8 Random Facts - a Double Whammied Meme

Thanks to Goldfish and Cusp for tagging me to talk all about myself, again. Last time it was only 5 Random Things about me .. I have no problem finding another 8 .. but following the rules is a bit tricky. Memes, I think, are about expanding the blogging universe but, as I said to Cusp only the other day, sometimes I only have enough rocket fuel to keep going round in circles. And very nice circles they are too ... anyway enough chat, here are THE RULES OF THE MEME:

1 Let others know who tagged you ~ Tick
2 Players start with 8 Random Facts about themselves ~ Tick
3 Those who are tagged should post these rules and their 8 Random Facts ~ see below
4 Players should tag 8 other people and notify them they have been tagged ~ see below


Years ago during psychodynamic training, I went through a brief period when I was precognitive about things that would happen to me, once I had de-coded the dreams' specifics.
Jung was essential to get me through it.
I was never actually spooked by it, but was relieved to be back in a more random ordinary scheme of things when it came to an end.

Carl Gustav Jung



Through marriage (dissolved) there is an ancestor who was an early coloniser in North America.
The colony was not a success at the time, the settlers faring little better than the silk worms, and little remains today other than a small memorial there and a bigger one in his home town. However, the gentleman in question was generally thought of as the best of an arguably bad bunch and he did not knowingly oversell the scheme to potential Swiss and English settlers.




My paternal great grandfather was Coxswain of the Hartlepool lifeboat and was awarded the Silver Medal for bravery following a rescue in 1907.

This picture of the Hartlepool Lifeboat crew 1924 is from http://www.hartlepool-lifeboat.org.uk/




I mentioned this Devil's Toe Nail in a previous blog.
Goldfish's Whitby Jet inspired this:
I have a collection of stones found over the last fifty three years: a sling shot (used against Vespasian's invasion AD.53) and geodes (which are the same thing) and what I like to think is a stone age scraper (to turn animal skins into rugs and things) small and black, with one sharp flint like edge and its shape worn smooth with indents that fit the index finger and opposable thumb perfectly; a green stone banded with white marble from Rethymnon beach to keep a piece of Crete with me, and a small piece of natural green glass from a meteorite strike which caused fusion with natural silica. Space Glass !


I really really NEED to have open space around me, ever since I can remember. The times I have felt most restricted were when living in urban surroundings. Even when a child living in a small terrace house I could go up into the attic and climb up to look through the small window over surrounding roofs to fields beyond. When my family moved to a street on the summit of a hill there was nothing beyond, just a vast worked-out sand quarry that was devoid of machinery, the home of hundreds of sand martins and open to all, but seemed to belong to me a school friend Dennis and his Jack Russell terrier Tess. This lovely painting can be found at http://www.colemangallery.com/


I once dined with a Lord Mayor of London (along with a hundred or so other diners), in a beautiful ballroom with a string chamber orchestra in the gallery, surrounded by the Lely portraits of King Charles and the Royal Family.

I was far more impressed by the paintings than by His Worship.



I think I may have been a monk (not a nun) in a scriptorium in a former life. Soon after a performance of Murder in the Cathedral (in which I had sung tenor in the monks' quire, chanting Latin in the vestry of the church where it was staged), I visited Winchester Cathedral and, finding myself in the scriptorium, verified this for myself. Or dreamed it.


The Pilgrims' Steps, Winchester Cathedral.
http://www.winchester-cathedral.org.uk/




I like wood. My book shelves, bed, internal doors, coffee table, book stand, occasional (reclaimed) chairs, are all natural, solid not laminate, unadorned un-painted real waxed wood.

In my sitting room is a large chunk of curlicued oak, which in my fancy assumes the form of a winged sea dragon rising up amongst crashing waves, but in reality was reclaimed from an ancient oak tree being felled in the grounds of Bradgate Park Leicestershire
http://www.le.ac.uk/




Bradgate Hall is now a ruin in Bradgate Park. It was the childhood home of Lady Jane Grey (1537-1554).

She was the daughter of the Marquess of Dorset, who through the machinations of others, at just 16 was Queen for nine days, before being beheaded.

From the website http://www.treesforlife.org.uk/ :
In Leicestershire the Topless Oaks in Bradgate Park were said to have been pollarded as a sign of mourning following the beheading in 1554 of Lady Jane Grey.




TIME TO TAG

This is entirely optional, and open to evolving, so if you have not already been tagged on this lovely Meme, and have visited, lurked, or commented on my blog, I would be delighted if you would tag yourself for this Meme, and comment below that you are doing so, so we can visit you and read 8 Random Facts about You.


POSTSCRIPT: EVOLVED MEME ~
A TIRED PERSON'S RECEIPT FOR BEEF RAGU

Wonderously over at Andrea's blog http://qw88nb88.wordpress.com/2007/07/17/meme-mut8nt-r4/ the original Meme of 8 Random Facts evolved into recipes so I am following this second route of the Meme.

Preparation of this receipt may take all day, or a much shorter time if you don't need the rests and lie downs. All quantities may be doubled without increasing the cooking time. You will need a large lidded saute pan, or a lidded stock pot if you are doubling the quantities and your family/friends/freezer can accommodate it. Minor details familiar to regular cooks are included for the times when physical fatigue results in brain fatigue.

SHOPPING: One or two days beforehand. For 6 portions.
1. 500 grams lean minced beef
2. 1 onion
3. 3 large carrots
4. 3 large sticks of celery
5. 3 cloves of garlic, or 2 cloves if it is fresh garlic dug by someone else
6. 200 ml (7 fl oz) beef stock in a tub prepared by someone else
7. 200 grams closed cup mushrooms
8. 1 large aubergine (eggplant)
9. 400 gram tin of plum tomatoes in own juice
10. tube of tomato puree
11. 3 bay leaves dried, or fresh from your own tree (envy)
12. 2 tablespoons dried mixed herbs, such as sage, thyme, parsley, rosemary.
13. 1 tablespoon Lea & Perrins Worcestershire (wuster) sauce, a brewed condiment including tamarind and anchovies, which you cannot distinguish in the wuster browness, but is very interesting to read when you need to sit down and have a rest.

ONE THE DAY:
Choose a day when you can spend all day doing it, in between rests. Suitable times when you can safely leave the preparation in order to rest are indicated. Otherwise preparation time is about twenty minutes and cooking time two hours. For double quantities, cooling time (for the pot) half an hour off the heat, rest, and ten minutes to ladle into freezable containers, where they can stay cooling while you rest, before storing them.

IMPLEMENTS:
1. The pot as above, and the usual things, such as: chopping board, colander, knives, measuring spoons, wooden stirring spoon, ladle, plates, cling film, bowls, recycling bucket for the vegetable waste.
2. Also, if you need it, a Perching Stool by the stove, from social services equipment store, if you are still waiting for the indoor wheelchair.
3. An office type upholstered chair with arms and wheels, so you can zoom between the preparation table and the sink, if you are still waiting for the indoor wheelchair.
4. For longer rests, a reclining chair, and the bed for longer lie downs.

PREPARATION: This is written in great detail on a good day, as a reminder for me on how to do it, for those brain be-fogged days when I am stumped.

1. An hour or so before you begin, take the meat out of the fridge, so that the coldness of the pack doesn't hurt your hands when you next handle it. Get out the vegetable waste bucket and put it next to preparation area. Put all the ingredients together within reach. Rest. When you are ready ...
2. Chop the onion finely, put half on a small plate, cover with clingfilm, discard the other half, or freeze it if you must.
3. With a knife, prise out three cloves from the garlic bulb, trim off the dry outer layers, finely chop the cloves, add to the onion plate, recover with clingfilm. Rest.
4. Peel, top and tail, and chop the carrot into large chunks, put on a large plate, cover.
5. Wash, top and tail the celery, slice lengthwise then chop into large chucks, add to plate. Rest.
6. Wash or wipe the mushrooms, chop coarsely. Put on another plate and cover.
7. Wipe the aubergine, slice in half lengthways, coarsely chop, add to plate and cover. Rest.
8. Open the tin of tomatoes put into a bowl and cut up the whole plum tomatoes, cover. Wash out the tin, remove the soggy paper label, correction, remove the label, wash the tin, crush and recycle.
9. Take the tomato puree tube out of the package, recycle package.
10. Rest, long or short.

COOKING:
1. Heat the pot, put the meat in, break up the block, season with salt and pepper and brown all over. Transfer meat and juices to a plate.
2. Open the tub of beef stock.
3. To the pot add the onion, garlic, carrot and celery together with a little of the stock, heat gently for 5 minutes to soften, stirring. You may choose to rest now, as the next stage needs attention from No. 4 through to No. 9. If you aim to rest at this stage, turn off heat, remove pot from heat, leave with lid on. Just for a short rest... then,
4. Add the meat and juices to the pot, stir.
5. Add the mushrooms, aubergine, tomatoes and 2 tablespoons tomato puree, stir.
6. Add the bay leaves, 2 teaspoons mixed herbs, 1 tablespoon Wuster sauce, stir. Don't bother to use energy to wipe up spills at this stage. Don't rest yet.
7. Add the rest of the beef stock and stir. The liquid should just cover the ingredients, not so that they are floating around. If more liquid is required, use hot water with a little tomato puree. Put on the lid.
8. Turn up the heat and bring to boil, stirring occasionally, then turn down to a very gentle heat to simmer with lid on. Leave to cook for one hour. You will be able to rest soon.
9. It is worth wiping up spills now, if no-one else is around to do it.
10. Set the kitchen timer for one hour. Rest. If bed rest is required, also set the bed side alarm clock for 55 minutes (or shorter, depending on the time taken to get to your bed). Relax.
11. After the first hour cooking, stir the pot and check nothing sticking to the bottom of the pan. The liquid should be reducing and thickening.
12. Set the timer for the next hour, and rest, as above.
13. After the full cooking time, remove pot from heat and leave to cool. Someone will have to do the clearing up now. Hopefully not you.
14. If you can't face doing anything else except eat it, leave the rest in the fridge for up to two days. Serve with either tagliatelle, baked potatoes or mash, or your low carb alternative, and green vegetables.
15. If double quantities, ladle into freezable containers, leave until cold, then freeze.
16. Tell yourself: Well Done !

Thanks Andrea for the mutated Meme.

Thunked

Charles Dawson memed me for this award which I am chuffed about, but the link to The Thinking Blogger Award is so very slow it makes me wonder whether it is constipated. It is very reassuring to have feedback and so I am happy to make my own Thinking Blogger Award to the following five people who may display the Award on their page and move the Meme on to make their own Thinking Blogger Award to another five bloggers who make them think.

(CogDysfunck'd Sally Thinks: now I have to work out how to get the Award displayed on my side panel.)

A new-to-me Blogger found via Blogging Against Disablism Day: Andrea's BADD post about Colony Collapse Disorder. To quote the Queen Bee herself: "You can always tell you've learned new things or taken thoughts into new directions when your brain feels as stretched out of shape as socks you've worn for two days." Also a theory close to my heart is her post Cyborg Cool -v- Crip Pity. Every post is a gem - she has connected me to those times and makes me think into situations when I have felt society dis-ease in The Privilege of Being Clouted by a Cabbage.

I have been reading Wheelchair Dancer to connect to and think about how much I miss dancing. I was thrilled by the Ballet Rambert decades ago, and last year I experienced for the first time the CanDoCo dance company.

Wheelchair Dancer has expanded my understanding of the interaction between dance company members and how dance is brought to fruition. After the performance of the CandoCo I was entranced to see in the foyer on the trendy sofas, two young girls (presumably from a dance class brought along to the matinee) working through the movements of the wheelchair user when he was not using his wheels. By thinking how they would dance without using their body below their hips, they seemed to me to be doing what the Wheelchair Dancer has described in her posts about interaction between the dance company members. That had me thinking for many days.

Blogging Mone has expanded my thinking of the deaf community and how sensory impaired people are dis-abled by society. Also, the subject of deafness is connected to my very early childhood memories. My favourite Uncle's Mother was profoundly deaf and she had a very hairy black Scotty Dog who I remember sitting next to me and, sat down as we both were, he was as tall as the toddler me and he always made me sneeze. I know now he was just using me as a leaning post ... sorry I digress, the point is - as a very young child I was taught how to enunciate my words clearly and face her so that she (the Uncle's Mother not the Scotty; see last paragraph below) could lip read me. She always rewarded me with a smile and communicated with me, which I as a small child had to concentrate on, as her speech was different due to her profound deafness. At my very young age it was unusual to be given that much attention by an adult and I remember her for that communication particularly fondly. That memory would not have been recalled without Blogging Mone making me think about it.

A few years ago in an attempt to overcome the effects of my tinnitus in crowds, I thought lip reading classes would help. There I learned that lip reading is hugely difficult, yet it was being offered as an adult education class for one hour a week. Hopelessly inadequate but was it better than nothing ?

Also, I am indebted to Blogging Mone for her feedback of German equivalents or comparisons to my own posts' topics, and her valued comments always lead me to thinking on my own subject further, taking it on a stage further.

Spotted Elephant at The Bipolar View makes me think of things that perhaps a woman in her fifth decade living a relatively protected rural life in England, might otherwise never have been given the insight and links to think about. I am thinking: feminism, p.o.r ... .g.r.a.p.h.y (my attempt at thwarting such searches finding this site) . Also, I am indebted to her for bringing me back to thinking about my father's bipolar disorder which was mis-managed in the 1950s/60s and caused me a difficult childhood. Thinking on her blog has redeemed aspect's of my father's influence on me.

I wanted to include Quaker Dave, the Quaker Agitator but needless to say he has already received the Award, so its just going to have be Bumble.

Bumble, well I think about Bumble a lot. One week he is throwing his hay around in a very adolescent way, and the next he is orating with the best of them. Getting to know and understand Bumble through his regular Monday slot on Spotted Elephant's blog has expanded my thinking of the animal world, not just companion animals, but all animals that we interact with. They are thinking about us and figuring out ways to interact and communicate with us, either to protect themselves from us, or to protect us from ourselves. Dogs and cats are relatively straightforward in comparison, as are chimpanzees.

Thanks Charles !

Good Company

What does it for you , or does not do IT ? Lady Bracknell describes what does, and does not, for her and Charles Dawson followed, effectively creating a Meme.

Although this cannot strictly be a Meme, because many have already commented their What Does and What Does Not to Lady Bracknell, you may wish more time than a comments box to create your own Dream/Nightmare.

If this sets you thinking of yours, create your own and let us know.

To a single lady in her fifth decade, indulging in this pastime has the potential to create yearnings, but I have a strong constitution, so onwards ...

He (for it must be a He for Me) must be taller than me, except if he is shorter than me and has a rich deep voice.

Whatever his height, he must be capable of eye contact, continuous or unflinching at times, confident, co-conspiratorial, and never have brown irises. I discovered early on in my Soul Mate Career, that if I could not read a man's reactions to me, it was because his dark eyes prevented me from seeing his pupils dilate in passion or contract in peevishness.

Conversely bright blue eyes never appealed, perhaps because they accompanied pale skin and pale hair, which did not appeal to my blood lines. Green would match mine and hazel would be interesting, provided they did not accompany hobgoblin blood and a hairy back.

He would never be bald, except if he had a noble head, and he would never ever have facial hair. I have sensitive delicate skin, and do not wish my cheeks to advertise a night of passion or even an afternoon. Besides, have you not read Roald Dahl's The Twits !

A good head of hair was important to me, until I met a man with thinning grey hair (and a paunch) who bowled me over and straight up the stairs !

Names are important, yet as it is unusual for a babe in arms to choose his own name at his naming ceremony, how can that be? Because his mother chose it of course, and mothers can have dreadful influence on a growing lad. Albert. Cecil. Derek. Eric. Gerald. Kenneth. Norman. Nigel. Percy (forever remembered for the porcelain). Raymond. Stuart. Trevor. Vince. Walter. See what I mean. You can imagine what growing up with one of those would do to a boy's character. Who could resist an Xavier, I certainly did not resist an Alexander. His mother was intelligent and cultured.

The voice always does it for me. Maybe it is a reliable indicator of testosterone, through the vocal chords. The voice can be used to wonderful effect, and a loved familiar one would always turn one's knees to jelly. A hearty laugh and a quiet chuckle would come easily to my ideal. If the voice also sings competently, anything from bass to counter-tenor, that would be heaven.

For active music appreciation is a must. Participation preferable. My first boyfriend was a pianist and the combination of attractive hands (long bony spatula fingers) and emotional intensity was very effective. I have observed a young woman achieve the same effect on her beau. A 'cello or a contra-bassoon would be equally effective, whereas a trumpet or a trombone would always be trumped by a french horn. Cymbals would be silly unless accompanied by timpani.

Hands must be warm, enveloping, communicative and responsive. He would surpass me in his need for cuddles, kisses, fondlings, hand holding, arm hugging. He would be circumspect in public.

Clothes must be suitable to the occasion and if tails are called for they would be worn with panache. I once had a boss who wore a Fedora. It kept the rain off his cigar. Even a fleece would be acceptable if it was appropriate to the job in hand, even though I abhor their take-over of normal human kind, and flee from their ability to suck moisture out of the atmosphere. Anoraks have been discussed before, and Charles Dawson's protestation to Lady Bracknell that it was a reasonable adjustment for his disabilities does not wash with me. A well worn and well waxed jacket as used by country men and women would shrug off the worst of stinky mud, if hung in the boot room and given a good stiff brushing when dry. It would also have the added advantage of not scaring the horses, or the birds bees and hares out of the hedgerows.

He would know what a boot room is and would contrive to have one, however humble his abode.

He would probably have a bit of land. If he was a land owner that bit would be a working farm. Or he would enjoy his garden or have a wheelchair accessible allotment with no straight lines.

He would have acquired huge quantities of books, and consumed many more. He would be knowledgeable about the past and enquiring of the future. His knowledge would not be dry and dusty but accumulated through interested ferreting. He would be interested in sharing the knowledge and not be afraid of his lady knowing more than him, or proving his theory wrong.

He would look forward to talking with, not to, his lady. He would naturally read aloud a poem or a passage from the novel he was reading.

He would have good manners and treat the servants with kindness. He would not have servants, but would value those who provided a service, be it the mechanic or the butcher.

He would be sensuous, and his sensuousness would permeate all his being. He would look at pictures and want me to wear silk. He would be a good cook, and a good shopper for and grower of, good food. He would be more covetous of a proper larder than of a mini fridge to stash his lager in.

He would be self aware, having survived some difficulty or tragedy, and grown deeper and stronger emotionally and psychologically, from it. Anyone who has arrived at the fifth decade single would have had some such experience.

He would not smoke anything, or drink to excess; which excess would be decided by me.

He would be demonstrative and would show his affection and appreciation daily. On high days and other special occasions he would always give his lady something she could wear, be it a flower or a jewel. If he could not afford the excessively expensive perfume or the designer handbag he would seek out the unusual from an auction, never a car boot sale. He would never present her with a kitchen gadget, knowing that things such as milk frothers and food mixers are essential household equipment, not presents.

He would be at ease with the necessary disability related equipment his lady's condition, and perhaps his own, necessitated.

More important than any of the above, he would be capable of overturning all this lady's preferences, if he was the right companion (live in or out) for her.

Except if he wore socks with his sandals.

Interview Me Meme

This Meme has an honourable roll of previous Interviewers and Interviewees, most recently Charles Dawson and Goldfish. I volunteered and asked Charles to Interview Me.


The Rules of the Meme:
Leave me a comment saying: "Interview Me". I respond by asking you five personal questions so I can get to know you better. If I already know you well, expect the questions may be a little more intimate ! You WILL update your journal/blog with the answers to the questions. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else, in the post. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.


These are the five questions from Charles Dawson:

1. Is there a piece of music which has particular associations for you, bad or good?

Inevitably for me its a choral piece, Gustav Holst's Hymn of Jesus. Inevitably it has a religious theme, as most choral works have that basis or inspiration, but these words are from the Gnostic gospels*. Because I sang it in rehearsal week after week, hummed and sang it to myself daily, then performed it in a choir in a magnificent space with orchestra, it lodged itself in my soul. All this at a time when I was struggling with the end of my marriage, which was physically, emotionally and financially exhausting; aware of but unable to do much about my Bump's desolation, or my own. Singing the gnostic Christ's words: I am a couch, rest on me threatened to reduce me to sobs every time. (The Christ figure as the positive animus, you understand.) It has settled into my life as a beautiful inspiring piece, that now I have joy in listening too and a few shivers down my spine at the divine scoring and choice of texts.

2. People of our generation in this country were usually brought up in a religious tradition. Have you shucked all that off or would you still describe yourself as a believer.

Well and truly shucked off. However, my upbringing was non-conformist, then in my mid 20s I joined a choir and discovered Christian beliefs in an ancient and entirely different, more subtle, setting which offset to some extent the loathing I felt for all things religious.

Now, certainly not a believer in the figurehead of God the Father who directs our lives and gives us what we want if only we are good and ask nicely; which figurehead restricts, actively prevents, the maturing of many souls. What I think of as 'God the Bottleneck' constricting evolution; the churches's teachings discouraging consciousness and preventing individuals from taking responsibility for themselves and others.

Nor am I believer in a religious faith or practice but, nonetheless, I consider myself a convert from non-conformism to anglican, for the space, peace, ritual and distanced impersonal prescribed services, often with intelligent sermons, safely removed from the dumbed down teachings and happy clappy evangelism that threatens to invade one's personal and spiritual space, at every turn. Which is where my dysfunctional family landed young teenage me after one of my father's catastrophic breakdowns, which was viewed as a religious conversion.

However, I think a belief system is a good thing, once religion has been sloughed off, and the most effective ones, in keeping us afloat in this life, are those belief systems arrived at individually, a pick and mix if you like. So mine is based on Jung, with a smattering of Celtic Christianity and a good dollop of Quakerism. All richly stirred together and sweetened by music, art, architecture, stained glass and communion wine in a silver goblet; taken those rare times when I visit one of three places where I feel safe and at ease; a school chapel, a tiny 12th century non-parish church, and the Cathedral. Here, comfortable knowing that I will not be descended upon by evangelising nincompoops; able to contemplate the sermon and not be preached at, and at ease with the people, the service, I take Communion. Most definitely not as the body and blood etc. but as a communal companionable act; at the school chapel among people I know and respect or in the cathedral where all are strangers. In both places I am in communion with my fellows while we contemplate what it is all about, what we are and how we are to live honestly and keep on keeping on.

Which is all quite a surprising thing to find myself doing; a surprising outcome given that I believe I have most certainly shucked off all my religious upbringing. I am not part of the life of my or any parish church, so many would not consider me a practising Christian; myself included.

3. What is your worst nightmare ?

Nightmare literal or nightmare metaphorical ?

Literal - the recurring one through childhood, of being completely disorientated and dizzy in a moving heaving sea of linking staircases going up, down and around. That probably came from being born and raised in a prefab/bungalow, so I didn't learn ascending and descending on a daily basis. Also, that nightmare told how disorientated I was as a child in my chaotic dysfunctional family, where nothing was as it seemed, nothing was told as I experienced it and nothing remained where it had been. Also perhaps it may have hinted at the first signs of Meniere's; as a child my brain and balance system only very slightly unable to cope with sloping surfaces.

Metaphorical worst nightmare is being unable to fight for my right to be enabled, and funded, to live independently in my own home to my own standards. To no longer be capable, physically or mentally, of looking after my needs and being conscious of it but unable to do anything about it to protect myself from the mindless thoughtless heartless bureaucracy that already threatens to sink me. I think all crips should form local unions of the like-minded, and provide for a future lived in a commune directed by themselves (I'm thinking battlements and draw bridges), hiring and firing the staff as needed. Which could turn into anyone's worst nightmare !

4. If you could have any living creature as a pet, which would it be ?

My Airedale Sally (after whom I am here named), reincarnated into life, exactly as before, to be my companion animal. With her humour, grace, wit and style intact. With her ability to sense and see off any male who didn't smell right, whether it was the nosey postman or the potential (potentially catastrophic) date, and her total lack of shame at climbing onto the lap of all other human males who came into our lives. She was warm hearted, loving, solid and big, and always listened to me kindly and groaned in the right places. She would keep the damned cats out of the garden so the birds could visit safely. She would be the perfect wheelchair companion.

5. Who do you think has influenced you most in life (personal contact, reading, whatever) ?

'Personal contact' - Alexander, deceased. Too private.

'Reading, whatever' - Carl Gustav Jung, as a theoretical training and as experienced in personal therapy and later in training analysis. I would not have survived without the knowledge and insight his research and writings have enabled in me. Via Jung I have met people who I can be myself with and rely on. Through the study of Jung I am now mostly a 'good-enough' mother. Through the experience of Jungian therapy I am becoming, will continue to become, the person who I am meant to be. Through the Jungian lessons I have learned I hope never to make the same mistakes again. The only problem with Jung is I end up sounding pretentious.

As my answer to this question is 2/3rds male, I add, as a third, the wise old lady who founded the Jungian study group and training organisation in this part of the world, who I was at first in awe of, who then approached me with an invitation, and who now I am blessed to have as a wise old woman friend.

* see Elaine Pagels's The Gnostic Gospels.

~~ Thank you Charles for giving thought to your questions to me ~~

If you wish me to interview you; in depth or lightly (I get to choose), and whether you are new to this arena or a well known fellow blogger, please let me know in the comments box.

Meme 5 Things About Me

This comfortable couple are my maternal grandparents, Florence and Josephus.

Yonks ago Charles Dawson tagged me for 5 Things About Me. I have only just found it Charles so, belatedly, here I am.

1 When I was a young teenager I sprouted up very quickly and towered over my peers. Within a few years everyone caught up with me and now I am average at 5'6" and a bit (I have shrunk since I was 5 feet 6 and 3/4 inches), but I have this imaginary body image of being tall and willowy. Very wrong.

2 I like living alone. I may change my mnd or age may change my mind for me.

3 When pissed I revert to broad Yorkshire/Derbyshire. Not just the accent but also the sentence structures and vocabulary*. Due to Lupus drug regime, it hardly happens at all these days; just a whisper when a glass or two of Champagne or very very good red wine tempts me off the straight and narrow.

4 I yearn to throw off this country life and have a cool contemporary pad in London, or a small villa in north west Crete. I do, however, recognise that I have 'come down in the place that is right' and am content.

5 Despite it being twenty years (20 ?!?) since I was harried ... (that was a typo for married, but being a follower of Jung I will leave it in as a Freudian slip) ... and an important love departed ten years ago, I do believe that love 'is as perennial as the grass'. This belief does not conflict with No. 2 above.

* Memories: I can hear him now ... "Ger up. Thar'll get chinkcough in tha bum if thar sits on that the-er step."

Thanks for the enjoyable Meme Charles.

Now you 5 others out there - tag yourselves - but come back and let us know you have done so.

Coming soon: The Meme of 10