seasonal thoughts
I was reading someone's status on Facebook the other day (yes, I, too use Facebook), when I saw this line "it's been ages since I last blogged". That reminded me that I hardly ever write to this blog. And that in turn reminded me that the title of this blog is less and less relevant to me now - I have written no poetry at all for a long long time.
Why is that? I don't really know. I have always been clear that I write poetry "when the muse dictates". It has never been something I do to order. I only write poetry when I have this urge to write something. That's what happened just now. I was lying in bed, having woken from a fascinating dream and a series of thoughts came to me that I wanted to record. It didn't arrive as poetry, but it had that same "go and write this down now" urgency that my poetry had each time it arrived.
I have no idea why that happened, but I'm following that urge just the same.
Maybe it's the human desire to make a mark. Maybe we all have it, but not everyone follows the urge. Some would say "thank God". I shudder to think what the world would be like if everyone twittered or blogged or wrote facebook updates about every desire to say something. There are some wonderful spoofs around on YouTube and elsewhere that mock the "I'm in the supermarket and I just bought an apple" types of writings.
By the way, if you get the chance and haven't seen it yet, go take a look at the YouTube item on the T-Mobile flash mob at Heathrow Airport "The T-Mobile Welcome Back". Yes, it was a commercial TV advert, but the idea was warm and people's reactions wonderful. Here's the link (I hope)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NB3NPNM4xgo&feature=related
Now, that's a link I enjoy and watch again...and again....and clearly lots do...it's had over 6 million hits already....
Anyway, back to the muse that got me out of bed...
It's been Christmas again; I went and spent part of it with members of my family...again; I had mixed feelings...again. Some of them were happy; it was great to see my two nieces and my nephew - and their offspring. It's strange (and reminds me of my age) to see in front of me the evidence that I'm a Great-Uncle 4 times over. I'm reminded of the pun (at least in English) that you'd have to ask them if I'm a great uncle. One of my nieces has decided it's too confusing for her child to call me "Great-Uncle Simon", so for two generations I'm currently "Uncle Simon". That's fine by me. I'd rather that than not be known at all.
Which brings me to the sadder part of my night-time thoughts earlier. I have no children of my own; the possibility of that ever changing is now surely in the minutest quantity that only a scientist would track. For years the thought has crossed my mind "do I want children" and the answer has always been "it doesn't bother me" or "if fate wills it" or "not especially" or some such variant. I could debate that one endlessly but I won't.
The only part that does bother me is that I'm not passing on my variety of the gene pool - my heritage. I'm acutely aware that my branch of the Hargrave family isn't a big one. My Grandfather had one son (and two daughters); my Father had two sons; my brother had one son and two daughters; my nephew has two sons... and, God willing, they between them will have at least one son to keep the name going.
I tried the family history trail some 15 years ago. At that stage I only confirmed what I knew - where my Grandfather had been born and what his parents were called. I still to this day have no idea if my Grandfather had siblings, though the family story was that he did and that at least one of them came south from Yorkshire and set up shop in Hampshire, just as he did. (The story was that a family member (I don't know who) had been mayor of Portsmouth but I don't know if that was true.) Maybe if I were famous and interesting, there'd be a TV research team willing to help prove it.....
I know the name will live on; just not my branch of it. I did a Google (someone called it an "ego-google") on my name and found there are other Simon Hargrave's in England - one is a photographer in Northamptonshire, and one is in the IT business. There's more than one on Facebook, too. Are they related? Who knows.
On Christmas Eve, I found a bottle of fancy cooking oil in my local Waitrose - it caught my eye because it was produced on a farm in Hargrave, Northants. That made me smile and so I bought it and passed it on.
Sometimes I want to be part of a clan, a movement; something that says "heritage". I've played roles in living history events that have put forward someone else's heritage. I don't know enough to play one of my ancestors because none have shown up in research yet.
Which reminds me of a lighter note to end this ramble on (and maybe let me get some more sleep)... A few years ago, in the middle of a living history event, a couple of us were chatting to a tourist who started to tell us of the events at Tewkesbury. We stayed in character and showed amazement when the tourist told us of hordes of people who came together each summer to re-enact the battle of Tewkesbury in 1471. We showed shock when we heard the tales that travellers from the Low Countries and France would make the pilgrimage. My friend then decided it was time to take the reaction a stage further. He turned to me laughing and said "Sir John, just imagine - maybe one day in the future - maybe some 350 years from now - or even more - two people will stand here and re-enact us having this very conversation here at Arreton". I turned to him and said "Yes, Sir Humphrey...and maybe some traveller will come and retell the story of this annual pilgrimage to Tewkesbury".
(At this point, the tourist finally realised we were gently leading him down the garden path and joined in the laughter.) Ah, happy days....
Why is that? I don't really know. I have always been clear that I write poetry "when the muse dictates". It has never been something I do to order. I only write poetry when I have this urge to write something. That's what happened just now. I was lying in bed, having woken from a fascinating dream and a series of thoughts came to me that I wanted to record. It didn't arrive as poetry, but it had that same "go and write this down now" urgency that my poetry had each time it arrived.
I have no idea why that happened, but I'm following that urge just the same.
Maybe it's the human desire to make a mark. Maybe we all have it, but not everyone follows the urge. Some would say "thank God". I shudder to think what the world would be like if everyone twittered or blogged or wrote facebook updates about every desire to say something. There are some wonderful spoofs around on YouTube and elsewhere that mock the "I'm in the supermarket and I just bought an apple" types of writings.
By the way, if you get the chance and haven't seen it yet, go take a look at the YouTube item on the T-Mobile flash mob at Heathrow Airport "The T-Mobile Welcome Back". Yes, it was a commercial TV advert, but the idea was warm and people's reactions wonderful. Here's the link (I hope)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NB3NPNM4xgo&feature=related
Now, that's a link I enjoy and watch again...and again....and clearly lots do...it's had over 6 million hits already....
Anyway, back to the muse that got me out of bed...
It's been Christmas again; I went and spent part of it with members of my family...again; I had mixed feelings...again. Some of them were happy; it was great to see my two nieces and my nephew - and their offspring. It's strange (and reminds me of my age) to see in front of me the evidence that I'm a Great-Uncle 4 times over. I'm reminded of the pun (at least in English) that you'd have to ask them if I'm a great uncle. One of my nieces has decided it's too confusing for her child to call me "Great-Uncle Simon", so for two generations I'm currently "Uncle Simon". That's fine by me. I'd rather that than not be known at all.
Which brings me to the sadder part of my night-time thoughts earlier. I have no children of my own; the possibility of that ever changing is now surely in the minutest quantity that only a scientist would track. For years the thought has crossed my mind "do I want children" and the answer has always been "it doesn't bother me" or "if fate wills it" or "not especially" or some such variant. I could debate that one endlessly but I won't.
The only part that does bother me is that I'm not passing on my variety of the gene pool - my heritage. I'm acutely aware that my branch of the Hargrave family isn't a big one. My Grandfather had one son (and two daughters); my Father had two sons; my brother had one son and two daughters; my nephew has two sons... and, God willing, they between them will have at least one son to keep the name going.
I tried the family history trail some 15 years ago. At that stage I only confirmed what I knew - where my Grandfather had been born and what his parents were called. I still to this day have no idea if my Grandfather had siblings, though the family story was that he did and that at least one of them came south from Yorkshire and set up shop in Hampshire, just as he did. (The story was that a family member (I don't know who) had been mayor of Portsmouth but I don't know if that was true.) Maybe if I were famous and interesting, there'd be a TV research team willing to help prove it.....
I know the name will live on; just not my branch of it. I did a Google (someone called it an "ego-google") on my name and found there are other Simon Hargrave's in England - one is a photographer in Northamptonshire, and one is in the IT business. There's more than one on Facebook, too. Are they related? Who knows.
On Christmas Eve, I found a bottle of fancy cooking oil in my local Waitrose - it caught my eye because it was produced on a farm in Hargrave, Northants. That made me smile and so I bought it and passed it on.
Sometimes I want to be part of a clan, a movement; something that says "heritage". I've played roles in living history events that have put forward someone else's heritage. I don't know enough to play one of my ancestors because none have shown up in research yet.
Which reminds me of a lighter note to end this ramble on (and maybe let me get some more sleep)... A few years ago, in the middle of a living history event, a couple of us were chatting to a tourist who started to tell us of the events at Tewkesbury. We stayed in character and showed amazement when the tourist told us of hordes of people who came together each summer to re-enact the battle of Tewkesbury in 1471. We showed shock when we heard the tales that travellers from the Low Countries and France would make the pilgrimage. My friend then decided it was time to take the reaction a stage further. He turned to me laughing and said "Sir John, just imagine - maybe one day in the future - maybe some 350 years from now - or even more - two people will stand here and re-enact us having this very conversation here at Arreton". I turned to him and said "Yes, Sir Humphrey...and maybe some traveller will come and retell the story of this annual pilgrimage to Tewkesbury".
(At this point, the tourist finally realised we were gently leading him down the garden path and joined in the laughter.) Ah, happy days....
posted by Simon | 2:09 am
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