Ringing in the Changes

Gently, faintly, I hear the bells chiming again and Bloomsbury Bell is awoken.

I have been spending my time in Oxford coffee shops, pubs and libraries reading and writing and when I have not been doing that I have been in the garden attempting to get to grips with a large, overgrown and rambling cottage garden. In between I have been going back to London for a dose of home.

They say that change is as good as a rest, but maybe sometimes rest is as good as a change. Having had several changes over the last couple of years I have taken time to be restful, be slow and be observant. This hasn’t been without its challenges, I struggled to feel content with being slow in a world which encourages speed and change. I struggled to keep myself from a natural fast pace and to believe that it was really fine to take time out of things for a while. Being busy was something I couldn’t do without so I found a balance of being busy with ‘quiet’ things such as gardening, walking, reading and exploring Oxford.

It’s time now to walk from the bank and slide back into the stream.

Ringing the changes

The village in snow

It is, once again, a long time since I posted anything. Indeed, since I have written anything at all either online or in notebooks or on scraps of paper that I often look at and think, “what?!” I hope you all had a lovely Christmas and New Year.

So much has happened that I am going to have to speed through or else it will be March and I will still be catching up on December. A week before Christmas Mr Bell and I braved the blizzards and moved house for the second time in a year. Due to the snow we were delayed by four days and caused quite a stir in the village as we ended up being towed in as our van had got completely stuck. In the midst of our frenzied move we went down to Sussex for a lovely family Christmas but we were fairly dazed at this point so everything was a bit of a blur and we never got around to putting up any of our decorations. It felt a bit of a shock to go to mum’s and see a Christmas tree as I didn’t have time to get obsessively Christmassy (which I usually do). Anyway, I gorged myself on Christmas lunch and had lots of cuddles with my very cute eleven month old niece.

Tonight is the first time we have connection to the internet (long story) and we are still sorting out the utilities (tedious) BUT every morning I wake up to my lovely tabby cat nosing his way into my consciousness as he demands his breakfast and the views from our windows change from day to day depending on the light which reminds me why we moved in the first place. For the past six months we have been without our beloved tabby cat as we couldn’t find anywhere in the centre of Oxford to rent that would accept a cat. Ironically, London seems to be more amenable to animals! Anyway, we had to send him to my best friend who lives in Sussex so he has had a six month sabbatical from us, enjoying himself no end and being thoroughly spoilt. We didn’t cope so well in his absence. Soft as we are, we never got used to being without him so despite the mad move it has been totally worth it.

So now we are country dwellers. A whole new experience and, so far, an interesting one. We are still a cycle ride from the city centre so we are not too isolated, before you start imagining an hour’s hike to the nearest shop, but it is quiet enough that we have more peace, we have a lot more space and it is fun to experience such a contrast from the flat in London that we crammed ourselves into.

In terms of reading, moving house doesn’t aid literary pursuits so there has been a bit of a drought. I am currently reading The Group by Mary McCarthy and The Sacred and Profane Love Machine by Iris Murdoch which are getting me through the dry spell. My only resolution for 2011 is to be a more diligent blogger as things have lapsed of late!

And All Shall Be Well

Where have I been? It has been over a month since I last wrote a post on poor, neglected Bloomsbury Bell. I have been having a small dose of respite from all sorts of things and now I am ready to emerge from my shell and crack it from me as I stretch my limbs forward through their slow creak of waking.

Winter Blues is a funny term I always think – the winter has never been blue exactly. It is sparkling, glittering even and the winter sun is gold and pink as it dips down past the Equator and slips out of sight. I enjoyed reading this article about the wonder of winter. Winter is indeed a wonderland at the moment – through the window I can see a white world as a permanent frost seems to have set in.

In two weeks time the world will turn again for me as I’m moving to a cottage just outside Oxford. The trees pictured above will be my neighbours. It is a fairly big adventure for two citydwellers but it is exciting as I have never lived anywhere so rural before. I have had to order my first pair of adult sized wellies (having long ago outgrown my pink pair) and we have even bought a torch to light our way back from the local pub!

I packed my books last night (leaving out a few to keep me going) and really wished that I had stuck to my resolve to only borrow from the library. My arm muscles are wincing in anticipation.

A new blogging adventure!

To my dear Bloomsbury Bell readers, some of you may already know that I have landed a new blogging gig for The Lady magazine’s website. I am hoping that it will give me a more structured approach to my writing as I now have a copy deadline once a fortnight! Essentially, it will be more about my move to Oxford and the challenge and adventure that living here is turning out to be after being in London for eight years. You can read it here and all feedback is welcome so let me know what you think!

But, Bloomsbury Bell will very much remain alive and will retain its focus on books and general literary bits and bobs. The last few weeks have been an absolute whirlwind – I went home to Chichester at the weekend for my mother’s mouthwatering roast dinner (and to see friends and family of course!) which was lovely. It’s funny that even though I haven’t lived there for a decade I still feel a sense of homecoming when we arrive in the city. I know every tree, every road, every building and the familiarity is so strong that it induces a sense of ownership. I see it as mine somehow and I feel comforted every time I return. It’s a similar feeling to revisiting a book that had a massive impact upon you when you read it for the first time. In my head I connect the feeling with reading Howards End. Perhaps because the feeling that Mrs Wilcox has for the house is exactly my feeling towards Chichester. Are there any places or books that inspire these feelings within you?

As the nights are drawing in I have been stockpiling books and I bought a new hotwater bottle as I am planning to stay in and spend the winter reading. I have fallen behind my reading target for this year as moving and all sorts of things have got in the way. But, wintry evenings are the perfect motivation for cosying up and hiding away from the world with a good book.

Thou hast thy music too

The Thames at Iffley Lock

Yesterday I walked along the Thames towards Iffley Lock. The golden autumn light lit the trees and church tower and rowers gently slid past as I trundled along. I felt a world away from my life of a few months ago and then I suddenly realised that I live as close to the Thames now as I did in London. So, I haven’t moved away I have merely moved upriver!

Autumn always feels like a good time of year for being busy. Winter is still curled up, waiting to unfurl and swathe its darkness over the land. So, there is time to quickly busy ourselves and get things done before the long months of waiting for spring. As I write this, I can see a squirrel dashing about in our garden, no doubt planning where to hide his food before hibernation starts. In the last of the sun people come out and bask as they stroll along – the river yesterday was a hive of activity as families were making the most of the weakening rays. I stopped for a drink in the Isis Farmhouse and sat in their orchard watching the people around me. Families chattered, students were alight with finding out all the summer activities of their peers and apples plopped from the over-laden boughs. Autumn is full of smells and sounds – it has its music too.

The day brought the following poem by Keats into my mind. I love autumn and I also love Keats so the two combined is a perfect marriage.

To Autumn

John Keats (1820)

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells.

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reap’d furrow sound asleep,
Drows’d with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers:
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cyder-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.

Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,—
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.