Saturday, 26 May 2018

Hearts and Tears

Robert and I go curling every Tuesday night through winter. We started last winter and as we escaped concussion or broken bones, have turned up again this year.

Apart from the obvious benefits of fun and exercise, I also enjoy the cold ice. By nature I am not a 'tropical bird ' - even though my DNA results show a (entirely expected) Pacific Island - Hawaiian - Mid-China strain. In my case, I suspect the 38% Scottish strain is mostly to the fore.

That I am learning in each of my turns to wield and control, direct and aim, manage and choreograph, a couple of cheerful-looking, highly-polished granite stones (or rocks as they are sometimes referred to) also adds to my enjoyment. Along with the tam-'o-shanter camaraderie.

I am disappointed though that no-one has offered me a complimentary (or congratulatory; depending on the circumstances) wee nip, or dram, of whisky. I though that was par for the course. I'm putting it down to liquor licensing laws.

A curling poem is simmering. I have a feeling that it will have something to do with stones aka rocks, that sometimes 'kiss', sometimes 'kill'.


This time last week while the royal wedding bride, Meghan Markle, was still asleep (or if she wasn't, should have been) on the night before her wedding to Harry, I was reflecting and pondering on a silent, mini-retreat out at Brighton - a small. seaside town on the outskirts of Dunedin.

Among other pleasant sights, the Otakia Creek on its drift to the sea, the manner of its cut through rippled, wind-and-tide patterned sand, was both inspiring and soothing.

And so I drifted into the week ... uplifted by a couple of words and the ideas those words bestow. Sadly they are words that through over-use, mis-use etc. have become cliched. But when looked at from another angle, they hold power. The words are Freedom and Love.

So of course all I could see in the ripples, were hearts. And teardrops.


As I head into another week, as always, family and friends are here for me as both buffer and spur. I think another word should be added to my arsenal - Thankful.



Avus said...

I enjoyed your Otakia beach images and your musings, Kay.

I keep meaning to go in for that DNA testing, purely for interest.

Roderick Robinson said...

I am drawn to the science implicit in those apparently frictionless stones; as if Newton's laws had been suspended and perpetual motion was a possibility. Everything is grist to a versifier's mill:

The mass to strike an equatorial blow


For once released they find intent
To do great damage
To all earthly particles

Amateur stuff. But I'm charmed the way these unexceptional shapes abruptly become menacing - slow menace like slow cooking is best for flavour.

It's entirely logical, given NZ's Scottish antecedents, that there should be curling down there. And yet I'm surprised. I never picked up the slightest hint nearly twenty years ago. The idea of curling became briefly popular in the UK when the British team (Virtually all of them Scots as I recall) at an earlier Winter Olympics got into the semis or whatever. Nor did it seem strange that the women's team were quite heavily made up as they played (I can't vouch for the men). It added to the ritual.

Clocking Out

 I have been neglecting this blog for some months. I think perhaps I should face facts and accept that it is indeed time to retire this blog...