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Another Dimension

She seated herself on the old familiar bench to rest a while, to be alone with her thoughts. The bench was hard against her back but it felt good supporting her weary bones. Sunlight seeped through the grey clouds, and a gentle breeze lifted leaves from the path, sending them scuttling hither and thither, swirling round her feet. She rested, head slightly tilted, one hand relaxed in her lap the other supporting her on the the bench beside her. If anyone passing by noticed her they would have seen the gentle smile curve her lips and the softening of her gaze.

She felt the tentative touch of his fingers on hers, the firmness of his other arm as he gently laid it behind her, lightly across her shoulders. She tilted her head resting it on his shoulder, seeking solace from the warmth there; peace from the sensation of the rise and fall of his chest with each breath he took. The gentle breeze floated across her and she felt his fingers caress her hair, the sun played across her face and the lightest of kisses from his lips touched her forehead.

Feeling the tension ease from her body, he continued to run his fingers through her silken hair. Bending his head he breathed in the scent of her, his lips brushing her forehead. He wanted so much to tell her how he yearned to hold her to him. How he craved the feeling of joy her presence gave him, but he knew she would not hear his words. He knew she would leave soon, just as she had the last time and the time before. A tear escaped and trickled down his cheek, hastily he wiped it away. He did not want her to know his pain.

The breeze was no more, now the wind blew across the land, whipping at her legs. With a sigh she stood to go and pulled her coat closer round hoping to hold his warmth a little longer to her heart.

He dropped his head to his hands and let the tears flow, wishing with all his heart that their time together would not be so short. Wishing that they, not just their hearts, could be together for all time, for eternity.

Weariness overcame her and she sat once more. Her body did not feel the seat, she did not see the churchyard, but she heard him weeping and felt the wonder of touching his hair once more.

He felt the touch of her hand in his hair and raised his head, to see her gazing into his eyes. Hesitantly, trembling with fear, scared she might disappear, he raised his hand and touched the skin of her face. He felt the warmth, the smoothness, the softness of skin he had thought he would never feel again and clasped his love to him.

Together in the same dimension once more

Copyright © 2015 The Kentish Lass

Miracles don’t happen

Why do I feel that if I reach out my hand I can touch yours?
Why do I still turn to speak to you when I know you’re not there?
Why do I want to dial your number knowing it’s no longer yours?
Will this empty longing ache ever mellow?
Will the pain of needing you near and not having you ever ease?
Will I ever grow accustomed to not hearing your voice, your laugh?

I miss you so much, too much for words to explain
I never knew I could feel so empty and yet be so full of pain
I never knew before how much silence can hurt.
I still see your smile and the joy in your eyes
I can still recall the feel of you near me
But these things bring me no comfort only serving to hurt me more

I want to shut the pain out. If I do then I loose you and I need you so
I wish I could remember you without feeling this gnawing pain
I want to remember the warmth of you, the love we shared
I want to remember everything about you and everything we did.
But I want to remember as it was, without this heavy aching need.
This dark feeling of empty despair
I want to smile again and feel the smile inside.

Copyright © Nov 1988 The Kentish Lass

Back to Photography

There’s a fascination about photographs, proper old photographs. Holding a photograph not just viewing on a screen. Do you recall the anticipation of taking a set of photos, sometimes over a period of weeks or months? Sending the roll or rolls of film off to be processed and the, what seemed like, eternal wait for the results to be returned? The highs of the successes and the lows of the shaky blurred images.

Even now I love trawling through the photographs in my mothers attic. The photos from our childhood, from her childhood and those rarities of her mothers childhood. Each generation captured in a split second of magic. There is something very very special about holding a picture of people who lived in the Edwardian or indeed if you’re very lucky the Victorian age. For me I can almost feel the history, imagine the life the people in the photo lived.

I was given my first camera by, well someone very important to me. He died far too young, but the point is he introduced me to the fun of a snap camera.

Then I was introduced to the intricacies of shutter speeds, F stops, and I bought my first Olympus manual camera. I seemed to have an eye for composition: didn’t always get the right aperture setting but generally the subject was framed pretty well.

Work got in the way and I stopped using the camera – to my ever lasting regret.

After my early retirement it occurred to me that I could combine my love of old buildings, architecture, nature and photography AND get out and about again. The four walls of the house had been closing in. But of course film is as rare as hen’s teeth now and it seemed that if I wanted to get back into photography I would have to embrace the digital age.

So, in May 2015 I bought a second hand Digital Olympus. I hadn’t used a digital camera before (apart from the blackberry and I don’t think we can count that) but have found that I enjoy the freedom of being able to take as many photos as I want and edit and discard as I see fit. Almost instant gratification! The results can be seen on Instagram and Flickr for those interested.

Forever Mine

The gossamer brume swirling, twisting, invading;
Wrapping its damp embrace around all.
The chill creeps into me, as the ivy clothes your tomb.

Silence, seeping through my skin; soaking my soul.
Calming, silencing the frenzy of my mind, comforting
Thoughts of you in another time, another heart beat, surface.

In a blink of an eye you are here, beside me, fingers entwined,
Memories of you, our minds, nature beating in time with our pace
Memories of your smile, your touch, your kiss

Our dreams live on in my heart, always present
In that place you will be forever by my side
In that place I will forever read our lives.

The life we had, the life that should have been
All our hearts desire, our minds fire
The life that should have been, frozen in time.

The sea stole you from my arms,
She can not steal you from my heart,
Where you remain forever mine.

Copyright © 2014 The Kentish Lass

My Love, My Friend, My Life

How suddenly, treacherously the dreams can end.
He died without warning so far away,
We had no chance to say our farewells
My Love and best friend gone forever.
There’s no way of knowing if, for him, it was quick,
No way of knowing if he suffered too long and too much.

The pain I feel , the empty loneliness, never to see him
Never again to see his face, hear his laugh, his voice,
See the joy in his eyes, or feel his touch, his kiss, his caress
Never again to hold him in my arms or wake with him by my side.
I know this desperate ache for him will ease
I know life must go on without him and he would want me to be happy

But I don’t know how or where to start again,
How to quell the tears that come unbidden.
He was so much of my life and there is so little left without him.
He was the sunshine and the laughter in my life.
How do I find my way back to the sun?
The way out of this maze of pain and aching loneliness

To live without his love, his hope, his charm
I can find no purpose to my life
We needed each other, and I still need him
I am unable to find the words to explain
how great, how all encompassing my loss is
My Love My Friend My Life

copyright © 1987 The Kentish Lass

Without You

When you were with me and we two were one
I was happy and whole
Now you are dead and gone and I am alone
I am lost and broken

Without you there is no warmth to the day
Without you there is no meaning to being alive
Without you there is no life
I feel so empty without you

Without you there is no beginning or end of time
Without you each hour is the same as the last
Without you there is no joy in walking in the rain
The pain of losing you doesn’t ease

Without you there is no one to share the laughter
Without you there is no one to share the triumph and disasters
Without you there is no life in me
I need you to take away this ache

Without you wine is just an alcoholic drink
Without you a picnic is just a meal in the open air
There are no jokes, no teasing, no smiles, no laughter in the eyes
I need your smile, your being

Without your smile, without the look in your eyes
Without your touch, the smell the feel of you
Without the sound of your voice, your laughter, your footsteps
There is no light. There is no day without you.

Copyright © 1990 The Kentish Lass

Storm Catcher

Watching the cerulean blue sky darken through grey to black.
Clouds gathering. Wind lifting. Trees bending.
The sudden stillness of sound and air.
The smell of a storm rising.
The bird song ceasing, the rustle of the wind in the trees falling silent
Nature holds it’s breath, waiting for the cloud tears to fall
The storm, when it broke, all noise and light.
Ferocious in it’s intensity, stunningly magical
The eruption of thunder and streaks of lightning, rending the sky asunder, rumbling
The weeping, at first tiny droplets of sorrow,
Gently landing as a caress to the dry earth,
Growing in size to land as great juicy globules,
Slow enough to be caught on her tongue
Soon gathering speed, stronger and larger, soaking, penetrating to the skin
Her hair heavy with the rain, face streaked with cloud tears
Her clothes clinging to her, sodden and useless
The Storm Catchers face turned upwards, arms outstretched
Gathering the force of the storm to her, clasping it to her heart
Her feet dancing, revelling in the feel of the rain enveloping her
Feeling the wind gathering, pushing the clouds away
Bringing calm to the landscape, to the Storm Catchers soul.

Copyright © 2015 The Kentish Lass

Opus

you were the music and melody to the lyrics of my unsung song
together we created our star studded opus.
you were the dance my body wanted to learn and move to
you were my reason to breathe deep from the river of life.
you reclaimed your music, your dance. my lyrics withered and died
my body no longer dances, my feet are still and my heart weeps
for the lost love of the river of life

Copyright © 2015 The Kentish Lass

My Constant Companion

you were there at my birth, you will be there at my death.
you were there when I took my first step, and will be there at my last
you have seen me soar and seen me tumble
you were with me at every stumble, every fall
you were with me through every climb from despair
always constant and always sure
you were part of my first love, and my last
with me during all that was good, the smiles, the laughter
the tears of joy, the blessed moments of star-gazing and sun worship
with me during all that was bad, the tears of disappointment, of pain,
of hurt and despair, the damned moments of loss
you marked me with each minute of every hour, of every day
each year that passed you left your mark upon me, upon my soul
the sound of you, the silence of you, my constant companion
you taught me that you have many paces and many graces
you taught me that patience can be learnt
you taught me that no one should be allowed to control or harness my soul
just as no one has ever controlled or harnessed your essence
you taught me that I must be mistress of my own destiny
you taught me that it is I that holds me back or moves me forward
you taught me you can be cruel and you can be kind
I have been hurt by you and I have been healed by you
you taught me that nothing, but nothing waits for you
my constant companion

Time

Copyright © 2015 The Kentish Lass

Why recipes here?

Some might think it odd to find recipes on this site. After all I’ve said this is about my progress to full recovery so what have recipes to do with that?

To put this in to perspective: I find cooking relaxing and always have. I think this is probably because if you want to produce something that looks good and tastes good you have to concentrate. Of course it could be partly because I have cooked almost for as long as I can remember or maybe it is also my nurturing instinct.

I was a Brownie and then a Girl Guide and I took all the cookery, hostess, needlework, home making and first aid type badges I could. I know this would seem very sexist by some but it was what I enjoyed. Just as well as my father was a typical MCP and although mum never, ever expected me to take over on Mothering Sunday (or her birthday or Boxing Day) dad certainly did! So as the eldest daughter in a family of 5 children, giving mum a rest generally fell to me.
For a while, when I was very ill, I lost all interest in cooking and food, in fact I was unable to cook.

Yes I could heat things up but was not able to create and adapt recipes. I actually for the first time ever burnt a saucepan and had to throw it away!

In some respects it’s a wonder that I do enjoy cooking and creating food as much as I do.

You will find here a selection of ‘my’ recipes. I hope you enjoy reading about them and / or trying them for your self and your loved ones.

No Mayo, vinegar or anything Yucky

Childhood Favourites

No Mayo, vinegar or anything yucky!

Growing up in a family of 5 children you get used to any number of food dislikes and for catering for different tastes; Sunday morning breakfast was often a cooked breakfast of eggs, bacon, fried slice, mushrooms and tomatoes.

Sounds easy? One sibling did not like the yolk of the egg, one didn’t like the white, one didn’t like fresh tomatoes and another didn’t like tinned tomatoes (makes the fried slice soggy), the one who didn’t like the yolk (or was it the one who didn’t like the white?) originally loved mushrooms, but managed to eat so many of them on one occasion that she no longer liked them! How my mother kept her patience with us I know not, but she did!

I then married a man who didn’t like mayonnaise or vinegar. However the list did not and does not stop there. It includes anything that might have vinegar in, or look like mayonnaise, salad cream, mustard, olives, capers, anchovies, seafood, fruit with meat, the taste of sweet and sour combinations, goats cheese, Philadelphia cream cheese, blue cheese, sour cream, oxtail, liver, kidney, lamb (too fatty?) anything with a bone in or skin on, no chicken drumsticks, all visible fat to be removed (I know!). I have managed to introduce mushrooms, chicken thighs, cooked feta, celeriac and lamb – yes it can be cooked and not be greasy. He still prefers carrots cooked in a stew but at least he will eat them.

You might think this would mean that we had a fairly bland diet, but no what it actually meant was that I found new ways of cooking favourite meals. Dislike is the mother of invention as far as my cooking was concerned.

Your Final kiss

The day the sea took you remains with me forever.

That night no sleep came. I drifted through consciousness to despair, beyond hope, beyond belief. We knew, you and I that our time was done.

The sea, she was not discriminate in who she took that night, young, barely born, old and those just beginning to learn to live again.

In the hours between dusk and dawn my mind, my very being called to you. Fought for you. Longed for you. Finally you came to me at the breaking of dawn. I felt you and heard you. Yet it was not to stay, it was not to live our dreams.

This was not a farewell. This was beyond doubt goodbye.

I felt the brush of your last kiss, cold against my skin, like a sigh caught by the wind and dropped upon my fevered brow.

I felt your final embrace and the leaving of you shattered me into a million pieces. I knew, without conscious thought, that I would never be the same, life would never be the same. And at last the hot tears of grief came.

I grieved for what had been, what should have been, our past, our future and yes I grieved for our lost love.

Part of my soul, my heart, my mind became shrouded in a dark mist.

Held, suspended in that moment of time when the last breath left your body and caressed my skin.

Memories of you, of us, fingers entwined, eyes locked in hunger, oblivious to others, remain.

The feel of your hands in my hair, lips on my neck, urging me to soar, fly.

There are days, still, when the scent of you drifts into my mind, filling me so that no other scent exists.

There are days when I swear I can feel your arm around my waist and your sweet breath on my skin. On days such as these, time stands still.

Memories of you

The brush of your cold lips, on my fevered brow. As light as a sigh or butterfly wings.

Your final kiss.

Copyright © 2014 The Kentish Lass