Primroses in the Peaks.

I was short on ideas for my blog this weekend until yesterday when I found myself walking along the banks of a stream that runs along the field at the back of our cottage.


There they were ‘Primroses’, and there was I, back on the banks of the Old East Grinstead Railway that ran along the end of my childhood home. My mind was suddenly awash with memories and a real sense of joy, all evoked by a simple yet delicate little yellow flower.


Do you have anything like primroses that when sighted brings you a sense of pleasure as they whisk you back to your Childhood days? A friend was telling me the other day that Gorse bushes always make him happy as they remind him of his younger days, he always has to stop and smell them and get a waft of that coconutty, vanilla smell.  I’ve been walking around smelling gorse ever since as we are surrounded by it, and it definitely has a very pleasant aroma. Folklore says ‘you should only kiss your beloved when gorse is in flower’, luckily gorse or a close relative I’m told, tends to be in flower pretty much all year so don’t worry, kissing can continue. Phew!!


Those primroses gave me a real spark of pleasure as they reminded me of days spent in shorts and wellies, scrambling or often slipping down one bank, across the old disused railway line, and up the bank on the other side. I can remember a time when those banks were completely covered in a pretty yellow carpet, but I can also remember them disappearing as people began to dig them up and plant them in their gardens. At least that is what I remember being told. I have many memories of picking small bunches and taking them back home to my mum, although by the time I had slipped down one bank and crawled up the other I doubt the primroses looked quite so attractive but the thought was there.


In the old Victorian ‘Language of flowers’. the primrose symbolized ‘Young Love’ and the sense of ‘I can’t live without you’ but somehow as we get older we realize that life does go on even without those who we have held dear, and maybe that’s why primrose moments however fleeting are so special as they remind us for just a brief moment of those we have loved and lost, and help us to realize that we have moved forward and are remembering them with happiness rather than sadness.


I couldn’t help but pick just a very small bunch of these pretty yellow flowers, just to keep those happy memories around for a while, and although much more grown up now I doubt you will be surprised that I was still in my shorts and wellies.


Wishing everyone a happy and blessed Easter Weekend.



Love Alison x






I Want My Way

While sat on my sofa, comfortably watching tv in the home that I have known and loved for the last 12 years, my thoughts turned to Gary and his family, who over the last few weeks have suffered a loss that I personally find unimaginable.  I have followed Gary’s blog since I joined this lovely WordPress family and have so enjoyed reading about his life’s journey, until a couple of weeks ago when I read his blog and my heart broke.

I am quite sure if you have time to read it that you will understand why.

Thoughts are with you and your family Gary.

Love Alison x

Another Picture On The Wall

I lived in a house, no let me start over. I lived in a home that echoed with 30 years worth of our laughter, sweat, anxiety, celebrations, arguments, prayers, tears, Easter egg hunts, middle of the night conversations, daughters’ boyfriends I did not approve of, memories initiated from old photos, music, and hundreds of birthday candles being blown out just after a personal wish that was never, ever shared but always well contemplated before being chosen.

A fire swept through that home 12 days ago and now those echoes have been turned to ashes and blown miles from Paradise California. Perhaps some will eventually mingle with the echoes of your life and loves.

I want to go home. I want all those things back. I want thousands of people’s sufferings to be reversed. I want to wake up from the nightmare. Just like that toddler throwing a tantrum in the…

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Life after death. (A journey through grief)

My posts seem to be tinged with a little sadness at the moment, but I guess it’s just the way life is at times, and don’t we all have to take the rough with the smooth as we work our way through this amazing, beautiful, scary thing called LIFE.

Life isn’t a permanent smile on a social media selfie, however much a little internet surfing can make us feel that it should be.  It’s a complex mix of Sadness and laughter, Sorrows and Joys, Births and Deaths, Fear and Overcoming.  We all know that it takes ‘Sunshine and Rain’ to make a rainbow, and life is equally as colourful.  It’s this patchwork of emotions and circumstances that make up the rich tapestry of our lives, each complex square stitched together with threads of love and endurance.


One of the squares on my life’s quilt will have the word  ‘MUM’  running through the stitches like a stick of rock.  My mum died two years ago on the 1st June, and I still think about her everyday.  Life after death is a path we all have to tread when we loose someone we love, it can be a long, and difficult journey, and unfortunately not one that we can avoid or decide to take at another time, however much we might prefer to postpone it.

For a long time there was a gaping hole, a rip that only time could mend.  Sometimes its tempting to make a quick repair and hope nobody will notice, but just as any seam sewn quickly and without care, would sooner or later fray, so a heart that is broken needs time to mend and there is no easy or quick fix, especially in matters of the heart.

Grieving takes time.  To begin with the loss of our loved one is the first thought each morning, and the last at night. Days can feel like weeks as we begin to work our way through the intensity of our emotions.  These are the days that we need to make our self-care a priority.  Taking some time each day to do things that bring comfort and peace can help us cope, along with trying to eat well, and getting a good night sleep.  These things may be difficult at first but as time goes by they do become a little easier… honestly.  We begin to make small steps towards recovery,  and each new little burst of sunshine in our daily life helps to slowly dry the puddles of sadness that we are wading through.

It’s a time in our lives when we need the support of those closest too us.  Just a hug or a kind word of understanding can do wonders for a grieving heart.   Human touch is  powerful and healing.  We could all benefit from more of it on a daily basis, but for someone who is grieving just a hand-held, an arm touched or a hug given can often bring greater comfort than words, and allow space for a little sadness to be relieved.  Tears at this time are tears of healing and far better out than in.


Noticing the beauty around us can be really beneficial,  and help to bring us into the present moment.  Mother nature is around every corner,  waiting patiently for us to be ready to acknowledge her.  At first we are often too engrossed in our sadness to be able to do this, but as time moves us on we begin to see and hear all her amazing handiwork once again, and gradually we are drawn back into life.

The loss of any parent is hard.  My mum moved up to be near me in her later years and within a couple of months we found out that her days were limited.  We didn’t even have time to adjust to living close to each other before we were thrown into a myriad of appointments and specialists.  We then had to adjust to the fact that we were saying a very long goodbye, knowing that the end was near, but not knowing when it would be.

I’m so thankful that I was with her on her final journey.  It wasnt easy and there were times when I would have happily postponed it or decided to take a different route if that had been an option, but I know I did my best, and knowing my mum, that is all she would have expected of me.

I love you Mum x.






Love Alison x



Patchwork quilt made with love by Raye Smillie.




Has anyone seen my glasses?

Oh how often I can be heard using this phrase.  I don’t wear glasses all the time but as I’ve got older, and as is so often the case, I have become long-sighted.  I have to wear glasses for any close up work such as reading, blogging, sewing and so on.  I have such a clear memory of my mum at the same age, and remember watching her lowering her deep red hymn book in church to a position where she could clearly make out the words, luckily like me she had very long arms.  This week however it’s not my reading glasses that I’ve misplaced, but my  ‘Rose Tinted’  ones,  and I desperately need to find them again as life is, well just rosier with them on.

I think they must have loosened a little as my week started off with the sad news of a friend’s death.  This was a double-edged sword as I hadn’t been in contact with this friend for a long time, and although we had at one point been quite close somehow we had drifted apart, and neither of us had made the effort to stay in touch.  I’m sure this happens to many of us,  but these moments of realization often have a way of hitting us smack in the face, with a touch of reality and a tinge of regret.

A few days later while at the doctors for a routine appointment,  my glasses slipped down a little further as I threw a smile at someone I recognized across the crowded waiting room.  Walking over to greet her properly I came face to face with the knowledge that she was a very weakened version of the person I had known.  Taking the time to put my arm around her and listen to her story I discovered that she had been through breast cancer surgery having inherited the ‘BRCA’  gene, and although in recovery of sorts she had a long way to go.  I was in awe at her courage and acceptance of her condition,  and as I walked away I hoped that my small contribution of friendship had helped, if only a little.

This situation immediately reminded me of a very strong, very brave young lady, who is a special friend of my daughter Charlotte.  Due to being a carrier of the ‘BRCA1’ gene,  Abbie has had to make an incredibly difficult decision at a very young age, but whilst sat with my friend at the doctors and seeing the card that life had dealt her I felt certain that she has done the right thing.  Abbies’ heartfelt story  is well worth a read.

With my  ‘Rose Tinted’ glasses now well and truly misplaced I was thrown into my own personal conundrum when a day intended to be spent in the sunshine changed into a day helping my son Simon out of a very black hole, as the reality of independent living hit an all time low.  That boy needs a lot of  love, kindness, patience and friendship to see him through,  but im hoping that time, encouragement and support will bring more confidence in his new situation.  (Simons Story)

Well what a week, im hardly surprised that ive lost something important to me as things are usually misplaced at times like these, but as things settle down we usually find them again.  One thing ive learnt this week is that life is so precious.  We can waste so much time wishing our lives were different, wishing that we had that house or that car or were going on that holiday, but you only have to look into the eyes of someone who really knows what suffering is to know that you have everything you need.  Right here, right now, in this moment.  We just have to appreciate it and be thankful.




Love Alison x












Mums are…


The womb that nurtures
the arms that cradle
the hands that hold
the eyes that watch over.



 The ears that listen
the voice that soothes
the rock that shelters
the feet that lead.



  The Nurse, the teacher,
the chauffeur, the cook,
night-watchman, forgiver,
encourager, protector.


All in the name of,
one feeling
one emotion
one Word.



 Happy Mothers day. (11th March)  If you’re a mum enjoy it, if you have a mum, make her feel special,  and if you have sadly lost your mum, know that you’re not alone.


Love Alison x



Poems, Thoughts

So softly they fall.


As winter draws near

they begin to fall

 from weakening arms

dropping, one by one.

They braved the storms

the wind and rain

their beauty shone

with the rising sun.

Now crumpled and creased

it’s time to let go

time to accept

the journey is done.

Another falls

so softly to the ground

tears are shed

a battle is won.



Love Alison x


Poem:  ‘So softly they fall.  By Alison Fielding