Review of ‘The Silmarillion’ by J.R.R. Tolkien

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As a child both of my parents took turns to read stories to me, yet my dad was never much of a reader himself. The exceptions, however, were J.R.R. Tolkien’s tales of elves, dwarves and hobbits in Middle-Earth, which captured his imagination as a teenager and have continued to fascinate him over the years. My dad and I have spent countless hours discussing the books and film adaptations of The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings, but I have always struggled to get into The Silmarillion, which happens to be his favourite book.

I recently learned that my dad, who has suffered from backache all of his adult life, requires surgery as the underlying condition has been steadily deteriorating and has now reached a level of severity where the risks of doing nothing outweigh the risks of operating. After spending some time with him recently, I became determined to attempt The Silmarillion once more.

Published posthumously, The Silmarillion is a compendium of stories starting with the creation of Middle-Earth and ending when the elves depart after the events of The Lord of the Rings.

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What immediately struck me about The Silmarillion was the thought and detail Tolkien put into it, from the geography and genealogy to the languages and mythology, at times the book feels more like a painstakingly researched historical treatise than a work of fantasy fiction. Having said that, the writing is dry in places and I sometimes found it hard to follow without frequently referring to the family trees and maps at the back of the book.

It is an incredibly ambitious collection, yet the quality varies from chapter to chapter: Of Beleriand and Its Realms, for example, is a tedious geography lesson that could have been cut during edits, but I thought the highlights were the chapters concerning Melkor and Ungoliant’s theft of the coveted elven jewels (the Silmarills), Of Maeglin (a story of betrayal and comeuppance), and the thrilling but bittersweet love story, Of Beren and Luthien. I also enjoyed learning a little more about familiar characters from The Lord of the Rings such as Galadriel, Elrond and Sauron.

I have always delighted in the power of stories to connect people, and the works of J.R.R. Tolkien in particular are beloved by people all over the world, but there is no one that I’m more excited to discuss The Silmarillion with than my dad. Have a lovely week.

A Little Gratitude List…

1. We were in Fife recently visiting my husband’s cousin and his wife who have just moved there. We spent a little time catching up over mugs of coffee in their home as the four of us don’t get to see each other as often as we used to when they lived round the corner from us, but we always enjoy the time we do spend together and it doesn’t usually take long for my husband and his cousin to bring out the mischief in each other. After a tour of their new house, we all piled into the car and drove to a nearby beach where we spent a happy couple of hours strolling along the shore, chatting and exploring rock pools. I’m grateful for time with family and the chance to explore new places together.

2. On Saturday night, we had a house full of friends for a little Eurovision Song Contest Party. The Eurovision is a lot less kitsch than it used to be, and our guests were a disparate group (some of whom had only met once before at our wedding), but laughter and banter resounded round the room all evening. It was the first party we’ve hosted in our house, but it won’t be the last. I’m grateful for good times like these with good friends.

3. My husband is working away this week, something he tries to avoid as he’s a homebody at heart. We miss each other, but I’m grateful for technology (like Skype) that helps us stay in contact when we’re far apart.

4. Luckily, I have our cat, Mara, to keep me company while he’s away. It’s almost impossible to feel lonely with Mara around, she brings so much life and noise to our home; from the impatient whine at feeding times that sounds more like “now!” than “meow” to the rumbling vocal cords when she runs up or down stairs, paws padding across wooden floors, a slurping tongue as she grooms herself and too many other distinctive chirrups, squeaks and meows to list separately. Lately, Mara has started sleeping on my pillow with her head pressed against my neck, although her whiskers tickle and she sometimes snores in my ear, she’s too cute to shoo away. As always, I’m grateful for Mara’s companionship and affection.

5. I’ve been adding a few new recipes to my repertoire and realised that most of the food I associated with Mexico (nachos, chilli con carne and burritos) are actually Tex-Mex, so I borrowed Mexico: The Cookbook by Margarita Carillo Arronte from the local library to learn more about authentic Mexican cuisine. First attempts at making corn tortillas failed but the other recipes I’ve tried have all been tasty and I’m looking forward to adapting some of the meat dishes to vegetarian. Some of the ingredients are tricky to find here in Scotland, but I’m grateful to live in a country where food is plentiful. I’m also grateful for public libraries, they’re a valuable resource in the community.

Have a lovely week.

Pottering in the Garden

Over the last few weeks the weather in our corner of the world has been warm and sunny, and we’ve been spending lots of happy hours working and relaxing in our little garden.

Since my husband and I moved here five months ago, it has been a pleasant surprise whenever flowers planted by the previous occupants have emerged, like snowdrops in January and most recently a cluster of bluebells, but in many ways the back garden was a blank canvas and we’ve been steadily transforming it into our own.

On a blustery day back in February, my husband and dad built three raised beds for us to grow some of our own herbs and vegetables, and another for flowers. While they prepared the ground and built the frames, I rescued earth-worms and relocated topsoil (which is currently sitting at the bottom of the garden in an unsightly mound, but will hopefully mulch down). We had four tonnes of topsoil delivered in March to fill up the raised beds, and we finally started sowing seeds in April, when the risks of late frosts had reduced in our part of the country. It’s so rewarding to see the first shoots and seedlings already peeking up out of the soil.

(Before and after photos of the garden from above)

Both my parents are avid gardeners and when I was growing up they always encouraged me to help in their garden, and I’m so grateful for their help and advice as we cultivate our own little garden. As a child I planted a bed of strawberries in my parents’ garden, that still produces fruit well over a decade later, and I’ve taken runners from those same strawberries to plant in our garden now.

Our garden is too small for us to ever be self-sufficient but my husband and I have longed for a little kitchen garden for years, and it’s lovely to see our ideas becoming reality. We’re both novice gardeners but we’re eager to learn and excited to see what – if anything – grows this year.

The previous owners of our house planted an ornamental cherry tree that we’ve relocated, we were worried that the roots might have been damaged when we dug it up but we were relieved when delicate white blossoms started to appear. We’ve finally planted our spindly, little Acer, which was surviving in a half-barrel planter until now, and it seems much happier being able to stretch its roots into the soil. I look forward to watching both of these trees change through the seasons and grow over the years.

We treated ourselves to a companion set, and we’re looking forward to spending lots of time in the garden over the next few months, and on days when it’s too cold or wet to sit outside, we can still enjoy the view of our back garden from our living room window. Have a lovely week.

Review of ‘Chocolat’ by Joanne Harris

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Chocolat had been sitting unread on my bookshelves for more years than I can count, but last weekend on a whim I settled down to read it while nibbling pieces of chocolate Easter eggs, which seemed wholly appropriate as the story takes places between Shrove Tuesday and Easter Sunday.

Chocolat follows Vianne Rocher and her daughter who sweep in on the winds of a carnival bringing flavour and colour to the drab and parochial French village of Lansquenet-sous-Tannes.

The novel is written in the first person, but switches between Vianne and Francis Reynaud, the village priest who takes umbrage when Vianne opens a Chocolaterie on the first day of Lent. The pace of Chocolat is meandering, yet the antagonism between Vianne and Reynaud builds suspense and drives the story on to its inevitable conclusion.

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The village of Lansquenet itself is rife with secrets, gossip and simmering tensions but Vianne finds friends among the other village outcasts and rebels, their kindness and camaraderie in stark contrast with Reynaud and his cronies’ hypocrisy and meddling.

Chocolat is a story that doesn’t reveal its secrets too quickly and kept me wondering right up to the end. I really enjoyed the supernatural elements of the story, there is magic in Chocolat, yet it is always understated and never becomes too fantastical.

The descriptions of Vianne’s chocolate creations are unsurprisingly mouth-watering and Chocolat was a delightful story that left me hungry for more. Have a lovely week.

April Showers and Spring Sunshine

This weekend we found ourselves with an unexpected free Saturday as the tradesmen renovating our sitting room completed their work a day early, so my husband and I decided to make a spontaneous journey with no particular destination in mind. We found ourselves at St Fillans where we stopped to admire the statue ‘Still’ on the edge of Loch Earn. Designed by Robert Mulholland, ‘Still’ is a mirrored sculpture reflecting the weather and water in which it’s submerged.

Just as we arrived the clouds darkened, hiding the sun, and the wind picked up making the calm waters suddenly choppy, while the rain clouds in the distance obscured the mountains on the Western banks of Loch Earn. I love the way the weather can dramatically alter the landscape on days like this.

Driving through the rain, we found blue skies on the other side and stopped to take a rambling walk along a viaduct we spotted from the road, which turned out to be part of the Glen Ogle Trail. We left the path and scrambled down into the valley to admire the viaduct from below, it felt wonderful to literally stretch our legs after a long, lazy winter. Standing at the foot of the viaduct, with the valley channelling the wind through it, I felt as if the worries that have been clouding my thoughts over the last few weeks were swept away.

There was no phone signal on our walk and yet neither of us missed it, instead enjoying the dramatic scenery, the changing weather and each other’s company. We returned home from our impromptu adventure with muddy boots and tired legs but feeling refreshed.

A drizzly start on Sunday gave us the perfect excuse to spend a lazy day at home, though we ventured into the garden between rain showers to sprinkle a mix of wild flower seeds and neat rows of vegetable seeds in our raised beds.

Today, we visited my parents and between cups of coffee and tea, helped them in their gardens as my dad has had backache over the last few weeks and mum is not as able as she used to be. It was a lovely, leisurely time together, laughing and chatting, watching the bees bumble around the garden and the clouds drift overhead.

Back in our own home now and with a busy week ahead, I’m grateful for the unhurried time spent outside enjoying the warmth of the sunshine, the refreshing winds and good company. Happy Easter and have a lovely week.

Review of ‘The Little Book of Hygge’ by Meik Wiking

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We are in the midst of fairly significant renovations in our house at the moment, and with tradesmen unblocking the fireplace in the living room and scrambling over the roof to fit a chimney, I’ve retreated upstairs and out of the way with my cat and The Little Book of Hygge for company.

Over the last couple of years, the Danish concept of hygge has taken the world by storm. Yet there has also been something of a backlash against it, with some criticizing it as xenophobic and the latest marketing ploy to sell mugs, rugs, all manner of knitwear and books on the subject.

While hygge is often synonymous with cosiness, especially during the colder and darker months of the year, Meik Wiking defines hygge as a feeling of safety, relaxation and contentment that can be found in any weather or season. For many of us who lead busy lives, part of the appeal of hygge is the chance to slow down, set aside our worries for a while and indulge in simple pleasures.

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The Little Book of Hygge is packed with a mix of research and personal anecdotes, which makes this book better suited to dipping into every now and again than binge-reading. There are whole chapters devoted to candles and lighting, Christmas (the most hygge time of the year), a dictionary to help you work out your hygge from your hyggeligt, a few Danish recipes (though I was a little disappointed there were more recipes for meat than cake), and various other aspects of a hygge lifestyle. The presentation of the book is lovely with beautiful photos and illustrations generously scattered throughout.

With tradesmen thudding and thumping around above and below, it’s been hard to concentrate on reading, but The Little Book of Hygge left me imagining – and looking forward to – lots of hyggeligt moments once the renovations are complete, like sitting in the garden in the sunshine over the summer, huddling around board games with friends on rainy days, and reading in front of the fire on cold, winter nights. Have a lovely week.

Springing back to Health

Every year, winter seems to stretch on for longer than it should, and I’m always relieved when I notice the first budding leaves appear on the trees. Despite this, spring is probably my least favourite season; it seems shorter and less well-defined than the others – at least in our part of the country; just a few weeks characterised by daffodils braced against the rain and cherry blossoms swirling like pink snowflakes in the breeze to separate winter from summer.

This weekend my husband and I took a wander through a local park to admire the spring blossom on the trees. There have been times over the past while when I have felt like one of those little petals tumbling out of control in the currents of life. Between moving house, nursing our cat Mara back to health, my husband being injured in a cycling accident and various other happenings, the first quarter of 2017 has left me feeling somewhat weary.

I’ve also been struggling with writer’s block; I’ve always found writing therapeutic, but it can be hard to organise my thoughts when life is turbulent. In blogs and social networks, we have the power to rewrite events and portray our lives from the most flattering and rose-tinted angles, yet writing also gives us the chance to reflect on our experiences and find meaningful lessons in our most mundane and lowest moments. Over the last few years, I’ve learned that whenever I feel weary or overwhelmed, it’s time to slow down.

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I’ve lost count of how many vet appointments I’ve taken my cat to in the last few months, but I’ve been neglecting my own health and a recent illness reminded me to stop taking it for granted.

My husband and I have always enjoyed cooking and eating together, but cooking from scratch takes planning, time and effort, and it fell by the wayside when we were rushing around or under pressure, we survived on takeaways and reheating frozen food for a while instead. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that I became ill after neglecting my nutrition so we’re making more effort to cook from scratch using fresh ingredients and adding a few new recipes to our repertoire, and we’re already feeling better for it.

After a sporadic attendance over the winter, I’ve returned to my weekly yoga class. It requires a little more effort now I live further away, but I usually feel physically and emotionally calm and refreshed after yoga. We’ve found a local swimming pool, and once my husband has healed up, we’ll resume swimming on Saturday mornings. Due to my laziness, my husband has to bribe and cajole me to go almost every week, but once I’m in the pool swimming has a meditative effect on me and I get a little sense of achievement as the number of lengths I can swim gradually increases each week. We’ve also been taking advantage of the better weather to work in our garden, chatting to our neighbours over the hedge while sparrows, blackbirds and blue tits flutter and chirrup nearby.

Taking better care of myself means I’m better prepared to weather all the setbacks and storms of life. Spring might not be my favourite season, but I can still appreciate the gentle reminder of the cherry blossoms to slow down and enjoy the lighter evenings, the warmth of the sun and new life springing up all around. Have a lovely week.

Review of ‘The Good, The Bad and The Furry’ by Tom Cox

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I had been vaguely aware of Tom Cox and his cats on twitter, but I only stumbled upon his books recently while looking for A Street Cat Named Bob by James Bowen (reviewed here). The Good, The Bad and The Furry follows roughly a year in the life of Tom Cox and his cats starting at the end of his nine year relationship with his wife and explaining the difficulty of reaching a custody arrangement for the couple’s six cats, his grief following one of his cat’s deaths, a new relationship and eventually a new kitten.

Tom vividly describes his relationships and family, his own beloved cats and other wildlife (including a toad living in his dad’s shoe) he meets along the way. There is considerable anthropomorphism throughout the book as Tom tries to convey his cats’ personalities and quirks, and the animals are every bit as memorable as the people.

I chuckled aloud at so many points during this book, and could relate to Tom’s descriptions of life with cats from the conversations he has with them (“It’s a carrot, you wouldn’t like it”) to his anxiety and sorrow when any of his cats are unwell. I was also moved by his realisation about just how much of his identity and history is tied up with his furry friends.

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It seems somewhat unfair to compare The Good, The Bad and The Furry to A Street Cat Named Bob as they are very different books, one written by a middle class journalist with four cats living in Norfolk and the other by a recovering addict in London who takes in a stray cat, yet they are both aimed at a similar demographic sitting side by side on the bookshop shelf. Both books are autobiographical, but differ in tone and content, yet both writers are equally devoted to their feline companions, and they share similar insights into the comforting sense of purpose and routine that caring for pets provides during all the ups and downs of life.

After a hectic week that included taking my cat to see an oncologist and my husband to A&E along with hosting family and friends at home, The Good, The Bad and The Furry was an easy to read and often amusing book I could dip into during the rare quiet moments I had to myself.

At Home with Mara-cat

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Our evenings and weekends lately have been spent at home as my husband and I tackle various projects around the house and garden, before changing out of our muddy, paint splattered clothes to play games on the rug with our cat Mara or snuggled up on the sofa with her stretched across our laps. Mara is recovering well from her recent operation, and is almost back to her scampering, chatty and cuddly self.

So many of our daily rituals revolve around Mara: our mornings invariably start with the sound of her plaintive mewing for breakfast, and our evenings end with her wishing us “goodnight” in her own way by nuzzling her face against each of ours in turn before she settles down to sleep by my ankles. Mara is almost always there waiting behind the front door to welcome us home when we’ve been out, and she often follows us around the house like a little shadow as we go about our routines and chores.

I’ll never forget the day we brought Mara home from the rescue centre: When we released her from the cat carrier into our bedroom, after a quick exploration of the room, she jumped up on our bed and began affectionately butting heads with us. Mara was timid and unsure, but seemed overjoyed to be out of the cattery and eager to bond with us. Since then, our home has very much become her home with all her countless toys, dens and miscellanea scattered everywhere, and scratch marks on the upholstery to prove it. Many of our friends (even those with pets of their own) think we spoil Mara, but from the moment we adopted her, she has given us so much love, affection and companionship that it always seems like a fair trade.

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Hanging in pride of place on our living room wall is a framed picture of the three of us drawn by web-comic artist Li Chen. My husband commissioned it shortly after we adopted Mara and it was our Christmas present to each other that year. To us, it represents that no matter what happens or where we go, Mara will always be part of our little family and home.

We often lament that we have no photos of Mara as a kitten, though we imagine she must have been very cute given how kittenish some of her mannerisms still are. We knew so little about her when we adopted her, only that she had to be rehomed because her previous owner died, and even her age is estimated.

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Mara has had such a lot of upheaval over the last couple of years from losing her previous owner and everything familiar to being adopted by us, moving house with us at the end of last year and most recently having her tail amputated after we found a malignant tumour near the base of it. Yet throughout everything, Mara has shown such bravery and resilience, and given us her unwavering trust and unconditional love. Whatever the future holds for us all, I’ll always be grateful for Mara, and I’ll cherish every moment we’ve spent together. Have a lovely week.

Our purr-fect patient

A little while ago, my husband found a lump about 3mm wide and 8mm long near the base of our cat Mara’s tail. Our vet took samples but didn’t seem particularly concerned. About a week later, the vet called us to advise that the lump was a malignant tumour and they recommended operating to remove it, because this type of tumour was particularly invasive and reactive; they also apologised that they hadn’t recognised it at first as they never see tumours at such an early stage. We were warned that the location of the lump meant tail amputation might be necessary. It came as a shock because in every other respect Mara seemed perfectly healthy; eating, playing, grooming and cuddling as normal.

It was painfully reminiscent of when my family’s cat Peach died of cancer. It was me who took Peach to the vet when he stopped eating, became lethargic and breathless, and I also brought his body home after the vet called to tell me Peach had died in his arms.

My husband and I took the day of Mara’s operation off work. Signing the consent form warning us that some animals don’t wake up from the general anaesthetic and about the risks of unexpected complications during surgery made leaving Mara there difficult. We spent most of the day driving, as there were too many reminders of Mara at home and it was too quiet there without her. We tried to distract each other but couldn’t stop ourselves from anxiously checking our phones every few moments. My husband answered the vet’s call, they had unfortunately had to amputate Mara’s tail as they found a second smaller lump next to the first, but she had woken up from the anaesthetic and we were able to have her home that evening. We both shed tears of relief and sorrow.

Mara slept on me every night for a week after the operation

Our world shrunk as we wrapped ourselves around Mara to make sure she was as comfortable and pain-free as possible in the days after her operation. Mara has been a purr-fect patient, she’s a very special little lady, and she was soon back to affectionately butting heads with us (albeit awkwardly because of the cone she has to wear to stop her from licking her wound), squeaking for her food that she gobbled up despite the medication hidden in it, and sleeping stretched out on my torso every night after the operation.

It’s hard to explain to those who don’t have pets just how much love and joy they bring to a home, but also how much we worry when our animal companions are injured or unwell. Many of us consider our pets to be members of the family, and often it is the daily routines of feeding, petting, playing with them or even washing their bowls and litter trays that ground us in the here and now when other personal and global events seem overwhelming.

We’ve been touched by the messages and calls from well-wishing family and friends, and we’re so thankful to our vets who acted quickly and decisively to give Mara the best chance of survival, and for all their advice and after-care. There are unfortunately more procedures and tests on the horizon for Mara, but for now we are just relieved and grateful to have her recovering at home with us.

Lovely and Grateful

Surviving on coffee and catnaps

Author: lovelyandgrateful