A quilt for May

I have just finished this lap quilt for my Mother-in-law May.  After her stroke before Christmas, she has made a remarkable recovery and is home being cared for full time by her husband of over fifty years.  He is an inspiration as their lives are altered beyond comparison.
May spends most of her day sitting in their back room which can be quite cold.  I made this quilt for her to put over her knees.  It is a two-sided quilt - one that is bright and cheerful - the fabrics begged to be made how it has turned out - I had no plan - it just happened, while I made the other side more mellow and muted, so she can decide whether she needs cheering or soothing.
I have made a number of quilts recently for babies, so it was fun to make one for a person of more mature years.  It is soft and snuggly and hopefully will keep her warm.
I gave this quilt to May last weekend and she looked thrilled to receive it.  Communicating is not easy for her, but there were many smiles - Alan, her husband told us that she had rarely smiled during the previous week.  I machine pieced the front and back and hand quilted it using an embroidery cotton.  I love this range of fabrics and two other projects designed using them.

Easter Day

This is our very newest Godson Jacob and we attended his baptism today. Three adults and four children were baptised during the service and it involved a rainwater tank that took five and a half hours to fill!  Jacob had water splashed over his head by his Dad, the Pastor at his church - it was a moving event - Easter day seems a fitting occasion to celebrate new life, new birth and for the parents, godparents and church family to make promises on behalf of the children to be involved in their Christian upbringing through prayer and modeling the love of God.  I thought that Keith and I were too old to be asked to be Godparents ever again, so we were honoured to be invited to be a part of Jacob's life.  Keith was asked to pray and this was his prayer:

Heavenly Father, We thank you for your gift of life and especially for your gift of new life through the death and resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ.  In your grace and by the power of your Holy Spirit, please make the promises made on behalf of Jacob a reality in his life.  Enable Steve and Naomi to raise him in the fear and nurture of the Lord that he might know the freedom and joy of sins forgiven and ever live for your praise and glory.  Amen.

It has been a special Easter weekend.  Yesterday our family had brunch with our friends Steve and Naomi and their boys.  Michael cooked us his scrambled eggs which are pretty fantastic.  Then our family friend Jemima and Susannah spent the afternoon cooking up a three course feast which we shared with Jemima's family last night.  It has been far too long since our families have spent time together, and we all enjoyed this precious time.  The girls did a great job and seemed very organised and professional.  We have suggested to Ben and Johnny that they attempt a similar banquet.  I have been through five dozen eggs this Easter - we have done so much cooking!  I am not sure I have been through that many eggs ever!  Eggs are a good thing to cook at this time of year - they symbolise new life.
It has been a while since I have spent so much time with my children.  On Thursday night, we ate our traditional passover meal with my sister and her family before attending a special service of readings at our church.  We all went to church again on Friday morning before taking lunch over to Keith's parents place.  Keith's Mum is home from hospital and making good progress.  She has good days and not so good days, but she enjoys seeing her family and enjoyed sitting in the sunshine eating lunch with us.  That afternoon I got to spend time with my friend Nicky who was visiting from Melbourne.  She was up with one of her sons for a couple of days.  We sat in the garden and wished there was a group we could attend like the Friday Morning Group we used to attend which helped us as young Mums.  We would love to talk about living with adult children and nurturing their independence without losing sleep or hair.
I am not used to doing so much socialising, so tomorrow, I plan to sleep.

The Doorbell Rang

This book was a great favourite of mine when my children were small.  It is quirky. Imagine the excitement of two children being given a plate filled with freshly baked choc chip cookies, and working out they can have six each, only to have to share them with others?   Each time the doorbell rings, the number of cookies they can each have diminishes.   But the doorbell keeps ringing and that clean kitchen floor gets muddier and muddier.
My children are much older, but our doorbell rings - often.  Sometimes I come home never quite knowing who will be there.  I rarely have choc chip cookies around, or muffins, or anything much, but the kettle is often put on and a cup of tea is made and shared.  Susannah makes the best choc chip cookies in our family and we all enjoy them when she has baked.
There is a sense of chaos in this domestic scene which resonates with the domestic chaos I regularly find in my home - bags left on the floor, a pile of shoes by the door, piles of mugs, glasses and plates beside the kitchen sink, a freshly washed kitchen floor no longer quite so sparkly clean.
How can I complain?  Didn't I teach my children about generosity, sharing and hospitality?  Isn't this a book we read again and again?  I now watch them welcome their friends and neighbours into our home filling it will laughter, noise and chaos and still the doorbell rings and I am glad.

Paul Assef

Little did I imagine that barely an hour after I wrote my last post, this giant of a man would die - snap - just like that!
Paul was a man who loved God and lived his life dedicated to serving His God with a big big heart. He was loved by many - his wife, his children, his mother, his sisters and their families, his friends and so many more....
I was on the edge of Paul's life, but whenever I met him, he greeted me as if I was his best friend.  He was so warm, welcoming and gregarious.  He embraced life to the fulness and drew others with him.
Paul's eldest daughter Jess married Simon a year ago amidst much joy and celebration.  This is a photo I took at their wedding and it captures Paul looking with pride at the new couple.  I was Jess' age when I married and a year later my father died, so it seems like I am watching a replay of my own life before my very eyes.
In the hours after his death, I cried out "why?"  and the following day after Paul's death, my devotional book focused on Deuteronomy 29:29 - "The secret things belong to the Lord our God"... I was patiently reminded me that I am not God, and that there is much in life that seems unfathomable and illogical.  A better question to ask perhaps is "do I still trust in God's goodness and believe that He is a great God?"
I have returned to Psalm 121 in the days since and lifted my eyes to the hills - to the Lord - who is there watching me and watching Paul's family and friends as they face life without this man.  There is nothing in life that prepares us for times when tragedies such as this take place, except for knowing that the unexpected can and will happen and usually when we least expect it.  And when it happens to lift our eyes heavenwards.
Two of my children travelled to Moree to attend his funeral.  They are sad.  Their uni friends are sad - they knew and loved Paul deeply and were impressed with how he lived his life.  Paul's children are returning to Sydney soon, as has his sister Rhonda and her husband Phil and their children.  All I can do is walk with each of them through this time of deep deep sadness and grief, and I can pray.
On the day my father died, I received a letter in the mail written by my friend Melinda who lived in the United States.  She had posted it two weeks earlier.  She wrote out Psalm 91:

"He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High
will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.
I will say of the Lord, 'He is my refuge and my fortress,
my God, in whom I trust.'....
He will cover you with his feathers,
and under his wings you will find refuge;
his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.....
If you make the Most High your dwelling -
even the Lord, who is my refuge -
then no harm will befall you,
no disaster will come near your tent.
For he will command his angels concerning you
to guard you in all your ways;
they will lift you up in their hands,
so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.
You will tread upon the lion and the cobra;
you will trample the great lion and the serpent.
Because he loves me, says the Lord,
I will rescue him;
I will protect him,
for he acknowledges my name.
He will call upon me and I will answer him;
I will be with him in trouble,
I will deliver him and honour him.
With long life will I satisfy him
and show him my salvation."  Psalm 91

My father had not been able to speak much in the final days of his life, but these verses spoke to me and reassured me that my Dad had called upon the Lord in his final hours of life.  I spoke with Dan, Paul's son last week and he told me that knowing that his Dad was in heaven helped him enormously.  This conversation took me back to those early days when I was numb with shock and overcome with grief and reminded me that this truth also carried me.  I look back now and know that the Lord used His angels to carry me through this time that nothing had prepared me to face.  I am praying that those angels will be with Paul's family as they resume life.
The jigsaw of their life has one huge piece missing which will never be replaced.  They will learn to live without him, but there will be daily, constant reminders of him - his laughter, his joy, his protectiveness, his clutter, his love, his smell, his voice, his smile and his touch.

The perpetual issues

"Fathers, do not exasperate your children; instead bring them up in the training and instruction of the Lord"  Ephesians 6:4
"Fathers, do not embitter your children, or they will become discouraged."  Colossians 3:21

I have often pondered over these verses as a mother and what they mean in relation to raising my children.  I think these verses apply to mothers just as much as fathers.  I have to confess that I have often been the source of exasperation and discouragement to my children and I have regularly had to revisit my parenting skills and strategies for dealing with what I call the "perpetual issues".  

What are these perpetual issues?    Things such as the early morning routine before school and getting everyone out the door dressed, with lunch box in the bag, homework completed and in the bag, music practice completed, teeth cleaned, hair brushed.... Or, where would each of my children sit for meal times and whose turn was it to sit where in the car?  These are the issues where we want our children to be "perfect" and do exactly what we want - it certainly makes for a peaceful life and who wants to live in a constant battle ground with children arguing over whose turn it is?

Last night I had a phone conversation with my sister-in-law Julie and we talked about a conference she had recently attended about raising special needs children.  They have a gorgeous special needs child Jaden who will turn four soon.  He has a younger sister Talia who is full of energy and determination.  One of the speakers talked about helping children develop skills in problem solving.  He said that the part of the brain that developed this function was often under developed in children because they were raised in families where they were constantly told what to do and expected to behave and where they were rescued by their parents rather than having to face any consequences of their actions.

This conversation made me think about what I had done when dealing with the perpetual issues with my own children - how did I manage to get them to "behave" without crushing their spirit?  However, there are still perpetual issues that we face as a family and it was a timely reminder to think about my strategies for tackling them.

From a very young age, we developed a method that seemed to help immeasurably.  We had family meetings.  They took place after dinner when the "issue" was raised.  We would only ever tackle one issue per meeting, but it was a time when we could talk about what was happening and what we as the parents, or more particularly me, the mother would like to happen.  We would encourage the children to tell us what they thought and how they thought they could change patterns of behaviour to achieve a desired outcome.

They were enormously creative.  During one meeting, we raised the issue of where they sat at the table and in the car.  They managed to devise a system, in which each of them took turns sitting at a particular spot at the table, seat in the car which would last a week and then they would swap.  It was also linked to whose turn it was to set the table, wash up and help me with dinner.  It worked perfectly and the system lasted for years - probably at least ten.  It resolved countless arguments and tears and they came up with it!

I remember the morning routine discussion.   I explained to the children that I was tired of feeling like I was ordering them around each morning to do the tasks they knew they had to do.  One of them told me that they found it too much to do music practice in the morning, but they would do it after school.  Another told me they loved having time to play outside and after a bit of discussion, it was agreed that if jobs got done quickly, then they would have oodles of time to play.  The children all knew what was expected of them, and they also knew that if they forgot to pack their lunch box, homework or sporting equipment, they would have to wear the consequences.  They also knew that I would be leaving the house at a particular time and it was up to them to be ready - I was not going to say anything or give them reminders.  This family meeting discussion changed the shape of our mornings considerably.

I would love to say that we never had any problems after this, but I would be lying.  But it was a discussion that I could return to at subsequent meetings when their behaviour lapsed.

Living with young adults is very different from living with small children, but ground rules were set when they were little and we have had the most success at changing behaviour by starting a discussion during a family meeting.  Sadly, I need to remind myself that this is a strategy worth applying.

I recently resorted to writing a list of "non-negotiables" that I expected from each of my children and gave it to them.  I rather suspect they each felt discouraged and embittered by this - it only made me feel better for about five minutes.  Perhaps I will have more success by raising this non-negotiable list at a family meeting.  Yes we still have them and asking them what they think about this list and whether it is too onerous or whether they have any other suggestions.  I am hoping this will work.

Daddy-Long-Legs

Daddy Long Legs Spider (Pholcus phalangoides), originally uploaded by berrimbillah.

I am terrified of spiders - particularly large black creepy crawly ones.  For some reason, I tolerate daddy-long-legs and will happily welcome one into my home and treat it as part of the family.  One summer, I happily co-habited our bathroom with a large daddy long legs.  At present there is one sitting in my mix master and I will let him stay there until I need to use it for cooking.  I have never understood this until I re-read Jean Webster's Daddy-Long-Legs and Dear Enemy.  I read and adored both books as a young teenager, but have not read them since.  Perhaps my tolerance for daddy-long-leg spiders comes from warm memories of reading this book.

I have intended to re-read both books for ages.  A few years ago, my Mum asked me to buy her a copy of both books from Amazon as she had not been able to find them in any book shop near her.  She bought two and gave the second copy to Susannah for Christmas, and I had planned on reading it after she had.  However, it disappeared into the bowels of Susannah's room not to resurface and I forgot.  Again, after reading the Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Society, I thought that I must revisit Daddy-Long-Legs.

Last week I received a beautiful gift from my aunt, who I made a quilt for - she gave me her copies of these books.  They were both printed in 1917 and had belonged to her father, my paternal grandfather and I read them immediately with much enjoyment.  In fact I couldn't put them down they were so entertaining.  Daddy-Long-Legs consists of letters written by Jurusha Abbott, a little orphan girl who grew up in an orphanage, who is given the opportunity to go to college by a wealthy benefactor - one of the orphanage's trustees.  He wants to remain anonymous, and his only stipulation is that she write letters to him about her college education.  Jerusha catches a glimpse of this man and sees that he is very tall and thin, so she calls him Daddy-long-legs.

According to my aunt, these books were great favourites of my grandfather, and she has had them in her collection of books for years.  They have travelled with her from England in 1976 to reside in Australia until 1990 and returned to England.  They are now in my hands back in Oz, so they are well travelled , and much loved.  I have nothing that belonged to my Grandfather, who died in the mid 1970s shortly after celebrating his 50th wedding anniversary.

This is the only photo I have of my grandparents with all their grandchildren.  It was taken during a summer I spent in England with my mother and sister.  Guess which one of these girls is me?

My spot

I have just returned from holidays and was catching up on some blogs and discovered that Nicole and others  have been brave enough to share "their writing space".  This desk is in our bedroom and I still treasure this space that I don't share with anyone.  We have lived in this house for almost 11 years and until then, I had no space to call my own but lots of black holes.

My family will claim that my desk is usually a huge black hole - it is usually covered in piles of bits and pieces of paper and piles of books, but for some strange reason, it is uncluttered and lovely today.  I love to sit here to read my bible and pray, to send emails, to write and think.  I confess to being a scrabble addict and play many games of scrabble on facebook with dear friends.  My family think I have a serious addiction problem and my son has offered to find me a counsellor.

There is a huge pile of books perching on the top of this bookshelf.  I have to confess, they are all about marriage and I have not read a single one of them.  They sit there beckoning me to open their covers, but a novel sitting on the shelves below usually wins.  Maybe 2010 will be the year when I start wading through this pile.

I am a cat lover, so I seem to collect "cat" parapheralia - I really do not need any more.  However, having spent ten days with my mother and her siamese cat, I am smitten and would love to have a real cat.  Alas, I have a husband who fails to share this passion or interest.  I have had three siamese cats in my life and loved them all and missed each of them when they departed this world.

I have to confess, this is not my only space - I am an avid sewer - and I have a new space in our family room.  Until very recently all my creative projects took place on the kitchen table and the family had to work around my mess.  This has suited me fine, but I realised that the rest of my family were a little fed up living with the clutter that is associated with making a quilt.  I have two offspring who are at uni and they also enjoy sitting at the kitchen table with their friends while they supposedly work.  We can often have up to 7 or 8 students sitting together, with me clutching my end of the table with the sewing machine and other stuff.  I decided to move all my sewing things out of the kitchen and up into the family room.  I have claimed a small desk and much cupboard space and set myself up.  I share this desk with my offspring - it is a beautiful space and looks out into our delightful garden which we share with two other families.

I would love to see where my friend Jenny manages to write.

Reading and Kindles

My sister is gadget queen.  She takes after my father and any new gadget quickly becomes an indispensable part of her life.  Her latest gadget is a kindle.  As I spent Christmas with her, I was able to have a good look and ponder whether I would consider converting to reading books on a kindle.

In 2008 when Keith and I travelled to England, most of our luggage consisted of books.  They were heavy and took up considerable space, but the idea of not having a book to read was inconceivable.  Keith had a number of books with him, necessary for his work on Richard Baxter.  A kindle would have certainly saved space and weight.

What would Richard Baxter have thought about a kindle?  He was a keen reader and collector of books.  On his death he left one of the largest and most comprehensive libraries in England at that time.  Much can be gleaned about Ricky from this quote:

"I must confess, it is much more pleasing to my self, to be retired from the World, and to have very little to do with Men, and to converse with God and Conscience and good Books."

Ricky might well have purchased a kindle and then downloaded his core library to have at his fingertips. I think he would have embraced this technology with open arms.  This morning, I read an article by Stephanie Raethel "I kid you not, I'm a Kindle convert", in which she confesses that she is enjoying her kindle immensely.  I am not the only person wondering about kindles and reading.  Mark Pesce has also considered the future of books and kindles in an opinion piece "year will be more than just a page turner, it'll be a new era".  However, there is something about the look and feel of a book, that no kindle can replace.  Many of my friends ask me for suggestions of what to read and I freely lend books again and again.  Can I do this with a Kindle?

My ipod has transformed my music collection into a bite sized library that accompanies me everywhere, so I guess, a kindle will eventually become a part of my persona - catching buses, trains, even sitting in doctor's surgerys waiting could be transformed as I have on hand a magazine, a book or two, my bible, a devotional book ready to read - compactly stored in my handbag!

Whether by kindle or retro book, reading is here to stay.  I have a family of bookworms.  We read with a passion.  Our Christmas at the beach was spent with noses in books.  Well, my sister's and her husband's were in their kindles, but they were equally engrossed and content.  The inclement weather kept us indoors, but it was bliss.  Our children snuggled up immersed in books - each in their own world.  It was a delight to behold.

I have just read an article from the Age on the very topic of kindles v books and the author Gabriella Coslovich captures my thoughts perfectly in her article "E-Books lack the magic of the real thing".

Christmas Eve

What a beautiful welcome greeted us last night when we had dinner with our neighbours.  Sue is a talented artist and painted these three angels.  It was the angels who rejoiced and sang songs of jubilation on the night of Jesus' birth.

After dinner, Keith and I went to visit his Mum in hospital.  Last Friday she completed five weeks of radiotherapy and was very excited.  That night, in her sleep, she had a massive stroke, which has left her with very little movement down her right side and no speech.  The phone awoke us at midnight - the start of a long and harrowing weekend.  The specialist spoke with Keith and his father that morning and gave very little hope of her speech ever returning or that she would gain much movement on her right side as such a large part of her brain had been affected.

Many tears have been shed and we have all cast our cares into the hands of our great and loving Father and asked for mercy on May, who has had a terrible two years with health issues.  On the Saturday night, there were twenty Condie's gathered in our home.  It is sad that it takes a tragedy such as this to get us together.  My sister-in-law Cas had spent the day cooking and we ate a feast.  The Christmas tree was up and candles adorned our table, but most of our hearts were with May sitting alone in hospital and the uncertain prospect of what a new day would bring.

In the days since, we have watched a miracle take place, as May has gradually done more each day.  Last night, she was moved to a bed where she has spectacular views of the harbour and together we watched the sunset.  She greeted us with a smile that lit her beautiful face. She can nod and shake her head in response to questions.  She is not fully comprehending what is being said, but she is trying so hard.  The physios have been working her hard and she has sat and stood each day since Tuesday.

There are many Condies, but we are trying not to bombard her with visitors and just stay for short visits. Keith has been reading extracts of Psalms and praying with her each visit and she seems to delight in being reminded of God's great and marvellous love and that He is with her at this time.

Sue's angels reminded me of Psalm 91 and the angels that are referred to here, as well as Hebrews 1:14.  The words of this Psalm have brought much comfort to me in these last few days.  There is much sadness in our hearts, but also a deep joy in knowing that our lives are in God's hands completely.  I have been reading Christopher Ash's book Bible Delight and he quotes from an old hymn which seems to capture how I am feeling:

He gives us more grace when the burdens grow greater,
he sends us more strength when the labours increase;
to greater affliction he adds his great mercy,
to multiplied trials, his multiplied peace.

An Education

An Education, originally uploaded by AsceticMonk.

I saw this film last week and it provides an insightful look into the life of England in 1961. Jenny is working towards her A levels at school. She is sixteen, beautiful and highly intelligent. Her parents have lofty expectations for her, including being offered a place to study at Oxford University. She studies hard, learns the cello and plays in a youth orchestra - all because they will lead "somewhere", not because in and of themselves they are worthwhile activities. However she is bored. All this changes when a chance encounter introduces her to David - an older man who is handsome and very wealthy.

She falls in love and is prepared to abandon "an education" for love and the wild life that includes parties, visits to Paris, sex, lying and deceit but she enjoys it - she is having fun and that she is alive.

Then something happens, which in and of itself is "an education" and Jenny learns about life the hard way.

The film raises a number of questions. One of them includes the pushiness of parents who singlemindedly push their children towards something. One of the more moving moments in the film is when Jenny's father apologises to her and explains that he has been driven by fear and he doesn't want his daughter to be afraid - of what is not clear, but I wonder if it is success, wealth, status and being accepted. Jenny's parents are forced to think about what they really want for their daughter.

The english are so good at indirect communication that is understated and round about. This film is filled with such conversations. I loved it!

There are some delightful moments. Jenny is learning latin, which she loathes and is not particularly good at. One of her new friends, who is a little "dippy" says "in 50 years no one will be speaking latin, not even the latin people". I found this particularly amusing as Keith has been teaching himself latin for the last ten years. I don't know anyone else who takes palm cards to the gym to memorise latin words and phrases.

This is a wonderful movie - enjoyable and thought provoking.

Church in Churchill

Ursula is very involved with her local church which was built in 1180. It is a beautiful and old church with a sad history. The village of Churchill was a plague village during the fourteenth century, so most of the village probably died and they moved away from the church, so it is now located beside a field. We went to church with Ursula to a service celebrating harvest festival. The church was filled with autumn flowers and vegetables. During the service, members of the congregation took food to the front of the church and then lit a candle and placed it on a map of the world on the place the food had come from.

One of the most remarkable features of this church is the Latch Memorial dedicated to Thomas and Sarah Latch and dated 1644. Sarah died in childbirth with her twelfth child and this baby is depicted wrapped in a black shawl. Their other eleven sons and daughters are kneeling and four of them are carrying skulls, to indicate that they had died before their mother. Sarah is wrapped in a shroud and her face peeks through. It is detailed and filled with the emotion capturing the sorrow of her husband and children. I can't imagine having that many children - she must have spent most of her married life being pregnant or caring for a baby. The exhaustion she must have endured. It is a tribute though to a woman at a time when women were not often recognised in their role as mother, wife and nurturer. She was going to be sorely missed and not easily replaced.





There were other sad stories depicted on the walls. There was a memorial plaque dating from the 1840s. The minister of the church at this time, Rev Bellew-Archer and his wife Marian, lost their daughters Elissa, Ioanna, Ada and Mariana and son Basil within four years, the youngest being six months, the eldest nineteen. The verse is particularly poignant to this couple: "there shall be no more death, neither sorrow nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain." I can't imagine the tears this couple must have shed.

There were also two boys aged thirteen, who in 1944, towards the end of the war were up exploring on the hill that we had wandered over with Ursula the day before. A german bomber was returning to cross the channel after bombing Bristol who decided to drop his remaining bomb onto the hillside, hitting and killing these boys who were innocently doing the sort of thing that boys do at that age - exploring and enjoying the outdoors. A memorial has been erected in their memory.

Each of these events have happened during very different centuries, but the walls of this church contains all of these memories - many happy while others more happy - such as the marriages of both my cousins Elizabeth and Susannah.

Ursula and a few of the women in the congregation have been making kneelers for the church. They fill the church with colour, vibrancy and the opportunity to remember events in the lives of the members of the congregation. Ursula made the first two cushions for my cousin Lizzy's marriage to William. She used the picture of a lily from one of the stained glass windows as her motive. It took her two months to complete them both.





There is the cushion marking Ursula's marriage to my uncle John - which has a peacock and orange flowers. Ursula uses this cushion each week. There are also cushions made for Susannah and Alex and for each of her six grand daughters.





The service was very simple but a meaningful time of remembering to give thanks to God for the provision of food in the crops that are harvested, and the animals who are raised. It was wonderful to come out to a day filled with sunshine and vibrancy.

We returned to Dove Cottage for a delicious lunch of roast lamb and apple and blackberry pie which we ate sitting out in the garden. Keith and I take full credit for bringing this spate of wonderful weather. After a wet summer, they were relishing the opportunity to be outside and making the most of the sunshine.





It was a wonderful day spent with family who I have enjoyed meeting and getting to know a little. Susannah and her husband Alex are delightful - as are their girls. We had fun over lunch sharing jokes - Sophia at five has a wonderful sense of humour while Florence reminds me of myself - she doesn't always get the joke and needs to have it explained. My family often accuse me of being exceedingly dense. It was great to have so many conversations with Ursula and find out all sorts of things about my family and her life.

Wells

It was market day in Wells, so we had fun browsing around. Keith headed for the books while Ursula and I looked at beautiful jewellery. We met up with Susannah and her girls and fed the ducks and swans. The sun was shining and it was as if the entire town of Wells and its surrounds were making the most of this golden autumn day.



It was such a contrast to last weekend that we spent with Stephen and Lynn - another of my cousins. It had rained the entire weekend and it hadn't cleared until we were heading home on Sunday evening.

There is an incredible cathedral in Wells which was built in 1180. Just a few years ago. The inside is fairly sparsely furnished and lacks the memorial plaques and heavy furniture found in so many other cathedrals. The stained glass windows had been destroyed during the Reformation, and were replaced with plain glass which lets much light enter, which makes it light and airy. There is this amazing scissors archway at the front of the cathedral which had been a clever construction in the late 1100s to stop the cathedral from sinking into the muddy land. The result is a spectacularly shaped arch that looks beautiful in its simplicity.





The girls, Florence and Sophia had a children's activity sheet with questions about different parts of the cathedral that kept them happy and amused. We watched the clock chime - a little man taps a bell with his foot while some armoured soldiers chase each other around with their weapons while the chimes ring. To take photographs, you need to buy a licence, so I resisted and had to restrain my hands. It became too much when we reached the staircase to the chapter house. These stairs have been worn down by being trodden on for so many centuries. What stories their worn down steps must share. So, I took a couple of snaps.



The chapter house was octagonal shaped and quite empty. It was a calm and tranquil place to just sit and enjoy the ceiling and its understated beauty.



We later wandered down this amazingly old cobbled street that is connected to the Cathedral and were passed by the Cathedral school choir, who were dressed immaculately - the girls wore long navy blue cloaks and looked angelic. We then were passed a group of girls returning home from hockey - wearing protective gear and short skirts and covered in mud. I would use the word athletic to describe them.



The sky was Sydney blue. It was warm and balmy. We wandered down back through the markets to find a loaf of crusty bread to go with our soup for dinner. One of the charms of the High Street of Wells, were the magnficent basket of flowers hanging in front of each shop.



One of the pubs was encouraging patrons to visit:



That evening, we again talked and talked in front of the fire and almost forgot to have dinner.

Newbridge on Wye

The next day, we had a very long drive to Newbridge on Wye which is in Wales. It took well over two and a half hours to get there, as we missed the by-passes to Evesham and Worcester and then got a little lost at the end. It is in the middle of nowhere, but spectacularly beautiful. These hills covered in bracken and sheep, tiny little villages and not much else. My aunt Pam lives here. At eighty two, she is very similar to my Mum. We couldn't get over their simlarities. Pam was even dressed like my Mum would - in jeans and a polo shirt. Her daughter Julia is staying with her at present, as she has just been suffering an eye infection, which has not been responding to treatment. She had just had day surgery and they had scraped the eye - very painful.

After lunch, sitting at her kitchen table - I loved her kitchen, filled with lots of knick knacks and colour and warmth and vibrancy, we explored the garden and went down to the river Wye which is below the garden. This river winds its way all through parts of Wales and through the town Hay on Wye, which we would love to visit as it is filled with second hand book shops.

The boys had much fun skipping stones across the river - I think the best was ten and reached the other side. We then played liar dice and a form of scrabble with dice.



Pam has this magnificent quilt on her dining room table. It was made by someone in the family back in the late 1800s - according to the label on the back. She had it sitting in her cupboard for years and years and finally decided that it was too beautiful to hide away. I had photos of quilts I had made, which made Pam quiver - I don't think she can imagine how anyone could be bothered to cut up fabric and then put pieces together again. She is a gardener and spends all her spare time in the garden. All the Byass girls are mad, keen gardeners and all have wonderfully beautiful gardens. They also know the botanic names for most plants - Ursula claims that this knowledge is intuitive. Mum's botanical knowledge is impressive.



My mother has four sisters and the five Byass girls make a formidable team. There is a huge age gap between them - the eldest was eighteen when Ursula was born and Mum was seven. Pam was six years older than Mum. The only time that they all got together was in 1968 just after my grandmother died, and we went back to England for Christmas. I have one cousin who also lives in Sydney. Last December, her son got married, so another of my cousins came over for the wedding with her three sons. We had a lovely day with them at Mum's and Caroline and Belinda enjoyed looking at photographs of that Christmas - they had never seen them, as their mother Daphne never took photographs. Daphne is Byass number two and died about four years ago.

A day in Tetbury

Johnnie and I spent a day with my aunt Ursula and cousin Susannah in Tetbury. To get there we drove along this wonderfully straight Roman road, on each side were these stone walls, made with no concrete or cement, but beautifully pieced together, a bit like a jigsaw - stone after stone all different sizes.

We met in the Market Square - the last time I saw Susannah, she had been fifteen, Johnnie's age now. Over a cup of tea, we shared memories. I remember the birth of Susannah my cousin. I had just returned home from a week away at a camp, one January, and had arrived home and picked a bunch of fresh parsley, which I was eating with much enjoyment, while Mum told me she had just heard news that my cousin Susannah had been born. She then told me off for eating parsley. Mum was staying with Ursula when my Susannah was born. They were painting her kitchen which had been a dark blue to a rich cream and they danced around the kitchen with joy. That is rather a nice memory, as I wished my mother had been around when she was born. Interestingly, when my cousin Susannah had her first daughter, Florence, Ursula was staying with us in Sydney. It was just after Sept 11 and Ursula and Margaret were both in Australia. What I remember most is Ursula's reaction to the name Florence - it took us a while to find out what her name was. But names do grow on you - I rather like it and she looks just like her mother - absolutely gorgeous.

My Susannah is not sure what she will do now she has finished school, but might do Arts at Sydney Uni majoring in languages - eg Italian and French. This is exactly what my cousin did!

Tetbury is another delightful market town, filled with wonderful antique shops, gift shops and trendy cafes. Prince Charles has a property nearby and a wonderful garden which is very popular to visit. Ursula had to book eighteen months in advance, but said it was well worth it - absolutely beautiful. He also has a shop which is a bit like a National Trust shop, filled with beautiful things that also include things that are "green". We enjoyed browsing here.



We then visited this Antique shop that had this amazing table in the front room. It was made in Indonesia and so incredibly ornate. We got chatting with the owner, and she said that the woman renting this room to sell things was an Australian and now seventy. She left Australia to get away from media scrutiny as she came from a well known family. I asked "who". Her name is Harriet Fairfax. Instantly, I understood why she had left. She always felt like the black sheep of the family. I reminisced to when I had been a brownie, at age nine, I had been chosen to meet the "Father of the Year" one Sir Vincent Fairfax. There are a great many Fairfaxes in Sydney.



This is where we had lunch - a wonderful deli, with a cafe upstairs. It was light and airy and the food was absolutely delicious. Johnnie had Toad in the Hole - just to experience something very English.

Talia's Quilt

Talia's Quilt, originally uploaded by sarahkeithcondie.

Welcome to the world beautiful Talia Abigail. She arrived one day late - much to her Mum's relief. What a pity that they no longer live just around the corner. It hasn't been possible to visit but we have spoken on the phone. Life in those early days is sheer survival - particularly with a very busy two and a half year old keen to be in on the action - except when Talia cries.

We can't wait to meet the new Condie family member, but it won't be until late November, as we are about to head off in two days for England for almost nine weeks. This quilt was the final big project that had to get completed - well there were others, but this one had to get finished and I mailed it off to them on Tuesday - and it arrived thank goodness!

It was fun to make this quilt - a bit like putting a jigsaw puzzle together. I love the retro pictures of girls and boys - it is full of life and energy and fun.