It was the late 80s when I joined the Alberta Romance Writers’ Association, and I joined for one reason and one reason only. I was going to write a few of those ‘silly little books’, become very rich and then write the kinds of stories I really wanted to write. Worthwhile stories, you know, not just formulaic romances. I mean, how hard could a Harlequin/Mills and Boon be to write? Boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy gets girl back.
And therein lies the rub. Continue reading
Vera Lynn died today.
For the generation(s) that don’t know who she was, Lynn was a singer in World War Two, most famous for her song We’ll Meet Again. There were others songs – including White Cliffs of Dover – but We’ll Meet Again became ‘the’ British song of the 40s and she became known as The Forces Sweetheart.
I was never a huge fan. Given I was born a decade after the war ended, she was too old-fashioned for me, and World War Two a piece of ancient history. But my parents loved her. Dad served in the army while Mum remained on the Home Front, caring for my brother. They were apart for six years.
Six years.
We’ll Meet Again.
No wonder they loved that song, full of poignancy, optimism and hope.
Noel Coward once wrote, ‘Strange how potent cheap music is’. Watching a Youtube compilation of Vera singing it throughout the decades, I found the tears streaming down my face. Mum and Dad were suddenly alive in my head and I miss them so much. Dad has been dead forty years now. Mum almost twenty. I have a very clear memory of Mum standing at the kitchen sink in our house in Glasgow, singing it while she washed the dishes, and of standing on Dad’s toes in the dining room as he tried to teach me to dance.
With Father’s Day coming up this weekend, I feel their loss even more keenly.
We’ll Meet Again.
I truly hope we do.
Mother’s Day is almost over here in Canada and I find myself, this evening sitting here, reflecting on the lessons my mother taught me.
I look back on my childhood and think of the magical moments we shared; of Mum waking me at dawn on May Day to wash my face in the dew; of her standing behind me as we waved my brother off to work in the shipyards, the windows rattling in the wind, the rain pouring down; of her driving me down to the baker’s on Dumbarton Road to get rolls for breakfast; of standing on her toes as she danced me around the kitchen floor; of standing by the window on a Scottish island and gazing out at the full moon; of watching the deer gathering on the hills at dusk.
My mother taught me about the magic in life.
She also taught me about the hard, cold realities.
Mum was widowed at sixty-three, and lived twenty-two years more on her own before she died. Neither of us realised it at the time, but in those twenty-two years, she taught me how to survive the years after my husband abandoned me.
You get on with things. Yes, you cry and rage and grieve, but you get up and get on with things. You carve out a life for yourself that is yours.
Yours.
Mum, you were and are the strongest woman I ever met. You lived through World War Two, bringing up a child, my brother, never knowing if Dad would make it home alive. And you did it. You thrived. You were the heart and soul of our family. Dad might have provided the home and support and money in our lives, but you gave us the support and love. It was you who made sure our clothes were warm when we ventured out on those cold frosty mornings to school. It was you who provided those ‘picnic’ lunches that I loved so much.
It was you who, after Dad died, walked that beach, sobbing your heart out, but found that inner strength to survive.
It was you who, at seventy-six – yes, seventy six! – years of age applied for your first job in more than fifty years – and got it, driving a jag around London. (And got two proposals of marriage in the process – which you turned down.)
Oh Mum, you were amazing. You didn’t think you were… but you were. You are – and always will be – the heroine, and inspiration, of my life.
I love – and miss you – Mum. Every day of my life.
Notes from the workshop given by Diana Cranstoun at When Words Collide, Calgary, August 11th, 2017.
WHAT IS THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN A BIOGRAPHY AND A MEMOIR?
Biography/Autobiography: the story OF someone’s life. (Beginning to end, chronological order.)
Memoir: a story FROM someone’s life. (Eg Wartime Memoir)
WHO ARE YOU WRITING THIS STORY ABOUT?
Yourself?
Family member?
If it is about another person, where are you going to get your research from?
WHO ARE YOU WRITING THIS STORY FOR?
Yourself?
Your family?
For general publication?
Your answer will affect what you put in your memoir and how you present it.
WHY ARE YOU WRITING THIS STORY?
You have a story to tell that only YOU can tell.
Understand the past:
Heal from A Traumatic Experience:
Preserve a Family Legacy
WHY NOT TO WRITE A MEMOIR:
IS YOUR STORY A NOVEL OR A MEMOIR?
Please check out this website for interesting insight.
10 ways to tell if a story should be a memoir or a novel by Adair Lara.
HOW TO ‘CREATE’ YOUR MEMOIR
Not everyone is comfortable putting pen to paper – or fingertips to keyboard – to write a book, but there are many ways to tell your story.
Credit. http://www.girltrieslife.com
I’m in the process of moving house. Unpacking one of my boxes today, I came upon a journal I kept waaay back when I was 20 years of age. Inside was a poem called ‘Spring’. Given today’s glorious Calgary weather and the excitement of a new home, it seemed fitting to share it with you here.
SPRING – by Diana Cranstoun
The dawn
Of the world
Is beginning
A time
To start afresh
To forget
The failure
And sadness
Of yesterday
A time
When life
Promises
Hope
The trees blossom
The flowers bloom
And the sun
Yawns its greeting
To the world.
As an emigrant from Scotland, and with Burns Night almost upon us (January 25th), it can be all too easy to get caught up in twee images of Scotland and its music. You know what I mean – pipers marching through the glens, kilts a-swinging, belting out Scotland the Brave.
And while there is definitely a place for all that, my visit back to Scotland for The Perthshire Amber Festival last October, really opened my eyes to the vibrant contemporary Folk Scene that currently exists in Scotland. Especially in the world of piping, where I was introduced to the music of Ross Ainslie.
What can I say apart from – What a musician! With his tattoos, long hair and ripped jeans, he is definitely not your traditional image of a piper.
Unfortunately, none on the photos I took at his concert turned out, but here’s a wonderful clip of him performing from Youtube. Check it out. The energy of the music is intoxicating and exciting.
But Ainslie can also play beautiful, mellow and traditional. Below, you can hear him playing on my most favourite song, Caledonia. (at 2mins 46secs and 4 mins 22secs.)
We are such stuff as dreams are made on; and our little life is rounded with a sleep.
I’ve always found this quote by Shakespeare both inspiring and comforting, so it was wonderful to hear it spoken aloud yesterday evening at Theatre Calgary’s production of The Tempest, performed in an outdoor setting amongst the trees of Prince’s Island Park.
Shakespeare By The Bow – formerly Shakespeare In The Park – is a quarter-of-a-century old Calgary tradition, giving newly graduated drama students the opportunity to practise their skills under the direction of a professional theatre company.
And flex those acting muscles they certainly did last night, with performances that were energetic, funny, thoughtful, considered and assured.
And magical.
With a female Prospera replacing the traditional male Prospero, the setting was perfect and the costumes inspired. The audience captured all ages. (And species! I spied a few dogs there too.) Many audience members had come prepared with blankets, deck chairs and picnic baskets, while others, cyclists and joggers out for a run, or families out for an evening stroll, stopped to take in the entertainment.
This is the final week for Shakespeare By The Bow – it ends on Sunday 16th – and I highly recommend taking a trip down to Prince’s Island Park to catch one of their final performances. Please check out Theatre Calgary’s website for further information.
HIGHCLERE CASTLE
Highclere Castle, December 2014
I love watching Downtown Abbey – trying to figure out where I’ve seen the outfits before – and I also love Christmas Markets. So when J called me back in October to say there was a Christmas Fair on at Highclere Castle in December, was I interested… well, of course the answer was ‘Yes’! (I’ve just checked out the website and it looks like tickets for some spring/Easter events are already sold out, so if you’d like to visit Highclere in 2015, book your tickets asap!)
Christmas Fair, Highclere Castle
We were lucky with the weather which was cold but sunny. We took the train from Paddington to Newbury, and from there a taxi to the castle. (Taxi is approx 16GBP each way so it’s a bit pricey. There is no taxi rank at the castle for the return journey, so ensure you have a cell phone with you and get a card from the driver who takes you out there so you can call to be picked up at the end of your visit.)
Jackdaws Castle, Highclere Castle, December 2013
The exterior of the castle and the surrounding parkland is just as stunning as it appears on the TV show. Unfortunately, you’re not allowed to take pictures inside. Also, unfortunately, the Christmas Fair was held in the downstairs rooms, so we didn’t get to see them set up as they are on TV – and they were very crowded – but we were able to view the upstairs rooms.
Was it worth it? If you’re a Downton Abbey fan, definitely. Even if you’re not, it’s a beautiful house. And if you’re a fan of Ancient Egypt, you will know that it was the fifth Earl of Carnarvon who discovered Tutenkhamun’s tomb along with Howard Carter back in the 1920s.
Door knocker, Highclere Castle
My one piece of advice; if you’re interested in seeing the rooms as they are portrayed in the TV show, don’t visit when there is a fair of any kind running. Save your visit until you can take your time and savour the rooms as they should be viewed.
MUSEUM OF THE ORDER OF ST JOHN
I may not have attended Hogwarts, but my school did have ‘houses’. Rather than being sorted by a magical hat, our gym teacher lined us up and counted down the row, “Smith, Montgomerie, Crawfurd, St John.” I found myself in St John; our colour blue and emblem the Maltese Cross. I couldn’t have told you anything about the history of St John, although the fact that local neighbourhoods boasted names like Temple and Knightswood should have given me a clue.
St John’s Gate. Clerkenwell, Museum of the Order of St John
So when J led me to St John’s Gate in Clerkenwell last week, and told me we were going to visit the Museum of the Order of St John, I was excited to finally learn something about the history of my house from (cough) all those years ago.
Briefly, in 1080, monks under the leadership of Brother Gerard built a hospital in Jerusalem to care for pilgrims in the Holy Land. Called Hospitallers, they cared for everyone, no matter their faith. With the coming of the crusades, the order was militarized and became known as the Knights of the Order of St John of Jerusalem.
Over the next few centuries, following defeat to Muslim forces, the order retreated first to Cyprus, then to Rhodes then finally to Malta. When the Templar Knights were forcibly disbanded, their wealth was transferred to the Knights of St John. They remained in Malta until the island was lost to Napoleon in 1798.
Museum of the Order of St John, Clerkenwell
In 1140, the Priory in Clerkenwell became the English HQ of the Order of St John. Following the Dissolution of the Monasteries under Henry VIII in the 1530s, the priory was seized. For a while it housed the offices of the Master of Revels – who licensed plays, including Shakespeare’s – then a coffee-house and finally a pub which Charles Dickens used to frequent.
St John Ambulance
The modern order of St John came into being in 1888, its principal charity in the UK being the St John Ambulance (to teach first aid to the general population). Providing medical care in both world Wars, they also returned to their roots in the Middle East by founding the St John Eye Hospital in Jerusalem which still exists to this day.
Museum of the Order of St John, Clerkenwell
Like Charterhouse, which I talked about a few days ago, the Museum of the Order of St John is a hidden gem of a place. It’s open to the public Monday-Saturday, from 10am-5pm, and entrance is free. Guided tours are available Tuesday/Friday/Saturday at 11am and 2.30pm on a first come, first served basis, with a donation of 5GBP is suggested.
Every time J and I go back to London, we try to explore a ‘new’ area. Although this year our focus was on Spitalfields, Clerkenwell is a fascinating district and I don’t doubt we’ll be back again to explore it in more depth.
And next time you’re at a hockey game or football match, and see St John Ambulance personnel in attendance, take a moment to think about their 1,000 year history.
SOMERSET HOUSE
If you’ve ever seen the movies Love Actually, Goldeneye, Sherlock Holmes, The Duchess, Shanghai Knights or Last Chance Harvey (amongst others) then you’ve caught a glimpse of Somerset House, just off The Strand, in London. Known by many (of a certain generation) as Register House, it was, until fairly recently, where official hatch, match and dispatch certificates were filed. (Birth, marriage, death.)
The first building in this location was a Tudor Palace, and it remained a royal palace for many years, housing three queens, including Catherine of Braganza, the wife of Charles II. Extended over the years, it fell into disrepair and was demolished in 1770 to be replaced by the present Somerset House, designed by architect Sir William Chambers, and built to house the Headquarters for Offices of State, especially the Navy and Taxation.
Somerset House Ice Rink, December 2014
With official departments being moved out at the end of the 20th century, much of the building was opened up for public use. Somerset House now hosts the Courtauld Gallery, shops, cafeteria, museum, concerts, summer fountains and winter skating. (For winter skating, it’s advisable to book tickets in advance as many dates/times quickly sell out in advance.)
The Fortnum and Mason Christmas Arcade, Somerset House 2014
During the Christmas Season, the famous Piccadilly store Fortnum and Mason takes over one of the ground floor wings to provide a beautiful shopping arcade. Fortnum and Mason was founded in 1707 by footman William Fortnum who sold candles made from wax stubs left over from the Royal Household. Over the years F&M became famous for their travelling food baskets, and sent over 10,000 Christmas puddings to the Western Front every year during WW1.
Part of the tour of Somerset House.
Tours of various parts of the building that are normally closed to the public take place on Tuesdays at 12.45 and 14.15. Tickets are only available in person on the day and cannot be booked beforehand. For more information, please click here.
When Somerset House was built, the Thames was much wider – there was no Embankment – so boats sailed right up to Somerset House. Nowadays there is a small museum where the boats docked, with audio-visual displays depicting the evolution of the buildings on that site from earliest times to present day.
Memorial Stone. Somerset House
Given that this was once a royal palace with a chapel (and graveyard), there are still some memorial stones to those who were buried within its grounds. One in particular caught my eye, the date of death being 1691/2. I’ve seen that before on old gravestones and never quite understood why. How can you have 1/2 or 5/6 or 8/9 as the last number on a date? The answer is to do with the changeover from the Julian to Gregorian calendar, with the last two numbers reflecting the date according to both calendars. (The Gregorian calendar, which more accurately reflected the solar year, was introduced into some European countries in 1582. Canada, the US and the UK adopted it in 1752 with Turkey being the last to introduce it in 1927.)
If you are interested in visiting Somerset House, please click here for more details.
... random observations from my journeys through a well-lived life
"It is well to have as many holds upon happiness as possible" -- Henry Tilney, NA: a blog on Austen, 18th century & Women's Art
The rant's of a curmudgeon and stories of a boring life, cause I can Dammit.
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Diana Cranstoun 