Goodbyes

Posted on March 26, 2015 by Hannah

'Goodbye' by Hannah Foley. All rights reserved (www.owlingabout.co.uk).The house is full of boxes. I’m feeling wistful about leaving Scotland. There are many things I will miss but some things I won’t. I won’t miss the wind that inhabits Edinburgh all year round. It stalks the tall streets and mugs you with knives. I won’t miss grey bungalows. Scotland does grey bungalows like no country on earth. I won’t miss midgies –no! Such a mild name for such a hateful creature.

I will miss Scottish light, especially in Autumn. I will miss the people. We’ve known amazing kindness and hospitality here. I’ve loved being part of a society that places such importance on social justice, being real, and contributing. I’ll miss the Scottish capacity for understatement. I’ll miss the space. I imagine the southwest will feel a bit crowded to start off with.

I’ll miss the landscape. Although I’ve come to understand that parts of Scotland that I once thought beautiful are in fact ecological deserts preserved as such for the benefit of a few. Organisations such as the Woodland Trust are doing amazing work to reinstate some of Scotland’s tremendous ‘wild’ resources. I salute them for it.

And I’m looking forward to many things when we move. I’m looking forward to hedgerows and trees. I’m looking forward to deep wooded combes. I’m looking forward to summer. Leaving is always mixed isn’t it? One of the many treasures I will be taking away with me from Scotland is the poetry of Norman MacCaig. One poem of his that has particularly resonated with me recently is Return to Scalpay. MacCaig’s mother was from the island of Scalpay and he spent much time there visiting family. He describes perfectly the oddness of returning to the place you grew up in these lines,

Quote from Return to Scalpay by Norman MacCaig.It’s the sort of feeling that makes you cringe with remembrance when you are young and swear you will never go back. But as you age (well for me at any rate) those feelings are overshadowed by a growing awareness of the graciousness and generosity of the place that gave you the space to do all that growing up. MacCaig says,

Quote from Return to Scalpay by Norman MacCaig.

I know what he means about Edinburgh. Although we have spent so much time in it over our years living here, it never took us to its heart and it is in the rural borderlands that we found home. I’m not sure Edinburgh takes anyone to heart. He is an ancient grey-haired city who can stride a munro and is darkly quick-witted with a twinkle in his eye. No, for me, I could only ever keep step with such a city for a short time; his heart belongs to the rock itself, to the sharp wind that stalks the streets, and to the North Sea. Goodbye Edinburgh, we have loved you as best we could. Goodbye Scotland, we have loved you best of all.

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Endings

Posted on March 23, 2015 by Hannah

Front cover of Wild Song by Janis MacKay.This week marked the end of my wonderful, wonderful writing course. For those of you who are new to my blog, I’ve been going along to an evening class on writing for children over the last term and it’s been really brilliant. The tutor was children’s author Janis MacKay and she’s been unfailingly generous and wise. For our last class we had a ceilidh, in the truest sense of the word. We gathered round and heard each other’s stories, words we’d worked hard on over the last ten weeks. I loved hearing all those individual voices and being treated to a glimpse into each person’s imagination. It also reminded me how much I enjoy being read to. I must create more opportunities in my life to be read to!

As has been our habit, the class retired to our preferred public house after the ceilidh and uniformly agreed that we simply could not let this end. The result is that we have founded a writing group. I will be able to attend the inaugural meeting and after our move I will be a long distance member, keeping in contact by email and popping in whenever I’m back in Scotland. Here is the front cover of Janis’ latest book due out in May – it looks good!

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Ella’s Kitchen

Posted on March 18, 2015 by Hannah

Ella's Kitchen Big Baking BookEven in the five years since Little Owl was born loads of ingenious little things have come onto the market to make parenting a small baby easier. With Little Owl I slaved over ice-cube trays of organic homemade baby food, which she promptly spat out all over the floor. Back then bought baby food came in glass jars and as she ate so little, their main purpose seemed to be to leak all over the inside of my change bag. Nowadays there are Ella’s Kitchen sachets (cue flashing neon lights) that come in foil pouches with non-leaking screw-on lids so you can squeeze out what you need directly onto a spoon and save the rest for later. They’re perfect for when you’re in the early stages of weaning and need tiny amounts of lots of different tastes. They’re also very handy for when you’ve miscalculated and end up needing to give your ravenous baby his lunch in the middle of the post office queue. Nowadays feeding Finch on them would cost a small fortune. On such occasions when I give them to him he wolfs down two large sachets in one sitting and pesters me for more.

The answer obviously, was for my dear friend to buy me the Ella’s Kitchen Big Baking Book. Oh my goodness – you must buy this book! Even if you don’t have children this is a really great cookbook. It could revolutionise your lunchbox. My only caveat is that some of the quantities do need tweaking. One example is the Chunky Oat Cookies. The mixture following the recipe is far too sloppy and ours dripped all over the oven (can you hear me cursing from there?). It worked much better with 3 tablespoons of honey and 3 tablespoons of golden syrup instead of 4 each. Also make sure the teaspoon of bicarb is level not heaped. The Special Apple Biccies could do with two apples not one.

It’s a really fun book, designed for kids to enjoy. There’s bits for them to colour and the photos are great. Each recipe has suggestions for how to get children involved. Although I think the children of the Ella’s Kitchen team are more adventurous than mine. Little Owl turned up her nose at one recipe suggestion that she might enjoy “squidging” the mixture between her fingers. That would involve getting her hands dirty!

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“Outwith”

Posted on March 12, 2015 by Hannah

A monstrous tail by Hannah Foley. All right reserved (www.owlingabout.co.uk).Since living in Scotland Little Owl has developed a beautiful Scottish accent. It’s most pronounced in words like “very” and “tomorrow”, where she rolls her r’s. The other day she used the Scots word “outwith”. Outwith is a word you’ll often find here in newspaper articles and official documents as well as everyday speech. As an incomer it’s one I’ve failed to get my head round. It sort of means “outside” but it’s more nuanced than that. You wouldn’t use it to describe something geographical i.e. “outwith Scotland” and it isn’t used as a noun like outside can be. The emphasis is on the fact that something is “not within” or “not part of”.

Apart from outwith there are lots of words from Scots that I’ll be taking with me when we return south of the border. Some words just don’t have an equivalent meaning in English and now I know them, I’m not sure I can live without them! “Blether” is one. It’s often translated as gossip or idle chatter but it’s not really either of those. The chatting part of blether is more like a cover for what’s really going on. The tacit purpose of a blether is to build relationships and community. Hence it doesn’t really matter what you’re talking about as long as you’re together. It’s usually fun and involves lots of laughter. Preferably a blether should happen over a hot drink and take all morning.

Another one I like is “greeting”. It sort of means crying but it’s got a more distraught element to it. It’s kind of weeping but isn’t at all pathetic like weeping can be. It’s that hysterical sort of crying a toddler does when they’re over-tired but don’t want to go to bed.

I also love how Scottish folks add syllables to words. Owl is a good example. I would say owl in the same way I would “howl” (1 syllable) but round here “owl” is more like “vowel” (2 syllables). Of course with extra syllables, accents, and Scots words I can often find my Scottish friends unintelligible. Just such a problem arose with our next-door-but-one new neighbours.

“I can’t understand anything they’re saying. I think they must be from Glasgow,” I said to Big Dreamer.

He looked at me in astonishment. “They’re not from Glasgow. They’re Polish!”

Oh dear.

 

This is the tail of someone monstrous I’m working on for a current commission.

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Blow the Wind Southerly

Posted on March 7, 2015 by Hannah

'Blow the Wind Southerly' by Hannah Foley. All rights reserved (www.owliingabout.co.uk)Here is a picture I produced for a regional exhibition about imagery inspired by the effect of music on our senses. Due to our move south I’m sadly no longer able to contribute to the exhibition so thought I would post my piece here instead. This image is inspired by the traditional song Blow the Wind Southerly, in particular Kathleen Ferrier’s version, which you can listen to here.

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March

Posted on March 4, 2015 by Hannah
Illustration of a hare by Hannah Foley. All right reserved (www.owlingabout.co.uk).

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It is the beginning of a new month so I turn to my seasonal reading again. In his book The English Year, Steve Roud’s chapter on March is preoccupied with the weather. March “comes in like a lion and out like a lamb”. Or here’s another: “First comes David, then comes Chad, and then comes Winneral as though he were mad,” signifying that the first three days of March will be stormy. St David’s day is the 1st March, St Chad’s the 2nd, and St Winneral’s the 3rd. From the 19th March (St Joseph’s Day) it is apparently safe to put away your warming pan for the year. It was also thought that March borrowed three days from April and vice versa, hence there would be three fine days in March and three stormy days in April. Interestingly Roud says France and Spain have similar beliefs about Borrowed Days.

March forms the threshold between winter and spring so it is easy to see why traditional beliefs about the weather abound at this time of year. After a long cold winter we’re all desperate for spring, which must have been all the more true when most of the British population scraped a living from the land. Stephen Moss describes the same sort of yearning in his book Wild Hares and Hummingbirds. He says, “As the vernal equinox approaches…people all over Britain are expectantly awaiting a sign – any sign – that marks the arrival of spring.”

I have installed an app on my phone that tells me what time sunrise will be in my location. I’m delighted to announce that tomorrow the sun will be up at 7.07am. I have gained a whole 44 minutes since the 9th February. Spring really is on the way. Those precious extra minutes of light and warmth aren’t just working their magic on me. Moss describes Zugunruhe (“migratory restlessness”) starting to creep over the brains of billions of birds across the globe, triggering them to travel huge distances to return to the places they were born. I know I won’t be the only person eagerly anticipating the sight of my first swallow, wondering fretfully what storms may have waylaid them when they seem overdue.

Moss highlights several other natural harbingers of spring. He describes the “black, sticky” buds of the ash tree, the song of the dunnock, and if you’re very lucky, a sighting of a mad march hare. How will you mark the coming of spring? Perhaps you put a leek in your hat for St David’s Day on the 1st, or you plan to wear a shamrock for St Patrick’s Day on the 17th. Whatever you do, make sure you don’t forget Mothering Sunday (or Mother’s Day if you prefer) on 15th March. According to Roud, a honey-based drink, not dissimilar to mead, was traditionally drunk on Mothering Sunday. That’ll be me come the 15th then, gently supping my mug of mead with my breakfast in bed!

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Tattoos

Posted on February 28, 2015 by Hannah

Wedding invitation designed by Hannah Foley. All rights reserved (www.owlingabout.co.uk).Wherever Little Owl is and whatever she is doing, Finch wants to be there. He pushes his way in joyfully grabbing handfuls of whatever she is playing with, or alternatively, handfuls of her hair. Poor Little Owl. She got sweet revenge this week by tattooing him with a permanent marker. Don’t ask me where she found the marker. Fortunately she was satisfied with just dotting him in the middle of his head and it didn’t occur to her to give him a moustache. Still, we’ve scrubbed and scrubbed and it’s not coming off. I’m guessing it will gradually wear away. If not, in future years he will be able to part his hair, and say, “My sister did that.”

Here is a wedding invitation I designed recently for my lovely sister-in-law, who is getting married this summer.

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Black Spout Wood

Posted on February 25, 2015 by Hannah

Photograph of snowdrops at Black Spout Wood by Hannah Foley. All rights reserved (www.owlingabout.co.uk).This weekend we headed up into Perthshire for the Scottish Snowdrop Festival. Annually venues all over Scotland open to the public between the end of January to the middle of March to show off their snowdrop displays. We liked the sound of Black Spout Wood near Pitlochry, so headed there. The pouring rain that was drowning the central belt was a dense fluttering of snow further north. Black Spout Wood is a pretty place. It is home to a waterfall that tumbles over 60m down through a deep gorge. You get a fantastic view of it from a promontory built by the local Rotary Club. Excavations in the wood date occupation there back to around 250BC to 50AD. It is thought that timber towers perched on the cliff above the Edradour Burn, not for defensive purposes but for display. Sadly the display of snowdrops was not up to much. The ones in my photo were just about it.

I know Snowdrops are traditionally thought to flower on Candlemas (2nd Feb) so maybe they had been and gone already. Who knows? Nature does it’s own thing. There have been plenty out in the gardens around us. Except in our garden that is. The snowdrop bulbs I planted in tubs have plenty of leaves but no flowers, not even a stalk! I’ve subsequently read that snowdrops can take a couple of years to settle so perhaps that’s the problem. Personally I’m inclined to think it’s me. Do you think it’s possible that I give off a pheromone that puts off both garden birds and snowdrop bulbs?!

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Hiraeth

Posted on February 21, 2015 by Hannah

Deadly Diseases and Sickly Surgery illustration for Centre of the Cell by Hannah Foley. All right reserved (www.owlaingabout.co.uk).Do you know the word Hiraeth? It’s a Welsh word. It kind of means homesickness but really it describes a much deeper feeling than just missing home. It’s a word for being properly ill or heartbroken in your longing for, not just home, but the land you come from. As I was finishing my degree Big Dreamer was looking for a new job and he wondered aloud whether we should move to the south west of England, where my family are from and I grew up. “I think it could be good for us there,” he said. But I was decided, no, Scotland was good for us. I imagined growing old here. But he had started something and one day my mum said to me (wise Welsh lady that she is), “You’ve got Hiraeth.” And she was right.

From then on it just grew, so we made some plans. We would move house to somewhere we could save a little and test it out, push some doors and see what happened. Then, just recently one opened and this spring we will be moving down to Devon, near a river, and not far from the sea.

So, more details will follow about our move, and although it seems right to go just now, Scotland will always have a very special place in our hearts.

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Sores, Spores and Sickly Bugs

Posted on February 18, 2015 by Hannah

Sores, Spores, and Sickly Bugs illustration for Centre of the Cell, by Hannah Foley. All right reserved (www.owlingabout.co.uk).At my writing class this week we explored the genre of ‘gritty realism’. Key authors in this sort of children’s literature are Jacqueline Wilson and Cathy Cassidy. In their books they explore themes such as divorce, living in care, and bullying. Whilst not unaware of these writers, I’d never read anything by them and now, given the opportunity, I have to say I thought it was very good. I wonder if Little Owl will grow up to write ‘gritty realism’? She made a ‘book’ at school this week. It consisted of three sheets of her marvelous drawings, stapled together.                                                                                                                                “It’s about you Mummy,” she announced.                                                                                   “Oh that’s nice,” I said.                                                                                                                  “Yes,” she replied matter-of-factly. “You die in it.”                                                               Lovely. I’m not taking it too seriously but I have been extra careful crossing the road, just in case. Meanwhile Finch hasn’t yet cottoned onto the fact that his head continues above his eyebrows. He has a nice row of bruises and one lumpy egg on his forehead from crawling full-pelt into the furniture.

Here is an illustration I did recently for a commission from science education charity Centre of the Cell, all about medicine in the 1900s and medicine now.

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