written and posted by members of Lancashire Dead Good Poets' Society

Showing posts with label Kathleen Curtiss. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kathleen Curtiss. Show all posts

Friday, 1 February 2019

My Life Below Zero...

We moved to Scotland from London in 1955, it was February, the house was cold with ice on the inside of the windows. So that was my introduction to freezing conditions. A coal fire was duly lit but the draught  lifted the rugs off the floor, so it wasn't long before we went 'all electric'. Eventually to under carpet heating!

Paraffin heaters were a permanent, if smelly, addition to the hallway (top and bottom of the stairs)  and the kitchen - with a hurricane lamp in the bathroom. All these were carefully maintained by my dad in order to eliminate the odour. Yet the ice continued to coat the interior of the metal cased window frames.

I don't recall ever not being able to attend school. Okay so the buses couldn't get up Quarrybank Hill, so I walked. First to primary school ..about a mile and a half away. Then to secondary school ...about three miles away. I was always equipped with a 'winter wardrobe' ( something I've adhered to over the years). My mother made me a superb wool duffle coat with lining featuring Chinese dragons !! I was made to wear over- boots ( I hated them, but now understand their necessity).

We played out. Built igloos. Had snowball fights. Cleared paths. Made 'slides'. I skated outdoors. Taking two buses , carrying my gear and a sweeping brush I went to the Duthie park boating pond which was only about a foot deep and froze nicely.

We walked to the shops, library, town, on dates...everywhere ! I still love walking in crisp, virgin snow with gentle snowflakes fluttering down. It's magical.

My first teaching job was in Kingussie in the Cairngorm mountains. The digs I stayed in had no central heating but a coal fire was lit in the kitchen for breakfast time and in the lounge in the evenings. A single bar electric fire was put at the top of the stairs. I went to bed like Nanook of the North! Even making myself a flannelette sleeping bag that I put between the crisp cotton sheets of my bed - and removed each morning in case the landlady saw it !! Often the then main road would become silent and I'd walk down the driveway , onto this road and walk wondrously along the centre, relishing the darkness , solitude and cold stillness as the snow fell thickly.

After I married I lived in a cottage three miles out of Kingussie and often in the winter I found myself being sent home on school transport ...namely a breakdown pick up truck that ploughed its way gamely through the drifts. Then usually I was stranded in the cottage for days till a snowplough got through.

When I moved to Berkshire ( later Oxfordshire) I thought that the winters might not be so severe. How wrong I was! We lived in a prefab in sight of the Chilton Downs, and boy did we cop for cold weather! Frosts were severe and copious amounts of snow fell in the winter. The Parkray fire was kept going Day and night , topped up with a delivery of logs. My husband ran a couple of radiators off the system to take the chill off the bedrooms. One memorable winter the temperature dropped to -17 !! Ice formed inside the front door, despite having a double burner paraffin heater going in the hall!

I returned to Scotland in 1993 to live in Buckie in a house overlooking the Moray Firth. Once again a large Parkray fire was fitted in and we ran 10 radiators off it. All the summer we would collect timber off the beach , or where trees were being cut by the forestry commission ( we asked for the bits they didn't want ) . Together we'd collect and cut on the shore if we could, I'd carry the logs to the car or van and load that up. Getting home the timber would be unloaded and stacked up to dry and season. We reckoned on having 4 tons of wood to see us through the winter ! After a storm we would scour the coastline for washed up timber.

After 14 years my husband decided that he'd never come to terms with the long winters up north ( he came from Oxford) and thus it was that we found ourselves in Cleveleys. He said winter here was the difference between a jacket and an overcoat!

However as soon as it's frosty and snowing I'm out like a shot. I adore that crisp snow that crunches under your feet. I love to see the hills covered in snow with clear, blue sunny skies overhead.

Just like this week! Can't wait for the weekend. I have plans to walk in the snow .....




Generate Heat

Driftwood washed up on the beach.
Haul it up the shore, within reach.
Put on safety goggles.
Start the chainsaw.
Generate heat.

Fill the van with fresh cut wood.
The scent of resin is true and good.
Start up the engine.
Set off home.
Generate heat.

Stack the timber against the wall,
Log upon log, neat and tall.
Fill up a basket.
Take to the fire.
Generate heat.


 
Thanks for reading, Kath

Thursday, 15 February 2018

The deep purple falls.....

Unlike most bloggers this week I am not fond of the colour purple . I have never been fond of that range ...from mauve to purple. When I was 16 I made a lilac crimplene skirt with a blouse to coordinate (the blouse was in cheesecloth type fabric with multi coloured flowers). Well, I wore it once and I did not feel good all the day! Ever since I avoided that colour range.

My late husband abhorred purple too, referring to it as funereal....much to the annoyance of a friend who relished in decorating her home in various shades of that colour.

Having said all that I recently made a dress in crushed velvet-- it's the colour of the wrapper used for Cadbury's chocolate. Does that class as purple?  I think it has a blue tint to it. This time I'm quite happy to wear the said garment, as it's warm and ideal for winter wear.

Sorry to be so contrary, everyone.

PS ...last week I bought some Scottish tweed, in a heather mixture. NO , it's not purple...

Sad to say I've no poem about purple- except if it refers to heather! (and I've done all those on the blog in times past). So no poem this week..sorry.

Instead I've searched my photo albums and come up with this...enjoy on this winter's day.


Thanks for reading my small contribution, Kath.

Saturday, 12 November 2016

Volcano

I must admit that I don't know too much about volcanoes. However, I do know that many of Britain's mountains and islands were formed by volcanic activity. The likes of Arthur's Seat in Edinburgh, the crag that the castle stands on too were once volcanoes. In Aberdeenshire I climbed Bennachie and that was formed by volcanic action...early man built a vitrified fort on the summit as it offered a grand vantage point against invaders.

Next summer I hope to visit the island of Staffa to view Fingal's cave - having the same sort of rock formations as the Giant's Causeway in Ireland.

I have a poem that I wrote on the Island Arran in September this year.


            
Goatfell

Mirrored sides facing south, gathering the sunlight.
Rugged peak stretching to the sky - touching clouds.
Stark, grey slabs set on sideways - pyramid like.
Inviting, but daunting - head in the mist,
Feet in the peat moor.
Majestic peak, scarred from apocalyptic upheaval.

Thanks for reading my rather short contribution this week....Kath

Tuesday, 1 December 2015

Town Planning

When I saw this week's theme I thought , " What do I know of this ? " So I set my mind to thinking ....At college circa 1969 we had a tutor who took us for rather odd subjects, a sort of Jack of all trades. Within his variety of lessons /talks/ experiences he included 'Urban Planning', covering such diverse subjects as road building, motorway planning, historical architecture, 20th C architecture, pedestrian walkways, retail complexes, electric vehicles !! WOW and this at a College of Domestic Science ! We went on a visit to Aberdeen City Hall and were shown a huge book of the town plans, going way back and into the future. For Aberdeen had a 'ring road' that was in the making before the second world war. to take traffic from the south side of the city ( by the River Dee ) to the north side (by the River Don ) thus avoiding a crowded city centre with ancient, congested roadways. The southern part passed through the affluent 'west end', where large detached houses were made from the silver granite quarried at the Rubislaw quarry which was situated on the ring road. There are numerous roundabouts on this stretch where roads to the city go in various directions. More recently these have led to rather bad bottlenecks, but must have been far ahead of their time for early motorcars, charabangs etc. After the War there was a rush on house building and many housing estates were established to the north of this road. This time dual carriageways were constructed on the 'ring road'.In my childhood these were centred by thousands of roses grown by a local company "Cockers". Making for a pleasant driving experience. From this road now radiated access roads to the estates of council houses. Even these roads were wide... main through access for buses and through traffic and side parallel access to the houses situated along the sides. I remember "Provost Russ Drive " , "Provost Russell Drive ", and the "Lang Stracht". The ring road finally merging with the Great Western and Great North roads. Well in this vast book that I spoke of were plans laid out for an ' outer ring road ', which to my knowledge has not yet been built. It seems that the 'city fathers' in the past got down and got things done ,whereas today there is too much hesitation for the city desperately needs a new by pass.

In the 1960's , as a hill walker, we often visited Aviemore ( in the Cairngorms ) . Originally a very quiet station halt for intrepid walkers and lone skiers. McDonald decided to make it into a holiday village. By 1967 it was a vast complex providing facilities for conferences, an ice rink, a theatre, a cinema, a swimming pool, Santa Claus land, a dry ski slope, go karting. etc. For me as a skater it was wondeful to have an Olympic sized ice rink, but as a hillwalker it appalled me, as so much had been destroyed and in it's place were chalets, car parks, and a multi storey hotel ! My mother referred to this monstrosity as "a sare thumb", as it loomed above the complex and could be seen from many miles away.

In the early 70's I went to work in Kingussie ( the next village ) and used to take the train to Aviemore to go skating in the evenings. For there were express trains came direct from London to Aviemore in the heyday of the complex taking people for weekends sking.

I wrote this poem about Aviemore Village Complex in 1972.
         
The Cement Centre
 
A city without a soul,
A village with no square of luscious, green grass.
What do these naked walls breed -
People with no attachments,
Homes with no foundations ?
Like plants with no roots -
Parasites of the cement and brick they are.
Crawling, consuming, engulfing human decency.

I visualise it now -
Decay, rot and vegetation
Climbing, clinging to the paving stones
And to the rusting railings.
Great stone pillars supporting
The sky and nothing else.
Fountains long since ceased their play.
An empty theatre echoes of old plays
And equally as old movies.

Like the ruins of Rome
I see this mountain city now -
Forgotten, betrayed.
No village square ever stood there.


I found this old postcard on the internet, showing the theatre, the swimming pool and the fountains circa 1968.

I returned to Aviemore after twenty years away to find that my prediction had come true ! We took children from Elgin to Aviemore ice rink in 1993 to find nearly all the facilities closed and forgotten. For two years we helped out at the two ice rinks, hoping to keep Aviemore open as this was the only place where young people could go for any entertainment. But to no avail. They knocked it down - to build on - but the perma frost that had accumulated made that initially impossible , so it became a car park. A friend of mine sat on the grass and cried as the ice rink was demolished. It had been a blot on the landscape but it had provided hundreds of jobs and brought people in to expand the community. Now it is being marketed as a retirement village.......full circle ?

Kath Curtiss
                     

Tuesday, 17 November 2015

Canals

Well this week's theme is 'canals', and you will already guess by my previous blog on 'locks' that I like the waterways.

When I lived in Oxford we had a boat on the river and the level for boating is controlled by 'cuts' , built like canals to include locks...hence allowing the river to follow a natural course. Often walks take me along canals...my most recent being when I walked the towpath alongside the Preston/Lancaster canal, following the " Lancashire Crumbly Cheese Way". Nowadays canals offer an excellent opportunity for quiet strolls in secluded avenues of wildlife. Whereas in times past they were the bustling highways that linked cities, villages, sea and  rural communities. I have been watching the excellent TV series about canal journeys - not only in this country...and really enjoying it! Of course I admire all early engineering work. I am fascinated by canals, bridges, aqueducts, reservoirs, tunnels, railways,buildings, walls...anything that Man achieved using his hands and basic tools- - and I often wonder if they realised that their achievements would last so long.


   Today's photo is of the Preston/Lancaster Canal near Garstang.

                 THE BARGEE'S HORSE

How I long to kick my heels up and frolic in the field.
How I long to scratch my back upon the rough ,green grass.
How I long to stretch my neck to reach a tasty tree.
How I long.......

But I must toil in yoke and rope to pull this barge from town to town.
At end of day I'm tethered still -
Such is my lot.

My master, though, is kind and places sacks across my back to keep me dry.
He rubs me down before he, himself sits down to eat.

How I long, though, to run in a meadow.
Feel the soft grass beneath my hooves.
Rest in a stable with others of my kind.
How I long....

But I must toil in heat and chill.
Taking goods from here to there.
A walking engine I am,
From dawn to break of day.

Kath Curtiss                       

Tuesday, 3 November 2015

Doppelganger

I have some experience of doppelgangers...not of myself, I might add...although like nearly everyone reading this someone at some time has asked if I have sister or did I live in...?  I'm sure that's happened to you!

Well my experience is this- - - when I met my second husband he told me how,on attending divorce court, his wife had brought forward witnesses that swore to his meeting a blonde on Magdalen bridge every Saturday morning---further more in a red Capri ( he did in fact own such a car! ). He told the judge how it wasn't him - - but he was not believed. Anyway the divorce went through.

We had been together for a little while, and every summer weekend we went out on our boat along the Thames. One Monday evening my husband was approached by our neighbours , and severely admonished by them for 'playing a dirty trick on me,' - - my husband called me out to the garden and asked me tell the neighbours where WE had been all weekend. So I told them. It transpired that they "saw" him at a restaurant on the Saturday night....with a blonde and a red Capri in the car park. So the penny began to drop.

Months passed till a workmate told how he'd seen him at the Casino with a blonde on his arm and had said " Buy me drink and I'll not tell , Terry " . The doppelganger turned and told the man that he certainly wasn't Terry .....A slight argument seemingly ensued until the workmate was persuaded that it was a case of mistaken identity. Well, when this story was related to my husband he finally knew that he had a look-alike in the same city!

 When we moved to Scotland we often wondered if people still approached the doppelganger to ask how come he was in Oxford!

Then we had an experience in our new home town - - we went to the local library and in the reference section sitting at a desk was a close friend Bob.....this was a wax figure of a local artist...BUT it was Bob! We always said, " Hello, Bob" every time we went in!

 Last week I shared a photo on FB of doppelgangers who met on a flight to Ireland...they'd even booked into the same hotel!
         

Doppelganger

Look at you,
Looking at me.
Who are you ?
Who am I  ?

Mirrored we are,
Like peas in a pod,
Identical.

I see you
You see me.
What do we see ?
Who are you ?

Separated at birth ?
Separated by miles .
Alike.

I see me in you,
You see yourself in me.
What do others see?
Who are we ? 
 
 
Kath Curtiss.

Tuesday, 27 October 2015

Ties

Who remembers Kipper ties ?

I was a dedicated follower of fashion in the mid 60's and 70's. Making my own clothes to keep up with the latest trends. In the late 60's I liked to wear trouser suits with the trousers having 24" bottoms ! As part of the image I made Kipper ties. Well I met a rather sophisticated young man ( well I thought he was rather, as he had his own 'pad' ....one room actually....in someone else's house ). He took me out to the pictures a couple of times and then asked me to make him a shirt and a Kipper tie. I still recall the shirt. I chose a brushed cotton Paisley pattern fabric...the shirt collar being a dog- eared design with a vibrant peach coloured tie. WOW ! It took me a few weeks to make it and I presented it to him for Christmas. Well....you can guess the rest . He promptly ' finished ' with me ! It was very hurtful of him. Anyway he wasn't really much of a boyfriend and as I grew older I came to the conclusion that he was homosexual and that I had been used as a ' front ' in order to keep up appearances with his friends. I'd also been used to provide him with a lovely brightly coloured shirt and tie!

In keeping with the 1960's I am submitting a piece written by me in August 1968.

                   Thoughts at the Palace Ballroom in Aberdeen.

Silhouetted figures on the background of blue moved to and fro with the rhythm from the group.
I felt myself slipping slowly into a trancelike state and everything moved with a frenzy of feelings and emotions.
Then I finally joined the swirl of writhing bodies, music pulsating in my brain.

Gardens where flowers bloomed were all around me.
I plucked a rose from a tender bough and breathed in its sweet perfume.
Then I took a daisy from among the deep green grass and pulling its petals I cried....
            "He loves me...he loves me not,
             He loves me ....he loves me not,
             He loves me....he loves me !
             HE LOVES ME !!! "


Kath Curtiss

Tuesday, 13 October 2015

Mortality

Well better late than never ! This week' s title hasn't really been far from my mind....At the weekend I got an urgent message from a friend, asking if I could look after her cat. You see her boyfriend had been rushed to hospital in Manchester with a brain haemorrhage and was in intensive care....he's still in ITU and not out of danger. She came to visit me this afternoon to keep me updated , hence the reason for my lapse of memory..I was preoccupied making a meal and baking some cakes for us, and for her to take home , as she obviously has other things to think of. So when I looked and realised the topic for this week ...well it fell into place . Mortality. Gosh we take it for granted. Yet it can be snatched from us, even at a young age. Yes, we don't know what is around the corner and really it's just as well. How would we react if we knew in advance ? Many people do get advance warning and face it bravely, and we often hear of these. But what of those people who fall to pieces, what if they are alone? Why, earlier this week I heard from another friend that he'd  inadvertently dialled a wrong number, however the person who answered was clearly in distress and so he stayed on the line. It turned out to be an elderly lady, all alone on the world who had just been told she had cancer. So he listened and offered what support he could. I salute him for his actions.
I don't have a piece to offer this week, but I ask you to think deeply about ..mortality.....

Tuesday, 6 October 2015

Moon

Well this week's title 'Moon'..can mean various things, but I am going to talk about 'The Moon '.

Now, the moon can be regarded as a benevolent or malevolent object. Of the former many songs have been written.." Shine on harvest Moon ", " It's only a paper moon, hanging over a cardboard tree...  ", " Blue Moon " , Moon River ", " I see the moon and the moon sees me...." -  - these portray the moon in a kindly light ( so to speak)   and this referral makes us feel good. Then there is the other side of the moon (so to speak, again )  that bodes  ill will , tragedy, fear. So that we may be turned instantly into vampires or were wolves , raging lunatics or devilish creatures of the night ! Poor moon features either friendly  in children's stories or terrifying...and yet it is only made of cheese ! What harm in that?

The photo of the moon was taken last week over Cresswell Bay. It had been a gloriously hot day and on the way back to our accommodation we stopped to admire this scene.


Today's poem was the second one I ever wrote ..in 1965 and briefly features the moon.
   
          
Full Moon

The sea is dark and fearsome,
The sky is grey and leersome,
The mystical moor is still -
But hark ! Hear that trill ?
'Tis the fairies under the hill.

This is the night of strange goings on,
This is the night of the witches' song,
When women, to the children croon,
Frightened of dogs baying the moon.

The heather is stirred by unseen feet.
Venture there and the Devil you'll meet.
 For maybe he's out there cutting peat
To stoke the fire - ready for souls
To be thrown to the burning coals.

The mountain replies to a lonely owl.
But the moon replies to the soulful howl
Of a distant dog. All is asleep,
So from your window do not peep,
Or you will see a sight so gruesome
That it will blind your eyes and strike you dumb !

But then the macabre scene is over,
There is no sign of trouble in the grass and clover;
But let me tell you that they know
What happened this night before cock-crow .


Kath Curtiss





Tuesday, 22 September 2015

Events that Changed the World

In the modern world and due to media coverage we are all more aware of events that have, and indeed are , changing the world. Imagine the coverage that might have been given to the catastrophic meteor that struck what we know as the Gulf of Mexico , that heralded the slow end of the dinosaurs !
  " Dinosaurs moving North...EU Ministers hold emergency summit...North America declares a state of emergency ...National Guard called out ...UK says that the sooner it becomes an island the safer it will be ....Local Government warns people to keep their pets indoors !" 
A bit of fantasy . 
It seems that it is mainly wars ,or the threat of, that changes our world and we are very aware of the happenings because of TV, newspapers , Internet and such. News of wars used to take weeks to reach our ears....letters transported by foot or horse, river, port, ship....The laying of Transantlantic cables and their ilk ,the use of morse code, then the spoken word opened up the 20th century. Followed by transmitted pictures , once carefully vetted for upsetting content. Nowadays we are warned that content maybe unsuitable and that we must decide whether to view or not.
The space missions have shaped our modern world and indeed the mission to put a man on the moon enthralled all nations and to some extent held them in awe , changing our perception of the world for a little while.
 World wars ( the name tells of the impact ) have been events that have changed our world ( here I refer to 'my world' I.e. the UK) , having a catastrophic impact on most of the world , not just where the conflict took place..but it was far reaching , involving the colonies of the countries involved. Great Britain was rocked when Argentina invaded the Falkland Islands..and indeed who in this country had even heard of them ! We were propelled into action in a few short weeks. Coverage was intense , men and machinery sent off on a long journey to the other end of the globe. I was teaching in Oxford at the time and my husband was a reservist awaiting call up ( luckily for us he wasn't ) ,but many of his friends went and some didn't return. A class of boys that I taught , who were normally a pain , surprised me by saying that they wished they were old enough to go. They were hyped up by the coverage and the sense of outrage that the nation felt.
I am going on a bit today...must be the recent illness making me nostalgic....
Anyway today's poem is the last that I wrote before a gap of nearly 20 years ..written during the Falklands War....

         FALKLAND'S LEGACY

A resting place far from home,
On a lonely windswept shore.
A posy of flowers placed upon the graves
Of those never to return.
An anthem by a vigilant piper, 
A requiem for the dead.
The minister's cassock caught by the wind
That carries the souls - that carries still
The sounds of battle
To ears that hear no more.

Rest, you weary men 
Upon this far off shore.
Your torn and mutilated bodies
Resting in the soil.
Your struggle now has ended.
The battle o'er.
A simple headstone, your only medal-
All you have to show.

Tuesday, 1 September 2015

Locks

Locks -- no not curly ones, nor ones that turn with the aid of a key but ones on canals. I used to live outside Oxford and we went boating on the Thames. Many parts of the river are not navigable therefore a "cut" is provided often with a lock to change the level. These locks were manned by obliging lock-keepers who lived close by in neat, colourful cottages. Since we went out regularly our craft became well known - as with many others and boat users were friendly and helpful ....kind of like caravanning on the water !! My first experience of a lock absolutely terrified me. Our first craft was so small and the lock walls reached up towards the heavens ! There were ropes to catch and hold, instructions given - safety of the essence . As a non swimmer it was all rather daunting. Over the few years I became fairly proficient at steering, but never berthing - no , my job was always to jump ashore, rope in hand and find a suitable tying up point.

My walks often take me along tow paths, especially on the Preston/ Lancaster canal - - which incidentally has no locks along it's entire length. Using instead the contours to raise/lower the fall . It is this fact that makes it a popular canal for trippers since there are no concerns over the workings of locks. The short canal to Glasson dock however boasts four locks on it's short stretch. to go from sea level. It is interesting to watch people winding " keys" and pushing timber spars .. all very energetic. So at Glasson marina there are vessels of all sorts - especially long boats that we don't normally associate with  the sea.

I apologise for not having a poem today - but I've been away for the Bank holiday weekend. I do have a photo of the Preston / Lancaster canal ( minus locks ! )

Tuesday, 25 August 2015

Umbrella

Sunday - - in a thunderstorm.

Well, it seems appropriate that I wrote this while  thunder cracked overhead and lightning streaked the sky. The gulls too were upset and crying out their distress. No umbrella would have done in the squally wind that came out of nowhere..it would have turned a brolly inside out, like a yacht in a turbulent sea. Also it's dangerous to use an umbrella in such conditions as it's an ideal conductor...especially the metal brollies that we all sport today. Makes me wonder if the wooden shafted umbrellas were safer - I don't know the answer to that one!

Recently whilst hiking I travelled 'light' for a change, but carried a very old folding umbrella ( now that's a feat of engineering worthy of mention. Take a look at the workings for they don't all fold up the same ! ). Luckily I didn't require the umbrella for it's intended purpose, but, it did however make an excellent sunshade providing protection for face, neck and shoulders. Many passing walkers were envious of my idea. So it proved a vital piece of equipment on that calm, very hot day.


The Ardent Umbrella

Take me with you now
I'm wasted in the closet
Keep me close at hand
Never let me stray.      

Treat me gently now    
         My spokes are easily broken
Put me in your bag      
       Keep me closed and ready.

Take me with you now
I'm such a useful item  
Spread my fabric out  
        I'll protect you from the rain.

Hold me close to you 
        I'll shelter you from torrents
        Had your hair done today ?
I'll keep it that way .   

Take me with you now
I'm wasted in the closet
Keep me close to hand
I'll be yours forever .
    
    Kath Curtiss

Tuesday, 18 August 2015

Following your dream

Well I have an apology to make for submitting this last week! You see every Tuesday I visit a friend who broke her leg , before Christmas! She had just moved into her dream cottage when a few days later she fell down stairs..a bad break I'm afraid. So all her possessions were still boxed... meaning that for a few Tuesday's now I've been going over to help put items away. However her dream remains intact and despite the trauma she is happy. That's what dreams do. Sometimes we never fulfil them, but they still make us happy thinking of them.

I have had the good luck to fulfil many of mine. At the age of 53 I passed NCCP 1 and 2 to become a professional ice skating coach. As a teenager it had been my ambition to teach this, but parental disapproval and an accident forced me to reassess my career choice. I became a teacher of Dress and Design/ Textiles, and I didn't regret it. Later illness made me reassess again and I went into the holiday business...so it was that this more relaxed lifestyle made me feel much better and gave me the opportunity to do the coaching course.


My husband passed away just over 5 years ago and I made an expedition to visit his relatives in Switzerland. Well, as a hillwalker and teenager I'd said I wanted to see the Alsp before I died ! That dream was fulfilled in 2010. My desire to travel became overwhelming and I subsequently went to Bulgaria, Norway and many trips back to Switzerland. I'd only ever been on a coach trip to the Rhine many years before.

I also drove an HGV truck on an experience day..something I'd always wanted to do..I gave myself this day out to celebrate becoming an advanced driver.

Last year was to see the very pinnacle of my yearning ....when I was 18 I'd read a book " a Lady's Life in the Rocky Mountains" by Isabella Bird ...a book that I read every year ( along with many of her other travel books). So I booked a log cabin in the National Park in Colorado, and along with my son we walked many of the trails that Isabella had ridden, and visited many of the places that she had been. Truly a lifetime's dream!

I'm not being 'mean' for I loved my husband dearly ( today would have been our anniversary) but his passing has given me the opportunity to chase dreams....even to make up new ones. Never stop dreaming......

Thanks for reading. Kath Curtiss

Tuesday, 4 August 2015

Cats

This week's title of "Cats" made me think back to an early poem I wrote in 1965 " Epitaph to a Cat " - yet we'd never had a cat , only a dog. Where the idea came from I have no idea. So here to start us off is the said poem :-

                   Epitaph to a Cat

        Dear, dear Puss now you are gone
        I will miss your mewing and tuneless song,
        Your endless fun with a ball of string -
        Oh, Puss ! I'm going to miss your everything.

        The cute way you drank your milk,
        The day you tore my scarf of silk -
        Oh, Yes ! I scolded you I know.
        But dear, dear Puss I miss you so.

  I consider myself a 'dog' person, having been brought up with a dog, then having a dog of my own for 13 years. So it comes as a surprise that I've had 2 cats , and taken care of a cat these past 25 years !

 When my first husband left my son wanted a cat and so "Baloo" came into my life - that was OK as she was really a Rottweiller in a cat skin ! When my son decided not to move with myself and second husband, but to go elsewhere - the cat couldn't go with him and so "Baloo" came with us ( much to the delight of my new husband who adored cats ). " Baloo" ruled him with an iron fist, biting him each day to assert her place of 'top cat', and yet they were inseparable. Many years later we moved to this area and " Baloo" settled into life in our motorhome whilst we looked for somewhere to live. So a new president was formed- she now came camping with us. Never making any attempt to leave the van, but content to sleep on the back seat. She lived to the ripe old age of 19 and I broke my heart having to take her to be put to sleep, because in her mature years she had relied on me to cuddle her as we rolled along in the van.

 Six ' cat free' months passed and my husband expressed a desire to have a cat again. This time " Lady " joined us as a rescue cat. Her age, history, name was unknown. She was timid, frightened when I sneezed ( she always was ! ), hated change around the home.....but loved the motorhome ! She was a well-travelled cat..many times round Scotland, fishing trips to lakes all over the north of England. I photographed and wrote of  her adventures for the rescue centre newsletter. I took her walking on a lead and harness . " Lady " was soft and cuddly, loved our company and never strayed. When my husband died she took to sleeping beside me and I'd put my hand out and feel her closeness and soothe her , as she tended to have ' bad ' dreams. I got a static caravan in the Yorkshire Dales and she came with me, venturing out around the van and rushing in at anything that frightened her !
It was a great shock to me when she died beside me - - I thought she was having another bad dream and I put my hand out and stroked her telling her, "It's alright, it'll all be gone by the morning " . -- and it was . I woke at 4am and she was gone. One of the worst days of my life. My last link to my husband had gone. I buried her myself and broke my heart at every spadeful of soil that I turned over. I am weeping now as I tell you !
 Not long after, a cat started to come round to 'visit' me ... he still does. I contacted his owner ( to make sure that he had someone ). Every day he comes and has a little food and a cuddle. He lies and stares up into my face. But NO I lead too busy a life now to let another full time pet be part of it. When they depart they leave such a void..........

        LADY -

My eyes are aching, the tears are dry
I tell you this - I'm too tired to cry.
This day , for me, has been very hard
Such unexpected heartache - caught me off guard.
My best friend, the one I talked to is gone forever....

Kath Curtiss

Tuesday, 28 July 2015

Object

   Object - - this week's title. Phew ! Another of those English words with multiple meanings ! Depends where you place the emphasis or in which context the word is used.
    I've come up with a list of the uses for the word ( maybe it's not complete  ! )
             1 - to object ...to oppose or disagree.
             2 - an object ...an item.
             3 -  a material thing or person that is perceived to be the 'centre' of desire or ridicule.
             4 - object ...in grammar - a noun assisted by a verb.( I find this the most complicated ! )
             5 - object lesson...a salutory instruction.
             6 - the object - the aim.

And so I have not got a poem today , but instead have written a very short piece to illustrate the uses of the word  "Object"  and do hope that somewhere in there is number 4 !                                                                

" I object ! The object that she has bought was too expensive, when the object of the competition was to spend £10 or less. Well, I've learned an object lesson here and will not be perceived as an object of ridicule because of it ! "                                                                                                                                          
 

Tuesday, 21 July 2015

Music

Sorry to be so late this evening. I was visiting a friend and we got talking about "Music"...how we were involved in hearing music through our respective fathers. My father didn't play an instrument but he listened to music - the radio played whenever he was awake ( he worked night shift ). He had a vast collection of records, that he sent for and catalogued. We had a radiogram, then a record player, then Hi Fi, then stereophonic, then quadraphonic sound ! Music was  piped throughout the house. He also indulged in tapes, then CD's. I was involved in music too. I had singing lessons,sang in the school choir,had parts in school operettas, sang an unaccompanied solo in St Machar's Cathedral in Aberdeen. I played the guitar and with friends at school formed a folk group. I was avidly into folk music and had the opportunity to attend many evenings at the Music Hall. Hostelling weekends and hiking trips were punctuated with singing the old songs round the campfire and on the coach. For ice-skating I required music for programmes and was always on the lookout for suitable pieces.
    So what kept me so late ? Well I was recalling the first LP record I bought with my first pay ! I could remember what the 'sleeve' looked like and I could remember some of the songs. Well we found some of the tunes on the internet and I was singing along...occasionally stumbling over long remembered words. We talked of our Dads and their love of music, and of course the radio and records were the entertainment of their era..not TV, nor computers.Lives moulded by music.
    Today's poem was written after visiting a newly built shopping mall in Phoenix.

Song of the American Robin

Does anyone care?
They've planted a mall
Where once I could call
Across the prairie grass,
Now all that's past

Does anyone care?
That I now fly over concrete fields,
Where once were lush , green, open fields
Where I could lazily feed.
What is this Man's greed ?

Does anyone care?
That cars pollute the air I breath,
Where once I truly did believe
That I was free to fly,
Now all that's gone by.

Does anyone care?
That the nesting sites I sought
Are lands that Man has bought.
Gone too are the ancient roosting trees,
Vanished for \Mankind to please.
Does anyone care?

Tuesday, 14 July 2015

Serendipity

This week's title SERENDIPITY...a delightful word...even baby girls were named thus. The meaning being - a chance event or meeting with a pleasurable, interesting or valuable outcome. In fact some happening that occurs by chance and makes you feel good, does good, or gives you a " lift " Now that must be altogether a good thing, in a busy world. I guess it is often associated with LOVE... that chance meeting between two people, that blossoms into a meaningful and lasting relationship.
    Recently I had two serendipitous occurrences in one day in one spot...nothing at all to do with love..but two chance meetings ...one that made me think with pleasure on a past encounter and the other that gave me joy and rewarded me with a pleasant surprise. So let's get on with it...
    On holiday recently, we pulled into a lay-by near Kinlochleven. It was a beautiful, warm morning when a motorcycle drew in and the rider introduced himself as a retired local deer stalker. We got to chatting about the mountains etc and he started to tell me of his uncle, who had been badly injured by an exploding mine in the last war, how he had a tin leg and was blind. Immediately I interrupted him, " You're going to tell me about Syd Scroggie ! " He replied that yes indeed that was his late uncles name and asked how I knew of him. Well I'd met him in the Grampian Mountains when I was about 13 years of age, and that that encounter had so impressed me it was etched into my memory. So we chatted of this " link " that we'd established and it made me glad inside to share the memory. That same evening we dined in Kinlochleven and whilst eating overheard a very polite American young man ask about buses to Fort William. Well it was Sunday ! No buses that way, at that time of day. A taxi proved costly for him and he was quite 'lost'. Anyway we were going to the main road and I knew that long haul buses passed through going to Fort William and so we offered him a lift. On the journey he asked if we'd heard of CBS, and we said " Yes" an American News Station. He told us he worked for them and had come over to UK early to cover the Golf Open at St. Andrews. As he left the car he handed over two cards and told us that if were ever in New York to look him up. The card read his name and title...Production Manager CBS Sports !! Well you could have knocked me over with a feather ! Again another pleasant encounter---two in one day at one remote spot ! Now that's SERENDIPITY !!!
    So to today's poem...about love..written in February 1969.
     
  WHY YOU ?

Why you from all the rest,
I'll never know?
Why did we meet that day,
An act of fate or mere coincidence ?
Was it the hand of some unseen
Force that pulled us together ?
Was it the moment of truth for
Two people?
What was it ?
Why you from all the rest ?

Tuesday, 7 July 2015

Cracks

16:38:00 Posted by Lady Curt , No comments
Well, last thing yesterday evening I looked to see what the theme was for this week...typical me..at the last moment. Does this show cracks in my ability and organisation ? The theme made me think of cracks outside in the paving slabs - some now replaced by tarmac, as the old slabs were getting pretty dangerous. If only we could remove the cracks in our life and replace them so easily ! Along would come three workmen - one to work and the others to prop up the shovels..." Here, missus, that's your old crack sorted out. You should have a better, smoother life now ." No such luck. We are solely responsible for smoothing out our own cracks. Just as well, it makes us who we are.


       
        Cracks

Step lightly now, miss the crack,
Step on one...oops..bad luck !
On the way to school, going slow -
With all my chums stepping so.

As years went by I forgot this game,
But not always good luck just the same.
I watched my child avoid the cracks
As together we walked to his school and back.

Remembered then my schoolday pranks
And silently then I gave thanks
For the luck I'd had in having him,
To pass on my knowledge and idle whim.

Nowadays I step lightly to miss the cracks
Else I might fall down with a smack
On my way into town going slow,
I might miss my step and fall down low !

Step lightly now and miss the cracks-
Must have missed most 'cos I've had lots of luck.
Life has had it's ups and downs-
Cracks now healed and luck abounds.

Kathleen Curtiss

Tuesday, 30 June 2015

Revenant

11:49:00 Posted by Lady Curt , , , , No comments
This week's title REVENANT, meaning someone who returns - from exile or from the dead. I expect that I've often been a revenant . Born in London, taken to Aberdeen ( aged 5 ) to a new culture, a new language ! Then aged 23 I moved to Oxfordshire, leaving behind an idyllic life in the Cairngorm mountains, where I revelled in the outdoor life and the social life of the school I worked in. Once again an alien culture - and this time I really felt like an exile. Twenty years later, with a new husband I returned to the north of Scotland, the place I'd longed to return to. We settled in well, perhaps my husband feeling slightly exiled this time, coming from Oxford ? It seemed that I was settled and preparing for retirement.....then following heart attacks my husband expressed a wish to come to Cleveleys (we'd stopped there in our motorhome on one of our many trips north to south... I spent my life travelling up and down ! ) and so it was that we moved here. So once again I am a revenant. With age, however I've become more resigned to my position and hope that I spend my days here - - - who knows ?
Last year when I was involved with the " Walking On Wyre" project  at Fleetwood I came home and penned this...
           The Spectre

I met a ghostly vision by the jetty
Don't you know ?
Who asked me when the sailors came ashore
Did I know
What tide they came in on and at what time of day ?
Petrified I whispered ,"Go away, go away "

Walking to the lighthouse near the shore,
You should know,
I met up with this spectre once again
I'll have you know.
He frightened me near to death this time
By asking once again -in rhyme !

"What time does the Falcon berth,
Where does she dock?"
Chortling in eerie mirth,
"You know she hit a rock !
Down she went, way down deep..
Drowned beneath the sea
All my mates they be asleep -
All that is 'cept me.
I walk this jetty and the light
Waiting for my sailor mates,
All the day and all the night
Not aknowing of their fates"

I couldn't give him any answers
I didn't know, I didn't know.
So if you spot a ghostly figure by the jetty,
You ought to know
He'll ask you all these frightful things,
Whilst to your sleeve he stubbornly clings.

So you set off and try to find what happened to his mates-
He needs to know, he needs to know.
Remember all the facts and dates and
Let him know, please let him know !


Kath Curtiss

Tuesday, 23 June 2015

Out In The Blue

This week's theme BLUE...well I was certain that I might have a piece to fit the bill. After all I'm always  " out in the blue " , so to speak. Spending a lot of time walking in the mountains, by lochs and seashore - but no - nothing in my archives. So I had to find some time to write something.

Blue - a word used to describe a colour, a mood, a naughty joke, an additive to whiten washing, a type of music (Blues ) , an ice dance ( the Blues ), bad language - - to name a few. I tend to link the word with songs like " Blue Moon " , " I'd Rather be Blue " , " Am I Blue ? " , " Blue Heaven " , " Blue Velvet " - -probably because I go dancing and these tunes often crop up. The colour blue often turns up on my photographs - -blue sky, blue lakes, far distant blue mountains, glacier ice appearing blue.

We associate blue with summer skies and the seaside - yet we talk about being "blue with the cold " in the depths of winter. Without the colour blue our world would be much duller as it makes up other colours - greens, jades, lilacs, purples, greys. Imagine being without " Blue "!

By the way the photograph is from my 2015 file and it's entitled " Blue blue "


Blue Eyes
I miss those blue eyes
that twinkled with mischief,
those eyes that shed no tears,
that gazed at me with love.
Blue eyes are gone now -
The light went out.
 
 
Kath Curtiss (aka Lady Curt). Thanks for reading.