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<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><rss xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/" xmlns:blogger="http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0" version="2.0"><channel><atom:id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8703453156320508110</atom:id><lastBuildDate>Wed, 13 Mar 2024 17:46:15 +0000</lastBuildDate><category>Guardian Angels</category><category>Angels</category><category>Buriton</category><category>Doctor Who</category><category>Henry VIII</category><category>New Year Resolutions</category><category>Padstow</category><category>Weeping Angels</category><category>ambitions</category><category>angel</category><category>career choices</category><category>elemental</category><category>elementals</category><category>fairies</category><category>fairy</category><category>sock fairy</category><category>solent</category><category>weight loss</category><title>Throw Away Your Loincloth!</title><description>Michelle Jones is a writer, author and teacher who believes firmly that you do not have to sit cross legged on a mountain top clad only in a roughly woven loincloth in order to live a spiritual life. The real world just isn’t like that.</description><link>http://michellejonesmedia.blogspot.com/</link><managingEditor>noreply@blogger.com (Michelle Jones)</managingEditor><generator>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>35</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8703453156320508110.post-1849733588762593278</guid><pubDate>Mon, 24 Sep 2012 11:41:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-09-24T04:41:13.687-07:00</atom:updated><title>The Happiness Cheesecake</title><description>I have always made birthday cakes for my husband and the family, but sometimes I do get a bit behind... The trouble is that all our birthdays are squashed up together! We start with Holly at the end of October; her birthday is the same as Grandads, so I sometimes make two...then on to Phil in November, with James just two days later...then mum in mid December; we have an agreement these days, we buy each other a bottle-of-champagne birthday cake! Mine is a week later on Christmas Eve, then Matt at the beginning of January. I do feel for Matt-and all of you with birthdays in January. After the excesses of the holiday season, we are trying to get our heads around the new year, there's hardly anything left in the shops for a decent gift (I buy his well in advance), and as for a party, well, we are all partied out... So I get behind with my cakes. We also have an unspoken rule that nobody can have a cake, unless the previous person(s) have had theirs. A couple of years ago I was so behind we had to have a cake fest! This year, I was sort of ok...but Matt had not had his (again). I had promised a cheesecake, one of my special ones, the ones with many thousands of calories in, (I am including the recipe at the bottom of the page) and time had rolled on a bit since January...six months on. As we had guests coming for dinner, I decided to make a really big one; I've got a large glass dish that is really meant to be used as a fruit bowl, or perhaps to display crudites and cold meats; it's really really big! A large packet of McVitie's chocolate digestives went in the food processor and were then mixed with butter before being spread and flattened into the curved bottom of the dish, then 2 pounds of full fat Philedelphia was whisked up with a generous amount of caster sugar until really thick. It MUST be FULL FAT soft cheese or it will NOT whip up! Add a decent splodge of Vanilla Bean Paste and 2 pints of Double Cream and whisk until really thick. Chuck in two whole pots of Muller Light in Banana Custard flavour and whisk again. Pile it all up on the biscuit base and smooth with a knife. The banana flavour is only a hint, but it makes it really creamy tasting. Before serving I sprinkle on lots of chocolate; crushed flakes, or twirl bites. If you prefer, you can put individual portions into posh glasses, but we like to cut big slabs of the whole thing. Matt had his first slice and went around grinning like the Cheshire Cat; apparently it makes him happy, so that's it, a 'Happiness Cheesecake'! Since making that one, I then had to make several others, to catch up on all the birthdays, and even add in one for Tom, Matt's best mate. I'm doing one for Tom's girlfriend Georgie too, when her birthday comes around in January. Of course, now I have a challenge on my hands; the birthday season is upon us; a mere few weeks until Holly's comes around again. I think had better stock up. Yum 😊 Happiness Cheesecake Recipe 1/2 pack Crushed chocolate digestives 1 tablespoon melted butter 200g Full Fat Philedelphia 1/2 pint Double Cream (not extra thick) Vanilla to taste Approx 3 tablespoons Caster Sugar Banana Yoghurt Chocolate to sprinkle on top Mix the crushed biscuits and melted butter and spread in the base of a flan dish. Whisk cheese and sugar until thick Add Cream and Vanilla and whisk until REALLY thick Add yoghurt and whisk again Spread the mixture on the biscuit base and chill thoroughly. Add choccy before serving. Smile whilst consuming! - Posted using BlogPress from my iPad Location:<a href='http://maps.google.com/maps?q=My%20kitchen&z=10'>My kitchen</a></description><link>http://michellejonesmedia.blogspot.com/2012/09/the-happiness-cheesecake.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Michelle Jones)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8703453156320508110.post-7791767959054716224</guid><pubDate>Tue, 07 Aug 2012 20:14:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-08-07T13:14:48.856-07:00</atom:updated><title>Back to the Green</title><description>I was delighted to find that one of my favourite albums was available on iTunes; I had been trying to buy it on cd since the compact disc first appeared in the 1980's, but alas, to no avail. My vinyl album wore out...and was distorted by being left out of the sleeve and slung on top of my GEC Music Centre...I hadn't heard it in years. The album is 'Free Ride' by Marshall Hain; the only track of theirs you probably remember is 'Dancing in the City' which was a hit (oh god) 34 years ago in 1978! It is a great song, but the one I was desperate to hear was 'Back to the Green'. The orchestral arrangement, wistful lyrics and haunting melody have stayed with me all this time and you know what? I remembered all the words, first time! Now I'm not sure of the copyright issues in reproducing the lyrics, and I apologise if I'm breaching or offending anyone, but I want you to go over to iTunes and listen to it; (buy it!) it seems to perfectly illustrate how we all need to get back in tune with nature. It's an easy thing to do...all you need is fresh air. Obviously an open space helps, maybe a tree or two-and if you can, if it is feasible for you to do so, get yourself off out of that city and into the incredible countryside that is just a short distance from your front door. Take great lungfuls of air and feel your energy levels rise, listen to the sounds of nature, whether it is the wind in the leaves and grasses, birds singing, insects buzzing, or rain on the treetops, or hillsides, or beaches. We talk about 'blowing the cobwebs out' after a walk on a windy day, or of needing to go for a walk to allow ourselves to think clearly, but it is so easy to just get on with life and forget about the power of nature to help us to... Just. Feel. Better. The weather we have been experiencing in England this 'summer' also seems rather appropriate...although of course by the time I decided to write this, the sun has finally come out! When it is is sunny and warm, there may be more encouragement for us to get outside, but don't forget about the power of the grey days, the windy days, the rainy days and the stormy days; go outside and feel it... That's probably enough waffling from me, so here's the lyrics. Tell me what you think. 'Back to the Green' by Marshall Hain from the album 'Free Ride' Here in the city everything's bright, sucked in by the neon lights Living on main street must be someone else's dream There's plenty of cars out on the road And there's plenty of others to share your load And time to lose in this constant steady stream Steady stream that keeps you there Ready to flow, and ready to wonder where Here in the city ...the day, carries you on in the same old way The package is different but there's little room for change It's a timely friend, a world apart, It's another end, but I've nowhere to start I'm a city stray leaving for the country again Leaving for the country, keep me there To breathe in fresher air And the day that you awake and know There's nowhere else now worth your going to After all the grey you've seen It's time to head on back to the green Here in the city, everything's cold, the flags of summer are heavy and old And rain on the sidewalks reflects the angry crowds We can hide out well, and keep ourselves warm But that ain't no way to feel the storms Give me open places where there's space to see the clouds See the clouds through fresher air Be the way you only can be there And the day that you awake and know There's nowhere else now worth you going to After all the grey you've seen It's time to head on back to the green And today, I awoke and knew, There's nowhere else now Worth my going to... - Posted using BlogPress from my iPad </description><link>http://michellejonesmedia.blogspot.com/2012/08/back-to-green.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Michelle Jones)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8703453156320508110.post-7881112367874273672</guid><pubDate>Tue, 17 Jul 2012 22:25:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-07-17T15:25:01.638-07:00</atom:updated><title>Where There&#39;s Life</title><description> <a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/108739086899963488201/ThrowAwayYourLoincloth?authkey=Gv1sRgCNz9ubSCnuK33AE#5766268014991028450'><img src='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-KMg0e10kJdA/UAXmNWk8sOI/AAAAAAAAAGc/84YdcDdvIm8/s288/2.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' align='right' style='margin:5px'></a> My grandma was an amazing gardener; she could encourage anything to grow-but I must admit that my faith in her knowledge and ability was shaken by this rose. I also love gardening, and we had discussed my attempting to grow roses on several occasions over the years, but I had never somehow got around to it. Until, that is, late summer 2010; grandma decided she was giving me one of her roses and that was that! By then she was in her nineties; very frail, almost blind, very deaf... She needed help to hobble down the garden and dig it up; as she handed it over, I smiled and thanked her and promised to plant it as soon as I got home.... ...there was no way it was going to survive though, let alone grow. The plant was a hollow stick about 2 feet in length, with no roots at all! I still planted it of course; I'm a great believer in giving things a chance, and I kept an eye on it, as the months passed by. It survived... In 2011, the rose shot out two long runners, proving that it was a rambler (which is what we had hoped); I let them go where they wanted and waited... Over the winter of 2011/12, grandma became increasingly ill and she passed away in April 2012, but her rose flourished. It grew like a weed; long runners that had to be trained against the wall, covered in the spikiest thorns! Despite the rain, despite the winds, it has been covered in scented pale pink blooms, in heavy floribunda clusters. The runners for next year are now growing at a frightening speed and need training and securing; I'll need to buy some thicker gloves for that! The idea is to train it over the gap where my brick arch used to be...I had been hoping for some man-help with putting up the arch, but have been asking since March now...lol...so will do it myself. Everything you see against the wall in the foreground is growing from that hollow stick-with-no-roots...proving that where there us life, there is always hope. I'm sorry I doubted you grandma, and I miss you... <center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/108739086899963488201/ThrowAwayYourLoincloth?authkey=Gv1sRgCNz9ubSCnuK33AE#5766268039454699874'><img src='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-bNGYMbk1XtY/UAXmOxtisWI/AAAAAAAAAGk/PN5ibQtD73k/s288/0.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center> - Posted using BlogPress from my iPad </description><link>http://michellejonesmedia.blogspot.com/2012/07/where-there-life.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Michelle Jones)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-KMg0e10kJdA/UAXmNWk8sOI/AAAAAAAAAGc/84YdcDdvIm8/s72-c/2.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8703453156320508110.post-7804705318427282518</guid><pubDate>Mon, 09 Jul 2012 10:58:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-07-09T03:58:29.523-07:00</atom:updated><title>Andy Murray is a hero</title><description> Andy Murray is a hero; I long ago forgave him for any brash youthful comments, long ago realised that some of those comments had been hideously misreported by a press keen to build on the myth of the Brit-phobic young Scot. Let's just take one of those supposed comments and put it firmly to bed. He is on the record as saying he would 'support any football team, as long as it wasn't England'...and yes, he did say that-but not in the way you think. He had just been asked by a hack if he supported Scotland in that years World Cup qualifiers, and as he rushed past on his way, he looked back and laughed that of course he would-as long as it wasn't England! It was a joke, a joke shared between two men; the sort of joke passed between friends up and down the land...especially if one of them comes from a different part of Great Britain to the other! I repeat, Andy Murray is a hero; he has put up with the public sniping and sneering behind his back-and yet still expecting him to come out and win for them. He did not thrust the mike back at Sue Barker (the insensitivity of it!) and did his level best to talk, despite being engulfed by a tidal wave of emotion; we have all been there, at some point in our lives, desperate to talk, but overcome...very few of us will ever have to face that whilst being watched by millions. Andy rightly deserves every success that is coming his way; his commitment, his drive, his sheer talent will see him succeed...and now, finally...so will the love and admiration of everyone in Great Britain who witnessed what I believe will go down as one of the greatest finals in Wimbledon history. - Posted using BlogPress from my iPad Location:<a href='http://maps.google.com/maps?q=At%20home%4050.883258%2C-1.138432&z=10'>At home</a></description><link>http://michellejonesmedia.blogspot.com/2012/07/andy-murray-is-hero.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Michelle Jones)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8703453156320508110.post-6052385949592133803</guid><pubDate>Thu, 21 Jun 2012 15:08:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-06-21T08:08:34.752-07:00</atom:updated><title>Greetings on this Summer Solstice! The Bun Dance of Abundance approacheth!</title><description>In the semi-darkness of the approaching dawn, the watchers patiently waited; the slight breeze tugging at their clothes. The stones surrounded them; towering monoliths carefully arranged by an ancient people in the distant past. The tension was palpable; the sun would soon rise, light rushing across the land from the horizon to the stones, warming the faces of the watchers and filling their hearts with fierce joy. Thousands had gathered to witness the spectacle; they arrived in cars, coaches, camper vans, motorcycles, all eager to be a part of something that felt deeply spiritual, all wanting to be changed somehow by the experience. Some came wearing elaborate robes, carrying ritual tools to praise the old gods and goddesses of the land; some came armed with beer cans and loud music, there were dancers and drummers, every race, every creed, men, women, and children. The sky was becoming lighter by the second, the sun on its endless journey around our solar system, keeping its promise to arrive at the appointed time. Silence fell, all eyes now firmly fixed on the eastern horizon. Silence was broken by the unnatural shrill of a mobile; harsh tones breaking the spell of ancient magic. 'Oh hi Ben, yes, I'm at Stonehenge; no, the sun hasn't risen yet, but it won't be long-I'll tell you what, can you Facetime me, I can show you as it happens. What? Wireless? Oh yeah, we need wireless for Facetime...surely there must be wireless here; it's famous enough!' The girl with the phone turned to her companion 'Kate, have they got wireless here?' 'NO!' Her companion was sharp 'Now turn that bloody thing off! Some of us are trying to tune in...' 'No need to be shirty...Hi Ben, no it seems there's no wireless, and I think people want me to end the call, so I'd better go. No, I don't understand either, it's not like this doesn't happen everyday!' Sulkily, she put the mobile back in her handbag and fumbled for a tissue. 'How much longer do we have to stand here? I'm desperate for a wee!' Her companion sighed 'It won't be long Emma, a few minutes, I have waited to be here to see this all my life, surely you can hang on for a few minutes more without completely ruining it for me!' Kate turned away and faced the east once more. She breathed deeply, trying to ignore the musty smell coming from the man stood just behind her; she had not anticipated the reality of being stood in a crowd of thousands for this moment, in her dreams it had always been a solitary thing, just her and the sun communing at the stones...I mean, of course she knew that loads of others came, but she didn't realise it would be so crowded, such a crush, bodies jostling each other for position, necks craning to try and be the first to see the suns rays spill across the landscape. A few more minutes passed; Emma rustled in her handbag for some sweets, 'D'you want a mint Kate?' she asked, smiling brightly, obviously trying to make up. 'Ok, pass them over.' Kate took one of the mints and popped it in her mouth; as she did so, a shout went up from those at the front, followed by a mighty cheer 'Is the sun rising now?' Kate jumped up and down trying to see over the heads of the people in front; one of them turned to her and smiled sadly; 'No, it's clouding over up ahead, the sun won't be making an appearance after all...' Give or take 30 years, this is more or less what happened to me... I went to Stonehenge in 1981, with a friend from work. I was young and naive, thought it would be just me (and my friend of course), and maybe a few druids on the fringes. I was absolutely convinced it would be truly magical, connect me to the ancestors (whoever they might be) to the ancient gods and goddesses of this land and of course give me magical powers just by being there. After all, who wouldn't fancy being able to shoot green fire from their fingertips at the woman who pushed in front of you at the checkout! ...Especially if they were loading pricey top of the range goodies onto the conveyor belt whilst staring snootily at your supermarket own label stuff... Anyway, there I was standing in the crush, reasonably near the front on a cold summer morning. You were not allowed access inside the stones in those days, but the Druids were. There were certainly Druids aplenty, clad in their white robes, weaving in and out of the stones in serpentine patterns, muttering under their breath. Their was something slightly sheepish about them, as though they were trying not to be recognised individually. This approach however was blown out of the water by a couple of tabloid photographers who asked (shouted) if they could have a 'Team Photograph'. The Druids agreeably complied; forming into three lines right in front of where we were standing; the photographers arranged them like a football team...one row sat cross legged at the front, the row behind on one knee and the back row standing. There was a bit of good natured banter concerning their ability to replace the current England team and play for Ron Greenwood, who was the England Manager at the time. The photo's were taken and all would have continued to be well, had not someone shouted from the crowd; 'Got any virgins to spare!' The Druids went off in a distinct huff and stood before the stones, facing east. It all went quiet, the tension mounted and then-just as the sun was about to rise-a cry went up from the back; 'Bloody hell, look at that!' As one, we all turned round...the biggest, blackest, cloud you have ever seen was hurtling toward us at a frightening speed! In moments we were all drenched, running helter skelter for the shelter of our cars-including the druids! It seems their robes were not showerproof, the gods had spoken and declared that nobody would be seeing the sun rise that year! We slept in a layby; I arrived back home in the early afternoon, feeling a bit flat and disappointed. I have not been to a solstice at Stonehenge since, although I expect things are a little different these days. Just as crowded of course, but with access to the stones, and of course, mobile phones. I still feel that the Solstices are special times, but I celebrate them in my own way, with those whom I love as opposed to a horde of strangers. One of our favourite ways to celebrate is with the 'Bun Dance of Abundance'; it's quite simple and is a great way of doing something spiritual without a loincloth in sight! All you need in the way of ritual items is a bun. Of course you can add as many other things as you like; candles, incense, long flowery paragraphs of purple prose, crystals, wine...the list is endless, but this is the (really) important thing; You Make It Up As You Go Along. Got that? I'll say it again; You Make It Up As You Go Along. You want to talk to your god? Go ahead. You want to take all your clothes off and hang free in the breeze? Fine. I'll stay fully clothed, thank you-inflicting my flabby bits on the universe is not my cup of tea! We celebrate with our closest friends; it's a closed ceremony, you can't come, I'm sorry. We do our thing, say thanks for the blessings in our lives, remember those who have passed, and then we perform the central, solemn ritual, The Bun Dance of Abundance. No, i'm joking, it's most definitely not solemn! In fact, it's likely to have you gasping for breath due to laughing...just dance around in a circle, clutching your bun of choice, get faster and faster if you wish, but whatever you do, don't be solemn. Laugh! Positive energy attracts positive energy, and believe me, this is positive energy. It blows the dusty cobwebs out of your head, and fills you with good, clean, shining positivity. The longer you perform the dance, the more positive energy you take in...and then you fall exhausted on the floor and eat your bun, or someone else's bun, if theirs looks better than yours. Or you can share buns! Try not to choke on the crumbs, take some water with you... Dogs really like this too...cats are a bit stand offish, ours tend to run screaming, but dogs love it! The best place to perform the Bun Dance of Abundance is outside, mainly due to there being less you can break or trip over outside, but inside is fine-just remember the creators of the dance will accept no responsibility for anything that happens as a result of it, whether directly or indirectly. It's all down to you... Happy Summer Solstice! Michelle x - Posted using BlogPress from my iPad Location:<a href='http://maps.google.com/maps?q=At%20home...looking%20out%20on%20a%20grey%20day...&z=10'>At home...looking out on a grey day...</a></description><link>http://michellejonesmedia.blogspot.com/2012/06/greetings-on-this-summer-solstice-bun.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Michelle Jones)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8703453156320508110.post-7806094353543075447</guid><pubDate>Sun, 18 Sep 2011 00:52:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-09-17T17:52:51.276-07:00</atom:updated><title>What do you value in life?</title><description>We have been dining with good friends at their home this evening, and have just walked the short distance back to our own home... I am sat up in bed at 1.41am, with my beloved asleep beside me...and it struck me- What do you REALLY value in your life? I am happy without great riches, I just want not to have to worry about money. I am happy without a flash car, as long as I can get around. I am happy without a big house, I just want to live here, in our home. I am happy and grateful to have some wonderful friends, I am constantly amazed to have such wonderful children, ...and I am very lucky to have somehow discovered the one person in all the billions on this planet who makes me so happy, and continues to make me smile every day, after 20 years together... <3 That's what I value, what about you? :0) - Posted using BlogPress from my iPad Location:<a href='http://maps.google.com/maps?q=Bed%20bed%20bed&z=10'>Bed bed bed</a></description><link>http://michellejonesmedia.blogspot.com/2011/09/what-do-you-value-in-life.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Michelle Jones)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8703453156320508110.post-3952513307662858709</guid><pubDate>Tue, 13 Sep 2011 23:04:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-09-13T16:04:11.661-07:00</atom:updated><title>Hands together, eyes closed?</title><description>Do you pray? What come to mind when you think about prayer and praying? For many of us it will something along the lines of 'hands together, eyes closed'; a phrase familiar (to me at least) from hundreds of primary school assemblies. There are also countless illustrations of small children kneeling by bedsides, comforting images of innocence from a time before VTech and Nintendo. These days I suspect the vast majority of parents never raise the subject of religion or faith unless forced into it by the tyranny of 'homework'. It's a commonly held myth that you stop having to do homework when you leave education, but it's simply not true; the second you have children of your own, you are doomed to have to try and remember at some point how quadratic equations work, or worse, French verb tenses. Most parents will be asked about pilgrimage as a part of the Ethics and Philosophy GCSE! The only time prayer comes into it is when they come home with their marks and you pray you remembered it correctly! However, most of us DO pray...we pray instinctively, all the time, whether we realise it or not... "Please God, let them get good marks" "Please God, let me pass my driving test" "Please God, help me get some money" "Please God, help me get a job" "Please God, don't let it be serious..." "Please God, let them recover..." "Please God, help me find my car keys!" And when it happens in our favour, how many of us offer up a heartfelt "Thank you God!" All the time, regardless of whether we know who we are praying to, we pray. A prayer does not have to be formal, use fancy words, liturgy or ritual. You do not have to 'signed up' to a specific faith or religion to pray. All you need is the thought of what you need. The clearer that thought, the more focused that thought, the better chance you have of it getting through... Now this is the best bit about prayer. It seems to work. Scientific studies have been done to try and prove that it could work, or not...sound a bit nuts? How can you 'prove' that something that requires faith, something like prayer, actually has a real and measurable effect? When churchgoing volunteers prayed for coronary patients (who were completely unaware that they were being prayed for), they fared a bit better than those NOT being prayed for... More research is ongoing. So my reasoning goes like this... It cannot possibly do any harm, and might conceivably do some good, so we might as well give it a go! Also, if those who did not know they were included improved, how much better could we fare if we DO know we are being prayed for! If you do not believe or have faith in a God, then try directing your efforts at the energy of Nature, of our planet and see what happens. I would love to hear from you; tell me what you prayed for, and what was the response, if any! A prayer I offered up many years ago was answered in the most dramatic fashion, in a way I could never have dreamed of. I'll tell you another day though, it's late and I need to sleep. Hands together, eyes closed... - Posted using BlogPress from my iPad Location:<a href='http://maps.google.com/maps?q=My%20personal%20sanctuary%20and%20workspace...%4050.891223%2C-1.024859&z=10'>My personal sanctuary and workspace...</a></description><link>http://michellejonesmedia.blogspot.com/2011/09/hands-together-eyes-closed.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Michelle Jones)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8703453156320508110.post-4806014086962038977</guid><pubDate>Fri, 26 Aug 2011 23:49:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-08-26T16:49:28.244-07:00</atom:updated><title>What to do when life smacks you in the face with a wet fish!</title><description>There are times in your life when you feel that nothing is going right, that if there is a God, he/she is playing some sort of cruel game; laughing at you whilst sitting safe and warm from the comfort of his/her "Insert Paradise of Choice Here". We had one of those days this week... My husband Phil has been unemployed for a couple of months; he has had a couple of interviews, but as yet, no offers-and of course it is a worrying time for us. I am confident that the right job is out there, but it would be nice if it were to manifest soooooon! (Incidentally, if you are reading this thinking 'Where can I find a degree qualified engineer with bags of experience on PLC's and other computery controlly stuff I don't understand, As well as years and years In the print industry... Just get in touch!) So as well as being unemployed, his car completely died a month back, and he has been using mine, but we were struggling with just the one means of transport so another car had to be found... He has a 'new' car now, or 'preloved' as some say. It's really nice, an old Merc estate; we picked it up on Saturday morning from the Gatwick area, about 50 miles away from where we live. The busiest days of the week for us are Wednesday and Thursday, I work at Waterstones during the day, and then run my Slimming World groups at night; Wednesday is the biggie, with just an hour between jobs and two hectic sessions to run! Phil was pleased (I think that's the term!) to be able to help me again as we had a car big enough to take three people and all my kit, so we loaded up, collected Marion and toddled off down to Pompey. On the way, his phone rang and I answered it; it was the chap at the agency-Phil had been for an interview last week, so maybe it was good news! He returned the call as soon as we arrived...it wasn't good news. Ho hum. I feel so awful...like shaking these daft employers who cannot see what a wonderful person he is... Anyway, he helped us set up, and then went home to do dinner for the hordes. He picked us up again at 8.00 and we set off home... We have to drop Marion off first, so we come off the motorway at Havant; as we paused at the top of the sliproad, the car began to judder in an ominous manner...and I noticed that smoke was billowing from under the bonnet... Bugger. We limped the quarter of a mile to her front door and stopped. Out first thought was that the head gasket had blown, but the temperature had been fine, so Phil suggested it might be one of the injectors. We called out the AA, Marion made us cups of tea, and we waited... The AA man duly arrived about half an hour later and had a look. It was an injector, it could be easily fixed, but sadly, not by him. The thread had stripped on the bolt, and his efforts met with casual indifference from the car which simply popped it straight back out again as soon as the engine was started! A flatbed was required to get us home as it is a rear wheel drive automatic. You cannot tow them, it knackers the gearbox. It was a busy night and the truck would not arrive until at least 11.20... I was absolutely shattered, having been working (writing for the magazine) until 1.00am the previous night, so Phil called our friend Ross who collected me and took me home so I could have something to eat and get to bed. He then settled down to play golf on his phone and wait... ...For a man who turned up with a transit! It had some sort of gizmo to tow the car backwards...except that it didn't work because our car is an estate and he couldn't close the doors on the truck again! Well, Duh! They knew what the car is, and it is not exactly a rare model! The estimate for the arrival of the flatbed was now 1.25am. 5 hours sat in a lay-by, less than 4 miles from home, on his own, having just been told he had not got the job he went for last week, in a car he had only had for 5 days... There is absolutely no justice in that at all. My poor baby finally arrived home at about 1.15; the truck having turned up slightly earlier than anticipated. He was cold and depressed and who can blame him. Then of course, there was the worry over paying for repairs; the Merc is 12 years old, you don't get a warranty on cars like that! We thought we might have to get Trading Standards involved and called them to check our rights. We need not have worried, because the chap we bought it from could not have been more helpful. As we are so far away, he arranged for us to have it repaired by our local garage (who we have been dealing with for 25 years). He will pay the bill in full. He restored my with in human nature! Then we had the call from the AA, to apologise for their part in the fiasco that was Wednesday night. They admitted full liability for the unacceptable wait and for sending out the wrong equipment and are sending us a cheque for £25 as a sweetener... All we need now is for the interviewer from last week to call and say he made a terrible mistake in not employing Phil... The job is back up on the agency website, so it could happen... ...Are you listening up there? - Posted using BlogPress from my iPad Location:<a href='http://maps.google.com/maps?q=In%20Bed&z=10'>In Bed</a></description><link>http://michellejonesmedia.blogspot.com/2011/08/what-to-do-when-life-smacks-you-in-face.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Michelle Jones)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8703453156320508110.post-7159260345415899052</guid><pubDate>Tue, 16 Aug 2011 22:41:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-08-17T15:11:08.009-07:00</atom:updated><title>A Life Worth Saving?</title><description>I run a weekly Slimming World group in the Methodist Church in Copnor Road, Portsmouth (Wednesdays at 5.15 & 7.00pm). A preschool group also uses the hall during term time and we are used to seeing paintings and other things left to dry on the windowsills. This year, they have been growing tomato plants, and inevitably one of them got left behind... I first saw it a couple of weeks ago, just after the end of the summer term. There is a kitchen at the back of the church, a lovely bright and airy space with big, west facing windows. The plant was one of of the window sills; it was planted in a clear plastic disposable cup and was far too big for the container... I felt the soil (such as it was) and it was a little damp, so I gave it a drink and left it there, figuring that somebody was coming back to collect it. However, I got a shock when I unlocked the kitchen the following week... The tomato plant was still on the windowsill; it's leaves were hanging straight down, and some of them had gone yellow... I rushed over and felt the soil, it was bone dry. I quickly gave it some water and took it out of the glare of the sunlight streaming through the windows, then I went off to run my group. Some hours later, after the groups had both finished, I went back into the kitchen to lock up... The tomato plant had recovered a little, but was still looking very poorly. I stood and thought about what to do; what if someone was coming back to collect it? Would it be stealing to take it home? Whilst I thought, I had been gazing up at the window, as I looked back down at the plant, I heard it scream-no really, I did! In my head I heard it scream in panic! "Don't leave me here!" That was it. I could not, in all conscience leave it there! By the time I returned in another week, it would either be dead, or nearly dead, so if someone was coming back for it, they would not be getting a healthy plant anyway! I carefully wrapped the plastic cup in a paper towel and wedged it upright in my car. On the way home, I found myself talking to it, telling it that it was going to be out in a nice courtyard garden with other pants to keep it company and plenty of water... Once home, Phil unloaded the car for me and gave me a quizzical look on seeing the plant; I explained and he laughed...he is used to me by now! I grabbed my gardening gloves and immediately took it out of the hated cup, repotting it into a nice large pot, filled with rich, damp soil. As I left it for the night, I could feel the waves of relief, like a huge *sigh* coming off the tomato plant as it stretched out it's roots and wiggled it's toes... The following morning, the first thing I did when I got downstairs, was unlock the door to the courtyard and go and see how it was... The difference was incredible! It had really perked up, the leaves were <center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/108739086899963488201/ThrowAwayYourLoincloth?authkey=Gv1sRgCNz9ubSCnuK33AE#5641587601789456114'><img src='http://lh3.ggpht.com/-GyrkBosXKAk/TkryCI3ojvI/AAAAAAAAAE4/6orDl8KXcUI/s288/0.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center> standing out, and best of all, it had somehow managed to put out a bloom overnight! As you can see, it has dropped a few leaves, the yellow ones, but it is really trying to make a go of it, and I am going to do my best to help it along. If I am lucky enough to get a tomato...I shall save the seeds and grow more from it next year... All I need now, is a name...I need something that demonstrates it's ability to survive in extremely testing conditions, something that says 'I will survive'... I would have Gloria (who of course had the single), but that's the name of my stepmum, so that's out-and anyway, I want a boys name...Hmmm, I shall have to think about it! If anyone has any ideas, let me know!?! - Posted using BlogPress from my iPad Location:<a href='http://maps.google.com/maps?q=Out%20and%20about&z=10'>Out and about</a></description><link>http://michellejonesmedia.blogspot.com/2011/08/life-worth-saving.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Michelle Jones)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-GyrkBosXKAk/TkryCI3ojvI/AAAAAAAAAE4/6orDl8KXcUI/s72-c/0.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8703453156320508110.post-1140749742987124093</guid><pubDate>Thu, 11 Aug 2011 22:51:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-08-11T15:51:27.397-07:00</atom:updated><title>Those stupid moments</title><description>I often suffer from what I call my 'Stupid Moments', times when my brain simply refuses to work properly. I cannot recall names, or put faces to names, remember phone numbers, where I put things (my glasses!) or where I am supposed to be, at what time and on what day! I am lucky to have an extremely patient dentists practice; over the last 25 years of attending, I have been there on the right day of the week, but in the wrong month, on the right day but at the wrong time...I have been days late and weeks early! I have also taken the kids out of school for appointments that don't exist! Appointments are a particular frustration for me. I can arrange something on the phone, write it down at the time, double check it with the other person and still get it wrong! Unfortunately, it also seems to be rubbing off on the rest of my family... ...and then the who-are-you challenge... I have been known to talk to people at length without the slightest memory of who they are, in the hope that eventually they might say something to jog my memory... and even, on one day, walked side by side with a man up Cosham High Street for about five minutes, without realising he was my eldest brother! ...Although to be fair, he didn't realise it was me, either! I am really embarrassed about all this; I feel so frustrated by my lack of memory, especially when I really should know something. I used to have a pretty good memory; almost photographic where the written word was concerned, although the appointments thing has been a curse my entire adult life... It was having to have chemotherapy in 2004/5 that really set it off on a downward trend, although I should point out that the official line is that there is no scientific evidence so far to prove a link with memory loss and chemo. What can I do about it though? Nothing, really... All the brain training in the world won't repair my memory. So, although I find it frustrating, I have to accept it. I cannot change it, stress makes it worse, so acknowledge, accept, release, as they say...acknowledge, accept, release... This applies in lots of areas of life; if you cannot change something, acknowledge it, accept it, work with it, release that pain, anger and frustration...and move on. If you cannot do this, then you may be allowing anger and resentment to clog up your energy and ruin your day. If someone cuts you up on the motorway, resist the temptation to rant and rave, after all, the other driver certainly won't be worrying about you, and allowing that small incident to ruin your day just doesn't make sense! Acknowledge, accept, release...move on. This one small change to how you think can have a major effect on your well being, but it takes courage and practice... Acknowledge, accept, release...move on. Try it today? You might surprise yourself! Now then...who are you again? - Posted using BlogPress from my iPad Location:<a href='http://maps.google.com/maps?q=Bed&z=10'>Bed</a></description><link>http://michellejonesmedia.blogspot.com/2011/08/those-stupid-moments.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Michelle Jones)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8703453156320508110.post-4315883152436951620</guid><pubDate>Fri, 22 Jul 2011 22:13:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-07-22T15:13:04.928-07:00</atom:updated><title>Throw Away Your Loincloth!</title><description>I am absolutely delighted to announce that O Books will be publishing my first book; 'Throw Away Your Loincloth!', in 2012. The book is aimed at anyone who wants to live a spiritual life in the real world-no loincloth required-and this is how it came about... I have always firmly believed in God/Goddess/Divine Spirit-the names are not important (as a wise man once said: "There are many paths up to the top of the mountain, but they all reach the same summit."), and my life has been full of 'Weirdy stuff' (as my family put it), which has given me my proof that there is something else out there... But believing in something and being able to weave it seamlessly into your everyday life are two different things; I would love to be able to spend my time touring sacred sites and stone circles (as long as a) There is a decent B&B and local pub nearby and b) Lots of lovely shopping!), but my life does not allow it! I have to work and look after my family, something which leaves precious little time for me...It's the same for virtually all of us! To put it bluntly-who has time to spend hours sat meditating on a mountain top clad only in a loincloth? I want to invite you to throw away your loincloth, because it does not have to be like that! I can show you how to feel connected without feeling frustrated that you cannot devote more time to your inner self, your inner world... ...Because it can be with you all the time... Until next time, in light, love and laughter, Michelle x - Posted using BlogPress from my iPad Location:<a href='http://maps.google.com/maps?q=Bed%20of%20course!&z=10'>Bed of course!</a></description><link>http://michellejonesmedia.blogspot.com/2011/07/throw-away-your-loincloth.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Michelle Jones)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8703453156320508110.post-7408064770934621979</guid><pubDate>Mon, 18 Jul 2011 18:26:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-07-18T11:26:12.686-07:00</atom:updated><title>Finding the positives in those &#39;Bleeuggh!&#39; days...</title><description>I have not been a well bunny for the last few weeks; something which has come to a head over the last few days... It started at the beginning of June; we were on holiday in Cornwall and my daughter had a 24 hour tummy bug, which I thought she had rather generously passed on to me! However, after more than a week of stomach pains, headaches, nausea and quite literally hurtling to the loo I thought I had better pop along to my GP. She organised some tests and we both thought it would settle down without intervention... It didn't, and after a whole month of not being able to eat properly and generally feeling Ill, I went back to the doctor. I was not expecting to get a result, but was surprised and shocked to be told I probably had been harbouring a parasite! The little devils are called Giardia, a single cell micro-organism easily missed on tests; if you search them out on Google Images they look like smily faced balloons with strings...well, the friendly pics do! The others are the stuff of nightmares that I would rather not think about! Giardia is picked up through dirty water, or contaminated soil, or poor hygiene; having ruled out the dirty water, that left me with poor hygiene (public loos?) or soil, and as I have five cats, that is the most likely cause. I do wear gloves whilst gardening, but I suppose it is a calculated risk! Anyway, the GP prescribed some antibiotics and I thought that was it; I wasn't expecting that nobody would be able to find the first lot (Tinidazole), so that I had to have another instead! Metronidazole and I are acquainted of old, and not in a friendly manner, so I was expecting to be ill and wasn't disappointed. The last time I felt this bad was when I was undergoing chemotherapy 6 years ago! But there are positives to be taken; counting my blessings if you like... I have watched an awful lot more telly... I would not have seen the amazing programme on Iceland on BBC2 last night for one; Julia Bradbury's Icelandic Walk is on the BBCiPlayer and I can heartily recommend it! The programme before it was rather good too; Coast was featuring the swedish coast and that made me feel distinctly wistful...Is it possible to feel homesick for a place not your home? Ok not Sweden for me, but Finland, just across the water... The Nordic people have a wonderful attitude to summer...get out there and enjoy life to the max! We could all take a leaf from their book on that one! ...and then back in time again, and I watched rather more golf than was probably healthy! Darren Clarke won the British Open; what a nice chap he seems to be, not someone that anyone would have bet on to win in advance, ranked 119 in the world. He lost his wife 5 years ago to breast cancer, and (along with his lovely fiancee) thoroughly deserves the break. So apart from the telly? I have read a couple of books that usually would have taken ages because of the lack of free time; both of them were most enjoyable:- The Girl Who Chased the Moon by Sarah Addison Allen is an enchanting tale of finding ones roots and discovering true magic. Times Legacy by Barbara Erskine is a fabulous novel set in and around Glastonbury, both 2000 years ago and today. Timeslip novel that you won't want to put down! What else...? Oh yes, how could I forget my wonderful husband running round for me, ferrying cups of coffee and sustenance up and down the stairs and generally being a saint! The kids have come up and chatted every now and again and all in all, although I have felt absolutely Bleeugghhh! It's been a positive experience. ...and having said all that, I cannot wait to get back into the real world! Too much laying around just doesn't suit me! - Posted using BlogPress from my iPad Location:<a href='http://maps.google.com/maps?q=My%20sickbed&z=10'>My sickbed</a></description><link>http://michellejonesmedia.blogspot.com/2011/07/finding-positives-in-those-days.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Michelle Jones)</author><thr:total>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8703453156320508110.post-6260668797466864050</guid><pubDate>Tue, 12 Jul 2011 22:19:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-07-12T15:19:46.313-07:00</atom:updated><title>The car that cried wolf! A modern cautionary tale...</title><description>'Tis a sad day today. Forever shall it be marked by a black spot on the family calendar, next to the reminders to buy more cereal and crisps, and the menu from the curry house. On Saturday, Phil collected me from work in his car, but as we drove down the A3 towards home, it quickly became apparent that All Was Not Well... My dear husband began making gentle comments like 'We're losing power, what the bloody hell is wrong with this thing now!' whilst I made soothing noises... We pulled into a lay-by at which point the Depollution filter light blinked on, to warn us in its' cheery way that we might have a problem. I say might, because in the two years we have owned this car, it has flashed a whole series of cheery little lights at us...mostly in error. I think my favourites were the series relating to tyre pressure. It would start off gently by warning us that it was unable to monitor pressure, then move up to telling us that we had a puncture and should pull over. It had a pretty picture of a tyre with a nail in it in case we couldn't read. Our failure to pull over was followed by a further message shouting at us to STOP! It shouted in vain as we knew we had no puncture, or Depollution error, or any of the other cheery little warnings...what we did have was a car with a serious early onset dementia problem, which cost us a small fortune in continually being connected to command central. Command central would give it a good talking to and for a short while all would be well... Sometimes the shirt while while was very short indeed, and a new message would flash up on the drive home. The drive home is precisely 7/10ths of a mile! So you can see, I was failing to take this latest episode at all seriously as in my mind it was just crying wolf again. How wrong can you be. Anyway, we pulled into the lay-by, got the message, and did the only thing that seemed sensible, we carried on to Morissons...at about 30 miles an hour on the A3, when everyone else is doing 70+. I did suggest that Phil should wear a flat cap and shrink down so that his head did not appear above the headrests, but to no avail. I know how much he hates travelling significantly below the speed limit, many is the time he has cried 'If you are incapable of driving below the speed limit, you shouldn't be on the road!' and I thought it might help other drivers to think he was somewhat more stricken in years and therefore give him an excuse. When we reached Morissons, it was clear that there was something actually wrong, not just because of the lack of power thing, but also the strong smell of diesel that was following us, along with the increasingly dense pall of smoke. So we did the only thing we could do, in the circumstances... We bought some beer and carried on home...at fifteen miles an hour, which is a bit on the tardy side, even for me! By the time we had limped that last mile and a half, the car was clearly sick; black smoke pouring out from the back...and white smoke/steam emanating from under the bonnet. It could not manage the final push onto the drive, so we had to enlist the help of Matt to help us push it up there... ...and there it stayed until yesterday, when the man-from-the-garage came with a trailer to take it away. The practicalities of taking it away were most entertaining; it was facing the wrong way for a start, and although it spluttered briefly into life...enough to get it off the drive...that was it. We had to manhandle it into facing the right way and in line with the trailer. I say 'we', I just stood out of the way whilst Phil, James, Matt and the man-from-the-garage huffed and puffed as they tried to manoeuvre half a ton of metal without power steering on an upward slope making helpful comments like 'Don't you think you should put your foot in the car darling, we don't want the door closing on it!' You get the picture. After a couple of lifetimes in the blazing sun, it was ready to be pushed up and onto the ramp; except we very rapidly realised that it was far too low, and the slope too steep to get it up there without ripping the front skirt off! The man-from-the-garage was not dismayed though, he had clearly dealt with this particular hazard before and before long we were too, with the aid of some bricks and sawn off skirting from the kitchen leftovers. The skirting had been lurking in the garage for more than 3 years just waiting for the day when it would finally come in useful. Michael MacKintyre would have been proud. We waved goodbye to the car and set to dreading the call-from-the-garage with the damage report... It came today and was worse than our wildest dreams. No, really, it was! None of us could have known that the cheery little lights had been building up to such a catastrophe...the car had finally been telling the truth. The EGC thing had failed; this is a thingy to control the emissions, it sounds quite vital. The flywheel? Or at least something in the gearbox had gone too, causing the engine to lock up...which doesn't sound awfully healthy...and the starter motor had started to disintegrate, with bits of it potentially now rattling around the engine like raspberry seeds under your bridge that you can never fish out and are bloody uncomfortable! The man-from-the-garage said he'd never known anything like it, all these things to fail at the same time! He then went on to say that just to take it apart to the extent that they could properly assess the damage and work out a quote for repairs would cost about a £1000 in labour! This is garage-speak for 'Your car is f***ked'. So now we are a one car family, at least for the moment. Somehow I think the delights of the Peugeot estate have been too exciting for Phil and we may take the advice of Mr. Clarkson and co and go for a Merc estate next time. We've had one of those before, and they didn't have annoyingly cheery lights that lied for a start! Would anyone like to buy a large silver blue garden feature? - Posted using BlogPress from my iPad Location:<a href='http://maps.google.com/maps?q=Yep.%20In%20bed.&z=10'>Yep. In bed.</a></description><link>http://michellejonesmedia.blogspot.com/2011/07/car-that-cried-wolf-modern-cautionary.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Michelle Jones)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8703453156320508110.post-2831079054083394988</guid><pubDate>Wed, 06 Jul 2011 23:29:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-07-06T16:29:47.069-07:00</atom:updated><title>To be a pilgrim</title><description>I am currently reading a fascinating book by Peter Stanford, called The Extra Mile. The author travelled the UK to visit traditional sites of pilgrimage; Walsingham, Iona, Glastonbury, Stonehenge amongst others; with the aim of seeing how these ancient religious destinations are faring in our supposedly secular society... ...and guess what? They seem to be flourishing! Although initially I was a little surprised by this, on reflection I feel that I shouldn't be. I am not affiliated to any specific religion; I rather Intend to use the 'insert deity of choice here' approach, at least when talking to others, but I do believe in that something 'other' that defines (for me) a Divinity, something up there watching over me. But regardless of our particular preference in faith, we can all respond to those places that somehow 'feel' spiritual. I know that is a little woolly, but let me explain with an example. We visit Finland as often as we can afford to, it is a beautiful country, with some of the best chocolate in the world...as well as countless thousands of lakes and islands, just stunning. The first time I visited Helsinki, I wanted to visit the cathedral; I love walking around cathedrals and churches, drinking in the atmosphere of concentrated prayer... Of course some churches have a better atmosphere than others, but the Lutheran cathedral had absolutely no atmosphere at all, nothing...if anything the white echoing space had a feel of 'new build' to it! Our friend Ross suggested visiting the Tempeliaukkion Kirkko, or Church in the Rock, a short walk away. This building, started in 1968, is a multi denominational church, in a quiet residential area of Helsinki, blasted out of one giant granite outcrop... From above it resembles a half buried UFO; from the street, it is nothing more than a discreet glass door leading into a reception area. It could be anything from a hotel to a call centre, although I am reminded a little of Newgrange, in Ireland. But then I walked into the main space... Nothing could have prepared me for the feeling in there. If anything at all were to prove to me anything at all about the power of place, it would have to be the Tempeliaukkion Kirkko... It hit me like a hammer, I found myself overwhelmed by emotion, tears running down my cheeks; right then, at that moment, I would have done anything to have stayed there forever. I have not experienced anything like it before or since. The walls are bare granite, blast marks clearly visible, the different colours within the rock giving a warmth to the light. The auditorium is filled with rows of seats for listeners of the many classical performances as well as religious services. The roof is an incredible disc of solid copper formed by connecting sections of copper plate into a spiral... http://www.sacred-destinations.com/finland/helsinki-rock-church-temppeliaukio The difference between the two churches could be more marked; the empty shell of the traditional cathedral, and the Church in the Rock, saturated with spirit. Every time we go, I have to top up my fix! I am an addict to this incredible energy...and so will you be... Book your flights and make your pilgrimage as soon as you can! - Posted using BlogPress from my iPad Location:<a href='http://maps.google.com/maps?q=Bed%20again!&z=10'>Bed again!</a></description><link>http://michellejonesmedia.blogspot.com/2011/07/to-be-pilgrim.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Michelle Jones)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8703453156320508110.post-2617554904668003735</guid><pubDate>Sun, 03 Jul 2011 23:23:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-07-03T16:23:42.118-07:00</atom:updated><title>Sunny days and muggy nights!</title><description>Just a quick post tonight as I am pretty tired...and apparently I have to get up hideously early tomorrow morning to make fresh lemon curd for my daughter's Lemon Drizzle cakes in her 'Food Tech' lesson. She cannot make do with a jar from the co-op up the road, she wants to score brownie points by having freely home made...and yes, I know I am pandering to her, but it does taste jolly nice, even if I say so myself! By the way, It's not cookery anymore, or even home economics...just the soulless sounding 'Food Tech' - and they wonder why kids don't find cooking inspiring? Call it something exciting and they might just discover a passion for creating delicious dishes! (I can dream!) Now what could we call it eh? I shall give it some thought. Anyhow, that was not what I had been planning to write about... It has often been commented upon that whilst other countries have a 'climate'; Britain only has 'weather', something which has always amused me...it is just so true! The last couple of weeks have been, erm, variable on the weather front. Anything from blazing sunshine and hot sticky nights to torrential rain and thunderstorms with a good dose of humidity, occasional cold days and some windy weather thrown in for good measure. Of course nobody likes it. It does not matter one jot what the weather is, we don't like it. It's too cold or too hot, too wet or too dry, too windy or not a breath of air to stir the heat. As the saying goes, if I had a penny for every time somebody had said that it was too hot for them over the last few days, I would have had enough to buy half a pint of diesel. We have no choice of course...we invest a huge amount of time and effort in predicting the weather, watching and reading about the weather and even now, fiddling with weather apps! In our home, 5 of us have smartphones and I have my beloved iPad too...so that's 6 different weather apps to compare with the tv, radio and newspaper forecasts. Why cannot we just accept that the weather will do what it eases and go back to the ancient art of looking out of the window?! Better still,use the time spent trying to work out what the weather will do, to gazing at what the weather is doing now... There is a beautiful scene constantly changing and unfolding above our heads, but only a few of us bother to look up. We are blessed with wonderfully changeable weather which gives us incredible cloud formations to give perspective and background to our daily lives. As an added bonus, the good weather right now is throwing up some of the most beautiful sunsets... Get out there and enjoy them! Incidentally, I have what I hope are some stunning sunset pics uploading from my husband's phone as I type...I shall upload them here tomorrow! - Posted using BlogPress from my iPad </description><link>http://michellejonesmedia.blogspot.com/2011/07/sunny-days-and-muggy-nights.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Michelle Jones)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8703453156320508110.post-6943638750808534700</guid><pubDate>Fri, 01 Jul 2011 17:44:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-07-01T10:44:18.656-07:00</atom:updated><title>You can&#39;t hurry a Murray...</title><description>I am watching Andy Murray play Rafa Nadal... As always it is a stress ridden, edge of the seat, frustrating, nervy and downright ohgodIcannotbeartowatch experience. The Tsonga match was bad enough; I did so want him to win, but in the end, Jokovitch had the better game and will be playing in the final on Sunday. But who will he be playing? Nadal is playing extremely well, Murray has had a distinctly dodgy second set, after a fabulous first set and Rafa won something like 7 games on the trot. He has broken Andy's serve in the third set as well. Andy now needs to 'dig deep', as the commentators, safe in their comfy studios and commentary boxes are fond of saying. It is all very well for them, they are nice and safe...not like us shredding our fingernails here at home! Hey ho. However Murray plays it, he will need to draw on his reserves of focus and determination and somehow keep playing to the highest standard he possibly can- despite being down that break, knowing that the hopes of the nation are on his shoulders... I think we put so much pressure on our hopefuls, that they are almost bound to crumble under the pressure. Still, there's a long way to go in this match yet...I really hope Andy Murray can win it...but if he does not win it this year, there is always another chance next year...and the year after that! Whatever happens, I am proud of his achievements, and so should he be. My best friend is hoping that Rafa wins...We may fall out...! - Posted using BlogPress from my iPad Location:<a href='http://maps.google.com/maps?q=At%20my%20best%20friends%20home!%20(For%20a%20change)&z=10'>At my best friends home! (For a change)</a></description><link>http://michellejonesmedia.blogspot.com/2011/07/you-can-hurry-murray.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Michelle Jones)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8703453156320508110.post-6641312045844559916</guid><pubDate>Tue, 28 Jun 2011 23:39:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-06-28T16:39:49.526-07:00</atom:updated><title>An Angel Shouted &#39;Hoi!, What&#39;s Your Game Chummy?!</title><description>If you ever wonder if the gods, whoever and wherever they may be, have a sense of humour, this should give you an idea... I had forgotten about this incident until recently; I was looking through some old diaries and found this from December 1976...I was just 14 at the time... 'Today started out well at school, we had all clubbed together to buy John Boy, (name changed to protect the guilty!), the bloke we all fancied, a Christmas present. We bought him a cigarette lighter, but decided we didn't want him to get lung cancer, so we wrote a warning on the wrapping paper. I was the only one brave enough to give it to him (out of a form of about 30!), so we all signed the card and at lunchtime I went to find him. I did find him, but he was snogging a sixth former in one of the labs...so I waited until they came up for air, and then gave it to him, on behalf of all of us. I think he liked it, he said thank you a lot!' The poor chap must have been terrified at the thought of 30 manic hormone ridden teens all lusting after him...and as for writing a warning on the present not to smoke...oh god the whole thing is just too painful! I was always the one who went up and asked, who crept into empty classrooms and left notes in desks...I think I was hoping it would give me a greater sense of being included; I was lucky to have some very good friends, but I suffered from lack of confidence...and made up for it, by appearing over confident. Over the years I have managed to mostly get it under control; anxiety can make us behave in all sorts of bizarre ways...I have even asked for Jim 'Here's what you would have won' (Bullseye) Bowen's autograph on behalf of a work colleague in a hotel in Woverhampton! The moral of this story is don't take yourself too seriously, and don't feel obliged to do all the daft things you are asked to! ...And if the angels didn't have a good laugh setting me up for that last one, they really don't have a sense of humour! - Posted using BlogPress from my iPad Location:<a href='http://maps.google.com/maps?q=Snoozy%20place&z=10'>Snoozy place</a></description><link>http://michellejonesmedia.blogspot.com/2011/06/angel-shouted-what-your-game-chummy.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Michelle Jones)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8703453156320508110.post-782457288801862027</guid><pubDate>Mon, 27 Jun 2011 23:16:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-06-27T16:16:04.773-07:00</atom:updated><title>Guardian Angels</title><description>I firmly believe that each of us has at least one Guardian Angel; I have had several experiences that have convinced me of this, although my proof may not prove anything of the sort to you! Let me give you an example. We visited Helsinki in February this year (Finland; beautiful country, wonderful people, magnificent chocolate), but unfortunately I broke a toe a couple of days before we left. I was extremely nervous about boarding the plane, it is always a scrum, allocated seats or not, and the thought of my toe being trodden on was making me feel nauseous... We were waiting at the gate, and Phil, my husband wandered off to find a loo...naturally the flight was called the minute he vanished from sight, and horror of horrors...we had to go by bus to the plane! I watched as it filled up; so many passengers in such a small space! By the time Phil reappeared, there were no seats and very little standing room and I was certain of being severely injured... Now whilst I was waiting for Phil to reappear, I had been on the hotline to my Guardian Angels, with an emergency request for help... As we went through the gate, all I could see were people crammed into the bus, right up to the doors...I wasn't even sure there was room for us...when suddenly, the driver came up to us and said there were two seats right behind the drivers seat, and we should have them! Now at no time had I told anyone of my predicament, or asked for special treatment, he had appeared right out of the blue! The other standing passengers (there were many) looked on in surprise; it was almost as if those two seats had been invisible up until that moment... But more was to follow! As we approached the plane on the tarmac, I knew I still had the worst part in front of me, fighting through a narrow aisle full of folks trying to find their seats and put luggage overhead...but as the bus stopped by the steps, the driver only opened the doors in front of us, so that I was the first off the bus and the first up the steps and onto the plane! I have to believe in Divine intervention after that! ...But I appreciate you might not! So how do you find your own 'proof'? The first thing is to accept (just for the purposes of this experiment), that angels exist. You then need to ask for a sign that they can hear you, and that sign can take all sorts of forms; what you can be absolutely sure of, is that it will be a sign which only means something to you. The most convincing evidence comes when we are in real need, like me with my toe (!), but your Guardian Angel will respond to every one of your requests...you just might need to learn to spot them. Look for something that comes when you ask...not hours or days later, something that provokes a real response from you, at a deep emotional level. I tend to laugh a lot; somehow knowing that they are there watching over me just makes me giggle! I shall write more on angel signs another day, but will leave you with another of my personal experiences... My car is called Baby Blue; she is a 2008 Fiesta in Pompey (Portsmouth Football Club) Blue, and she is the only car I have had from brand new! She has a little glitch...something it will probably take a man with a computer days to trace...which is why I am not bothering right now! Sometimes, the radio console is dead when you turn it on; no lights, no anything. It stays dead for a varying amount of time and no amount of fiddling will have any effect. So one morning, I get into Baby Blue, start the engine and there is no radio; I was not a happy bunny anyway, things were not going well, so as I drove I was asking the Angels for a sign that all would be well... ...About 10 minutes into the journey, the radio sang into life, right at the point where Aretha sings the line 'I say a little prayer for you...' I burst out laughing and thanked them for their attention and response, but then, a few minutes later, I was worrying again, so as I parked up, I was asking for yet another sign, to prove the first one was a proper sign! I had hardy got to the end of the plea, walking along the pavement under some overhanging trees, when I walked into the perfect fluffy white feather hanging by a gossamer thread... Fair enough. I get the message! - Posted using BlogPress from my iPad Location:<a href='http://maps.google.com/maps?q=You%20guessed%20it!&z=10'>You guessed it!</a></description><link>http://michellejonesmedia.blogspot.com/2011/06/guardian-angels.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Michelle Jones)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8703453156320508110.post-6802225030073406569</guid><pubDate>Sun, 26 Jun 2011 21:50:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-06-26T14:50:12.996-07:00</atom:updated><title>Frustrated Golfist Blues</title><description>It has been a really hot day; blue skies and soaring temperatures, an ideal day to try my hand on the golf course! I have always liked golf; one of the few good things my father shared with me, was his time out on the golf course.. Over 18 of the 20 years that Phil and I have been together, he has robustly maintained his Opinion that golf was a good walk spoilt, however, a round with our friend Ross 2 years ago changed all that, so that now I am danger of becoming a golf widow! I got straight out there with him, but fate took a hand (or foot) and comprehensively killed a tendon in my left foot! This has left me seriously impaired in the golfing stakes; unable to wear the proper footwear and with treatment ongoing, I had to take a break... You simply cannot buy ladies golf shoes with a wedge heel, well, except for the TipTeeToe ones in the USA, which cost as much to ship over as the shoos themselves! So today, I tried it with an orthotic support in my.golf shoes...way too painful...and then my sandal...feet don't hurt but it puts me off balance so I have to learn my stance again... Oh boy was I awful... My swing ranged from mildly ghastly to laughable...the ball went just about everywhere but forwards...and of course, the more frustrated you become, the worse it gets... It wasn't all doom and gloom, I had a few passable shots, but I have relearnt an important lesson or two, or three... 1. Don't try and play all the holes... Select the ones you like, and drive the buggy the rest of the time! 2. At least try to stay calm... 3. Celebrate the better shots, and learn from the rest, and... Enjoy the sunshine and the company! - Posted using BlogPress from my iPad Location:<a href='http://maps.google.com/maps?q=In%20Bed%20Again!%20&z=10'>In Bed Again! </a></description><link>http://michellejonesmedia.blogspot.com/2011/06/frustrated-golfist-blues.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Michelle Jones)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8703453156320508110.post-3017815114210186533</guid><pubDate>Fri, 24 Jun 2011 23:08:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-06-24T16:08:49.410-07:00</atom:updated><title>It&#39;s Very Late</title><description>Despite what you might think from the time displayed on these Blogs...actually I write late at night, from my bed! I am not in bed in the mud afternoon even though it insists it's about 3.00 or 4.00pm... So if anyone has worked out how to set the time...let me know please! - Posted using BlogPress from my iPad Location:<a href='http://maps.google.com/maps?q=Still%20in%20bed!&z=10'>Still in bed!</a></description><link>http://michellejonesmedia.blogspot.com/2011/06/it-very-late.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Michelle Jones)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8703453156320508110.post-4689658820412917769</guid><pubDate>Fri, 24 Jun 2011 22:57:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-06-24T15:57:37.181-07:00</atom:updated><title>On being a winner...</title><description>I have been glued to the telly tonight, watching Andy Murray in action in the third round at Wimbledon. He was playing Ljubicic (loo-be-chitch), a veteran player at 32, and someone who has certainly come through an awful lot to get where he is. As a young player, being driven around by his father in Bosnia, they were stopped by hooded gunmen and scared stupid; his father sent him and his mother abroad to safety after that and for six months he did not know if his dad he was alive or dead... Thankfully, he did reappear and after some time as refugees in several countries, the young Ljubicic was spotted by an Italian coach and the rest as they say, is history. He has been ranked in the Top 10 in previous years, but is most definitely not yet ready to throw in the towel and retire! He played with skill and determination, his years of experience at times giving him a distinct edge and demonstrating that you do not always need power shots to get the upper hand... He used very gentle short taps over the net to devastating effect on several occasions! Ljubicic won the first set, Murray won the second, and stormed through the third. The game swung first to one, then the other, and even for those of us used to the edge-of-the-seat-nerves of watching any British player at Wimbledon, it was stressful! But young Andy has come a long way, not just physically, but mentally. Yes, you could see the frustration when he lost a point, or fluffed a shot, but he got over it, and moved on. Not only that, but he moved on very quickly; in any fast paced game, such as tennis (or life!) you cannot afford to hang about, you need to be taking the positives and using them to learn how to avoid the pitfalls next time. Murray eventually won in a tiebreak at the end of the fourth set; we all heaved a sigh of relief and can now relax and watch the Roger and Raffa show tomorrow! But both players were winners tonight; it was a fantastically entertaining match! Murray may be headed into the fourth round, but we haven't seen the last of Ljubicic, I am sure of that... Remember, never give up...if things don't pan out as you plan, change the plan! - Posted using BlogPress from my iPad Location:<a href='http://maps.google.com/maps?q=Yep,%20in%20bed!&z=10'>Yep, in bed!</a></description><link>http://michellejonesmedia.blogspot.com/2011/06/on-being-winner.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Michelle Jones)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8703453156320508110.post-6737122089438582993</guid><pubDate>Thu, 23 Jun 2011 22:01:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-06-23T15:01:12.757-07:00</atom:updated><title>Embracing the mud at Glastonbury!</title><description>So Glastonbury weekend is upon us once more and this year, just for a change, it has rained! However, in an unexpected twist, it hurled it down mightily just as the gates opened, which has led to the most incredible quagmire of mud...two whole days before the music has even started! Are the festival attendees downhearted? Absolutely not! One family, putting up their tent in driving rain commented on their determination to enjoy themselves come what may in a display of pure British grit, whilst other announced their intentions of 'embracing the mud', a sentiment that seemed entirely appropriate! I think that they are all going to have a truly fabulous experience...the forecast for the rest of the festival is not that bad, but whatever the weather, they certainly won't forget the first day, with the torrential rain and thick, all consuming mud... It's the stuff of legend! ...and if you are wondering how that translates into a 'spiritual' lesson, just think for a moment... How do you react when things don't go as you planned? Do you huff and puff...complain that it's all gone wrong...maybe even sulk...or do you revise the plans to embrace the changes, face up to things with a smile and do your best to enjoy yourself anyway! It is not always easy to shrug things off, but a positive attitude and a willingness to work to make the best of things brings many benefits...not the least of which is being a happier, more contented soul. Embrace the mud! Be dirty, but happy! - Posted using BlogPress from my iPad Location:<a href='http://maps.google.com/maps?q=Bed%20again...&z=10'>Bed again...</a></description><link>http://michellejonesmedia.blogspot.com/2011/06/embracing-mud-at-glastonbury.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Michelle Jones)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8703453156320508110.post-2657925727056865455</guid><pubDate>Wed, 22 Jun 2011 22:21:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-06-22T15:21:10.844-07:00</atom:updated><title>Eeny Meeny Miny Mo...</title><description>How do you make your choices? Do you weigh up the pros and cons of each option, look at what others have to say, write lists, think about what you are prepared to compromise on...get second opinions...or...do you just go for the first thing you see, or whatever feels right?! I know it depends on the situation; you are going to compare tv's or computers, of course that's only right, but what about those choices where you cannot look at what ReeVoo has to say? What about those situations in life that could make a real difference? For example, some years ago now, I was offered two different jobs. Both paid about the same, both had a similar status, career progression etc. How did I choose? I used my Inner Voice, the deep seated instinct that knows what is good for us... The thing is that most of us tend to ignore that voice; we override it with what our ego mind, that part of us that looks after the everyday stuff, the me me me stuff, we listen to what that voice says. Try this simple test; it's daft but you'll get the idea... Take two different bars of your favourite chocolate (or biscuits, cakes, beer, whatever) and get a friend to hide them behind their back, one in each hand. They have to be things you have real difficulty in choosing between... When the hand is revealed, was it the one you really wanted? Or did you really want the other one? What was your inner voice telling you? Here is another one; you are out shopping when you spot a stunning pair of boots that you really want, but don't really need and cannot afford...do you walk away with a happy heart...? Or do you (eventually) give in and buy them anyway! We know what is good for us, we know what is right for us...but most of the time we ignore it and do as we damn well want to! So next time a choice comes your way; listen to your inner voice, and put away that credit card...you know it makes sense! By the way...those two job offers? I did not take either of them...I stayed put. My inner voice told me to tell my boss I had been approached by a rival company-and he promoted me and raised my salary! - Posted using BlogPress from my iPad Location:<a href='http://maps.google.com/maps?q=My%20bed!&z=10'>My bed!</a></description><link>http://michellejonesmedia.blogspot.com/2011/06/eeny-meeny-miny-mo.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Michelle Jones)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8703453156320508110.post-2256094215099397728</guid><pubDate>Tue, 21 Jun 2011 22:53:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-06-21T15:53:51.002-07:00</atom:updated><title>Summer Solstice</title><description>Today is the Summer Solstice, the longest day of the year. Now I have heard quite a few comments today, along the lines of it being 'all downhill until Christmas'- and it can be really easy to allow ourselves to be drawn into this way of thinking...but I want to challenge you to think differently. Ask yourself this question: 'Which of the following statements improves my mood-makes me feel better...?' 1. It's the longest day today...that means the nights will start drawing in soon! 2. It's the longest day today...that means the summer is here! Ok, so I hope you went for the second statement, but you see what I mean. How we think about things, down to the smallest details or our everyday lives, has an impact on our mood, our sense of well being. Try this: for one whole day, make sure every single you say is a positive thing; if you cannot say something positive, don't say it! My 'Big Grandma'* used to say that if you couldn't find something good to say about a person, keep your mouth shut! Good advice! It is so easy to slip into using negative phrases, we don't even realise it is happening... But back to the Summer Solstice... It has been the sort of day you would expect in England for summer, glorious sunshine interspersed with heavy showers, but the skies have been incredible and I have been busy with my camera... Remember to look up occasionally, sometimes the skies are filled with angels... All the following pics were taken from the passenger seat of our car in a 20 minute journey from Petersfield to Cowplain... <center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/theangelreader/TheAngelBlog?authkey=Gv1sRgCNqR5-vAzY-A8gE#5620809859305368482'><img src='http://lh3.ggpht.com/--9W8F0PPQWY/TgEgyWXo66I/AAAAAAAAAEY/jp-G4LUxT-g/s288/2.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center> The sun through layers of dark grey...still shining through... <center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/theangelreader/TheAngelBlog?authkey=Gv1sRgCNqR5-vAzY-A8gE#5620809914695228658'><img src='http://lh3.ggpht.com/-etvMblkWsBI/TgEg1ktnHPI/AAAAAAAAAEc/RtXl9NVmUug/s288/1.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center> Through the vast glass roof of our Peugeot Estate, the rain streaks across at speed, whilst blue sky is visible! <center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/theangelreader/TheAngelBlog?authkey=Gv1sRgCNqR5-vAzY-A8gE#5620809978031368162'><img src='http://lh6.ggpht.com/-leJSkNqrknE/TgEg5QqH5-I/AAAAAAAAAEg/BH9EqqJ2dS8/s288/0.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center> The violent shower has passed and there are many layers of cloud at different levels in the atmosphere... <center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/theangelreader/TheAngelBlog?authkey=Gv1sRgCNqR5-vAzY-A8gE#5620810025157064994'><img src='http://lh6.ggpht.com/-J9JJml7n_8A/TgEg8ANw-SI/AAAAAAAAAEk/7a3AG97tnyA/s288/3.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center> By the time we are nearly home, the sky is filled with these beautiful cirrus hooks! <center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/theangelreader/TheAngelBlog?authkey=Gv1sRgCNqR5-vAzY-A8gE#5620810075240635554'><img src='http://lh4.ggpht.com/-NWnBAqcI-QE/TgEg-6ynnKI/AAAAAAAAAEo/WerloS9gwak/s288/4.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center> Taken from my front doorstep, these incredible glowing cirrus remind me of hosts of angels... Do you have any fabulous cloud pics? Send them to me at michellejonesmedia@gmail.com Until next time, stay positive and Look Up! Michelle x Posted using BlogPress from my iPad Location:<a href='http://maps.google.com/maps?q=Home%20in%20the%20South%20Downs&z=10'>Home in the South Downs</a></description><link>http://michellejonesmedia.blogspot.com/2011/06/summer-solstice.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Michelle Jones)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://lh3.ggpht.com/--9W8F0PPQWY/TgEgyWXo66I/AAAAAAAAAEY/jp-G4LUxT-g/s72-c/2.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8703453156320508110.post-3365987961620116772</guid><pubDate>Mon, 16 May 2011 20:07:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-05-16T14:11:49.108-07:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Angels</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Buriton</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Guardian Angels</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Henry VIII</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Padstow</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">solent</category><title>Rambling on...</title><description>Now that we are approaching the lightest part of the year (how I don't know, honestly it is only a couple of weeks since Christmas isn't it?!), lots of us are taking to the great outdoors... We have had a glorious prelude to summer (oh please let it be a good one!) and along with millions of others, I have 'casted my clouts, before May be out'. The summer clothes came down from the loft a lot earlier than usual and I then went through the annual process of sporting out which of them were still worth keeping and/or wearing. Rather scarily, I am disposing of an awful lot this year, helped along by my daughter, who at the ripe old age of 14, has decided she ought to move on from wearing stuff for 11-12 year olds! Anyway, I am desperate to get out and up on the downs... There are places up there where I can sit and forget everything except the sun and wind on my face, the sound of the breeze through the leaves and grasses, and the glitter of the Solent away to the south. I feel a very strong link to my ancestors up there; I can never prove that I was from here in the far far distant past, not prove with documents, and family trees... But I know that I was. Every time that I drive up and down the A3 past Clanfield, I feel that pull...that sense of belonging somewhere. A few years ago, we did some research into our family history and discovered that our children, by a random stroke of fate, had ended up attending the same school as their great great grandmother...sitting in exactly the same classrooms as she did. It's a very strange thought... They attended Buriton Primary School, a delightful village school in the heart of the downs; the village has a wonderful and ancient church...my forebears are in the churchyard, something I had no idea of during the 16 years of attending school nativity plays! Buriton used to be a major stopping off point on the way from London to Portsmouth; Henry VIII would have passed through on his way to review the fleet... Nowadays it is a sleepy village, just off the A3 Dual Carriageway, 2 pubs, no shop. If you go up Kiln Lane from the crossroads by the Master Robert, you can turn left and enter the recreation ground through a gate set into the hedge. I highly recommend it, you are greeted with the most wonderful scene; the smooth green of the recreation ground, complete with cricket pitch; the Victorian school buildings on one side,,,and the tree covered downs rising up on the other. The effect is of being in a vast amphitheatre, or bowl; for me it is quintessentially English. In the Village Hall car park, also next to the recreation ground, is my favourite Horse Chestnut tree; it is no exaggeration when I say that I have had thousands of conkers from that tree! I have rambled away from my point here-sorry-which was to say that if you are hoping to get closer to that sense of connection to the Divine Spirit, to your Guardian Angels, to Mother Nature...then you need to get outside! It doesn't matter if you live in an urban area; I know I am incredibly lucky to have the downs and the sea on my doorstep; what matters is that you take yourself outside. Take off your shoes and feel the ground beneath your feet; feel that connection to the earth. Lay down and spend some time watching the clouds passing overhead; have you ever really watched the ever changing skies...it is beautiful... If you have a really special place, somewhere really personal to you, then go and sit with your eyes closed; take some deap and slow breaths, in through the nose, and out through the mouth... Ask for your Guardian Angels to come close, to keep you and yours safe; ask them whatever you want! when we are outside, it is easier for them to hear us. In a couple of weeks we are going on holiday, to Cornwall. we did not manage to get there last year and I cannot wait... We will drive down the hill into Padstow and it will feel like coming home; a different home, a home from home... I have special places there too; I am looking forward to reconnecting with those places, spending time in St. Georges Cove/Bay flying the big kite, building labyrinths in the sand. All the different types of sand... Hard sand Soft Sand Ripple Sand Pillow sand Soft Pillow sand Painful sand Wainful sand ...ask my daughter! I really am rambling now, and I haven't even had a drink! Goodnight!</description><link>http://michellejonesmedia.blogspot.com/2011/05/rambling-on.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Michelle Jones)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item></channel></rss>

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