...reading and writing....

The great thing about the internet is it's ability to suddenly make you travel back in time.
As a kid, I didn't just read the Narnia books, I devoured them. Every old house I was in, I checked out the back of the wardrobe, hoping beyond hope that amongst the ordinary clothes of great-aunts and uncles, lay some furs, some furs that I could push through and past and into that snowy land, toward that lampost that somehow seemed to mark the boundary between the two worlds.

Alas, it was never that wardobe. There was no Narnia, no Edmund, no Lucy, no Susan, no Peter. There was no Mr. Tumnus, no Evil White Witch, and no Aslan. But there was something about the power of the writing, that even though I knew the stories couldn't be anything but fantasy, another part of me thought it was so beautifully written, so true to life, that it could just be true.

That's the power and beauty of a good author, no matter how unfeasible something may be, if it's written powerfully or eloquently enough, it can leave an impression on you that drifts into your everyday world. I was a bookworm as a kid-when I wasn't outside playing, I was tucked up in some corner of the house, reading. From the simplistic and surreal Famous Five and Secret Seven series, to the slightly more thoughtprovoking Narnia, and Lord of The Rings, I absolutely ate up the words in front of me. I could picture every nook and cranny of the wilds of Narnia and Mordor. I felt I had been in Smeagol's cave trying to fathom his riddles as his slithery voice echoed around the dank walls (What has it gotssssss in it'sssss pockets my precioussssss....?) and every time I was in Slish Wood traisping round, I felt I might stumble into a mythical world, with faeries and demons hiding behind each tree. Such was the power of the words I read, and the imagination those words endowed me with.

It's only recently that I've come back to reading (curse you adult life with your busy-ness and distractions!) and I've really began to appreciate the power of a well written eloquent piece. What inspired all this ramblement this evening was spotting this picture on twitter.

I read those words as an adult with virtually no regrets in my life thus far. Part of me would love to be able to remember what I made of them as a kid. Although as I write these words, I'm thinking I was probably too busy grieving for those about to be lost in the battle than thinking about my own short life!

As an adult, the writings of C.S. Lewis still enthrall and fascinate me, particularly his writings on faith, both his opinion, and his fictional presentation of faith through The Screwtape Letters. He has such a beauty, such an eloquence that even just a simple sentence like the one above, stops me in my tracks and makes me think. Some people think a short story is the perfect vessel for a message. Others think it takes a novel to get a message across, while others percieve that poetry is the only way to impart something important.

One of my most favourite pieces of poetry is "Instructions" by Neil Gaiman. It appeals to all aspects of my nature-adventure, curiousity, fear, caring, nature, fantasy, reality, and comfort. The idea behind it is a list of instructions of what to do if you find yourself in a faerytale. The beauty of poetry is that everyone takes something different from the same words. I don't just see it as that-I see it almost as a journey through life. Sometimes things that should help will hinder, sometimes unexpected things will cross your path and bear your crosses for you. Those you love may vanish but are never truly gone, and while things change along your life path, some time, you will make it to your final home.

Or y'know, you could just take it as a what-to-do-if-you-get-stuck-in-a-faerytale-list. Your call tbh....

The first time I heard this piece of poetry was a few hours ago and I cannot, literally, can not get it out of my head. It just blew me away. I genuinely felt like I'd been punched in the stomach whilst listening to it....the tears came the second time I watched, the first time I was genuinely too stunned. Just....unreal. The power behind his words, they felt like weapons....the visceral brutal reality of life and the simplicity behind the opening lines.....people say all kinds of things to one another without thinking of how they'll impact on those around them. Take a watch and a listen to it.....

...old friends....

"Old friends, old friends sat on their parkbench like bookends..." "Old friends, memory brushes the same years, silently sharing the same fears..."

"Time it was, and what a time it was, it was
A time of innocence, a time of confidences
Long ago, it must be, I have a photograph
Preserve your memories, they're all that's left you"

This song was running through my head today, reflecting on some short but quality time spent with one of my oldest friends. We've been friends since we were 12, and we have literally gone through the best of times and the worst of times together.

We haven't really seen each other properly in a long long time. I was over to herself and himself earlier on this year, but it was a rushed visit, less than 24hours, in the middle of house renovations and while it was lovely to see them, it didn't feel like we'd spent any proper time together.

The short time we spent together was lovely.....chilling out together over food-a nice breakfast in BonBon in the village, then over to the campus to show them round the old buildings. I'd wanted to show them The Gunn Chapel, as it's a beautiful chapel, hidden behind the dull grey exterior is this stunning ornate interior. As we entered, I met one of the staff who told me there was something on, and it should be over in ten minutes.

So we wandered off to the graveyard (ghost stories were told...and disproved!) and meandered back to discover that "something" was graduates from St. Patrick's! All the fancy robes and fancy certificates were on show, as was the chapel, which remained open with lights on for all it's carved and hand-worked splendour to be shown.

In between the photos and the scenery, the three of us talked about so many different things, life, our experiences thus far, hopes for the future, friends, family, funny moments we'd shared, sad moments we'd shared. And we realised just how lucky we were to make it this far (yes, as teenagers we were all that cynical!) and how much experience we'd crammed into our short lives.

This time a decade ago, both she and I were manageresses of two established places in Carlisle, both in what we viewed as steady relationships with amazing guys, seeing each other almost every second day for drinks and catchups-and we thought we were fairly sorted...neither of us were considering leaving the border city for a long time. Fast forward a decade, we're both in totally different careers in totally different places and only physically see each other to catch up once, maybe twice a year .....and yet, just as close as we were a decade ago, despite the many horrible things that have happened us both since those days.

I can indeed, as the song says, "imagine us years from today, sharing a parkbench quietly ....How terribly strange to be seventy...." Old friends usually make the best friends, and I'm very, very lucky to be able to count herself (and himself through her!) as one of mine.

Life moves so fast, and it's very easy to lose touch with people, especially if you're someone like me who misses calls or texts and keeps meaning to return them but forgets. Weeks turn into months which turn into years and you suddenly realise it's actually years since you last spoke or sat with someone you used to see daily. But if the friendship was strong enough, time makes no odds, those bonds reconnect instantly.

I consider myself very lucky not only to have one, but several friends with whom I've shared over two decades worth of friendship. Friendship is an amazing gift to have in life. Your friends are the family you choose for yourself, and in that respect, I'm lucky to have accidentally chosen the most amazing sisters and brothers over the decades, and luckier still to have had them choose me. Life can be pretty damn amazing sometimes!