Picture postcards

I’m too upset about Gaza this morning to do anything but share some photos.

This is Boulder creek seen from my favourite bike ride

And this is what Boulder (specifically Wonderland Lake) looks like when the sun goes in and the temperature drops and it’s on the brink of snowing, and when you get back from your bike ride parts of you are so cold that when you sit on the loo you wonder if the loo seat is a heated one.

It’s early morning here, and I’m looking forward to the girls waking up and bouncing in.

I can’t believe the obscenity of what the world has let Israel do…how the world supported genocide in the name of defence.

London demonstration October 28 2023
Photo from Reuters

A day in the life

I am alone in Hepworth Towers West. The family have gone to work, to school and to meetings. It’s just me and the cats and they are busy trying to catch a mouse in the coat closet by the front door.

I have read the headlines, then an editorial pointing out that the UK press is out of step with public opinion on the bombing, as three quarters of the public want a ceasefire. And then I checked up on precisely what the UN Secretary General said and concluded that the Israeli objections are unfounded. And a misrepresentation - no surprise there. 

I cannot read the news in full. It’s too awful. There is this delicate balancing act going on inside my head - staying up to date with the horrific situation, while protecting myself from despair. After all, it’s not me who is suffering, I keep telling myself. And I do all that I can - post about it, write to my MP, sign petitions, give money to Medical Aid for Palestinians. There’s another big march in London on Saturday but I’m here in Boulder.

The weather has turned, and it’s cold. Alexa says there will be a high of 60 deg F today (15.5 C) so it will mean wrapping up for my bike ride.

Yesterday I had breakfast at Google with Isaac and loved it. It’s nice to spend time with just him. 

As far as the office is concerned, every comfort is catered for in a minimalistic streamlined kind of way. I tried one of the massage chairs, which was bliss, and one of the hanging pods that are there to relax in, to be quiet, to work, whatever. I didn’t have a go on a treadmill. Perhaps you can see a pattern.

Photo by Isaac

Isaac showed me most things of interest. I even saw a dog feeding station, and a quiet little pooch pattering down a corridor. I carried around Isaac’s iPad Pro and held it in front of my visitor’s badge so I could pretend to be an employee, but even ignoring my age, my clothing betrayed my outsider status. Most people had T shirts and sweatshirts in black or neutral colours, and Wendy says they’d all be garments made of some fabric with advanced technological features. I saw no denim. And just one splash of orange.

The views of the mountains are stunning. It feels like a great place to work. Cece likes the snack stations on every floor and Lux likes the massage chairs best. 

I walked home along one of the trails, and then under Wendy’s instruction, tie-dyed my T shirt to go with my Halloween Hippie costume. (Illustration later.)

Then Wendy took me for lunch at the Rio where we sat in the sunshine on the roof and had my usual -a margarita with rocks and salt, and house salad with shrimp. It was fun. Lunch out with Wendy always is.

Photo by Wendy

I spent the day before on my own, on a bike ride, and going to a couple of art galleries, and I had an interesting encounter on the main shopping street. A young man standing outside a shop said he wanted to give me a free gift and handed me a smart and tiny carrier bag containing a sachet of something. I asked him what it was. 

“It’s cream to put under your eyes,” he said.

“Oh, thank you.”

“Or would you rather have one for above your eyes?” he said.

“Which do you think I need?”

“I’ll give you both.”

I am still laughing (and no doubt creating even more laughter lines.)

The latest

 The latest missive to our MP from Dave:

Moments

Here is my week in a series of moments…

Watching the sky as Isaac and the girls are driving me home to their house from Denver airport 

The view from the front porch the next morning

My first bike ride

Reading the dreadful headlines and feeling sick and knowing that the only thing I can do besides writing fruitless letters to our Tory MP is to give money to appeals for Gaza. I don’t believe that praying for peace has any effect. 

Watching Lux and Cece at their gym class with Isaac while we also try to solve the NYT crossword. American crosswords are SO different from British ones, but just as much fun.

Having a coffee and a scone at my favourite cafe with the girls and Isaac:

Playing table tennis with Wendy on their new table and shooting the breeze.  

Was our table at Hepworth Towers ever this glossy?

Going for a walk up Bald Mountain in the foothills of the Rockies at teatime with Isaac and Lux:

Photo by Isaac

Photo by Isaac

photo by Isaac

Getting an email from the Palestine Solidarity Committee on Sunday morning that says there were 300,000 on a March in London on Saturday calling for an end to the bombing of the people of Gaza. 

Then reading a headline in the Guardian saying that the police estimate of the numbers was 100,000, and thinking yes, of all the demos I have been on in the past, it was ever thus.

Having waffles and maple syrup and bacon for breakfast. I love American breakfasts but what I love more is breakfasting with the family.

Sitting listening to Isaac play the piano and sing a song I remember drifting out of his bedroom 35 years ago. So moving for this soppy mother.

Playing table tennis with Isaac.

Visiting the farm where the family buy their pumpkins and their Christmas trees. Yesterday of course it was for pumpkins. We chose one each. The family rule is that you have to be capable of carrying the one you pick.

Notice the snow covered Rockies in the distance:

Sitting in the sunshine making art with Lux’s fabulous collection of coloured pencils and realising the abstract I’m working on is all about Gaza, and I need to pile on the ugliness.

Throughout the last week I’ve been returning in my mind to the poem by Jack Gilbert that I have shared with you before. It is a comfort.

A Brief for the Defence

by Jack Gilbert

Guess where I am

 I got here yesterday.

Currently recovering from the journey, but still in touch with the sickening news. Dave is keeping up the letter output. (see previous posts) If I were at home I’d be going on the big March on Saturday in London.

More news from here, over the pond, anon.

Aren’t my granddaughters fab?

Today's letter to our MP

 

This morning Dave and I wrote separate letters to our MP. Dave's is more powerful so I'm going to share his with you.

Your government is not unused to trying to break domestic and international law. There have been a string of illegalities from prorogation onwards during this parliament.

Mr Sunak (appointed, not elected) commits the UK to unequivocal support for Israel’s extreme right-wing government, led by a man who also considers himself above the law. In doing so, he is making the UK complicit in war crimes, and the inhumanity that so disfigures governance.

Mr Sunak – and his ministers – repeat the mantra that Israel has every right to defend itself. I agree completely. But what we are seeing in Gaza cannot be described as self-defence. There is no imminent threat. Israel’s ‘war’ is against Hamas, but it is acting against the population of Gaza as a proxy. Half a million people have been displaced and made homeless by Israel’s insistence that they leave northern Gaza. As usual (over the last 15 years over 90% of the Arab/ Israeli casualties in the ME have been Palestinian) there have been far more Palestinian than Israeli casualties.

I ask you simply this. How many more deaths and casualties is the government happy to allow Israel’s government to create? How many war crimes are we content to be complicit in as a nation? How many innocent Palestinians have to die, how many families must be deracinated, how many communities have to be destroyed before the Israeli government is satisfied with its retaliation? How many children is Mr Sunak happy to see broken in the name of self-defence? Is the extirpation of the entire Gazan population something we can turn an insouciant Nelsonian eye towards?

What we are seeing now is not self-defence, but blood-lust verging on genocide garnished with lies. And Mr Sunak supports it all, as does your government.

Mr Sunak does not speak for the nation is supporting this inhumanity, this cruelty, this abject failure of justice. In doing so he shames us all.

Dave Hepworth

Photo taken from the Financial Times this morning

Sick at heart

I am sick at heart that Israel is committing war crimes and the UK government and the leader of the opposition (such as he is) is backing them.

"Sick at heart" does not come close, just as it wouldn't come close to how I feel about the recent atrocities of Hamas.

No matter what Hamas did, I can't believe that a so-called civilized society is raining terror on ordinary people - half of whom are children - and expecting 1.1 million people to evacuate to avoid the onslaught.

I can't believe that in 2023 the world is standing by and letting this genocide happen.

If you want to help Gaza, and like me, you're dumbfounded as to what will help, a good start would be donating to a charity supporting people in Palestine.

Medical Aid for Palestinians is a long established and respectable UK charity that has been working in Gaza for many years. It has no connection with Hamas, or with violence of any kind.

Here is a link to their emergency appeal. 

And here is a list of other things you can do for Palestine and Israel right now.

And if you don't understand what it's all about, here is a short video explaining the history behind the decades-long conflict.

Horrified

I am horrified by what Hamas has done. Horrified.

And I'm horrified by the worldwide defence of Israel's "right to defend itself" through collectively punishing the population of Gaza, half of whom are children.

I am horrified that the Israelis and the rest of the world think that a stricter siege and heavy bombing are any kind of solution to the ongoing violence. Collective punishment is a crime under international law, and so is the cutting off of fuel, food and water. 

Israel is an apartheid state. Nethanyahu denies Palestinians a right to their own state, and denies them equal rights under Israeli control. 

Ordinary life for ordinary (non-Hamas) Palestinians has been getting worse and worse over the last few years, with more brutal violence from settlers, as the police and the military look on, more theft of land and houses belonging to Palestinians, more bulldozing of Palestinians' houses, more administrative detention of innocent people, and the torture of some of them, more burning of olive trees, more theft of water.

The natural first response to the violence and brutality from Hamas might be a desire for revenge. But has the human race - so clever these days in so many ways - not evolved to know that violence begets violence and the brave and wise person seeks another way?...the way of a ceasefire and negotiations, and in this case the end to apartheid.

The Palestinians' struggle for freedom has been shut down at every level: diplomatic talks that were shut down, economic boycotts that were deemed economic terrorism and shut down, going to the United Nations where the USA vetoed resolutions holding the Israelis to account, the International Criminal Court where the USA put pressure on the court not to pursue war crimes of Israelis.

None of this justifies the brutal actions of Hamas.

And the brutality of Hamas does not justify the collective punishment of Palestinians by the Israelis: the west should not be supporting the latter.

"What is morally wrong cannot be politically right." John Bright, Quaker MP

We need a ceasefire and meaningful talks and a resolution by the world to treat seriously and fairly the Palestinians' call for their own land.

The shadow side

In the last month I have been described as “impatient,” “irritable” and “brusque.” Each adjective was used by a different member of my family and at different times.

I myself could add vain, pushy, blunt, snappy, gossipy and selfish.

I don’t know why I’ve been so very irritable lately. Is it the drip drip drip of poison coming from the government that became a torrent of hatred this week at the Tory party conference?

Is it the rain that’s been stopping my bike rides?

Whatever is making me so irritable, I don’t like me much when I am.

I came across something on the The Marginalian ( formerly Brainpickings) site recently about recognising one’s shadow side, written by someone called Parker Palmer, the founder of the Centre for Courage and Renewal. These are two excerpts:

and there is something along the same lines in Quaker Faith and Practice

We know, with varying degrees of acceptance into awareness, our own weaknesses, and there is a tendency to think that others – who seem, on the surface, to be very sure and confident – do not struggle in the way we do. But many of those who appear to cope and be strong and tireless are indeed very different behind their masks. We are all wounded; we all feel inadequate and ashamed; we all struggle. But this is part of the human condition; it draws us together, helps us to find our connectedness.

June Ellis, 1986

I just went to the webpage for the Center of Courage and Renewal and this is what appeared…

First a dark screen with “Breathe deeply” in the middle.

And then this:

I’m always in need of courage and stamina, but I don’t think I’m going to pursue the lead. Realistically, my life is full enough already, and if I take time to start the day properly, and try hard throughout the day to be more patient and to breathe deeply and to LET THINGS GO, I might become a nicer person to be around. We can only hope.

Addicted to colour

I bought a new winter raincoat from Seasalt in Bakewell last weekend (with £40 knocked off the price- woo hoo).  Except they didn’t have my size in stock so they said it would come in the post.

It arrived on Wednesday and I tried it on and thought…It fits, and it’s going to be warm and it’s well made and will probably last me 8 years like the last one did. But it did not bring me even the tiniest tingle of joy.

The one I bought 8 years ago that I’ve been wearing ever since, did bring me joy when it was new. It was an impulse buy. I was in John Lewis in Sheffield (oh halcyon days when we still had a John Lewis and a viable high street) buying vacuum cleaner bags and popped upstairs to the clothes department as per usual. 

I was not looking for a raincoat but there was this beautiful Seasalt one in turquoise with a gingham lining and I bought it on the spot. Shock horror! An impulse buy of a major item. But the colour made me feel happy and the purchase turned out to be one of my best, because it’s only in the last couple of years that it’s been looking tired. 

Back to the new coat…  it has been lying on the blanket chest in the bedroom since Wednesday. I have tried it on a couple of times and shown it to Dave but it does not make me feel anything other than...what a sensible purchase it is. It’s a very sludgy, very muted turquoise and I don’t like it.

I think I’m addicted to colour. Het has just bought the same coat in yellow, and as we rarely meet I considered swapping mine for yellow too, but it's not a good idea, because although I love yellow, it doesn't suit my colouring. 

Yes, I am addicted to colour. Remember that painting I showed you of the view from Embleton Beach?

Other people like it but I don’t, even though I think it works. I think I don’t like it because it lacks colour.

This is my latest work in progress: 

A field of oil seed rape with a turquoise gate I once saw in Northumberland.

And that is a whole other problem, because my brother pointed out that the trees would not have summer foliage in May, and he’s right. I had changed the trees because I thought it made a better composition, and now I am wondering if it matters. My colourful nasturtiums painting wasn’t horticulturally accurate. Does this one need to be? Who knows? 

What I do know is that I’m taking the coat back to the shop this morning.

Irritants

Dave and I had decided to go on one last trip on the open-topped double decker sightseeing bus that runs from Chatsworth and calls in at Hassop Station, and on Monday, sunshine was forecast for the whole day, so we went. This time I had on two jumpers and my puffa jacket. The fresh blustery air and the way the bus rattles along the uneven roads makes it feel like a fairground ride, which is why i find it such fun. 

This time I came away with a wet bum. The plastic seat felt dry when I sat down, but the squishy upholstery had obviously absorbed rain from the last few days, probably through the seams. 

I told the bus driver and he laughed. 

Dave said 'It's a good job veruccas don't transmit through wet bums.'

I have to say it was not pleasant walking home with trousers and pants sopping wet, but still.

Dave has a habit of weighing up the fun or pleasure he gets from anything he’s had to pay for that is not a necessity. When we go on a narrowboat holiday he divides the cost of the rental by seven days and tells me we need to get that much fun out of each day. The bus cost us £4 each and I knew he’d enjoyed the ride so I asked him as we walked away at the end if he’d had £4 worth of fun. 

‘No,’ he said. ‘I don’t think I have.’

‘Really?’  I said. You have to understand that Dave rarely spends money on himself and never goes out for evening entertainment such as a meal out, or a trip to the pub or the cinema and he has no idea how much these things cost. I do, of course. 

‘Well I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘In that case we’ll walk home through the field of maize. That should make it worthwhile for you.’

On our way to the field, a local man cycled past us and I said 'I don’t know why but I find him incredibly irritating.’ This man - with whom I am not personally acquainted - has a cuddly toy fixed to the top of his cycling helmet which makes him look ridiculous, and he always shouts a greeting to me when I’m out on my bike. If I happen to stop for something he tries to engage me in conversation. 

'You shoudn't be irritated,' Dave said. 'He’s only doing his schtick.'

'I know. I feel ashamed.'

We reached the field of maize. Dave loves to walk on this public footpath.

I asked him to explain again why, and he did. He likes the heat gathered in the enclosed space, the foliage brushing in his face, the animal’s eye view of the plants, and the feeling he gets when we burst out into the wide open space at the end. He also likes the way it feels slightly transgressive.

He asked me why I didn’t like it. I explained that I found it fun the first time, but now I just find it annoying. After a week of rain the footpath is slippery squelchy mud, which our hiking boots get caked in, and I find the large leaves flapping in my face incredibly irritating. Also I am claustrophobic. 

'You’re very susceptible to irritation aren't you? Generally speaking?' he said.

'Yes.' 

I get irritated when I am listening to the radio and painting and have paint all over my hands and the phone rings. I get irritated when I am concentrating on something and Dave waltzes in and starts to tell me about the latest on Trump or Bennu.

'You’re like a storage heater,' he said. 'You soak up irritations and then when you reach a certain point, the next irritant will cause you to explode.'

He was right. I am an irritable person. Like my father.

'I’m sorry,' I said.

'It’s OK, you can’t help it. It’s in your genes.'

Later at home, when we were discussing the shape of the rest of the day he said ‘Does it irritate you when I go out on my bike?’ 

‘No,’ I said. ‘it never, ever irritates me when you’re out on your bike.’

‘Hmm,’ he said.

Battening down the hatches

Suddenly it’s here: autumn. It’s dark at 6 a.m - the time I wake up - and the evenings are closing in fast. The sweet peas are all but finished, the nasturtiums look depleted and sad and my 6 foot high, 6 foot square patch of cosmos still has no white flowers out and only six pink ones. Who knows what went wrong with them this year?

I’m putting my cool linen clothes away and thinking about jumpers, and when the Toast email plopped into my inbox I discovered this and rather liked it. 

Then I saw the price. £225. WHAT??!

I could knit it in my own repurposed and recycled wool for nothing, so I foraged in my two knitting drawers and got out this selection of oddments:

and tried and failed to find a pattern in my collection. So I am making it up. I just have to decide what size needles and how many stitches to begin with. It will be trial and error. I did it with my fair isle hoodie, I can surely do it with a tank top.

The other early preparation for winter has been the purchase of some proper cycling tights. I have been wearing ordinary tracksuit bottoms for years, but now I cycle further than ever before on my wonderful new bike, I decided I could do with some padding…

The next thing I need to do is find and buy a daylight lamp so I can extend my painting hours when the winter really sets in. By December, without a lamp, I won’t be able to paint beyond half past three in the afternoon.

This is my latest effort - it’s a collage of prints of nasturtium leaves and flowers. It was an experiment.

Lastly, I need to fit a new battery to my home made Courage neon sign

because this is me when I wake up to yet another wet winter day:

The Sibs go South (well, three of them do)

I've been living it up with my sibs, which is why I have not posted.

Usually we meet up and stay together in Wensleydale, which is where our parents used to live, and where my brother Jonty still lives. This time we all went to stay with my sister Jen who lives with her husband in a village near Winchester. Jonty, Kath and I drove down south together, and Pete was over from Belgium.

We call my younger sister 'generous Jen.' She is a wonderful hostess, a terrific cook, and the home she has created is so attractive, tasteful and comfortable it could be a star feature in Country Living. Not for her an indoor workshop calling itself “a study,” or power tools kept in the bedroom because “they would go rusty in the shed.” Not for her rooms with old bits of carpet put down to catch the splashes of paint. Not for her, a jar of house paint brushes on the kitchen window sill because “it's a handy place to keep them.”

We had a wonderful time catching up. 

Pete, Jonty, me and Kath
Jen is on the left - she doesn't like having her photo taken.
Photo by Tony

I am so so lucky to have such a loving family who are also a lot of fun. During the day we were out and about in Winchester and Hampshire - where the trees are stately and lovely and the waterways are crystal clear. 

Feeding the trout

Looking for trout

Admiring yet another beautifully clear chalkstream

And we played Rummikub and hilarious games of no-holds-barred Cheat after tea. (Oops - I should say supper: it was down south.) 

One day we went to to the beach:      

photo by Jen

photo by Jen

And I was delighted when Jonty agreed with me that the water was far too warm to be resisted.

The other sibs call this shot "The Bodyguard"
photo by Jen

photo by Jen

Proof!
photo by Jen

They are all keen ornithologists, whereas I am not. But I did enjoy seeing some beautifully marked starlings who came to visit at lunchtime. One or two even fed from Jonty's hand.

I'm now back home and dying to get back to painting, but there are a lot of jobs in the garden that need attending to. I've made a list and will try to work through it this week, in between everything else in my diary. 

My siblings are stoical types, like Ma, and it's made me question my blogging habits again.  I may be nearing the end.

P.S.  Almost forgot…Jen even found time to give my hair a trim: