Personal Reflections

Wildness

~ Kate Wilson ~ 6 Comments

Life here is not all sunshine and beaches.
Like many women I sometimes find myself spending too much time

Here

and doing This

or going to buy This

so I can make This

It’s all too easy to be lulled into a snare of my own making.
The temptation then is to turn to

This

or even This

When I want to be one of These

I read these words and felt them kindle some inner fire

“A healthy woman is much like a wolf: robust, strong life-force, life-giving, territorially aware, inventive, loyal, roving. Yet separation from the wildish nature causes a woman’s personality to become meagre, thin, ghostly, spectral. We are not meant to be puny with frail hair and inability to leap up, inability to chase, to birth, to create a life. When women’s lives are in stasis, in ennui, it is always time for the wildish woman to emerge, it is time for the creating function of the psyche to flood the delta”                       Clarissa Pinkola Estés

Puny with frail hair, thin, spectral and ghostly. Yes, that’s how I’ve been feeling here lately.
And irritable!
This book has been on my shelf for more than ten years – only now am I ready to read it

So….it’s time to seek out a high place and howl at the moon!

PS As I wrote those words the Resident Adolescent yet again put on the music system with throbbing bass at top volume. My wolf leapt up, loped downstairs and snarled!

Sunday

~ Kate Wilson ~ 4 Comments

Today……..I didn’t sew the curtains, I didn’t go to Barcelona for the Indignats demonstration, I didn’t study Catalan for my exam on tuesday, I didn’t succeed in sending a blog post from my ‘smarter than me’ phone.  I also didn’t manage to speak to my sister or any of the friends I tried to ring, I didn’t eat lunch and I didn’t run or do yoga or the 20 sit-ups that I imagine doing every day.

I also didn’t smoke – it’s been more than a month now!
Today………I went for a walk with Duna through the quiet streets in the centre of town and ended up having two coffees and a chocolate pastry while reading my book in the sunshine. I watched hundreds of people stream out of the church and wondered what they had been doing. I also spoke to my brother, cooked lentils for supper, washed the floor, started reading yet another book (now 5 at the same time) Women Who Run With Wolves, watched the news in Catalan and hardly understood a word. And I wrote this post here, hopefully with a drawing, which I will do now!
And that, said John, is that.

I Capture The Castle

~ Kate Wilson ~ 7 Comments

I don’t know if you have ever read the book I Capture the Castle?  I expect you have heard of 101 Dalmations though?  It is by the same author, Dodie Smith, and is one of my long time favourite comfort reads.
Last weekend we went up past Girona to near Figueres, to catch some fresh air and sea breezes. My idea was actually to go camping – it is June after all. But the weather had other ideas so we ended up staying with a friend in a mobile home where he is living as temporary custodian of an abandonned house. We arrived late at night. Duna leapt out of the car and disappeared for several hours happily forraging in the woods and undergrowth, occasionally appearing at the door with eyes as big as dinner plates and feet as black as…..well, something horrible and smelly and better not to think about.
In the morning I got up early to the sound of birds and went outside to sample the undergrowth myself. I find the close confines of a small mobile home a bit too intimate for toilet comfort!
There, a few hundred yards away was the castle I had read about so often

Of course it isn’t really but it was exactly as I imagined it.
And the gardens, overgrown with wisteria and sweet roses were filled with bird song

The house/castle was now their home as broken windows and open doors gave them free access to paradise. The garden was also coming inside….


  Here’s the photos. No more commentary needed except to say that the inscription on one of the walls was written in the 1930’s by soldiers fighting for the Republic in the Civil War. At the bottom it says Viva Los Trabajadores Honrados. Long Live the Honest Workers!
Let’s go to the top tower and back down again – imagine swallows flying around your head as you go!


 The water in the numerous ponds came from an underground source in a dark cave which we visited at night and it was one of the most magic places I have ever been. Pictures in the next post…..!

Two homes – one heart

~ Kate Wilson ~ 4 Comments

My last night. Cleaning the house. Saying goodbye to the dogs – yet again. A visit from Dandelion my beautiful ginger cat, he now lives next door but must have known that I am leaving soon.
Thinking back over the long list of things that I have done in the last two weeks all I regret is that I didn’t go for more walks with Bonnie on the coast path or lie down more doing nothing with Blue who has been too wobbly to go further than the bottom of the lane.
Except when we went to the vet!
After we came out she took off down to the promenade and insisted on a long walk beside the sea

The Jubilee Pool has beautiful flags this year

Let’s go then!

I’m off!

Shall we stop here for a bit?

I will be back soon but two and a half months is a long time in the life of a dog, especially when you are almost 15. And a long time for me too.

Football Crazy

~ Kate Wilson ~ 3 Comments

What’s come over me?
I get some strange looks when I talk to old friends about football and Barça. It’s not as if I have ever been a sporty person – at school I was more often found in the girls loos smoking tipped singles than racing round a hockey pitch in the wind and the rain.
And football – isn’t that a man’s thing?  Weren’t you a feminist once?
When Scotland played in the World Cup I watched the games out of national loyalty, but in a half hearted ironic sort of way.
In general I hated football fans, the beer guzzling, the macho posturing, the reverence shown for a group of boys running around after a ball, watched by other men and sometimes their girlfriends. I resented how much time and space football takes up on the TV and the newspapers.
So I totally understand why people glaze over when I tell them I am watching Barça play. When I say I am staying at home to watch a match. When I am excited after they win. When I write about it here or on Facebook. I must have been taken over by an alien, or worse….I have become one of those pathetic girlfriends who mindlessly support their boyfriends team!
My explanation of this new me
1. I always wanted Scotland to win – it was to do with wanting my small and colonised country to do something great. And this feeling was stronger if it meant beating England. However, with Scotland you have to get used to losing.  It is a triumph of hope over experience.
With Barça this isn’t a problem – they are symbolic of Catalunya, another small colonised country, and they win, again and again and again.  I like winning for a change.
2. I like them.   I wouldn’t support them just for being Catalan and for being the best. What matters to me is that they are different.  The players don’t seem like the arrogant, macho yobs you find in British teams. They have kind intelligent faces. Their coach is sensitive, gracious and humane and he speaks several languages.   They seem like normal humans.
3. The ethos of the club is something I can agree with.
4. The fans are ordinary people. I have tried to go shopping when the tide of Tottenham fans pass by and it is not a pleasant experience. However walking towards Camp Nou before a game is relaxing. There are families, people are chatting normally, I didn’t see any beer cans or shaved heads.
5. And the football is wonderful – I don’t understand the rules of off-side or know what a penalty is but I love watching Messi dribbling the ball, magically dodging the opposition, knowing exactly the moment to kick and the balls seems to be drawn to the goal.  It is like a dance, it seems effortless, it is a privilege to witness this skill.
6. I like that they play as a team, they support each other.  They are famous for their football and not for drunken rampages in night clubs.
What’s Behind It?
I read somewhere that the desire to root for a team comes from our longing for a family, for a group where we belong. This too is a powerful part of supporting Barça. I resisted it at first but actually it is very lovely to feel part of such a huge population of fans. I am happy to be part of this group. It is about living in Catalunya and feeling part of the culture.
I read that we also like to bask in reflected glory. And what glory there is to bask in with Barça!  I feel myself bursting with pride when they score a goal. It’s a weird feeling and not at all rational, but very very nice.
Studies show that people who support teams are more happy and less depressed. Even when they are on the losing side!  Supporting a team has some of the elements of myth and legend. The battle between good and evil,  the players are our mythical warriors and we want them to win the ultimate battle. In this story Barça has it all – they symbolise the small and oppressed nation of Catalunya, they seem to be good people and  in the battle against the baddies, they WIN!
Men and Women
A friend wrote to me after the last game that there is  ‘nothing so concentrated as a convert’ and it made me realise I do feel a little embarrassed by my new affiliation.  Am I giving something up? How is it possible to be a woman who likes football which in the end is still just two lots of boys chasing a ball up and down a field? Backed up by lots of money and camouflaging a hidden world of dirty deals and corruption.

But of course I have conflicting feelings about it.

While we are watching the football – what are we not doing?

Some other friends studiously ignore all my comments about the game and my interest in it. They politely tilt their heads and smile and change the subject as if there is a bad smell in the room.
For now though, while continuing to check myself for signs of madness,  I’m going to carry on supporting ‘that terrible football club‘