memories

Lest we forget

Posted on 11 Nov, 201811 Nov, 2018 by nyamazela

“They shall grow not old as we that are left grow old: Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn. At the going down of the sun and in the morning; We will remember them.

From ‘For the Fallen’ a poem by Laurence Binyon

Poppy at The Somme Around the world today, many gathered in respectful silence in churches, and cemeteries, on grassy banks, along memorial walls and around commemorative statues. The trumpeter sounded the last post, throats tightened and eyes pricked with tears.

Remembrance Sunday.

In 2010 I had the privilege of visiting the Somme battlefields in France and Belgium. Though the sun shone, Continue reading Lest we forget

May

Posted on 5 May, 20185 May, 2018 by nyamazela

“Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak knits up the o-er wrought heart and bids it break.”

Macbeth by William Shakespeare

Dad and daughter — L-R: My Dutch granny, Dad, little me, Mamma circa 1974.

On 1 May 2018 it was cold and raining in London, but in Morgan Bay the sun shone as my Mamma and Little Sis walked the 4km length of white beach in remembrance of my dear Dad. It’s been one whole year without him and we have all felt the loss in different ways.

For my part, I’ve learnt that some of my grief is wrapped up in guilt. Continue reading May

Posted on 23 May, 20176 Feb, 2018 by nyamazela

“Memory, my dear Cecily, is the diary that we all carry about with us.”

Says Miss Prism in The Importance of Being Ernest by Oscar Wilde

My father-in-law is writing his memoirs and I can’t wait to read them!

“How do you remember all the places and names and details?” I asked him.

“You’d be surprised what comes to mind when you start digging around in the past. You open a drawer, look through a photo album, talk to an old friend, read a letter…” he replied.

Now I know what he means. Continue reading Memories

Everything has a beginning

Posted on 12 May, 201519 Jul, 2018 by nyamazela

“Suppose there were a great big hollow sphere made of looking-glass and you were sitting inside. Where would it stop reflecting your face and begin reflecting your back? The more one thinks about this problem, the more puzzling it becomes.”

Daddy Long Legs by Jean Webster

I have been writing for many years and I’ve loved it always, and every piece must be found, formulated and pulled out of me.

I’ve written a diary or a journal most of my life – always delightful to re-read. Though generally not a daily writer, I keep coming back.

Some entries are trivial: “I broke a nail!” (1991 school diary complete with nail stuck into the diary with sticky tape).

Some entries are tentative: “How do I begin?” (2013 catching up after a few months of not picking up my journal). Continue reading Everything has a beginning