beijing

It happens every time. I love the Olympics!
I get thoroughly wrapped up and pretty emotional by the stories it throws up. I think I’d be one of those people on the winner’s podium (if only!) that would just bawl my eyes out! It’s been brilliant that the GB team has been so successful (in terms of medals) but I’m always amazed at the dedication, determination, sacrifices and sheer guts of the participants – and not just the winners. I’ve been mesmerised by the cycling, sailing and rowing in particular. Listening to the humility of one of the Canadian rowers who won gold this week after failing to win by just 0.08 seconds in Athens in 2004 (I remember how generous he was in defeat then); the Chinese 110m hurdling hero who had to drop out of the event through injury without even jumping a single hurdle; and, again in the rowing, imagining the emotions of people like Katherine Grainger who picked up a silver medal for the third successive Olympic Games.
As an early riser, I’ve also loved waking up to follow the latest sailing news and the like over breakfast.
As a cyclist myself(!), as you can imagine, I’m now obviously tempted to buy a lycra cycling suit and one of those pointy helmets, but have decided to stick to jeans+t-shirts – at least for the time being.

PS: I even loved the Opening Ceremony (especially the drummers) and was amused at one person’s suggestion for the London equivalent in 2012 – something about a fleet of penny-farthing bikes, a few pearly kings+queens plus a collection of cockney “chiminey” sweeps singing songs from Mary Poppins!

music in the square

It almost felt like summer yesterday (according to the forecast, we’re back to wet stuff again today!). Moira+I enjoyed the free music concert in Queen Square, Bristol last night – featuring Jimmy Goodrich, Sweet Loredo, Mankala and Los Mercenarios. Really relaxed, enjoyable summer’s evening. Lots of people, lovely atmosphere and, crucially, it was all FREE!
Congratulations Bristol City Council!

august beach day

Despite the appalling weather, I decided I needed to walk along a beach this morning! I’d already had breakfast before this sudden desire entered my head but, by 8am, I found myself striding across the sand at Barrow beach (near Burnham-on-Sea). I walked northwards from Berrow for about an hour - virtually to the headland beyond Brean - with the rain lashing down and then turned round and had to contend with 30mph winds and the full force of the rain into my face! Not surprisingly on such an awful day, I didn’t see anyone during my couple of hours on the beach and, despite wearing my full wet-weather gear, I still got pretty wet!
Although it was depressing to realise that this was supposed to be the English summer, I’m really glad I made the effort and felt duly invigorated by the end of it!

Photo: Berrow beach in the rain.

john o’donohue

I’ve just bought John O’Donohue’s book “Benedictus – a Book of Blessings” (lovely friends Cara, Ian and Gail knew him from his time at Greenbelt and are big fans). Tragically, John died in January this year at the ridiculously young age of 52. It’s an absolutely beautiful book – this is a blessing for belonging:
May you listen to your longing to be free.
May the frames of your belonging be generous enough for your dreams.
May you arise each day with a voice of blessing whispering in your heart.
May you find harmony between your soul and your life.
May the sanctuary of your soul never become haunted.
May you know the eternal longing that lives at the heart of time.
May there be kindness in your gaze when you look within.
May you never place walls between the light and yourself.
May you allow the wild beauty of the invisible world to gather you, mind you and embrace you in belonging.
Note: thankfully, not only does he leave his books but also there are various CDs of his readings…. he has the most wonderful, lilting, Irish voice.

tracking frank

As you might realise if you’ve read some of my previous blogs, I've been trying to find out a little more about my grandfather Frank Walker's First World War experiences (I've only got up to May 1916 thus far because his unit was disbanded and he was re-allocated to another section - I'm still trying to track down details)!
For what it's worth, I've put together a blog: http://frankwalkerww1.blogspot.com called "Tracking Frank (through the Great War)".
The blog includes War Diaries from his unit (and give his locations etc throughout the war... well, at least up until May 1916 thus far!).... I've also produced a google map "tracking" Frank's movements for each individual war year.
The blog is far from finished (and there are various glitches in the system at the moment which prevent me from getting some of the correct fonts and font sizes) but it’s proved to be a fascinating exercise.

bristol balloon fiesta

Gerry, Gareth, Alan, Iona, Eilidh, Moira+I went to the “Balloon Glow” at Ashton Court last night Amazingly, the rain held off and we even enjoyed a wonderful picnic (and the odd glass of red) in the process. The “glow” itself was quite spectacular (it was the first time Moira+I had actually seen it) – although there seemed to be an awful lot of hype about the difficulties the “Flight Director” had in co-ordinating the music and stuff. My only other slight moan was that everyone was left sitting around waiting until 9.45pm before it got started.

first world war diaries

In order to find out more about my grandfather Frank’s WW1 experiences, I spent some hours yesterday at The National Archives trawling through the war diaries of his unit. It was a really eerie feeling. These were the actual thin pieces of paper that one of his officers had written (in incredible, legible, handwritten pencil) which provided detailed, day-to-day accounts of their war - where they were; what they were doing; describing the weather conditions; outlining the casualties; recording names of heroes and the like.
I found the whole experience incredibly humbling. I’ve read bits and pieces about the Great War and I’ve obviously seen photographs and TV footage but, for the first time, got a real sense of its utter relentlessness and a little of what it must have felt like to have been “under fire”.
War was declared on 4 August 1914. My 17 year-old grandfather sailed from Dublin and arrived at Le Havre on 19 August as part of the initial Expeditionary Force…..

Photo: thought to be have been taken while on training in Ireland (Frank is fifth from left, middle row – looking relaxed and happy). I wonder how many of them survived?