Happy New Year 2013!

We're all still here!  No noticeable changes yet, including the rain.  My heart goes out to all those people dealing with flooded homes and businesses.  Some have been flooded for a couple of weeks now, and the water still isn't draining away.  The fields here are sodden, water welling up over my boots as I slosh my way through the wet grass.  We're on a slope, so the whole lot is supposed to drain down into the ditches and streams, which have been cutting deeper channels on their way to the turbulent rivers. It's amazing to think that parts of the country were experiencing a drought last March (although we were merely dry here). The Met Office reports that 2012 was the second wettest year since records began in 1910 (2000 was wettest) and the third wettest year for Wales.  We get a lot of rain here anyway, so we received only 18% more than the long term average. Unfortunately, the forecast is for more extreme weather in future.

To counter the urge to hibernate, I went off to a beach on the last day of November and again on New Year's Day, taking advantage of fine afternoons with low tides and hoping that recent stormy weather would wash up some nice bits and pieces.  No such luck. The beach appeared to have been washed clean, leaving drifts of shelly trash and stones on the very wet sand.  There were a couple of nice pebbles - sometimes the sea leaves natural, unpolished 'cabochons' of stone.  I've been working on some stone pendants with peyote stitch bezels, and quite like the contrast of the silver lined beads against the matte stones.  I'm at the point where I need to decide what to do for a bail; bead or metal?  Or mount them directly onto a beaded rope? Feel free to comment!

For the past couple of months, I seem to have been mostly unpicking work.  Several designs have been tried and scrapped, because beads didn't work together or with the stitch I was using, or the stitch didn't work for the design. A design can look fine on paper, but not so good in reality. Well, at least I feel as though I'm learning a lot from my experiments.  Even the bracelet I made for my stepson was redesigned and remade about 4 times until I was okay with it. It started as all glass beads in 2 different sizes, and ended as alternating glass and haematite. And then I forgot to take a picture!

I also have a design in mind for the tusk shells, but it needs matching shells. Trying to match natural objects like shells and stones for shape and size is quite difficult, so I'm going to need a larger sample of shells in order to find two which are close enough. A good excuse for more trips to the beach.

There was also very little sea glass and of the few bits I found, half were still too sharp to be usable.  And that's another thing where you need a large selection to find pieces which even vaguely match.  I suppose that so much glass goes into the recycling bins that little is left as 'litter'.  A few months ago, I met a nice woman on Goodwick beach who was also looking for sea glass, for use in a mosaic.  We chatted and agreed that sea glass seems to be in short supply here.  If anyone who reads this walks the coast path from time to time, please could you do a favour for me and other crafters/artists out there.  Take a bottle with you, preferably one which is an interesting colour, and toss it off the cliff onto rocks in the sea at a fairly inaccessible point, taking care not to brain a passing seal, bird, dolphin, kayaker, climber or fellow walker, of course.  The rocks and sea will take care of the breaking and rounding off, and will hopefully deposit the bits on a beach ready for us to find and use.  Thank you!

New year, new goals. I'm not going to review my goals from last year. Any that I failed to achieve still stand. Ah, well, moving on ... my key word for this year is MORE.  As in, do more, be more productive, try to earn more, achieve more, see more of my friends.  The exception is to eat more, because I need to lose more weight.

I had a very quiet New Year, sitting on the sofa with a glass of perry, beading and watching the TV with a purring cat on either side of me. As the fireworks popped and sparkled over London, I sent a wish for us all to have a happy, healthy and prosperous 2013. 

Now is the Solstice of the Year

Well, here we are in a fairly bleak midwinter, economically if not in terms of weather. The Winter Solstice is a turning point; the days start to get longer, but the worst of the weather is still to come.   This year it's particularly notable as the date at the end of the Mesoamerican/Mayan long count calendar. It's impossible to miss the predictions ranging from Armageddon and the end of the world, to perhaps just the end of the world as we know it and the start of a new era. Destruction or transformation? Which ever, we're still here. And just at the moment, it's not raining either - it's a miracle!

The Winter Solstice always triggers an earworm for me and I potter about, singing it - if I can.  I usually have a cold at this time of year and this year is no exception. I've loved it since it was in the Christmas pop charts in 1976: Jethro Tull's Ring Out, Solstice Bells.

Go on, play it loud and sing along, you know you want to!  Thank you, Ian Anderson and Jethro Tull.

Good Yule to you all, and may the next year bring you your heart's desire, always providing it does no harm to anyone or anything else!

Good Toes and Naughty Toes

I was looking back over this blog (and through my posts in draft) and I realised that I had started the 'Use It or Lose It' thread, then hadn't started adding exercises.
So, here is the first exercise, bringing back happy memories of early ballet classes, where it was called 'good toes and naughty toes'.  I remember much later doing this in contemporary class as well, although there it was called 'point and flex'. In ballet class, the 'good toes' were pointed with a beautiful arch to the foot, and the 'naughty toes' were flexed.  As you advance in ballet, you realise that the flexion has its place too and there's nothing 'naughty' about it.  I sometimes use point-and-flex in class as a warm up while standing, so that it has a balance challenge element to it. But for starters, let's do it sitting on the floor, so you can see what you're doing.

Remember the rules!

• I'm not a medical professional.  You are responsible for yourself.  If you're not sure whether you should be doing this, for example because of injury, recent surgery or long-term health issues, ask your GP/doctor, consultant, physiotherapist or other healthcare professional for advice.
• If it hurts, stop!  It's okay if the movement feels strange, or you can feel a slight pull, a bit of muscle ache or burn, but sharp pain in soft tissue or joints is not good.
• Be patient and gentle with yourself. Start with the easy exercises and work up to the more difficult versions.
• Remember that everyone has different strengths and weaknesses and that you are unique.  Don't compare yourself to anyone else.
• Work slowly, carefully and mindfully; concentrate on good form and don't rush the exercises. Quality, not quantity!
• Work both sides of the body equally, even if it's more difficult on one side or perhaps only one side feels as though it needs it.
• If you feel as though there's no challenge in the exercise, do it anyway, just to prove you still can.

So, sitting on the floor with your legs out in front of you.  No slouching, now!  Sit up straight, supporting your back against the edge of the sofa or an armchair if you prefer, or lean back, using your arms to support yourself.
How does it feel?  If you aren't used to sitting on the floor with your legs out, just doing this can be quite strenuous. You might want to sit on a cushion.  Are you warm enough? Floors can be chilly, so you might want a blanket, an extra jumper and keep your socks on. (I wonder what happened to my leg warmers?)  Easy?  Then sit up straight, using your core muscles to support you.  
 
In this position, you can see your legs.  Look at your knees and how they line up with your ankles and toes.  When you are relaxed, your feet may well flop inwards, and your legs may roll in so that the knees face each other.
Roll the legs out from the hips so that the knees face the ceiling, and then straighten the foot so that you could draw a line down from the knee to the centre toe.  This is 'parallel position'.
How does it feel?  Is it an effort to get everything lined up?

With your knees relaxed, flex (that is, bend) your ankles and bring your toes up to point at the ceiling. Try to keep the feet flat, as if they were pressed against a wall.
Now point the foot, first stretching the ankle, then down the front of the foot with the toes still flexed as if you were wearing high heels. Lastly, point your toes, stretching them away from you, without curling your toes under and keeping your middle toe aligned with the centre of your knee.
Work slowly, without sudden movements, and gently, stretching only to the point just beyond where you start to feel the pull.
How does it feel?  One of the things I noticed was that it felt as my skin was being stretched, it was so dry.  Slathering my feet with moisturiser really helped.
Notice how this movement also works the calf muscles.

The next stage is to repeat this with a straight knee. Pull the thigh muscles up and keep them tensed (contracted) while you repeat the point and flex.  You may find that your heels lift away from the floor as your calf muscles move. Practise one foot at a time and then both together in the same direction, and then with one foot flexing as the other points.

Ready for more? Flex (bend!) the knee as you flex the ankle and foot and straighten the knee as you point.  It's very important to keep the knee aligned with the centre of the foot, so watch as you bend the knee and the ankle that they are in line.  Bending the knee moves the foot towards the body.  Keep your heel in light contact with the floor.  Don't aim for a big bend in the knee. Again, start with alternate legs, one at a time, and then both at the same time in the same direction, then both in alternate directions.

Still easy?  Rotate the legs out from the hip joints and repeat the exercises in turn-out rather than parallel.
Then sit with the legs wide and repeat the exercises in parallel (knees and toes to ceiling) and turn-out.

Other variations:
You can do this sitting down and it is a very useful exercise if you have to sit for a long period of time, either at a desk or as a passenger during a long drive or flight, as the movement of the calf muscles aids circulation by helping to pump blood back up the legs (the 'venous return').
Standing up, on one leg.  If the balance challenge is too much, use a chair, wall or ballet barre as a support.  (Really, it's not cheating.  Wobbling all over the place and risking falling over defeats the purpose of the exercise!) 
Do it in the bath or the swimming pool (the flex and point is at the core of  the frog kick!)
Do it lying down with one or both legs raised, still paying attention to the alignment of knees and toes.

And do let me know what you think of the exercise and how you get on!

Welcoming the Dark

It doesn't seem like six minutes since the equinox, let alone six weeks, and it's November already!
The third and last harvest, Nos Galan Gaeaf (the first of winter), Halloween, Samhain, the start of the dark half of the year - quite literally, too, now that the clocks have gone back to good old Greenwich Mean Time.  Mostly the weather is still grey and wet, so it seems to be getting dark from about mid-afternoon.  It's also chilly and the itching caused by my cold-induced urticaria has been driving me mad.  It just makes me want to find somewhere warm to hibernate

In the past six weeks, the last of the swallows have fled to warmer climes, and the starlings and thrushes have appeared, chattering, restlessly moving between fields and trees.

I was idly wondering about the traditional Halloween colours of orange and black. Orange is so hot and lively, in strong contrast to black, which is an absence of colour, void, darkness. The glow of a fire in a dimly-lit room, or autumn bonfires, flames against a night sky.
Pumpkins appeared in the supermarkets, ready to be carved for Halloween. It makes me cross that the pumpkins are removed from the shops as soon as it's November.  It's not as if they don't store well. I bought a couple to cook with, and used one straight away, popping some in a vegetable curry and the rest in a warm and spicy pumpkin and pepper soup. It's so cold and dreary, I can't bring myself to eat salads, but I'm making up for it with fruit.
Apart from the seasonal apples, I found some persimmons, which I love when they are ripe and meltingly soft. I also picked up a pomegranate, but it's not as huge and glossy-skinned as the ones growing in Cyprus.

I usually dislike air fresheners, preferring to burn incense, but couldn't resist a scented candle which changes colour. Presumably there's a colour changing LED in the bottom of the glass which has some sort of sensor to switch it on when the candle wick is lit, and off when the flame is extinguished. It is very pretty on a window ledge, glowing, changing colours against the darkness outside the window

A trip to one of my regular charity shop haunts turned up a pair of earrings in 'antiqued' brass and crystals in autumn shades of brown and gold.  One of the dangles was hanging wonky, but all that was needed was some work on a jump ring. I noticed that the pair weren't well matched - one is brassier than the other, but they sparkle more than the photo shows and are nice to wear.
Another found object was a gold ribbon, discarded as part of some packaging. 
So I put together a little autumn-orange-themed group - persimmon, pumpkin, ribbon, earrings and candles, a cheerful blast of colour to welcome the dark.

Taken for Granted

I do try to count my blessings and not take too much for granted, but from time to time, something happens and I'm surprised at how much I rely on something which is suddenly unavailable.
Yesterday, I had no electricity for 4 hours - all morning. Some maintenance was planned on the line, but I had about 45 minutes notice of the downtime. I managed to make a cup of coffee and glance at a couple of emails before switching the computer off again before the power went off. My plans for the morning were scrapped, so I decided to do some housework.  My normal tolerance for housework is about 20 minutes - it's one of the few things which bores me. I managed 1 hour and 40 minutes before I was starting to twitch, then decided I would have a bath with the remaining hot water.  As I lay there, I thought about my use of electricity and what the lack of it would mean.  No ovens.  I would be able to use the gas hob, but would need to light it with a match. No heating, as the boiler relies on electricity for the controller. It was a grey day, but I would have to make do with natural light, so no beading or anything which requires good light.  The washing would have to wait.  Keep the fridge closed to keep the cold in.  The freezer is in an outhouse, so at least it's cool.  No computer.  My phone had just run out of charge, but charging would have to wait. The land line has a sort of roaming handset and that wasn't working either.  No sewing machine.  No TV, DVD, CD or radio. IPod possible, until it runs out of charge. I decided to do more cleaning, then remembered - no vacuum cleaner.  No more hot water, unless I boil a kettle.
The power came back on promptly and I was happy to be able to switch a light on, get the heating and hot water on, put some washing on and make a phone call.
All this started me thinking about the other things we take for granted, like health care. One of my friends is in hospital at the moment, having been suffering from a low grade fever and worsening left side visceral pain for 5 weeks or so now.  She's had a couple of scans and tests which found nothing much, antibiotics and increasingly strong painkillers which only serve to take the edge off the pain. She's been on 3 different wards in as many days. By the time I publish this, she will probably have been sent home, with no diagnosis and no treatment plan beyond having her in for another test as an outpatient at some time yet to be determined.  She is climbing the walls with pain and frustration.
Even if we don't take our health for granted, we do expect that when something is wrong, it can be found and fixed (or at least, treated). Too often, it seems that there is not necessarily the money, expertise or technology available actually to address the problem in a timely manner.  It's wonderful to have a national health service, but it's staffed by people who are well trained, horribly overworked and only human. The best you can hope for is that they will treat you the way that they would like to be treated, if they were the patient.
In my (thankfully limited) experience, that's not something you should take for granted.
With healing thoughts to all. Goodnight!

Cyprus Holiday 2: Ancient and Modern

It's a month since I came back from holiday and I've had some time to reflect and look back.  The bright sunshine seared itself into my memory, all the brighter and hotter because we always seemed to go somewhere during the hottest part of the day. Mad dogs and Englishmen ...?

I knew Cyprus only gained independence from Britain in 1960, but I wasn't prepared for just how British it is.  It's not just the British who are moving out there, either. There is a huge amount of building going on.  I read more signs in English and Russian than Greek. I can imagine the locals might have a love-hate relationship with the ex-pats and tourists; a vital part of the economy, but the Cypriots might feel that they are in the minority and their language and culture comes a poor second.  I suppose it's just more of the same.  Tucked away in a corner of the eastern Mediterranean as they are, they've been visited and invaded so often throughout history, there's probably something in their genes which is resigned to a constant flow of strangers, languages and cultures.  Almost everyone seems to speak English.
It's easy to get a full English breakfast in the many cafe-bars down the main strips in Paphos and Coral Bay. Also curry and chips, fish and chips, pie and chips, steak and chips ... it reminded me of the scene in Shirley Valentine where a couple come into the taverna and would rather have Shirley's 'chips and egg' than kleftiko. There are Cypriot restaurants, of course, though apparently they are apt to hike up the prices for tourists, or give discounts to the locals. 
I got a smile from a waiter when I ordered my Greek salad in Greek (except for the bit when I wanted to say 'but NO onions!' - my Greek doesn't stretch that far.). After an initial mix up where I got someone else's side salad, it was put right speedily, without onions, with extra kalamata olives but really not enough feta cheese for my taste. I didn't like olives until I visited the Greek islands in the late 1980s. Oh, my! The meze of olives, feta, chunked cucumber and beef tomatoes, grilled halloumi and little stuffed vine leaves! Rings of squid in batter and lemony, herby grilled kebabs! The mixture of tastes and textures in a good Greek salad; soft, salty cheese and olives, crisp lettuce, savoury pepper, sweet, tart tomatoes and cool cucumbers, with perhaps some fragrant fennel leaves.  It's still one of my favourite things and, were I not writing this late at night, I would have to break off about now to go and make one.

We went into Paphos to visit a couple of archeological sites, which only scratched the surface of what there is to see. The first stop was a series of chambers cut into rocks below 'street level', dating from the Hellenistic period. (The Hellenistic period is a fairly modern - 19th Century - concept for the period after Alexander the Great had finished trying to conquer the world circa 323 BC and ending with the rise of the Roman Empire from 146 BC, ending completely with the Battle of Actium in 31 BC.) The chambers were probably built as a tomb complex and later dedicated to Agios Lambrianos and Agios Misitikos and used for worship by Early Christians. 
 

The next stop a little way down the road was the Agia Solomoni catacomb. This was quite early on in the week, before my knees loosened up with swimming, so I didn't go down the steps, but stayed admiring the old terebinth (?) tree festooned in handkerchiefs and rags, tied on with a prayer for healing.

The 16th Century church of Agia Kyraki stands on the site of one of the largest basilicas found in Cyprus, that of Panayia Chrysopolitissa.  The site has raised walkways to allow visitors to view the excavated mosaics and litter of columns and wall remains. The earliest parts of the basilica apparently date from the 4th Century AD, but it is also the site of St Paul's Pillar. Tradition has it that during his first missionary journey in 45 AD, St Paul was tied to the pillar and received 39 lashes, later converting the Roman proconsul Sergius Paulus to Christianity.

The glare from the midday sun made some of the mosaics difficult to see (let alone photograph - no viewfinder!), but I took a few pics to remind me of some designs, because I could imagine them worked in beads and sequins on belly dance costume. There are better mosaics to be seen in the archaeological park near the harbour, but that will have to wait for next time.

Down in the harbour, the castle was inaccessible due to its use as set for open air opera every September. This year's opera was Othello. J had previously arranged to go with friends, so I amused myself that evening back at the villa, quite happy not to be going. Once you know the story, you know it's going to end badly and I wasn't in the mood for tragedy.

I was fascinated to find that all of these old sites were in Nea (New) Paphos, which is only 'new' in relation to Palae (old) Paphos to the east of the modern town, inhabited since the (ceramic) Neolithic (New Stone age, 6000-3500 BC) - or perhaps even longer.  According to legend, the goddess Aphrodite arose from the sea here, and remains were found of a Mycenaean altar to Aphrodite dating from the 12th century BC.  Considering that Paphos was the centre of the cult of Aphrodite, I expected to see little figures of Aphrodite in all of the souvenir shops. But no; perhaps the Greek Orthodox church takes a dim view of her. The little figurines I saw for sale were (rather pricey!) copies of the Idol of Pomos.  This is a Chalcolithic (Copper and stone age, 3900-2500 BC) female figure, with arms outstretched in the shape of a cross, and with a copy of herself worn as an amulet around her neck.  She is thought to be a fertility goddess, but figures were also placed in graves to protect the dead.  Although we shall never know what they called her (she predates the earliest Mycenaean writings) it is clear that the goddess was worshipped here for millennia. Fertility, protection, love, beauty and abundance; in an early farming society, what more do you need? Worship of the goddess waned with the rise of Christianity, but looking at the beauty and abundance of this region of Cyprus, all the signs are that she is still here.

Holiday!

Some people seem to embody elements of nature and my friend J is one of them.  It took me a little while to put my finger on it, but now I am sure.  With her blond hair and smile, she is Sunshine.
J came to belly dance classes and was one of the rare people who don't need to be reminded to smile.  With good posture and presentation and a smile that says you are dancing for the love of it, people will see the smile and miss that you are (for example) temporarily on the wrong foot.  She stopped coming for a while due to a medical problem, which I think reminded her that life is short.  Problem sorted out, she and her husband G retired to Cyprus, where they already had friends and family, settled in ... and offered me the opportunity for my first proper holiday in over 5 years. And 50 years after leaving it, (if you don't count a short refueling stop-over) I returned to the land of my birth.
The promise of a holiday gave me some much needed focus, and after a flurry of knocking jobs off my To Do list, I zoomed off down the M4 to Cardiff Airport and my flight to Paphos.  It was a nice sunny day when I left - 21°C - but even warmer at night when we landed at Paphos, a balmy 27°. The luggage took an age to come through, then I found J outside, both wondering where I was (my phone was still off!) and trying to get hold of G who had gone somewhere with the car.
We went down to a bar in Coral Bay for a drink and to watch some dancers who changed from jumping, high-kicking cowgirls into Samba showgirls, with smiles bigger than their blingy bikinis. So fit, to be dancing so energetically in that heat - no wonder they weren't wearing much!
So began my holiday, tension draining away as I sipped ouzo and lemonade, and laughed and was entertained.

Late afternoon sun

Such an inviting pool!

The following morning, I put on my swimsuit and ventured into the pool.  With the water at 27°, it was warm enough not to trigger my cold-induced urticaria.  A hazy blue sky promising temperatures in the mid 30s by midday. It was luxurious, idyllic and a very pleasant physical shock to be somewhere so bright and warm. My photos look like shots for a holiday brochure. Just looking at them makes me want to go back.

I'd forgotten my unintentional habit of coming down with a cold almost every holiday.  It's as if my body decides I've got time to have a cold once I stop and relax. On the Sunday, I had a head full of cotton wool and eyes which wouldn't stay open. So, feeling feeble, I spent much of the day sleeping and reading by the pool, in the company of next door's cat, who seems to have adopted J and her villa as a preferred home. He often slept in the shade of the chairs and loungers around the pool, or sprawled in the shade of the olive trees and chased the occasional lizard. I missed my own cats terribly, but was warned he had a tendency to reward unsolicited stroking with a meaningful bite, so I left him pretty much to his own devices (but talked to him, of course, in English, Welsh and an odd word of Greek).  More than once, I woke after dozing on a sun lounger to find him snuggled against my legs. Apparently, after I'd left, the cat went around looking for me and then went off in a sulk for a day.
I swam every day, twice on most days.  It was just glorious to glide up and down in the warm water, with dragonflies skimming the pool. I trod water, twirled around, did ballet and belly dance exercises. By the end of the week I could definitely feel the benefits.  I'd forgotten how the rhythm of swimming in a pool helps me to get my thoughts in order.  I vowed I would swim more when I got back to Wales, although unfortunately, both of my closest public swimming pools are a 24 mile round trip, and the times for public swimming aren't really convenient for me.

I managed to get away with not getting very burnt (the spray-on factor 50 worked well) and not getting very bitten.  I did use an insect repellent, but usually I get bitten anyway.  However, J is an even bigger magnet for everything which bites than I am, and it was strange to stand next to someone who attracts the mozzies more than I do!

J and G took me out to do a few touristy things, including trips out to bars at night.  Even at the end of the season, there was still plenty on. We went to see a George Michael tribute act, an open mic night, and I even went to a pub quiz and enjoyed it! The highlight was seeing Ms Debonair at Charlie's Bar in Paphos, a drag act who lipsynched and mimicked some of the artists and their songs and sang some others.  It was all very entertaining and great fun except for the repeated link music between the numerous acts.  That pre-recorded driving beat and spoken build-up introduction quickly became very tedious, but probably acted as a timed cue because there must have been some very quick changing going on behind the scenes. After all the pouting and posing, (Warning, Spoiler Alert!) the finale was the wonderful Charles Aznevour song 'What Makes a Man a Man?', whilst taking off the wig and make up, changing the dress for trousers and transforming back from drag queen to man.

I stayed in a couple of nights, and let J and G do their own thing, as I was finding so much socialising and night life quite overwhelming.  And I really don't like football or anything too loud. One night was a karaoke down in Coral Bay, and from the villa a couple of kilometres away I could hear that the last song was The Green, Green Grass of Home.  Possibly people right at the top of Peyia village and as far as Chlorakas could hear it too.

At home, the grass would indeed be green, unlike the parched late-summer land in Cyprus. Suddenly, my week was over and it was time to go, with last minute souvenirs, a few pictures and a lingering memory of the warm brightness and smell of the sea and dry phrygana scrub.
Big thanks to J and her husband G, who fed me, entertained me, and generally looked after me and provided me with an opportunity to relax completely.