Sunday, 14 February 2016

Looking forward

Another glorious Speyside sunrise, winter 2015

The impulse to blog has left me entirely over the winter.  I didn't set out to be an autobiographical blogger, although I love reading blogs which reveal their writer.  My initial purpose was to show my beautiful country through photos and perhaps a few words.  Many a time I have taken a photo which I wanted to share, but couldn't really construct a blog post around, and I have shied away from too many random collections on this blog, although again I love seeing other people's. And then there was time.  I work full time.  I am tired in the evening.  I had other commitments.  Then, further derailment,  I discovered Instagram, which gave me exactly what I wanted in my time-strapped state - a stand-alone photo and a few words.  So I've been treacherously Instagramming,  all the while neglecting this poor blog.

These have been ongoing minor problems, if they can be classed as problems at all.  But this winter has also been a period of sadness and retreat.  My father was in hospital from October until just before Christmas, but fell ill again shortly after coming home and died early in the New Year.  It's not something I feel like writing further about here, not because the illness, decline and loss of a parent hit less hard than those of a spouse, as I was deeply distressed to read one blogger suggest recently, but because I am a private Scot.

But today the Spring sun is reaching a certain spot in the garden that despite the frost makes me feel that life is moving forward very slowly.  And part of that sense of moving forward is a very big change coming up in my life that feels as if it's beginning to be within reach.  At the end of May I will take early retirement from 29 years with one employer, and embark on a process of career change.  I have several plans taking shape, among them going back to my first love, the subject of my degrees, and reconnecting with the French language.  There's still a lot to be got through at work before the end of May, so at the moment I'm at the 'quietly ecstatic' phase.

If I can work out how to transfer photos from my Android phone to my new Macbook there will be more photos on this blog, and I may have to steel myself to a few random collections if I can't drum up a coherent narrative.  My blog post writing muscle is all out of condition - it has felt very strange writing this post, and it may well read strangely too.  If it's too strange, there are always just photos on Instagram!

28 comments:

  1. I'm very happy to read you again.
    Mai arrivera vite alors bonne chance dans ta "nouvelle carrière"!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you, that's really nice of you. Merci pour vos amities (sans accent grace a mon clavier anglais - excusez-moi!)

      Delete
  2. How nice to see you back here Linda. I am sorry about your dear dad, but understand that you are reluctant to discuss your loss here; us Scots tend not to share these griefs publicly. Sounds like you are at an exciting point career-wise, wishing you the greatest luck with that. I think it takes a good while to get in to gear writing blog posts you feel comfortable with. I too, like blog posts that 'reveal the writer' as you so beautifully put it, but was initially painfully reluctant to reveal anything of myself. Again, the little voice that whispers in every Scottish ear 'Why would anyone want to read about your life, may I ask'. Over the couple of years I've been blogging I have slowly found a place I am comfortable with. I reveal about as much as I would to guest in my home, one that I liked, but didn't know terribly well. That works for me. I do hope you continue blogging though. Instagram is great fun, like you, I really enjoy it, but blogging is ultimately more satisfying I think X

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Hello Penny, thank you for your expression of sympathy and the understanding comments. What a complicated lot we Scots are! The more I think about the concept of audience for my blog the more tangled I get. If I were marketing or simply informing it would be quite simple. I really like your solution.

      Delete
  3. I am sorry for your loss. Losing any loved one is terribly hard. Congratulations on your retirement plans and the career change! I was happy to see your return to blogland.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you very much for your kind wishes, Softie. Yes, the future plans are exciting. I hope to post some more about them soon.

      Delete
  4. I'm very sorry for your loss. Having had lost a mother, the death of a parent is a tough one.

    I suggest getting a card reader, preferably a multiple card reader. I use it to download my camera and my mobile cards when I take shots on either. Very easy.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you William. I'm so sorry to hear about the loss of your mother. Each time it is slightly different, but just as hard.
      Thanks for the suggestion about the card reader. I'll definitely look at that. I went in to the Apple store on my way home from work yesterday and came out none the wiser - I asked 2 people and they each suggested totally different things.

      Delete
  5. Condolences on the loss of your Father. I look forward to seeing more photos of Scotland. Best wishes with your transition in the workforce.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you Helen, that's really kind of you. I'm looking forward to getting out and about more in Scotland, so hopefully more photos. And I'll keep sharing some snippets of changes afoot.

      Delete
  6. I'm happy to see a post from you but sorry to hear of you loss of your dad.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you for your kind thoughts, Pat. I have missed glimpses of Toronto.

      Delete
  7. Glad to hear from you again. I am so sorry to hear about the loss of your father. Family history tells me I am a Scot and thus that must be where my personal privacy comes from. Details, such as yours, wouldn't be something I would post. Sending you my best wishes for this new year.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you Michelle. I think Scots from the north east in particular tend to be more private. Do you have any idea which part of Scotland your ancestors are from? Thank you for the new year wishes, and likewise to you.

      Delete
  8. I am very happy to read and see whatever you put up. I can't get my head around instagram so I am happy whenever you blog.Your country is so different to mine and wish I could have visited it, nearly got there, but not quite. Sorry about your father, I lost mine just after I was married but still miss him, my mother only 4 years ago, a long gap, but I miss her dreadfully.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you Penny. Time does heal to an extent but there is always that sense of loss. I'm so sorry to hear of the recent loss of your mother. Mine died 24 years ago, when my first child was 1, and it's a great sorrow to me that she didn't see him grow up, or know my daughter at all.

      Delete
  9. Welcome back to blogland! So very sorry to hear about the loss of your father. Hope to see more of your posts - random or not, they are welcome to me. :)

    ReplyDelete
  10. Thanks Linda, that's kind of you. I've been glad to keep up with your snowy doings on Instagram even if I've been away from blogging.

    ReplyDelete
  11. Linda - I have finally found time to discover your blog as I enjoy your Instagram and think we may be kindred spirit in some ways. My blogging muscle has also been a bit creaky but am trying to get back into some groove. Sorry to hear of your recent sadness and loss but you seem an optimistic soul.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Glad you've found me! I found my way to your blog and was very impressed by your race account. I tried to leave a comment but I'm having difficulty commenting on WordPress accounts because it wants me to be logged in to my account, for which I've forgotten the password.

      Delete
  12. Good morning, Linda, from Vancouver Island. Thank you for your visit via Materfamilias. I have just had a quick look at your blog and feel that I need to read a bit more, so will follow.
    Rossland and Chilliwack - the high spots! You will be able to say you know our province when you've visited the Island....but you have certainly seen a good slice!
    I am sorry to read that you have lost your father. We have some things in common - not many of us full-time workers in Blogdom - and I am caring for two precious and aging parents.
    I'll be back to read more.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Hello there! You will have to do a bit of retrospective reading, as I'm still struggling to get back into a blogging frame of mind. Soon, soon...
      Thank you for your kind wishes. Working full time and caring for two elderly parents is a heavy load, but a generous and loving thing to do.

      Delete
  13. I feel more or less the same about blogging and even though I am Belgian, I think I understand the meaning of 'private Scott'
    I would love to visit Scotland one day but in the meantime, let me know when you visit Brussels next. Maybe soon after your retirement?
    Best wishes!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I feel a lot of similarities between Belgium and Scotland. Perhaps that's why I've fallen in love with Antwerp. We were there 2 weeks before the recent attacks (as I said on your blog, only changing trains in Brussels otherwise I'd definitely have got in touch). We will be back - we refuse to be deterred by criminals.

      Delete
  14. So sorry about your dad... I lost mine, too. It's a hard, hard thing. Thanks for sharing with us. Planning a trip to Scotland this September - can't wait!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. So very sorry to hear this, Marcheline.
      Let me know more about your trip - hope we can meet!

      Delete
  15. I am so sorry, Linda, to hear about the loss of your father. No matter one's age or the circumstances, the death of a parent shifts the axis of one's world. A period of retreat is understandable and indeed probably necessary.

    My own darling father died soon after my marriage, at the end of several years' illness. I remember well that grey, sad winter; and also the spring morning several months later, when I was planting pansies in a little pot in our tiny basement yard, and my patient new husband said, 'That's the first time I've seen you really smile since your father died.' So the spring does come, doesn't it? And the sap begins to rise in life again, tentatively at first, but it does. I'm so pleased for you to hear that there are good plans being made and pleasures to look forward to. May this year be a fulfilling and happy one for you.

    ReplyDelete
  16. Thank you for your kind words, Dancing Beastie. You know the trajectory, obviously. And how the support of a caring, insightful husband is so precious.

    ReplyDelete

LinkWithin

Related Posts with Thumbnails