this 

feisty, fur ball !

Tony Mendoza, arrived to New York City, his car loaded down with

photography equipment, no place to live and a determination to make

it big in the art world.  He posted adverts all over downtown Manhattan,

looking for an inexpensive loft. One day he noticed someone else's ad ...

The advert read:

A painter wishes to share a darkroom-equipped loft with another artist.  

Tony rushed to the nearest phone. 

The conversation went something like this: 

"Hello, my name is Tony Mendoza. I'm a photographer and I just 

saw your ad." 

"Are you allergic to cats?"

"No, I don't think so. You have a cat?"

"Do I ever!"

The book is narrated, by both the artist and the cat. 

The cat's ill-mannered viewpoint - told exactly as a cat might 

think, makes it spirited and adds a bit of quirk.  I love this book !!

Big fight - bring it on !!

"Ernie" went out of print in the early nineties. Tony kept hearing from

fans - where could they get another copy ?  Their original book was

falling apart, or a friend wanted a copy, or they wanted it as a gift.

Tony decided to have it re-published. (2001)

The new and improved edition of Ernie has fourteen photos 

not included in the 1985 printing and better quality pictures.

I have a select few photography books on my bookshelf - 

photography captured by great artists such as Atget, 

Sanders and Stieglitz. I'm thrilled to add Ernie to my 

collection !

Bonjour Little Sheep

The very first Prairie blog I ever wrote - was about a little sheep 

who lived with a herd of cows. (see post: the land of tea and lovely) 

I captured some incredible pictures of a cow, tenderly nudging this 

little sheep, to get up and follow.  While most of the cows outside 

my window have been moved by the farmers, this herd + little sheep 

are still grazing like crazy by the lakes near my house.  I took a walk 

yesterday to see if little sheep was still hanging with the herd. 

And there he was !! 

He's so fat now in his winter coat.  Looks as if someone

has put him in the dryer - on the fluff setting ! 

Some might call me a silly cow ( there's that cow word again) for taking 

photos of cows - but I can't help it. They are just so gosh darned photogenic !

Move over Cindy Crawford - you are being upstaged by Cindy Cowford !!

I mean - look at 'em !  Vogue a la natural !

Getting back to the sheep.  Look at him checking me out !

Should we name it ? Any suggestions ?  Fluffy ?

Besides taking photos of sheep and cows, I love taking photos of 

the ancient, twisty trees that grow in this pasture and around the lake.

And back to cows again - I love them !

 

Happy Holidays !

The Big Day Movie

Watching "love actually" at Christmas time has become customary, 

ranked up there with the classics !   Personally, I love this one .... 

The Story of Daniel Lambert

This is the town of Stamford, and that gorgeous young woman in the photo 

is my youngest daughter, Christina.  We called into the "The George" - a

grand old hotel - for tea and scones during her visit to the U.K. last March.  

Do you see that beam high above the road ?  It's been said that in ye olde days,

law-breakers were hung from this beam and carcasses left there to rot as a 

warning to any hooligans, upon their entering Stamford city limits. I've never 

been able to verify this but you can bet,  I was on my best behaviour during my

visit - no littering,  jaywalking or loitering.  And to insure I wouldn't end up as 

bird kibble, I kissed a little bit of Mayor derriere and washed his car, weeded his 

flower garden and walked his poodle.

This spherical, young fella is Daniel Lambert - who lived from 1770 and died 

in 1809.  I bought this postcard at The George.  Daniel,  had a bit of celebrity 

status back in the day and would frequent the pubs in Stamford, challenging

persons to a foot race - the stipulation being that they give him a small head start.  

Now there were many narrow passages connecting the main streets of  Stamford, 

and Daniel, once ahead of his competitors, would use these alleys - his size made 

it impossible for anyone to get past him and so he always won. He sounds like a 

mischievous guy - just my type.

His amazing physical statistics were as follows:

Height - 5 ft 11 in  (180 cm)

Waist - 9 ft 4 in ( 284 cm)

Calf - 3 ft 1 in (94 cm)

Weight - 739 pounds (52 stone)

I've looked at this portrait postcard many times, studying his face and eyes 

and I'm convinced that everything said about him, that he was kindly and 

compassionate, was true.  As a child, Daniel was of ordinary weight. 

He claims he didn't drink, and ate normal portions but continued to gain size.  

Daniel took over his Father's job as Keeper of a small prison and it's recorded 

that he took very good care of the prisoners and gained their respect for his 

benevolence.  After the prison shut down and he lost his yearly salary of £21 ($31)

Daniel traveled to London and put himself on display for money, like a circus 

oddity.  He hated having to do this and felt it demoralizing.  At the end of the day 

though, it afforded him to have specialized clothes made and an extra large 

carriage constructed for traveling. 

In 1809, when Daniel was thirty nine years old - he came to Stamford to attend 

the horse races and it was there, that he died suddenly during the night. In order 

to remove his body from the room, a window had to be taken out and an entire 

wall demolished. It took twenty men to lower Daniel into his grave. He rests in 

St. Martins Churchyard, in Stamford.

And so it is - the history of Daniel Lambert.

Shop at Toms

When I was a young girl, I was very afraid of thunderstorms - my 

Mother loved them.  I remember after a rainstorm had passed by, she 

would turn on the porch light, go out to the front yard and stand barefoot 

in the wet, cold grass.  She believed that standing on the ground right after 

it'd been jolted by lightening strikes was good for the body - energizing.

After all these years, I still wonder about her ritual.  Could be this is why 

she's lived for so long?  Between you and me, I think she was re-charging, 

like a battery.

Yes, my Mum always had some strange, eccentric belief or weird theory or 

creepy wives tale that she tried to teach or instill in me. If not this, then guilt. 

When she wasn't passing on all this unconventional wisdom, she was scaring

the holy bejeezers out of me - terrorizing me with bizarro stories that sucked  

every last bit of childhood joy from my body. I'm astonished I've made it this 

far in life without regular therapy.  If only you knew what rattles around in 

my head, you would be cowering under your sheets right now. 

It's a deep-rooted phobia now - going barefoot.  

Even when at home, I schlepp around in thick socks or slippers - never barefoot.

Remember - lightening storms - wet grass - Mother ?! 

So when I came across this video, I was dismayed. It's so much more than 

one of my silly phobias or quirks, it's serious stuff.  These people need help and 

it's so simple really.  Please watch this video and then visit:   Toms Shoes

Find The Marmite Contest

I was painfully homesick for America, my first year living in United Kingdom. 

I pretty much clung to my computer, checking it continuously throughout the 

day for any emails from friends and family.  What was wrong with these people ?!  

I wrote them several times a day and they wrote only once a week !  

Just because they had jobs, a life and were busy with family, was not a justifiable

excuse. I needed words of consolation, a familiar interconnection from my people.

I needed emails !  

Now - I'm probably the most rational, stable person you'll ever meet (subjective)

so this will shock you to the core when I tell you that I came up with the most 

off-the-wall idea ever.  I decided to sponsor a "Find The Marmite Contest."  

Don't ask me where these brilliant ideas spring from - genius just oozes from me. 

 I was sure to get lots of email, responding to my contest.

(clap hands and insert squeals of joy here !!)

Anyhoo - there was no chance that any of my U.S. posse would win as they 

had no idea what Marmite was. Could they Google it ? Well sure. But if they 

aren't taking time to write to me - they most certainly should not be spending 

time Googling anything !!  I felt entirely safe in the fact that I offered as prize, 

the 12 foot, bronze statute of Oliver Cromwell that stands in St. Ives, Market 

Square. Most of them had no idea who Oliver Cromwell was, let alone know 

the prize on offer weighed a few tons. Just to be sure I wasn't sued by the 

winner  - I stipulated in the rules that it was the responsibility  of  her/him, 

to collect the prize themselves. All bases covered here.

It was pure glee !!  The emails were pouring in - oh happy day !  

As I predicted, the statue of the gruff Oliver Cromwell, with his glaring expression,

outstretched arm and pointing finger - was safe.  No one had a clue as to what the 

heck Marmite was. *note - Doesn't Oliver remind you of one of those scary wall 

portraits, the kind that seem to stare at you no matter what part of the room you 

move to?  The eyes follow. Because of an oversight on my part though - the contest 

was called due to a technicality. Here is the original letter, sent September 2007, 

to all on my email list.

Dear Contestants,

 

First of all, I would like to thank each and everyone of you  for submitting 

entries for this, the first of many exciting contests to be launched in 2007.  

Unfortunately, we did not have a winner this time due to a technicality.  

The lost Marmite was actually, not in the fridge, but on a cabinet shelf, 

behind a box of stale popcorn.  And although it was a big disappointment

to the contestants, something good did come from my blunder - whilst 

I was searching for the Marmite in my mucky fridge, I decided to give it a 

good scrub and in doing so found my long lost electric toothbrush.

It was behind the celery. Had been looking for it ever since landing to 

the UK.

To those overseas contestants that wrote in thinking Marmite was some

type of rodent, I should explain that it is in fact, somewhat of a British 

olde world culinary tradition; a yeast type substance that British folk 

love to eat on toast. But in my opinion, it does smell and taste a bit like a 

rodent.  So an honourable mention for that awesome guess goes out to 

contestant Mary, from Phoenix, AZ.

 

Note: Marmite can also be used to thicken and flavour stews and soups. 

I sent a small jar to my Mum, Alice,  proprietor of  "Alice's Restaurant."  

She's been adding a pinch to soup recipes and it has been a brilliant success. 

She says business has increased tenfold and rumours have it - so has the 

resident' s sex life.  Men wearing trucker's caps have been queuing at the door !!

*note to readers:  I'm busy constructing a contest for 2009.

It's going to be  - "win the noisy old lady who lives in the flat above me" contest. 

The old gal doesn't know this yet - but she's about to win an all expenses paid 

holiday, to a surprise destination. A three way win - old lady, contestant and moi'.

The contest is open to most anyone.  Will keep you posted.

Sushi

I promised myself when I started Prairie,  I would not be slapping a bunch 

of  YouTube videos on my posts. I apologise, I'm weak and easily influenced 

and quite possibly in need of help. Would anyone know if there's a clinic for

YouTube addicts ?  But gosh, golly, darn it !  It's such a fun place to explore 

and when I find something I like, I have to share it !!  I just have to !!

Could not resist this one, it's extremely satirical - and meant to be literal.  

Biting humour at it's best.  Although it starts off a bit slow - I promise you, 

it will draw you in.

In the mean time.....

Prairie is busy sewing little girly gifts for girlfriends, designing a calendar 

for 2010, all sorts of cards and I'm out walking the fields looking for some 

cows to photograph. Not a cow in site - sad.

I suspect they have all gone on holiday, to the South of France.

I have no other alternative but to follow them to the Riviera and bring

them back to England. I will find them - naughty cows !

They are in big trouble, those busters.

Now watch this and learn - How To Eat Sushi

Woolies

Photo: Christmas rush - 1955 Woolworth's Department Store

It was 129 years ago, when Frank Woolworth opened his first Woolworth's store 

in the state of Pennsylvania, USA.  Unfortunately, 1997 saw the last Woolworths 

store in America close it's doors for good. So for me, it was a nostalgic moment 

the first time I walked over St. Ives, Bridge Street and caught sight of that large, 

red Woolies sign, I sort of lost it.  "woolies, woolies, woolies, woolies !!"

That was me screaming with my arms outstretched as I ran down Bridge 

Street like a marathon runner going for the finish line. I was told I had this crazy 

look on my face and my eyes had glazed over.

As in America, Woolworths, is soon to be only a memory here in the U.K.

I stepped into Woolies, for what I considered to be the last time  the other  

day and purchased an iron for £3.99 ($6.11)  People were queueing impatiently

in long lines for the cash registers. Not much different from the scene in that 

1955 photo above.  In fact, I think I saw that woman in the photo - the one 

wearing a scarf.   Yep - she was right in front of me - still standing in line.

For posterity's sake, I thought I would snap one last photo. 

Hello - what's this ?? 

Ah yes - here stands the future of England, wearing a pink tutu and smoking a fag.

I wonder what "finishing school" she attends ?!

I have now lost all focus on what I was going to write for this post.

Oh well - one photo is worth 1000 words they say.

Hmmm - wonder if Woolworths have any plastic hangers left....

They make great Christmas presents.

So long Woolies !

Prairie

"The world stands out on either side

  No wider than the heart is wide

  Above the world is stretched the sky,

  no higher than the soul is high"

  - Edna St. Vincent Millay

I knew when I named this blog Prairie, and put a photo of a cow on my banner,

it would appear to have a country theme to it. Readers who don't know me 

personally, might assume that I'm a cowgirl who rides horses, ropes and square 

dances. Far from it ! And although I grew up in what some might call a whistle 

stop -  a mere speck of buildings on the flat, North Dakota grasslands, that 

whizzed by the car window of motorists as they drove past - nevertheless, I had 

a huge imagination and dreams to match.

Yep - just a small town girl who loved to do what any ten year old loves to 

do, fish, ride my bike, climb trees and beat up all the twelve year old boys in 

the whistle stop. What can I say, I liked older men !

Deep down inside though, I secretly dreamed of being a photojournalist and 

living a bohemian lifestyle in New York.  Funny how life turns out.  We can

plan our hardest, but in the end, life has it's own destiny in mind for us.  

I liken it to driving a car - take just one little detour off the planned route and 

suddenly you find yourself lying on the floor in a pool of sick, in a bar in Wibaux, 

Montana, wearing only one shoe and wondering what the hell happened to 

your brassiere. Hmmm. Think I'll save that story for another day. 

The point I'm trying to make is this; one must never force fate or what I call,

your Prairie, for Prairie leads us where it wants us to be.

So was it fate that I took a wrong turn, lost my bra and favourite shoe ?  

I say yes !  Fate is strange sometimes. And what did I learn from this ?  

To stay the hell out of Wibaux, Montana.

Your own personal Prairie might be a life in the city, with it's glacial concrete 

and metro bustle and hum. Or perhaps you have a green Prairie, the solitude

and simplicity of country living. For others, Prairie is limited and lonely, a 

constant view from a window they gaze out of each and every day.  Everyone 

has their own individual Prairie, the place where you arrive to, where you might 

be this very moment. Prairie is ever changing and always teaching.

My Prairie for right now happens to be England and 

some "naughty cows" right outside my window !

Prairie philosophy says: - where ever you go, you take your Prairie with you.

Now I ask you - could you see me making mine a fashion blog?

Me most mornings ....

prai.rie  - a large open area of grassland

ORIGIN late 18th century, from French, from Old French praerie,

from Latin pradum "meadow"

Doris

I love Doris Day.  Some people say that I'm a lot like her.  Except for the blonde hair, I think we're identical really. We both like to tote guns, shoot rattlesnakes, rope, chew, spit, ride stage coaches and we love to wear britches. She's perky, pretty, wholesome and gosh durned, purdy good at singing !

Hello Friday !

Bettie Page, sex kitten icon and pin up girl, passed away today in her home state of California. She had been in a coma since  suffering a fatal stroke. Innocence and naughty girl, all wrapped up into one sweetly fringed package. This is a great five minute feature and interview about the most compelling woman of her day.  Adieu Bettie !  

{*note: please see my post: Legacy - 7 December 2008}

The view from my Old Mill flat looks out over the River Ouse.

It was a "see your breath" morning today.

Within just a few minutes though, the horizon had evolved to this stunning vignette of colours. A fiery pink-orange sky, it took my breath away, forcing me to stop and admire.  Pop it up !

As it got lighter, I noticed the frosty coating of snow on the fields and foliage. It doesn't snow much anymore in Cambridgeshire - this was a real treat. 

I love this field - must have photographed it hundreds of times.

Never tire of snapping it. I miss my cows - "naughty boys"

I was so excited to see the snow and the frost on the trees, flowers and shrubs, I ran downstairs with camera in hand wearing nothing but my Victoria's Secret, black,  silk night gown and my green wellingtons. I didn't really wear this but I thought it would make this post a bit more interesting in a visual sort of way.  Close your eyes and imagine. Are you there yet ? I need the blog ratings, so let me do this okay ? So here I am outside, freezing cold, wearing nothing but this silk nightie and my wellies. Good huh ?! 

Can you see the frost on this bench ?  If not click on it and it'll pop up large. 

See how cold it is?  And here I am,outside, half naked and shivering - just so I can take these photos for you readers.  I hope you appreciate all of this. 

This plain wood bench which sits right by the river's edge has been a stalwart companion to so many souls looking for respite and meditation. It's also great peeing territory for pooches. It's been an extremely functional piece of front yard furniture.

This frosty foliage would make a nice holiday card don't you think ? Check this out ! Reminds me of one of those cards my auto insurance company used to send me.

I love this field I tell ya !

Taken with my Canon Rebel - 300D - not too bad - oui'?

Country Living, if you're reading this give me a call.

We can talk.

This last one is for you Bettie - you were really something !

 

I kept the black nightgown story to a "G" rating. But I will tell you this, 

the first draft had a delivery man and a big feather in it.  I'm doing you a favour by holding back - if I were to unleash my imagination full power, all at once, it would destroy you all. Little by little ....

Be patient.

Strange Days

It was a biting cold, cloudless day here in East Anglia.  I woke up feeling that the day had a strange feel to it. Have you ever experienced this feeling ? Anyway, I'm a list maker - so before I go to sleep, I habitually leave little lists of things I need to accomplish for the next day, on my table or my nightstand.   Something I taught myself to do when I worked in the corporate world, in a past life.  Today though, felt a bit odd - a bit off - creepy.  I told myself it was just me having one of my creepy moments and proceeded to have my fruit, granola and two cups of my soy-laced, free-trade, caffeine fix.  My list said the following; an appointment at the hairdressers, a run to the bank , pay some bills,  shop for some bit's and pieces from the market and a chat with my extremely posh friend, Corrine. I first noticed it as I crossed the ancient bridge and made my way into the village.

What's this ?!  I stopped and stared for a few seconds......

Hmmmm - well that's interesting.  The holiday spirit is certainly abundant in the little market village of St. Ives.  I forced myself  to think this or alternatively, I may have to go back on those pills again.  Please no !! Not the pills !!

It suddenly washed over me, that this phenomenon was no fantasy, it was reality.  As I continued to make my way into the village, I kept reminding myself that I was not sleep walking nor was this one of my bizarre dreams, like the time I dreamt about the jogging tin of Spam that had cartoon arms and legs. Slowly, I began to acclimatise to what my eyes were seeing and accept the situation. After all,  I live on an ancient, mystical Island.  Yes, yes, I'm in England !  Things are different here on this little island.  

Get with it, Marsha !!

Okay, so the swans are in on this lunacy too ? 

I can accept it, after all, Christmas is said to be magical right ??  

Oh how adorable !  This is exactly like being in a Walt Disney movie.

Who needs pills when I can live out my  life in a celluloid, cinematographic film.

"Et tu Brute?!"  Or should I say, Oliver Cromwell !!

Finally -  proof that Cromwell was not really a Roundhead.

He's wearing a pointy hat - is he not ??

So secretly - he must have been leader of the little known, 

"Secret Society of Pointy Heads."

Okay, okay, okay ....

What sort of sick and twisted person would do this ?

This is my favourite shop !!

So not cool.

And the winner is ......

She's probably the ring leader of the Secret Society of Pointy Hats.

It suddenly dawned on me that there was to be a full moon tonight.

Strange things always happen when the moon waxes round and full.

Honestly, all I want to do is finish my errands, have my girlfriend chat

and get home where I can be safe.  I really want to go to my quiet place

right now.  I mean - look at them - they out number me !!

And you do NOT want to mess with a villager when there's a full moon.  

No telling what the "Secret Society of Pointy Heads" are capable of doing.

 

 I'm walking fast now - I'm walking across the bridge, almost 

over the bridge, I see my street, I'm not far from my flat - keep it steady ....

Hold it !  I must stop for just a second and admire the lovely green

field whilst the sun sets.  Isn't that gorgeous !!

This vista makes it all worth while. The Secret Society, the Walt Disney

existence, the corrupted Buddha, all of it just fades away when I look at this.

Okay - now run like hell !!  

{post script}

No seagulls, swans, dogs, people or Buddhas were harmed in 

the making of this blog, nor were they coerced into wearing the pointy hats.  

The seagulls were a bit reluctant at first - but they eventually came around.

All participants were allowed to keep their pointy hats.

Tiny Kline

She stands just  4 ft. 10 in. tall and weighs all of 98 pounds and in 1932 this petite Hungarian, Jewish emigrant, crossed Times Square in a most unconventional, maverick manner - flying over the streets of New York by her teeth - like a blooming Tinker Bell !  

I'm pretty sure she doesn't have dentures.  

Tiny Kline; former circus aerialist and burlesque dancer, actually landed the job of the real live Tinker Bell at Disney Land and was performing this stunt 

well into the age of 70.  Tiny's flight was stopped by running her into a wall of mattresses.  She was known for being a bit temperamental.  I can't blame her.

How would you like to be slammed into a wall of mattresses night after night ? 

She retired in 1964 - because of poor health.

The Ring of Light

I got a letter the other day from this lady.

Her name is Angela and she claims she was handed an envelope with a list of people that were experiencing dire circumstances in every aspect of their life; financial and emotional, and that my name was on the list and it was then, during a divination session, that she had a spontaneous vision, something that occurs very rarely....

Whew !  How was that for a run on sentence ?

I'm warning you - this next part is scary !

She saw that there's a shadow zone standing in the way of my happiness at this time and that the atmosphere around me is charged with negativity.  Angela, is very worried about me.

What a sweet woman !!  I'm impressed, as Angela lives a long ways from me - in the Netherlands.  Her powers must be awesome ! 

I was wondering though, is there anyone else out there that knows about this list?  I feel so uniformed right now.

Because she's such a kind and caring woman, she cannot simply sit by and do nothing. She wants to give me help and believe it or not, she does not do this for just any old joe !! Golly gosh - She's already like a Grandmother to me. Where has this woman been all my pitiful life ?!

Wait - there's more !  

The best part was the second envelope.

This is almost as exciting as  "The Da Vinci Code" isn't it ?

Between you and me - I could not get this second envelope opened fast enough. I was gagging to see what was inside.  Surprise ! It was a testimonial letter from this young woman - Julie Preston. A copy of a hand written letter - both sides full - explaining how miserable her life use to be.

Crikey !  I was in tears after reading this letter.  The poor girl has suffered so much.  She felt as if everyone in her life was conspiring against her; neighbours with evil intentions, jealous work colleagues and if that wasn't enough, she was surrounded by negative vibrations that were impregnating her environment - which was being caused by objects in her house. Lordy, lordy that wretched child !

Julie explained in her letter, that for a mere £15 ($22.26) I too, could discover the beneficial power of the "Authentic Ring of Light" that has been kept a mystery until now.  She went on to say, The moment I started wearing the Ring, I began to have a strange sensation....

A strange sensation - eh ?

 

Which leads me to believe they must include some kind of pills with this offer. I mean - look at how she's smiling !!

The "Authentic Ring of Light" - a replica worn by the Pharaohs of ancient Egypt - creates a sphere of protection around the person wearing it, placing them out of reach from any harmful attack. 

Listen to this amazing story....

Soon after she put the ring on, Julie was involved in a serious accident - hit by a truck while driving to work.  The shock was terrible but she managed to get out of her car unhurt. Julie considers this a miracle, since her car was a total loss. 

I wasn't quite convinced about the ring until I read this last bit - The "Authentic Ring of Light" is a powerful weapon, capable of destroying any attempt by the evil eye to do you harm.

And as a bonus - it protects from evil spells.

Why didn't they say this in the first place ?!

It reeled me in.  I just knew I had to order this magical talisman.

But I had to hurry because there are only so many left - yikes !!

Well - I signed those forms faster than you could whistle "Yankee Doodle Dandy" and ran as fast as my little, fat legs could go and posted it straight away via airmail.  Hope it gets there in time.

I know I shouldn't have, but I used my mad money.

or should I say my - barking mad - money.

Angela, you have forever changed  my life.

I am a believer - thank you !

P.S. - please do not forget to send those "sensation pills."

Thanks again,

Marsha

Goodbye Naughty Boys !!

The dreaded day has arrived. This morning I woke up to an empty field. Naughty Boys were no where to be seen ! Either they were eaten by some Eastern Europeans or the farmer has taken them back to his farm. But since I've not noticed any people walking through the field with knife and fork in hand, I would hope it's the latter one.

The remark about Eastern Europeans may not seem kind or politically correct - it is how it is - here in United Kingdom. With the influx of Eastern Europeans to this country, vast amounts of fish are being netted from England's rivers and the Queen Mum's beloved swans, which are protected species, have been slaughtered and wings piled six feet high next to migrant camps, evidence of recent banquets.

What's next ? A Barbeque Swan Wings franchise next to the fish and chips shop ?

Although Eastern Europeans may be breaking UK laws, I empathize with them. My very own Grandparents, poor as church mice, emigrated to the US from Ukraine and with no strict laws against it, fished, shot and skinned anything edible to feed the their six children. It's no wonder then that the masses of buffalo disappeared from the prairie lands - mark and learn.

Enough of that, I'm here to blog about bovine, not use this as a platform for social and political beliefs.

So then, back to my cows.
I've always suspected Naughty Boys were girls but since I'm more city girl then country girl and know nothing about cows and cow bits and parts - I call them "boys." I believed the farmer to round them up around November time, not this soon ! No more waking up to see them queuing for turns on the scratching post, nor will I see them running full speed to huddle together, sheltering from the steady pouring of rain, beneath the row of trees just outside my window.

Hopefully, you will not think me too "barking mad" for posting cow photos and blogging about these critters.
Some might say that to be barking mad - is a good thing.

Cows, bless 'em, are messy, mucky creatures; bovine have a constant glob of gooey ooze from their eyes and they drool, slobbering a gelatinous slime that hangs from nose and mouth. They also chew with their mouth open, stink of poop, and have a fog of annoying flies that follow them everywhere. Cows eat and eat and poop and poop and poop ! Nevertheless, I love these critters ! Each one has a distinct personality, some days they can be playful and loving life and other days, grumpy and unsociable. Just like a typical British man.

But cows are more than just drooling, pooping fly catchers. They are highly intelligent, curious creatures. It's proven that cows are problem solvers and have incredibly long memories - never forgetting humans who have hurt them. They also interact in socially complex ways amongst their own, forging relationships that last forever or perhaps holding a grudge against another cow who has treated them unfairly. Like humans, cows are capable of learning lessons from each other, some are slow learners and others are very bright. It is said that a cow's intellect is matched closely to that of a dog and slightly above a cat's IQ - by a whisker. (bad pun)

No matter what you think or may not think about cows, I hope after reading the last paragraph, you might see them differently somehow and not merely as; cow + baked potato.

Goodbye Naughty Boys - I'm sure going to miss you !

{post script} This was originally posted 21 September 2008.

Legacy

I heard on my wifi radio this morning that Bettie Page, pin-up icon of the 1950's has lapsed into a coma after suffering a health setback. She has to be one of the most unique and identifiable sex kittens of her era with that trademark - shiny, raven black hair. I'm sure she's in her eighties now and for many years has lived an obscure and private life.

I also read an article about Columbian born author, Gabriel García Márquez - who was awarded a Nobel Prize for Literature in 1982. He has terminal cancer. I'm currently reading his novel "Love in the Time of Cholera." It's a wonderful book. I'm really sad to hear about his illness.

Sounds silly and weird - but when I heard the news about these two persons, it set me off navel-staring, thinking about my own legacy and what I might leave behind.

But then I remembered this lovely piece of literature penned by Emerson: "...to leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch or a redeemed social condition; to have played and laughed with enthusiasm and sung with exultation; to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived, this is to have succeeded."

Two daughters, many gardens, I've played, laughed and sung with verve, I recycle my bottles and paper products, do volunteer work from time to time and hopefully, I've been a good friend and confidant to many persons.

Emerson reminds me, that I've done just fine - so far.

Happy Friday !

Isabelle Antena is exquisite !! I love her voice and she's ever so stylish.

Well I'm off now to the YMCA charity shop to volunteer for the day. If you need me, I will be at the bottom of a big pile of donations gagging for air ! Charity shops - gotta love 'em !

As I was going to St. Ives

"I met a man with seven wives
Each wife had seven sacks,
each sack had seven cats,
each cat had seven kits.
Kits, cats, sacks and wives.
How many were going to St. Ives."
- anonymous-

It is said, if you want to have your hair cut and styled and then afterwards go out for a nice Thai meal, then come to St. Ives. At last count there were 23 hair salons and 16 Asian eateries in this quaint market town. Every time a shop vacates, bets are placed on whether it will be yet another - you got it - hair salon or Asian restaurant.

St. Ives also boasts five eccentric charity shops. I love charity shops!! Not only can I spend an entire day searching for really thrifty things, I can get an earful of the latest town gossip such as: which shops are closing doors, the tragic demise of the Muscovy duck that was squished by a delivery truck on Bridge Street or how many joints the eighty five year old shop lady has had replaced during the span of her life.

A day out to the charity shops can be entertaining as well. I love it when the grey-haired, doddery shop clerk is bouncing around amongst the clothes racks singing along to a song on the radio. Last week she was singing along to a song by the pop group "Wham."

I think my all time favourite has to be the forboding conversation I overheard between two shop ladies which went something like this:

Older Woman: "I'm going home now m'luv"
Young Woman: "Okay, have a lovely evening then. Are you having something nice for your tea?"
Older Woman: "Oh yes, I'm making a pot of chilli con carne, sans the con carne. I've never been able to eat red meat ever since I was a child and witnessed my Nan choke to death on a piece of steak."

My youngest daughter was visiting England this summer, attending a Medieval History course at St. Catherine's College in Cambridge, and during her visit we called in on all these not-so-boutique charity shops. Upon entering one in particular, she turned to me and with a painful expression on her face, whispered "Mom, this store smells like pee!" Looking around the store with great hubris and taking in a big bucket lung full of air, I replied "yeah, isn't it great!" I hope to see the day when charity shops soon out number hair salons.

Here's a website about St. Ives: http://www.stivescambs.co.uk/

*Note to readers* There are to be two additional charity shops opening in St. Ives, January 2009.

{Post Script} This entry was originally posted 17 September 2008.

Paris Slide Show

I love Paris ! I've created a little vintage slide show from photos I've taken of Paris. A glass of red wine and some French music would set the mood ! Charles Trénet, Edith Piaf, Paris Combo, Jean Sablon, Coralie Clément, Isabelle Antena are a a few of my favourites. Wear a béret if you have one. Enjoy !

"Avec amour"

Marsha

The Land of Tea and Lovely

I had all sorts of misguided expectations before I landed on this lush, green island called England. Fanciful visions of infinite curtsying, of crinoline and petticoats, and gentlemen wearing top hats. Romantic, chivalrous gestures on every street corner of stately men forever throwing down their capes over puddles so that delicate ladies might cross without getting their shoes soiled. Alas, methinks the lady has watched one too many BBC period dramas !!

Although life in modern day England is not like living in a Jane Austin novel, there are a good few traditions that have endured still. One, of course, is the custom of drinking tea. Britons drink copious amounts, millions of cups per year. And they also, love to say the word "lovely" over and over again. "That's lovely" or just "lovely" in a very lovely voice. Whenever I say "lovely" it doesn't sound as - lovely - must be my stilted, nasally, Yank accent.

I'm very fortunate to live in a pastoral area of Eastern England and opportunity affords me to wander the bucolic countryside taking pictures of just about everything. I've been obsessed with cows lately and my fondness is for a herd, the eight, who I call "the naughty boys" that graze in Wilhorn Meadow just outside my front door. They can be an ornery lot somedays, never pausing once to look up from the relentless grass gorging so that I might take their photo. I will sorely miss their grumpy faces when the farmer collects them back to his farm for the winter months.

Some weeks ago whilst on the hunt for wild blackberries at the lakes near my home, I discovered another muddy rabble of bovines, munching happily, swishing tails and pooping piles. I was halfway across the field, when one looked up from his meal and stared - dead pan stare - watching, watching, watching...

Slowly, like a gentle, lumbering elephant he started making his way towards me, his head bobbing up and down in mechanical momentum as he trudged across the meadow. Then like an unspoken secret cow code, one by one, each cow followed suit, trekking after their horned leader. At ten feet from me they stopped, standing all in a row, to get a closer look at this human visitor and to greet me in proper cow style. Moo. The cows back in Montana can certainly learn some manners from these prim and proper English critters !!

You might title the above photo as "The Stand Off"

Do you spy the little, dozy black faced sheep laying down to the left of the herd? Clearly, the cows have accepted him as one of their own. He's made himself quite at home - this little sheep - and has no idea that he's not a cow. Using a long lens, I found myself much too close to frame everyone to my liking so I turned around and traced my steps across the meadow. When I turned around and looked through the lens again, this is what I happened to capture. Cow wants little sheep to get up and follow the herd - so he gently nudges...

How cute was that ?! So there he is, the little buster - standing there in the midst of all his cow comrades. I'm going back to the lakes soon, weather permitting, to check up on him and to see whether he's learned how to moo yet. I'll keep you posted.

*Note: As of today, December 1, 2008 - little sheep is still hanging with the cows.

{Post Script} This archive was originally posted Friday, 5th September 2008.