Walking The Dog

'Summer has o'er-brimmed' and we find ourselves in Keats' 'season of mists and mellow fruitfulness.' Of brambles, apples  and crumble. Of falling leaves. Long shadows And flaming sunsets 'Autumn settles in the way an old friend will settle into your favourite chair and fills the afternoon with stories of places he has been and things he had done since he last saw you.' Stephen King  Stories ...  We find stories everywhere. And if we don't find them, we make them up. Stories for ourselves and stories for sharing. Usually, they are good stories.  But sometimes they are bad. Bad stories make me feel uncomfortable. And this autumn, I am a little uncomfortable. No, I don't mean a little uncomfortably shivery around the edges? It's not a the-nights-are-drawing-in-and-we're-holding-out-like-we-do-every-year-til-November-to-put-the-heating-on seasonally induced uncomfortable. Nor is it uncomfortably starting to co...

A life without stories would be impossible. Look for something that doesn't have a story and resign yourself to never finding it. A grain of sand on a beach; a petal on a flower; the broken handle on my cup; the rusted rivet in a metal bridge; and the gum stuck to the pavement, all have a story. Everything does - there's the how did it get there; where did it come from; who put it there; what happened to bring it in front of me at this precise time? What is a story? Story - definition: a true or fictitious account of a sequence of events and characters; its purpose being to entertain or inform. We constantly ask ourselves, what's the story? Or, what's in a story? Different questions, but essentially addressing the same thing: we like to know. And if we don't know, we like to make an attempt at explaining things - we pry, we wonder, we invent - who did that, why, where, what happened next? We fill in the gaps. Not always accurately. But we fill them anyway, ...

According to Tate Modern - ART CHANGES WE CHANGE  I wonder if it's just me ... just me - the sufficiently pedantic one, who bothers to be bothered by this declaration? Everyone else simply walks on by. If they notice the words, perhaps they glance, read, shrug a 'yes, whatever' and walk on. Me - I glance, read and the words trigger an agitated avalanche; a silent screaming 'Whaaaaat?!' Surely, something's missing. Perhaps, a comma. Or any of the following: when, how, where, if, and, as.  All would fit. Wouldn't they? Or am I alone in my nit-picking, pernickety little world; worrying what these words mean? What the intent was behind displaying them large above the brick wall of the iconic Tate? What they are meant to say? But fail to say. Perhaps, the point is that different people will read different things into them. If they bother to read them at all. I'm still bothered, though, about what they mean to me. And what they clearly do...

Don't walk behind me; I may not lead. Don't walk in front of me; I may not follow. Just walk beside me and be my friend. Albert Camus Be my friend. Just take me for a walk. Please. Or I'll have to take myself for one. And then I won't have a friend - Four-legged-friend discovered yesterday that he could hold his lead in his mouth. It happened by accident. There was something dangling at mouth level that hadn't been there before so what was a dog meant to do. It tasted leathery and smelt of friends' hands. Then, he appeared to realise what exactly it was that he had in his mouth. And having never done this before, he brought it to us looking for our hands, as if to say take it and take me for a walk.  I thought you couldn't teach an old dog tricks. Four-legged-friend proved that wrong. Even if seven is not old old, it is pretty old in big-dog years. While Four-legged-friend was happy to walk with a friend, Bertie Baggins wa...

Compliment : definition (noun) - an expression of admiration or praise; (verb) - to express admiration or praise. A compliment then is a verbal gift, if you like, that is offered to make the recipient of the compliment feel good about themselves, or force the recipient to notice, because others including the compliment-giver have noticed, that they have done something well. To receive a compliment is one of life's pleasures. It should be a surprise. It should not come with any sense of expectation. It should be delivered genuinely. If it meets all these things, then it brings with it a warm glow; a bit like love. Fish for, or reject a compliment and it loses its gilt edge and become distinctly soured and chilly. The word has origins in the mid 17th century, from the French  compliment  and Italian  complimento . The  complimenti  of this blog title means congratulations. Which is, in itself, a means of praising someone. Well done on being who you are! On achi...

'Drawing the line' - an innocuous little phrase at first glance. Pick up a pencil and make a long straight mark on a sheet of paper. Or use your finger or a stick to drag a line across sand. It's creative. Lasting (though not in sand). A demarcation of sorts. It says, I am here. This is my mark. It is a beginning; a boundary between what you were before you drew the line and what you are now. Life after drawing the line is different. Changed. Redefined. Thus, we understand the literal meaning of drawing the line. And perhaps how drawing a line can change us. But metaphorically, as it is often used, what does it really mean? Drawing the line: definition - idiom, meaning to put a limit on your actions or to avoid doing something because you think it is wrong. People draw the (aspirational, imaginary) line in different situations all the time. Different people draw different lines. Or versions of the same lines but set at different levels.  Some lines are - or should be -...

Departure - definition:  the act of 1) leaving or embarking on a journey or 2) deviating from the expected path. From old French, departir. Robert Frost wrote ' The only certain freedom's in departure.' True; you depart, you leave everything behind. It's up to you if you embrace the freedom totally. Or taste it and come back. You can return. You can always depart again. And repeat again. And again. While recurring departures and arrivals occur every day and carry us on a roller-coaster of emotions through life - precipitating tears and laughter; elation and despair; love one minute and betrayal the next; and can-I-come-too and are-we-nearly-there-yet - forever my favourite source of pithy, heartfelt words, Winnie the Pooh, reminds me ' How lucky am I to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.' Whenever I find myself saying goodbye to one of those somethings, especially if the something is one or more of my children, I (always in their case) mean...