Getting distracted

I have just returned home after a weekend in Canberra and I decided I needed to do some decluttering in my workroom.  Not sure why I decided to do this today but that was what happened.  For those of you who have seen my workroom you will be well aware that I have accumulated a considerable amount of “stuff” over the years.  The sort of stuff that you hang onto because you just might need it for a project in the future. 

The main category of stuff is fabric, closely followed by wool.  I also have a great deal of craft supplies and framing supplies.  I didn’t start on the framing stuff but I have managed to end up with two boxes of stuff to take to the thrift shop.  No doubt someone will find a use for the stuff I am decluttering.

The reason for telling you about my decluttering is that I found this cartoon in a box which contained a couple of bits and pieces that had belonged to my dad.


The cartoon is relevant because my dad used to recite this line of poetry every time we drove past Lindores Loch, usually on our way to Perth to the swimming baths.  As kids in the back seat we would nudge each other to giggle about when he was going to say it.

Tour Scotland Photograph Lindores Loch Fife March 11th 02The next photo is the loch in winter.  I have a fond memory of skating on the loch in winter.


Happy memories.

The Brook by Alfred Tennyson

I come from haunts of coot and hern,
   I make a sudden sally
And sparkle out among the fern,
   To bicker down a valley.

By thirty hills I hurry down,
   Or slip between the ridges,
By twenty thorpes, a little town,
   And half a hundred bridges.

Till last by Philip’s farm I flow
   To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
   But I go on for ever.

I chatter over stony ways,
   In little sharps and trebles,
I bubble into eddying bays,
   I babble on the pebbles.

With many a curve my banks I fret
   By many a field and fallow,
And many a fairy foreland set
   With willow-weed and mallow.

I chatter, chatter, as I flow
   To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
   But I go on for ever.

I wind about, and in and out,
   With here a blossom sailing,
And here and there a lusty trout,
   And here and there a grayling,

And here and there a foamy flake
   Upon me, as I travel
With many a silvery waterbreak
   Above the golden gravel,

And draw them all along, and flow
   To join the brimming river
For men may come and men may go,
   But I go on for ever.

I steal by lawns and grassy plots,
   I slide by hazel covers;
I move the sweet forget-me-nots
   That grow for happy lovers.

I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance,
   Among my skimming swallows;
I make the netted sunbeam dance
   Against my sandy shallows.

I murmur under moon and stars
   In brambly wildernesses;
I linger by my shingly bars;
   I loiter round my cresses;

And out again I curve and flow
   To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
   But I go on for ever.

These memories are  from when we lived in Scotland before we emigrated to Australia.

2 Comments Add yours

  1. Kate says:

    The Brook is what I read when we put dad & mum’s ashes in the burn at Boultach!

    1. suth2 says:

      Hi Kate,
      I didn’t realise that.

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