Just another Sunday dinner at Minton...

Not that we ever need a reason to have a big dinner at Minton...in fact it's fairly commonplace...but we do seem to like pretending that there's a particular reason. This past Sunday it was in John's honour. He has been back in Bermuda for the past month visiting his sister and her new baby, Robin. Since he left his wife behind in Scotland and has therefore been footloose and fancy free, he has spent a fair amount of time at Bruce's. Afterall there is always something going on, a laugh and a drink (or ten) to be had, and it's never been a favourite with the wives...probably something to do with the ever-flowing booze!
Well, John is returning to Bonnie Scotland on Thursday so we just HAD to have a big roast dinner! Lamb with roast potatoes, parsnips, onions and squash, brocolli and cauliflower with my 'spashal' cheese sauce, brussel sprouts and homemade gravy. DELISH!!
As it turns out Bobby is heading back to San Diego on Saturday, giving us two reasons to celebrate...uh...hang on...not celebrate exactly. More like...um...oh, you know what I mean!
And then Lecia announced that the day was the three year anniversary of her arrival on the island. So, yes, celebration is the right word there. Until we realised that, given Bermuda's six year limit on work permits, we were actually marking the half way point of Lecia's Bermuda career. Hmmmm. Oh well, we drank and made merry anyway!!
Unfortunately I was the only person working the next day so I had to remain relatively sober, but the others? Noooooo. Full on, as we say in Bermy.
Now Shona, the beautiful dog above, is ball-mad and spends all her time attempting to draw you in to a game of catch, or kick, or anything. Here she is having dropped her ball on Bobby's temporarily vacant chair and is looking from Lecia to the ball, the ball to Lecia, and repeat ad nauseum, while Lecia groans and says no, repeatedly ad nauseum.
Well, it never takes long for Bruce to come up with something new and different to torture me with and in his infinite drunken wisdom decided it would be fun to see if we could get Shona to take the ball off my head. Right. Can you see her in the bottom right corner...eagerly watching where her precious ball is? Can you see those teeth?
It took her a few tries to figure out what she had to do....launch herself at my head, using the back of the chair as a touch point, and snatch the ball back with whatever force necessary. That ball would be hers once more, never fear!
Well, dear John was taking the photos and there are tons, all a variation of the theme above, with Shona poised in mid strike, and me cringing. But the time when she actually did it? That last time when her fangs scraped across my scalp as she scoopped up the ball as well as a wad of my hair? That moment when her jaws enveloped my head and I screamed and pooped my pants?
Nada. No click. No flash. Nothing. Zip. Zilch.
What a waste of newly highlighted hair and clean knickers.

Since I'm lazy...

I heard a song today for the first time in ages, an oldie that I love!
R E O Speedwagon....

And even as I wander I'm keeping you in sight
You're a candle in the window
On a cold, dark winter's night
And I'm getting closer than I ever thought I might

A love story....

Once upon a time there was a man, we’ll call him John, who picked up his life in England and embarked on a new life in Bermuda. This was 1961 and he left behind the love of his life, not knowing if she would commit to the move herself. He was a teacher, a good one, and later became Headmaster of one of the local schools.
To put you out of your misery (being a love story and all) of course she joined him…and we’ll call her Jane.
They married, set up home, and raised two beautiful and wonderful children.
‘Jane’ was also a teacher and she was superb, one of the best loved teachers at the school.
In 1992 ‘Jane’ was diagnosed with cancer. She fought a long, hard battle and finally succumbed in August of 1993. It was devastating for all who had loved her. She was the organist at her church and on the day of her funeral even the organ didn’t want to work properly for the first time, and since.
Today we buried ‘John’. He tried, he struggled, his children tried to rally him, but in all honestly, he had never been the same since ‘Jane’s’ passing. After a few years of illness he has finally gone to the place he has wanted to be for fifteen years.
‘John’s’ daughter, my life-long beloved best friend, stood at the front of the church this afternoon and spoke about her father. Told us things we never knew for he was such a private man. Things I wish I had known. He was a writer, a poet, an artist. He kept this all between his beloved and himself.
A month before ‘Jane’ died in August 1993, ‘John’ wrote her a poem for her birthday. His daughter knew of the poem as it had been ‘Jane’s’ birthday gift, and a few years ago, when the children put ‘John’ into a nursing home due to failing health and sold the family home, she searched high and low for it.
This afternoon, in church, she read this poem. Not only as a testament to her parents’ love for each other, but also as an example of her father’s deep, artistic, passionate soul.

July 1993

‘Jane’, my love ----
After the winter
when the morning doves coo
I will remember.

Not that I could forget,
just that springtime will make you vivid.

We will recall
our youth, our unheeding.
We shall share memories as surely as
lovers separated only by earthly miles.

I cannot keep you
but commit these words to mind
and you can take them on your journey.

Isn’t it loss that wounds us most;
the sharp, the immediate,
the slow drip of years?

Yet your frailty will vanish in a trice,
the miracle of our prayers,
and it will be your radiant arms that
will, one day, welcome me home.

‘John’

I knew ‘John’ for almost my whole life and can honestly say that I wish I knew more of this side of him.
This is writing that would stand as amazing tribute to any man, to any love.
And ‘John’ is finally home in ‘Jane’s’ arms.

Giving up a dream

I’ve been trying to analyse why I’ve been so sad recently.
I understand why I’m feeling a little scared. After all I am looking at making a very big move. Whether it happens sooner or later, the decision to leave Bermuda is a huge one.
If things don’t work out in the USA I can always go to the UK, or even somewhere in Europe…Spain or France maybe?
And yes, I can come back to Bermuda. Definitely on vacation, and possibly even to live. I do have friends that I could stay with while I look for a job and somewhere to live.
BUT…the whole point is that I need to leave here in order to chase my dream.
And there we have it. The dream.
It used to be that I would be here for the rest of my life….have a wonderful husband, a beautiful home, a satisfying job.
I have overstuffed my apartment over the last years with beautiful objects d’art (albeit nothing terribly expensive, just valuable to me in their beauty), cooking apparatus, flatware and etc, etc, and stuff, with the hope that one day I would have the space to display them and use them to entertain my friends.
Recently I have begun a seriously brutal purge. Unfortunately when I leave I can store a very limited amount of stuff here, for a limited period of time, and it has made me think hard about what it necessary to me now…and in the future.
So far I have 3 bags of garbage, 3 bags of Good Will clothing, 1 bag of Christmas decorations (note that I haven’t even reached the closet where I keep all my Christmas paraphernalia!)1 bag of stuffed toys (seriously? Yes!!), and 1 grocery bag of empty picture frames, the latter three also for Good Will. And this is not including items that can’t be dumped into a garbage bag, nor have I even hit the kitchen!
I guess what’s happened is that with each, previously treasured, item that I throw away or give away I am realising that things really are just things.
And yet I still feel that I am throwing away small pieces of my dream each time. And that has made me rather sad.
Once I have a solid, new dream to look forward to I believe the sadness will be replaced by excitement….and anxiety!!
The good thing about the ‘plan’ is that I am going through it all with a friend. So that, kind of like Thelma and Louise…well, minus the car, the cliff, the crime, the police, and Brad Pitt….we can hold each other’s hand as we launch into a whole new life and say ‘Here we go!’

Should I stay or should I go now...?

"If I go there will be trouble, An' if I stay there will be double." The Clash hit the nail right on the head with that one.
After months of talking about leaving Bermuda, I got hit in the face with the cold hard facts on coming back from Vegas.
Is it beautiful here? Absolutely. And the weather? Perfect. It's a pretty good lifestyle too...always outdoors, in and on the water. And it will always be the place of my birth and a place I would be happy to come and vacation.
But.
I am not happy.
Rents and the cost of living are sky-rocketing and it is becoming financially un-viable to live on ones own.
Crime has taken a serious and very scary upward spiral.
The present Government is a sham and a shambles, and their talk of independence from the UK is like listening to spoilt children in the playground boasting about their toys with no notion of what their parents go through in order for them to have those toys.
I will never own my own home here.
I will never be able to retire here.
And the man-pool is murky at best.
I'm only ever happy when I am on the beach or when I am with a handful of particular friends.
At all other times I have been unhappy. And that is not a natural state for me.
So, I can blow this place and go look for my destiny.
Or I could stay and be bored and depressed.
Put like that there really isn't a contest, is there?

Twiddling my thumbs

So I started my new job yesterday. I was supposed to start on Monday, but I came in on Friday for a brief meeting with Dan, my new boss, and he said 'Oh no, you take a couple extra days and relax, you just flew back. Start on Wednesday, it is the 1st then anyway.' Now while this is true, it really should have been my first clue that there was nothing particularly urgent awaiting the new employee.
And then he tells me that he is flying to Brazil that afternoon, and so not only will he be away for my first day, but he will be away for a month or more. Excellent!
He then gave me a ten-minute crash course on their payment system so that I would be able to pay bills as they came in.
Therefore on my first day, after aquainting myself with the computer system, the office in general, the ladies across the hall, the bathroom, the kitchen...you know, all the important stuff...I paid the rent for the office and for Dan's apartment, scanned a few invoices off to Brazil for instruction, and waited for the postman.
1.10pm Day 2. Still waiting. Sigh.
Bonus? Coffee with Cindy this morning for the first time in years. Weeeelll sort of...she had coffee, I had cranberry juice. And no, I am not trying to be holier than thou in saying that. I had a ciggie with my beverage, she refrained.