Lost luggage…

Chiromancer1 Comment

Semi- useful facts about Finland.  1. Population 4.5 million. This makes Finland the most sparsely populated country in Northern Europe 2. Home of the Nokia and the Northern lights. Phones and fun, but not necessarily in that order 3. Part owner of the world’s worst airline. Yep, the Finnish government has a majority stakeholding in Finnair – 55.8% to be exact.

Semi-useful facts about Finnair.  1. They carry approximately 8.8 million passengers per year.  2. They manage to lose luggage on a regular basis.  This week, they even managed to lose my bags twice!  Annoying, yes.  Life-threatening…? well, probably only for the customer service department at Helsinki airport.

As I stood waiting next to the carousel for a suitcase that was not coming, I got thinking about our attachment to ‘stuff’.  Why do we get upset when our luggage goes astray or our things don’t end up where we are? And as I defrosted the car and began a long, wintry drive home, I wondered about the other baggage we carry so freely. You know, the stuff we think is invisible to others (it’s not by the way), the stuff that nevertheless weighs us down, because it stops us from seizing the opportunity to shine as ourselves.  Why don’t we get upset about that 20kg of emotional baggage that we’d be better off losing if we are to journey lightly through life? Perhaps it’s better to travel without possession.  People matter far more than ski boots and souvenirs.

Larssen B

Chiromancer1 Comment

I’ve spent the last few days dogsledding in Finland.  It’s minus twenty celsius and cold enough to freeze any extremities that may not be gloved, hatted or wrapped.  It’s also starkly beautiful – surrounded by nordic forest, blanketed in snow and lit by the arctic sun, we are staying at a hotel on a lake about two kilometres away from the Russian Border.

So far, one of the many highlights of my adventure has been driving a team of huskies and learning how to steer a  sled…and yesterday, dancing until dawn to bring in the New Year in the company of friends and more than one bottle of bubbly. Of course the party dress was packed without the posh shoes, so my snow boots had to double as seasonal attire.  Very attractive!

Until I made a pact with myself to go away each New Year, I always used to dread the burden of expectation that accompanies these celebrations. Somehow on demand happy didn’t happen for me.  Now my time away brings the opportunity to reflect on the year that was and a fresh perspective on the year that will be.   I don’t yet know what 2010 holds, but the fun will be in finding out.

Kansas…

Chiromancer1 Comment

2009 has been a tempestuous year. You know, the sort of twelve month period where your world spins on its axis and you wake up without your red shoes and little dog Toto in the sort of place where not everything is what it seems to be.

I’ve met the cowardly lion, the tin man and loads of oompa loompas in between. I’m not sure I like any of them.  The coward deserves to be stuffed or made into a rug, the heartless tin man should be recycled and turned into a can… and, as for the oompa loompas…well, they really should carry a health warning before they are let out amongst the general populace.

With Christmas looming, I’ve decided to get ahead of myself and write my gratitude, goodbye and intentions list.  It’s something I’ve started doing because I’m usually rubbish at New Year’s Resolutions. And anyway,  perfection is hard to maintain in a tornado!  So, I’m writing a list of all the things that happened that I’m grateful for, all the things I am clicking my heels and putting in the box marked ‘o’ for over, and setting my goals for the next 12 months.  Somehow it feels better than simply making a list that says: 1. no booze 2. no sweets 3. no schoolboys.  (OK, I was only joking about the last one).

Whatever you are doing this Christmas, whether you celebrate the Winter Solstice, the birth of Christ or just the opportunity to spend some relaxing time at home, I hope this festive season is a good one. May 2010 bring all of us a little shelter, a lot of love and no more natural disasters!

The Secret Ingredient…

Chiromancer1 Comment

When I was little, my dad, who wasn’t terribly good at DIY made my mom a ‘kitchen island’.  It was a wooden cupboard on wheels (moveable, hence the ‘island’ moniker), with louvre doors and seventies ‘yeah baby’ orange and brown glaze tiles on the top.  It was made with love. It was hideous. It ended up beside the stove and served as a vegetable cupboard-cum-potstand.  In this case the wheels were superfluous because the kitchen island never moved.  But it was loved in return. 

That kitchen island was there on Sunday nights when my father made pancakes.  He was a good – but very messy – chef. He cooked with emotion and lots of utensils! Drove my mom bonkers. She had to wash up!  My dad was also the person who taught me to fling spaghetti at the wall to see if it was done ‘al dente’.  If it sticks, it’s ready!  Yes, that kitchen island was there when he died and we all sat at the kitchen table missing him as small girls in an uncertain world. My mom missed him the most because she loved him best. I think perhaps it was because they both discovered curry together!   It was hard to see that kitchen island and not think of him.

And yet, in her own unassuming way,  the person who taught my sisters and I the meaning of togetherness when we were growing up was my mom.  Sundays in our house were always roast dinner in winter and braais (barbeques) in summer. My mom grew up in a country that could not be described as the culinary capital of the world – though they probably could claim the patent for inventing the potato!  Despite this, she made fantastic homemade pizza, superb sweet and sour chicken and a pretty good curry.  You know, the old fashioned type served with sultanas, chopped tomato and cucumber and dessicated coconut. Yum! Yum!  I often think of those meals! 

Even today, mealtimes are important for my sisters and I.  They are a chance to get friends and loved ones round the table – to share the news of the day, to commiserate, to celebrate, to laugh and perhaps to cry when we remember absent friends and fathers. We all cook with passion…and I must admit, a fair degree of garlic, herbs and other spices. Fresh, of course!  I think for each of us, cooking brings particular pleasure. I’m not a baker (too scientific) but I can make pavlova.  My middle sister does a fab roast pork, and my baby sister has a cracking recipe for apple crumble with Toblerone! It’s our recipe for love – the secret ingredient you will never find in any book, but one that nonetheless makes a meal that is cooked with care and thought, taste great.

Strong opinions, weakly held…

Chiromancer1 Comment

Modern life is rubbish, but modern romance is even rubbisher.  I’m writing this post in despair at the parlous state of the British male of the species. Now before all my male friends get shirty, this particular post does not refer to you.  But, I should say that names have been changed to protect the guilty, and Mr Unique is so definitely not.  Girls, you get the picture…

 So, me…sensible woman, not unintelligent, no scales and only one head.  Him, ok bloke – nice looking, own hair and teeth (always a plus) seems reasonable. So far, so good.   Everything was going swimmingly until he said: ‘I have strong opinions, weakly held’…Now I don’t know if it was the fact that he turned out to be a fence-sitter (that’s usually not a comfortable place to be) or the fact that he sent me an email with a You Tube version of Danny Boy, sung by Muppets – no really, Muppets…Either he was implying that secretly he was a felt puppet with bad hair or that is what passes for sense of humour these days.  So, that was the kiss of death as far as I was concerned.  See my previous post, ‘Things that make you go ha!’ to understand why a shared sense of humour is crucial.

But it got me thinking.  What is the point of having a strong opinion if its only weakly held. That just seems like a cop-out. Strong opinions, strongly held are what led to the abolition of slavery, enshrined voting rights for the suffragettes, got the first man to walk on the moon. On balance, I’d prefer a strongly minded man than one who seems a bit soft in the head.

Bicycle

ChiromancerLeave a comment

My bike has spent seven years rusting in the side return of a Victorian semi.  I bought it on a whim, rode it once or twice and then when the incentive (who was also the person who convinced me that cycling would be a good idea) took a left turn and never came back, the bike sort of stayed where it was.

Everytime I looked at that bike it reminded me of all the horrid things that happened in that relationship, but more than anything else, it just reminded me of failure. My failure.  How stupid I had been to let someone that ego-driven and selfish into my life – and by mistake.  It was a totally unintentional sort of thing.   The incentive (tall, dark and handsome, of course) invaded with ease and charm. I regret that he got past my defences so easily.  I regretted that bicycle too, but I couldn’t bring myself to give it away.

When I moved house, the bike moved too. Funny really, because a lot of things that were more loved, were left behind and didn’t make the journey down to the coast. The cat, for instance. After the move, when I was unpacking, I found a list I had written at the beginning of this year. It said:  ‘get bicycle fixed’.  It might as well have said, ‘mend broken heart’.  So I did.  I wheeled the rusty, decrepid thing down to the bike shop and asked the nice man behind the counter to take a look and see what could be done to repair the worn tires, adjust the rusty gears and stop it from squeaking when it went over a bump.

Two weeks later, that bike is fixed. Shiny, non-squeaky and fast as lightning.  We went for an inaugural ride along the beach today. Like most people starting something new, I wobbled a bit at first. Then somehow the sea and sky worked their magic.   The wind blew, the bike flew.  And as we passed the regular dog walkers, anglers and pensioned perambulators I felt a sneak of happiness.

Things that make you go ha…

Chiromancer3 Comments

It’s dinner time, and I have just finished listening to Laura Solon, a really funny comedienne on R4. After today’s episode,  I am sure my neighbours think I am a lunatic…if they don’t, they probably will after all the maniacal laughter that’s been emanating from my kitchen. Of course, I do realise that my sense of humour is what helps me laugh at what it prevents me from having. You know…a normal life…2.4 kids, pets, a husband and a station wagon. Ha, ha, ha…

Laughter is good for the soul but not everyone finds the same things funny.  Personally, I cannot stand Ben Stiller films (though Zoolander might be a notable exception) and modern Hollywood comedy leaves me cold. Please bin those rubbish films like ‘Knocked up’ and ’40 year old virgin’.  Utter dumbassery (as a good friend of mine would say)! I also must be the only person in England who hated (and I say this unreservedly) – H.A.T.E.D.- ‘Four Weddings and a funeral’ – not funny, just stupid and stereotypical!  Cheese-fest, deluxe.  Give me a Chuck Norris film any day!

As you’ve probably sussed by now, my particular laughing gas is wit. So, what makes me smile:

1. Well-honed political satire, word-play and intelligent slapstick! Dry humour a la Paul Merton or Jack Dee, or really interesting stuff  like Monty Python.Having said that, I’ve never really got Reeves and Mortimer.  And I must draw the line at League of Gentlemen – that just brings disturbing to a whole new level. 

2. Rude-ish limericks! an old English tradition. One of my great loves captured my heart when he told me a very rude – but very erudite – joke – I’ve never forgotten it, and it still makes me chuckle even after 20 years!

3. Silly things.  I know, I know…I’ve been deriding ‘stupidity’ but the Cravendale advert on TV (the one with the lucky packet cows and plastic model footballers) is sheer genius. Milk! Milk!  Watch the ads if you want to understand the punchline. Same goes for Laurel and Hardy.

4. I laugh when really arrogant people fall off their perches in a big way. Simon Cowell, I am still waiting, but my friend Nubian is probably going to slap you with her Louboutin’s one day soon, so you have been warned! And yes, Gordo, I will laugh when you lose the next election and get tried for war crimes along with your pal Tone.

By this point, my dark soul is probably emerging – roused by the laughter, no doubt.  So its time to sign off, but I’m curious.  What makes you chuckle, laugh, roar…answers on a comment pls.

Gift Horse

Chiromancer1 Comment

One of my favourite bands sing a line that goes: ‘This is a gift, it comes with a price’.  As the Christmas shopping season kicks off a frenzy of materialism and over-consumption – my thoughts have turned to those gifts that don’t come prettily wrapped with a bow.  You know, those gifts that cleverly disguise themselves as a learning experience but turn out to be karmic kickings – never timely, not always welcome and often without clear purpose until you see the experience through to the other end.

For me, as for many of my friends and family members, 2009 has come with it’s fair share of ‘gifts’.  Houses needing to be sold and lives started over, jobs and lovers lost, sickness and bereavement. Not exactly the sort of presents you’d want to find under the tree.  What I’d term ‘random acts of unkindness’ if I actually believed in some sort of superior deity.

In life, we often get what we need.  And if we need to learn lessons, then that becomes our experience, no matter how hard the teaching.  But experiences can be good as well. 2009 has also come with gifts that bring joy: wedding celebrations, the ‘all clear’ from cancer for a friend’s husband, the announcement of new life as babies are conceived and excitedly anticipated.  Our world holds so much promise and it’s gift to us is like a new day.  It’s not what happens to us that matters – circumstance does not need to define us. It’s what we do with the gifts we’ve been given.

A god (dess) of small things…

Chiromancer1 Comment

Over 200 years ago, Blake, in his Auguries of Innocence, wrote ‘To see a World in a Grain on Sand, And a Heaven in a Wild Flower, Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand, and Eternity in an hour’. I think what he meant was that the secret of happiness does not reside in grand sweeping moments, but rather is to be found in those small, still moments of intimacy that modern life does its best to stop us from noticing.

I’ve moved down to the coast, and I’m fortunate enough to be in an area where there are both brutal landscapes (industrially attractive shingle beaches, rough-hewn piers) and wild spaces (cement sea, greenery and white cliffs).  I grew up in the Cape which probably has some of the best beaches in the world, but somehow my rough little patch of SE England has beauty all of its own.    It’s an under-rated place – like the shy girl in high school who looked a bit nerdy and then turned out to be a beautiful swan, or the woman whose sense of humour helps her to laugh at what it prevents her from having.  It needs time – and courage – to be appreciated.  It also needs patience – noticing that rare seaside plant or beautiful butterfly when walking on the Leas, seeing the possibility in newly harvested fields with rough, stubbly remnants of crops, and hearing the seagulls and guillemots and ring-necked doves greet the morning… along with the high speed train and the ambulance rushing to the local hospital!

Despite being a non-believer, I know that I believe in the god (or goddess) of small things.  In life, as in business, its the small things that really matter.  A warm smile, a lovely day, a beautiful autumn scene – that man on the tube who gave me his seat, my coffee shop guy in the station who greets me like a long lost friend, even though he does not know me,  the local shopowner who was kind and comforted a distressed nine-year old by calling her mother, the optician who gave me a discount and a free eye test just because he could. Small, but important things.

Having moved from a massive city to what I would term the coastal boondocks, it’s been an adjustment, but its also been a pleasure.  Don’t get me wrong – in my small pocket of London where I used to live, my neighbours were fantastic.  I miss them.   But I also know that the people in my pier-side town have restored my faith in the little things.

People we love…

Chiromancer1 Comment

Last night I spent time re-reading an old diary.  It dates back to when I was a teenager and is filled with notes from friends I made when I was an exchange student in the mid-West of America.  As I started reading the notes again, I realised that there were so many people who have come into my life as friends at  key points… Growing up, university, moving countries, coming home.  Some of them are still in my life, others have welcomely returned as my world comes full circle.

The wonder (and curse) of social media means we can now reach out to eachother in ways that we didn’t before.   Though clearly some facebookers think amassing friends is a competitive sport!   I’m also amazed by those married couples who only appear to communicate via comments on each others pages…It’s meant to be a relationship, not a communique, surely?  But that’s probably the subject of another blog.

For my part, I’m glad that the friends I’ve missed and loved are back in touch.   When you are far away from family or lovers – separated by time or geography or circumstance – friends are the people who get you through those tough times.  They become your surrogate family – they are there when your heart is breaking, to hug you and give you a glass of wine while you sob on the sofa, they are there with words of encouragement when your biggest challenge proves to be your biggest fear, and they share your excitement when good things happen.  Humans are social animals and our friends are a very necessary part of our lives. Too often life (work, commuting, stress) gets in the way of spending time with those friends.

When I go on holiday, I’ve developed a habit of sending myself a postcard with a list of ‘resolutions’ or things I’d like to change or do differently in my life. If I post it on my last day, it usually arrives when I’m back.  And it serves as a useful reminder of my good intentions – and a bit of a nudge, if I’m honest.   I’m off to the wilderness in about a month, and I think one of the items on my postcard will be to be better at keeping in touch with my friends.