These are my musings and observations on my daily life, loves and the laughter that are all a part of my experience of living now in the shires of England.

Monday, 25 February 2013

Reflections of Goa - Holiday Memories


I couldn’t decide whether to go on an elephant ride, visit some more spectacular churches, go to the local spice farm or spend time on the beach, so I chose them all. We were in India for ten days and after our body clocks had finally adjusted we had started to get accustomed to the energy sapping heat that coated us every day and night. Instinctively I wanted to relax and keep very still, however, I also wanted to see everything and go everywhere: it was a hard choice. Nevertheless, I reasoned that it made sense to do as much as possible with the remainder of the week that we had left. Thoughts of home in the shires of England with short dark days, coats and rain made me decide quickly.

It was the layers of heat delicately surfing on the air waves all around me that confirmed it.

The beach was my first choice. We all agreed. It doesn’t matter how many times you visit the beach it’s always different. We went at sunset, in the afternoon and occasionally just before lunch. Whenever we visited it was not unusual to see people walking with cows on leads as they approached the skirt hem of the sea that teasingly flicked across the warm sand.  

This day, in the midday glare of the sun, it was obvious that we were visitors to the area as we lay on an open stretch of clear sand with closed eyes feeling the delicious heat soak into our bodies. While we unashamedly offered ourselves to the sun some local fishermen sat with concentrated minds and bowed backs in the shade of the hull of their boats as they mended nets. They never once glanced away from their work towards us.

Suddenly it started to rain. The clouds had moved stealthily behind our closed eyelids. The initial heavy raindrops rapidly became sheets of water falling from the sky. Startled, we jumped up and ran back to the apartment. To the children, this was just another adventure – just like when we’d discovered a discarded snake skin half in, half out of a hole in the sand near where we lay.


Shrieks of excitement were knitted together as we dashed across the sand which eagerly swallowed the warm rain as soon as it made contact.
We were happily soaked, however, it was dry and hot again by the time we had all changed our clothes. Nothing stays the same for long there, not even the ancient temples surrounded by constantly changing arrays of discarded visitors’ shoes.

We saw it all that week: a kaleidoscope of life.

Depending on which bedroom window of the apartment I first looked out of  in the morning I could see either wild water buffalo grazing in open fields or manicured lawns, filtered azure swimming pools and tall leafy coconut trees placed perfectly for shaded playing pleasure next to giant chess sets on the terraces.

Goa is like a secret Santa: an unexpected gift.
















Monday, 4 February 2013

Hips don’t lie


Have you ever been in a situation when you speak quickly without thinking about what you are saying? It’s a natural reaction to respond. You are immediately like the gun-slinging cowboys of the Wild West: shooting from the hip. Most of these adventurous folk had lots of practice before they could perform this feat. They knew what they were doing, they understood themselves, their weapon and what they were aiming at.

So it is with words and sharp responses. They may be deemed to come from the hip, but I believe they also come from the heart. They are an instinctive reaction to the situation you are facing. They are your uncensored truth, they are your hail of bullets to protect yourself. You don’t have time to think and assess, you just react – instinctively, truthfully.

Shooting from the hips is a true indication of what is in your heart and mind.

As Shakia would say “read the signs of my body”  ... neither my hips nor my lips lie.

Hips don’t lie ...do they?
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