Stillness
Is a practice
I’m still learning
Mind
And Body
Aligned
With my
Creator
from R's rue https://ift.tt/3tHk0dj
My Coffee Is Good
Trelawnyd from above the Gop
Late April is perhaps the best time of the year to see Trelawnyd, especially on a sunny day.
For those that read about this rather insignificant little village, I am sure most will have their own mental pictures of it, but I am aware that apart from some photographs I have never attempted to describe this place where some 500 souls make their home.
The village is situated some five hundred and fifty feet above sea level in the Clwydian Hills and is tucked on the South facing base of Gop Hill, which is the second hill in the range if viewed from across the bay in Llandudno.
Gop Hill and the Neolithic Burial Mound( the village lies bottom right)
Gop Hill is partially wooded , but the slope which backs onto the village is grazed and is covered in gorse bushes which glow gold in April when they start to flower.
I am looking at the Gop as I type this green and gold against the blue sky.
On its summit lies the Neolithic burial cairn, and the black stick figures of dog walkers can just been seen standing on the top.
The village is protected from the North Winds by the hill and lies along one road ( London Road) with the church and school dominating the West flank and the Village Hall and Pub bordering the East.
The centre of the village lies nearer to the Hall with the older houses dating from the 17th and 18th Century spreading North and South just a little.
My cottage , one of two built in the 1660s lie down a little lane which follows the boundary of the Church wall. The lane snakes down the valley to the Felin ( Water Mill) before climbing again to the South, so the village is comfortably surrounded by hills and is perched above a valley which slopes gently down to the coastal plain and the sea which is only five miles away.
The Golden Gorse covering most of the southern part of the Gop
I went to Mc D ‘s and got a large coffee to start the day properly.
It’s sunny and lots of friendly faces are about.
I feel recharged today. Proper sleep has helped with that as did a good debrief with a friend about sad case at work which laid heavy on my mind
I’m off to buy a wisteria this afternoon and tonight I am catching up with Gorgeous Dave for a beer in his garden.
But for now I’m typing this at my office desk and as I look out of the window I spy a couple of villagers I know chatting in the lane. Pippa walks down, past them with Meg
And from the gardens comes the crow of the little bantam as he answers the call from the riding stable cockerel.
The sun is bright on the houses that border London Road and above their roofs I can see the golden gorse on the Gop glow a warm yellow.
My coffee is good
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Fatherhood
When my son Ian came home recently, he gave me a "Toblerone" chocolate bar with the words "Best Dad" on one face of the famous triangular packaging. It made me smile and then think.
Am I really the "Best Dad"? Being a father is not something they teach you in school. No exam authorities offer qualifications in fatherhood. How you operate as a father comes from deep within, usually informed by your experience of your own father and observations of other male role models.
A lot of it is about gut instincts. It's not as if you work out a plan. Mostly you just go with the flow.
Nobody is perfect and I know that I made some mistakes along the way but the fact that my grown up children now love and respect me proves that I must have got most of it right.
Above everything else, I wanted them to be happy, well-rounded people with minds of their own. I wanted them to be respectful of others - no matter what their station in life might be and I wanted them to feel equal to all other people too. Now that they are both in their thirties, I am delighted to observe that these aspirations have been met.
I know of at least three people who regularly read this blog whose relationships with their own fathers were difficult to say the least. They look back with understandable bitterness, drawing a veil over times that are best forgotten. It is so sad and I feel for those readers, I really do. How wonderful it would be if we could all have happy, secure childhoods overseen by loving parents who treat us kindly and point us in the right direction.
My own father was like that and I thank him for showing me how to be a good father. I trusted him, loved him and respected him. Perhaps he learnt the rudiments of fatherhood from his own father. And so it goes on through the generations. Thinking of cruel, fearsome or abusive fathers - perhaps they also inherited their loathsome habits from previous generations. That is not to forgive them, just to offer a partial explanation.
Being a father should not be onerous. There should be much joy and laughter along the way. Fatherhood should enrich your life and not curtail it or weigh heavily upon you. I can say in all honesty that being Ian and Frances's father is the best thing that ever happened to me.
September 1988
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