wireless v. digital

Yesterday, myself and the curator of the Thelma Hulbert Gallery went to visit Honiton Memory Café to talk about some workshops I'm doing for them at the gallery in June. All four of the workshops will be inspired by music and sound.

I've been looking out for a 'retro' portable transistor radio for awhile - as a resource for these workshops, and for other reminiscence work I do (easier than carrying a Bakelite wireless set round with you when you travel everywhere by bus!) And so I was delighted to purchase this transistor at one of the Antique Centres in Honiton. It was very reasonably priced, and no longer working I assumed. The woman in the shop helpfully told me about a man in Exeter ( a 'trendy' chap she said) who would be able to convert the radio for me so that I could operate it using a remote control via Bluetooth. I'm not sure I could handle that. I can't tune the 'trendy' retro radio my son kindly lent me while he is sailing the ocean wave, no matter how many times I press all those tiny buttons.

This genuine article has dials and knobs to turn. It restores the 'digit' in 'digital'.

Anyway, in my reminiscence sessions on wireless listening we often talk about having memories of tuning in and listening to momentous events unfold over the airwaves. And so, late last night I casually turned the 'On/Off' dial' (see below)

 

and it talked to me!

 

pre-programmed to my news programme of choice - Radio 4,  no less!

 

 I settled to listen to the 2015 general election news on my new 'old' analogue radio. No interference. No crackling. Bliss. 

when the sails of windmills still turned...

This past week I've visited a Memory Café and several residential homes. One home is having to close shortly and I was asked to visit and show my portfolio of photographs and talk with the few remaining residents, who are, understandably, experiencing stress and sadness with regard to their imminent move.

 

I talked and listened with individuals and also with two friends who have known each other since school days ( and I'm guessing that's eighty years or more). I was touched by their polite deference to each other when talking - they gave each other space (I do hope they will be able to move somewhere together).

 

 

 

 

We talked about learning to swim in the River Exe and dancing in the Cavern Club. About skills I'll never acquire: hand-milking cows, shorthand and making lace wedding veils.  There was laughter recalling detentions given for unsatisfactory darning, and one young boy's help with the war effort. He collected fluffy seed heads in a match box and posted them to Winston Churchill on hearing that there was a shortage of wool!

 

 

 

Tomorrow I am presenting one gentleman with a booklet containing his life story as he has dictated it to me. Fantastic memories of life in a village between the wars, when the sails of windmills still turned....

Hooked on Flowers

Stop Press! One place now available on tomorrow's Hooked on Flowers w/shop

 (see workshop page for details)

new hearth!

Apologies for the lack of postings recently; I have a new hearth!

I've recently moved up the road, to a lovely cottage (still in Wellington).

 

Still unpacking.

 

 

Studying the palimpsest walls:

 

 

Delighting in the secrets of its garden 

making themselves known to me:

 

 

On the work front, lots of interesting projects ahead, including continuing with the locally funded creative writing/photographic project with older people. Art and craft workshops with Honiton Memory Café at the Thelma Hulbert Gallery, and Rag Rug workshops at Over the Moon in Taunton.

 

See workshop page for details on how to book a place on my Rag Rug w/shops.

creative writing/photo project in care homes

 

"We were a good little gang!"

 

 

 

 

 

This is the title of an everyday story, fantastically told, by Gladys, a woman in one of the nursing homes where I have been facilitating some creative writing inspired by the portfolio of photographs that I take with me. (The photo of the narrow boat was her inspiration). This is Gladys' s story and not mine to share here, but I feel privileged to have heard it and to have helped her edit it, and thankful to the local charity who have made it possible. Lots more writing on the way....

 

 

 

 

Queen Victoria as Buddha

I was showing my portfolio of photographs to residents in a Nursing home today and no less than three of the women commented (independently of one another) that there was something about the face of the Buddha that put them in mind of Queen Victoria! I totally get it. And her white lacy headgear only adds to her resemblance to this Buddha-in-snow!

 

 

 

 

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2529294

new header for the blog!

A year ago I started freelance work providing creative reminiscence sessions for older people in different settings. Mainly these sessions involved rag rug making, but things have evolved during the last twelve months, and since I now offer lots more creative activities, tailoring sessions to the interests and needs of specific groups, it seemed time to dust down the header and change the wording! Yes I still offer rag rug workshops and rag rug reminiscence sessions (more news on the workshop front coming soon) but also a lot more besides. Contact me if you would like details!

So, 'home is where the heart is' - an empty platitude? I don't think so. In the context of Care Homes, how can we expect a person to feel 'at home' in any sense, if we don't know something of what's in their heart? I see creative activity enable people who live in Care Homes to express what's in their hearts, to themselves and each other. 'Home' may be experienced as the sense of feeling at home with oneself. Or it can be experienced as a tight physical sense of loss, that eases a little when shared. Home may be cherished from the distance of time and space, and become a comforting place when someone else helps by listening it into being...and crossing its threshold when invited.

Once, while being driven along a busy road, I suddenly recognized a resident's former home through remembering her drawing of it. To be honest, it wasn't so much the likeness that helped me recognize it, as the feeling in her drawing; of the relationship between her house and the garden. Difficult to describe, but only she could have drawn it.

stories from behind the lens and beyond the frame

ice and snow at Langford Common     ( photo by Sally Light)

 

 Very excited to receive the enlargements of my photographs through the post today and have already taken them to the framers to be mounted. This portfolio is for my next project working with older people and has been funded by a local charity. I've noted before, how looking at photographs can have an enlivening effect on the viewer, and is often particularly enjoyed by those whose physical mobility is challenged. I've noted too, how older generations relish opportunities to air critical opinions, and conjecture about the stories that might lie behind photographs. And that is what this project is going to be about: helping individuals to record their creative responses to this selection of visual images. I'm so looking forward to seeing what they see!

knitted bathing costumes in January

http://www.fab40s.co.uk/Ladiesswimwear.html

God gave us memory so that we might have roses in December.

James M. Barrie

 

(or knitted bathing costumes in January)!

 

Knitted bathing costumes, a ball dress turned into christening gowns, gravy painted legs and a dress fashioned from sock wool, were just some of the amazing images that sprang to peoples' minds when I visited members of the Honiton Memory Café today to talk about Making Do and Mending.

 

My sewing basket, actually a re-purposed picnic basket (and yes I did get some funny looks as I scurried down Honiton High Street on this cold and rainy January afternoon with a picnic hamper on my arm!) was full to the brim with sewing notions and samples of all kinds of stitching that I have collected from the 1930s, 40s and up to the present day. One woman likened it to a Mary Poppins bag, for it does seem bottomless, especially, I notice, when each item prompts so much recall and shared conversation. Today I didn't manage to reach the bottom of the basket, but that's a good thing!