Shared Stories

My saga with the builders has continued this week and there is dirt in every nook and cranny of the house, despite my best efforts at containing the dust and debris. Builders always seem to leave you with even more work that needs doing than what there was before they came swooping through the house. Another week of disruption and research in between before it is back to some form of normality.

In order to maintain my sanity, I decided to take a day out from what has become the daily routine of noise, dirt, dust and making endless cups of tea. I set off early for a day of tranquility in the Lake District. It was the best decision I could have made. I live relatively near the Lakes, as they are also referred to, and although I have been many times over the years I have lived in the Northeast, I have never visited the area this time of the year.

I tend to take a trip in the autumn as I love the vibrant show of burnt autumn colours the area is particularly known for. I follow the autumn watch closely as summer draws to an end and wait until the colours are at their best before making my annual pilgrimage. However, to my surprise and delight the Lakes were awash with lush greenery interspersed with a vibrant palette of colours provided by rhododendrons everywhere. It was breathtaking and I fell in love with the Lakes anew.

It was also a journey down memory lane as Eugene loved the Lakes and whenever he visited me, we always spent a day touring around the area, visiting the many craft and tourist shops on offer. Eugene adored craft shops, galleries and any other venue offering creative goods. However, it was also mainly during the winter when we visited and I so wish he could have experienced the Lakes sporting its summer colours. As a very creative person, he would have been speechless by the endless colours vying for attention.

I have continued to do research into the cultural environment in which Eugene and Pieter lived and to provide some insight to the reader of how it has evolved over the years. The relevance of this evolution is the impact the changes have had on their day-to-day lives. In addition, as part of my research I sent out a request to other prostate cancer sufferers to share their stories and experiences with me, were they willing to do so. I was overwhelmed with the response and it was comforting to know there were others going through the same highs and lows we had experienced.

I was also touched by the sense of camaraderie communicated by those who contribute to the various networks and discussion groups available online. It is obvious that the encouragement the participants offer each other through these forums was of great support and comfort to those sharing the journey as cancer patients. It was also disturbing and upsetting to realise just how many men were affected by prostate cancer.

However, on the other hand it is encouraging that a significant proportion of sufferers had their cancer under control through various medical treatments. Since Eugene was diagnosed research has improved both the treatments available as well as the quality of life of patients. Alas, the recent advances came too late for Eugene. There was one common theme that kept reoccurring and that was that many men delayed going to the doctor with their concerns, instead hoping it would go away. Procrastination in these circumstances could mean life and death.

Following the upheaval associated with the building work and the fact that in the North of England we continue to experience cool weather, my husband and I are off to Crete in search of sun and heat. I am delighted to add that the building work is finally at an end …. for the moment, that is. I shall report back on the break and its contribution to my reflections in a couple of weeks.

Time Out

I am back in the Northeast of England and my routine of writing will seriously be disrupted for the next two weeks or more. I have finally taken the plunge, pardon the pun, to have my ancient bathroom ripped out and replaced with more modern furniture and fittings. My experience of the devastation left behind when any form of building or repair is done in the house, has meant I have been putting off the evil day. However, the seen and unseen holes that make the bathroom feel like Siberia when the winter wind blows from the frozen north has finally persuaded me that it was time.

The house has seen two world wars and no doubt a number of homeowners have come and gone. It is therefore way overdue for a facelift. It was with dread that the day of the invasion arrived. Although I have managed to find two craftsmen to entrust my home with only because they came highly recommended, there follows the inevitable mess, regular intakes of breath as only a tradesperson can do, a sign of either disaster looming or disapproval of everything you have bought or not bought. There seems to be an unspoken message that whatever obstacles they encounter that makes their life difficult has to be your fault.

The excitement I felt at finally finding the tiles I wanted, having visited every tile shop within a hundred mile radius, the various bathroom fittings I spent days searching for on the internet, go pop like a bursting balloon with one intake of breath, clearly communicating disapproval. Every item poses an almost insurmountable obstacle. You cajole, placate, revert to a stern voice and make endless cups of tea and spend a fortune on biscuits to move the work along. It is not a conducive environment for serene reflection and creative inspired writing, especially with the cacophony of loud noises emanating from the bathroom, some of the noise apparently classed as music!

Instead, I decided to use the time to carry out the research I will eventually need to do for my book. The research provides me with a break from the endless rounds of sparring with the builders, which in turn provide some entertainment away from the research. The years of developing the discipline of academic writing, provided me with not only a level of skill in researching, but also an appreciation of how necessary it is to spend time engaged in research and its contribution in helping the writer begin crafting their story.

This is the period I now face. It is interesting, when you read or listen to the different approaches of writing by other authors. Some prefer to carry out most of their research before putting fingers to keyboard or pen too paper, if you still favour this tradition. Others will do their research as they go along. I tend to belong to the latter camp as I’m not always sure where my thoughts will lead me and therefore the research that will be required to support the direction I eventually pursue. Putting on an academic hat, I could argue that the research will of course guide the direction and therefore the writing. I know, it is difficult to escape a discipline that channeled your thinking for so many years, but I’m learning!

I am in a particular phase of my writing whereby I need to do some background research on the society and community in which Eugene and Pieter lived their lives. It is important because our societies play a significant role in who we eventually become and why we make the choices we do. These choices will contribute to the lives we will eventually live and the experiences we will encounter.

I mentioned that Eugene and Pieter lived in a conservative environment with strong prejudices against anyone different and gays, in particular. Due to the power of its influence on their lives, I consider it necessary to provide the eventual reader of my book with an understanding of this environment. Eugene and Pieter live and have lived in South Africa and although it has changed significantly after the end of apartheid, many of the prejudices remain.

Despite having spent my formative years in South Africa, I left many years ago and the country is now less familiar to me than the many other countries in which I have worked and lived. I am therefore carrying out research into South Africa, both current and past, to familiarize my reader with the backdrop in which Eugene and Pieter lived and loved. It is also a journey of rediscovery for me and some things are familiar and others are not.

Not only am I finding out about the social environment in which their lives played out, but also of the nature of prostate cancer. My research is therefore increasing my knowledge and understanding of the many facets of prostate cancer. I am particularly impressed and grateful for the enormous amount of information and support I have gained from Prostate Cancer UK. More about that next week, should I survive my sojourn with the builders unscathed….

Sun Kissed Cherries

I have travelled to our home in France for the cherry season and next to me on my desk is a bowl overflowing with sweet, juicy, black cherries from the garden. This is where the journey of my tribute to Eugene and Pieter began. It is both significant as well as poignant as this is one aspect of my life Eugene and Pieter never had the opportunity to share, for many conspiring reasons. Eugene so wanted to experience our life in this part of the world, but alas, time was not on our side.

It is early summer and I have just gone for a walk along the piste verte. It is a track that follows a disused railway line that meanders for miles through the mountains, from village to village. To access it I walk to the top of our village and my daily exercise is to go for a long walk in either direction, depending on the scenery I want to enjoy on that particular day.

Whenever I have travelled to France with my Spaniels, Scally and Scampy, they have always accompanied me on the walk. Sadly, Scally died a year ago and it is now just Scampy and I. The track is fairly wide and even and therefore very popular with cyclists and walkers alike. It is lined on both sides with numerous varieties of trees, shrubs and other vegetation that in places provide a welcome canopy from the blazing summer sun. Scampy’s excitement on the walk is to go and find a pinecone with which to amuse herself.

As it is early in the summer the mountains are bursting with endless shades and varieties of green. The boundless palette of green provides a lush background for bright yellow buttercups and miles of wild purple irises. The new growth of the hedges deviates from their green surroundings and instead provides a sharp contrast of blazing reds and oranges. It is indeed a beautiful sight to behold and the air has the fresh smell of early summer, accompanied by the many perfumes of wild flowers.

Coming from a fairly dry and arid environment, Eugene and I were always fascinated by the breathtaking variety of green to be found in Europe and in particular the lush, velvet greenery of England. Having lived in Europe for more than thirty years, I have yet to grow tired of the beauty of the gentle green hills and fields of England which greet me as my flight approaches when returning from foreign parts.

However, here in France we are located in the dramatic mountains of the Haute Languedoc Regional National Park, a paradise for all outdoor sports and nature lovers alike with its lakes, gorges, valleys and quaint villages. It is likened to a balcony from where one has a view of the Mediterranean sea. The mountains drop away to the sprawl of vineyards as far as the eye can see. There is hardly a space that is not covered by growing vines. The breathtaking scenery that surrounds me is indeed conducive to contemplation and creative writing.

I shared a number of aspects of the actual process of writing I have experienced this far on the journey in my previous blogs. What I also totally underestimated was how lonely the journey of writing can be. As a relative loner I have always been happy to work on my own, researching and writing in the privacy of my study without engaging with the outside world for days on end. However, doing so in short bursts is one thing, but spending a big chunk of your time engaged in researching and writing is much more isolating than I had anticipated. Scampy is getting a lot more walks and thoroughly enjoying the attention and company, as is the cat who has taken to snuggling up on my lap whenever I’m in front of the keyboard. My poor long-suffering husband has to listen to my endless ramblings that half the time probably doesn’t make any sense to him.

At first I was anxious that my extensive travelling would hamper the flow of writing. However, I have found that it has helped a great deal. Often being in a different location punctuates the possible monotony and isolation associated with one location. I also find that a different environment provides me with an alternative perspective on what I am writing and stimulates different ways in which I want to express myself. It is a bit like the windows I referred to in my previous blog; a different environment provides me with a different window and therefore different perspectives.

It remains to be seen what the contribution of the beauty and warmth of my French environment is going to make to my writing.