It's Mine.

 The original idea of this Anorak's Paradise was to have one end of the rail system in Wales, travel through to the EuroTunnel, and end up in France. Hmm. 

Somewhere in there crept dragons. 

But never fear, Phil's dissonant mind is here! Wales does have it's own dragon, and it's name is .... (drum roll) ... Dewi.

The next contortion my brain had to fart out was how to make this circular shaped region remind me of Wales and include a dragon. 

No problem. 

During my many years as a veterinarian, one of my leisure activities was hunting down cruel and perverse horse abusers. This naturally led me to pit-ponies. I had no idea that they were still in existence, but I was dragged in as an inspector of these poor animals. The cruelty was insane. These beasts of over-burden were kept underground for most of the year. Often frustrated miners took out their anger on them. This involved beatings and almost certainly more perverse behaviour.

This mine is in their memory. 

Do they still exist?

Of course they do.

This pit was to consist of two levels. The ground level pit itself, and the underground realm run by Dewi. 

Or maybe Smaug...

Then the surface needed shaping. This was done by randomly sticking offcuts of polystyrene found on the garage floor. This is, I understand, how all planets are formed. 

Alternatively there is the bible version...

Adding some random bits of mine-head machinery also seemed appropriate.

All seemed to be going well. At such a moment in life you know full well that things are going to go tits-up.

First, the attack of the giant bugs. Ok, not actually a major problem; I just wanted to use this photo...

But then - Earthquake!

The sculpting base that I had previously used was no longer available. Something to do with Brexit maybe...

So I used some papier-maché. Not my greatest success. 

After falling back on some more traditional building materials, like grout and filler, I bravely managed to save the day.

The addition of some N-gauge rail added to the overall super-realism...

Then a couple of outbuildings, including an ever-useful toilet.

Realism is my second name.

Actually it's not. However, I'm not letting on what it really is...

Nearly there, but my experience of mines using pit-ponies did not include the word 'clean'. 

Ah... better...

The two levels now are there, in the correct order...

The final muck is in place. including some little humanoids, all of whom are almost certainly guilty of causing unnecessary harm to equines...

Many of my experiences as a veterinarian drove me close to the edge. But there's nothing like retirement to push you over it completely...

Words & Pictures

This blog was intended to be a celebration of life amongst the difficulties that are all about us. It was meant to show how much there is to be positive about. 

Then life just trips you up doesn't it? 

Two lives flickered out. One long expected, Maman's sister, her last remaining sibling. The other, totally unexpected, a very close friend who was assumed to outlast us all.

She, of all my friends, would have wanted me to carry on regardless. 

Yet.... That's kinda tricky to do.

So I'll meet her halfway. One downbeat blog, then I'll try to follow it up with something more lighthearted. Once my heart becomes a little lighter... 

Below are some words. Words that I wrote for Celia, and then words written by maman for her sister Geneviève (in French).

The words are difficult to say, difficult to read, difficult to absorb. Feel free to skip over and wait for my next trip into insanity. Because things do come after. Life continues for the rest of us. Shit, this is getting too heavy already......

___

Words for Celia

There are often times that I can sit here and just let the words flow. 

And why not? I have spent my nearly 70 years of life on this amazing planet immersed in a language that has more than one million words. 

And counting. 

Words should come easy. Words should flow.

There are words for all kinds of different things; the weather, the colours of life, the deepest of feelings. 

But not this. 

No. Not this.

This loss has no words that can adequately describe this…

How can you describe the hurt, the pain, the loss?

So, the rational conclusion is to accept all of that, and to move on. 

And that is exactly what Celia would have wanted. Exactly what Celia would have said.

I can see her there, before me. 

She is saying: “Come on Phil. This isn’t like you. What are you playing at? Just get on with life you daft bugger!”

Words of wisdom.

She may have left us. She may have gone somewhere that no one of us can ever follow. But she will always be there. Here. These memories of her will always be with us. Imprinted on our consciousness, telling us to get on with our lives. 

Always the wise words.

She was my friend.

Her sudden untimely loss has taken away a part of me. 

Yet part of her will remain forever with me.

Forever.

With me.

She was, absolutely, that important in all our lives. 

I wish, I profoundly wish, that I could be there with my friends that she has left behind. They are the ones that suffer; not her. I should be there to make vain attempts at helping. 

Helping. 

Talking. 

Sharing.

Hugging. 

But it is not to be. 

Instead, one of you poor suckers is going to have to hug Roger for me. 

I understand that he is virus free so you should be ok…

Maybe…

We planted her favourite flower, a Daphne odora, in her memory at the time of her funeral.

___

Maman wrote this for her sister:

À ma sœur Genneviève, un modèle de vie.

Dans toutes les circonstances, elle ne voyait que le bien. 

Obéissante à tout ce qu’on lui demandait, elle allait de l’avant même si c’était difficile pour elle.

Elle s’est toujours secouée en oubliant sa santé pour répondre au besoin des autres.

Pendant une longue période de sa vie, je lui téléphonais chaque jour. Elle attendait ce moment et nous partagions de longues heures au téléphone.

Elle a donné tout ce qu’elle a pu jusqu’à son dernier souffle.

Elle s’oubliait en pensant et agissant pour son prochain.

Malheureusement à cause de la guerre, elle s’est retrouvée en Suisse et ce n’est qu’à son retour que nous avons pu partagé beaucoup de choses ensemble.

Nous nous occupions de la cohorte au poste de l’armée du salut de Boulogne Billancourt.

Il y avait un si grand nombre de jeunes de milieu défavorisé que nos frères sont aussi venus nous y aider.

Bien que Genneviève ait vécu en Belgique avec sa famille et moi en France avec la mienne, je garde de très bons souvenirs de toutes nos vacances passées ensemble.

Pour moi Genneviève a été plus qu’un exemple. Elle a toujours été vaillante et courageuse dans tout.

Son exemple m’a donné la force d’avoir bien plus de courage dans bien des situations.

J’aimais tant ma sœur car on se comprenait  si bien et on s’entendait si bien.

Plus de difficultés, plus de souffrances, maintenant Genneviève est en paix et restera à tout jamais comme une force dans nos cœurs.

“Dieu n’est pas venu supprimer la souffrance,

Il n’est même pas venu l’expliquer,

Il est venu pour la remplir de sa présence”

Simonne YAPOUDJIAN 

We planted her favourite flowers at the same time as the funeral, to which, of course, maman could not go to. Life can really be cruel sometimes...

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