not in use

While walking to the market I saw an older lady with a full shopping bag waiting at a bus stop, from my vantage point I could see the neon orange hood that had been placed over the bus stop sign THIS BUS STOP IS NOT IN USE. Assuming that the lady had seen the sign and was waiting for someone to come out of the nearby shop I almost walked past her. When level with her I asked if she was waiting for the bus, she said yes, so pointing up I showed her the sign. The lady was crestfallen, she had a walking stick and I felt very sorry for her as she began to walk to the next stop some distance away. She said ‘oh, this is not good for me’. How long had she been standing there? How many people had walked past making the same assumption I toyed with? A small thing incident, a chance to help another and a wish that I could have whisked her up and taken her to her destination.

giving

For the last few days I've walked miles around Walthamstow, moving through, searching out, looking at and talking to friends and strangers. While walking the city being asked for money is a common experience, but when to give and when to withhold? Recently I've visited a Buddhist centre and am learning about meditation and Buddhist beliefs. I've understood that life is a series of experiences and opportunities to practice patience, kindness and giving to those who express need. Opening my heart to love all no matter what others do or don't do... I'm sitting with this, attempting to remain open, allowing these ideas to seep through my resistance and reasonings.

Yesterday, while getting my bearings by a bus stop a man began talking to me. He was a middle aged fellow wearing a threadbare suit and clutching a bible, this appeared to be his only possession. He was distressed and in an african accent told me he was an engineer and that he hadn't had anywhere to sleep or anything to eat for three days. I gave him a few pounds and he sped off saying, 'I'll get something to eat'. What struck me was how quickly he walked away, he was genuinely hungry. I've wondered about him since, wishing I'd given more money, wondering if his story was true (not wanting to be a mug, be ripped off), knowing in my gut something has gone very wrong for him. As he walked away he said, 'God bless you', this touched me because in my giving to him he gave to me, wishing me blessed. My wish for him is a roof over his head and warm food in his belly. Whatever this mans story no one wants to beg for money, to be reliant on the kindness of strangers.

gift

Returning to E17, I have a feeling of home. Trotting about my old haunts I'm alert to and grateful for this after my unhomely years in Sheffield.

I walked as a stranger, a player in a film about my life. Watching myself be, monitoring my moves, recording it as an experience I knew wouldn't last. As yet I don't understand why, one day I'll join the dots but for now its simply somewhere that wasn't home. This was my dirty little secret as most Sheffield folk were horrified and perplexed at any mention of not liking the city, my southern accent (that belies my North East Scottish heritage) jumped on as a reason for not coping with The North. City as body, as a pulse that runs through flesh, as a site where words can wound.

What an amazing stepping stone Sheffield was in creating a path to greater self awareness and focusing my thinking towards creating what I want in my life, being strategic for the first time EVER. What a gift. I'm sitting with this now, questions forming, answers yet to materialise - I'm liberated, hopeful, unsure.

jubilee

Love the variety of fabrics, poses and attitudes in this Diamond Jubilee celebration in a garden on Sark. Scarecrow meets haberdashery treasure chest.

sark

The Island where I told my sister that I loved her and my weeping took me by surprise.  

long time, no see

Its been a strange old time lately, a time of no address and moving from friends house to friends house while I find my feet and relocate in London. What I've learnt is I dearly want a home and am committed to making this happen, and SOON. Home will provide me with a stepping stone to move forward into the next chapter of life, how exciting. I've also learnt that I'm blessed with friends who give a shit, who opened up their living spaces to me and this has been a gentle reminder of belonging. In all unsettling experiences there are lessons and this one has allowed me to understand on a deeper level what I need and to summon the momentum and energy to make it happen. I'm adept at packing and moving on but the time has come to challenge myself to settle and be part of a community. 

Today I was out walking with a group of young people as we are working on a project inspired by Richard Long and his meanderings around and about. This had nothing to do with our project but of course caught my eye, as memorials tend too bring out the mournful magpie in me. For a man who drowned I was told. Plastic flowers and synthetic ribbon, a tree carries the message of remembrance. I'm sorry for this man and his family.

park hill

Last weekend I finally climbed the hill behind Sheffield train station and saw British Modern Remade in the Park Hill Estate. Met a Creative practitioner colleague from Hepworth and swooshed upwards in the lift to the 12th floor to see painting, sculpture and collage (missed the film bit...) from the Arts Council Collection. Felt like an intruder as we snooped around the empty flats oohing at stripped back surfaces and smooth sliding doors. The view of Sheffield was astonishing: nestled between tree covered hills, the city laid out like an architects model. And of course there was the art, beautifully staged and appearing as if it had always existed within the space. The work mirrored the permanent collect at The Hepworth Wakefield, and one of the sculptures will be winging its way to the gallery from this show.

I'm on the brink of leaving Sheffield and returning to my pined for London, city of my birth that has invisible threads tugging and pulling me back. To see Sheffield laid before me reaffirmed how little I know of this place and I'm looking forward to returning as a visitor, with time to take in, be in and explore this city.

My colleague/friend Liz then took me to Sheffield Museum for a treat of tea and cake, so all in all this leaving lark has its benefits! 

I'm very glad I moved to Sheffield, I'm leaving with different understandings that wouldn't have been gained if i'd not taken the plunge and I'll carry this knowledge into the next chapter. I've also gained a brace of Yorkshire friends who will provide their own threads to draw me back in the future.