:: Heart felt thanks::

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Pete and I wanted to thank you all so much for your kind words and prayers....which have been such a comfort and a blessing during this difficult time.... another example of the special relationships that blogging brings....

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:: Sweet Dreams ::

For Pete's father, who left us peacefully in his sleep during the early hours of this morning ...

:: A Time for Everything ::

There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under heaven:
a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain,
a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.
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:: Christmas Blessings ::

We have been having a particularly hard time at number 32 recently, hence the lack of posts, I have felt so sad I couldn't think of anything jolly to say.

However I am a great believer in counting blessings in times of darkness in order to encourage a little light.

We have been blessed this holiday with special times shared with those we love...

Yesterday Sweet P and I drove to Hebden Bridge in the little green van to meet lovely, lovely Jackie

We hit it off immediately and talked and talked and talked until dusk.....Jackie blessed me with a gift which is now one of my most treasured possessions, I wept when I opened it... Jackie I can't tell you how much this gift means to me...thank you so much....both for the gift and your friendship...which I will hold onto very tightly......

I am afraid I have loaded my pictures the wrong way round ...so we are now going back in time...to Monday when we invited friends over for a walk followed by homemade soup, warm rolls and lots of Christmas treats by an open fire... I feel ashamed that Mr. B and I have lived at number 32 for 16 years and were amazed to find this magical walk which started opposite our house....

So please put your boots on....its very muddy after the snow.....and come with us...

We crossed the road and walked across the golf course to find a tiny road edged with gateways to
hidden mansions....

We followed steep ginnels with high stone walls covered in ivy and moss...

above us the sky was blue and clear....

we came finally came out into an opening where sheep grazed with naked trees as their backdrop...

We stood a while and admired the view.....I intend to re visit when (if) it snows again to take pictures for next year's Christmas cards

These scenes are so typical of our beloved Yorkshire

Through gates and down lanes we went....

On and on we went until we reached my favourite part of the walk...the camera does not do this avenue of trees justice...I can't wait to return in the spring and autumn. to see them in their glory...

Finally the walk drew to a close with familiar views...home to a warm fire ... and an afternoon filled with friendship and laughter.....

Another blessing was our Christmas eve treat...we braved the elements with our very dear friend Mr L to have the annual Christmas breakfast at Betty's!...which is a Yorkshire institution!

Sweet P sported her new Christmas hat and coat...

Breakfast at Betty's is delicious...

and didn't last long on the plate...

outside the snow gently fell providing a beautiful Christmas landscape for us to admire in the warm......

breakfast was followed by the other Famille Lambert tradition - a visit to the Christmas production at the West Yorkshire Playhouse with my parents....this year it was The Secret Garden....

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It's days like this which bring light and laughter into our lives, treasured memories which we must hold onto tightly in order to chase away the darkness when it comes calling...

As the new year approaches I wish blessings and treasured moments to all of you who visit and share our adventures...

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:: Christmas blessings ::

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T hank you all for the lovely comments, encouragement and friendship this year...

Wishing every blessing to you and yours this Christmas

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H xxx

Oh Christmas Tree, oh Christmas Tree....

Straight after church, the little green van headed towards Otley, to a wonderful Christmas tree farm, which we have just discovered, they grow their own Christmas trees!

Last week we went and dug up our own tiny tree which now lives happily outside the back door, adorned with lights and being kept guard by a little brass frog wearing a gold crown!

Its a lovely working farm, with lots of animals to say hello to...

and beautiful views up and down the chevin...

We have fallen in love with this beautiful collie, so much so that we don't mind her muddy paws....

I spent ages admiring these hens who clucked and pecked at my feet as they searched for food...

the colours of their feathers are beautiful...

then on to the field, where the Christmas tree lay in neat rows according to their size.....

Mr B found two beauties immediately...
decisions, decisions....

I quickly chose the one on the right....

and Mr B took it back to the little green van...
you may have noticed an absence of sweet Pea..who was being a real wuss ..
it's tooooooooo cold mummy...



I felt a treat was required...so where did we go...?

The food is wonderful...just the ticket after choosing Christmas trees!

Sweet Pea gets her drawing book out....

she always likes to be busy while we wait for lunch...

Look at this homity pie....

delicious...

and so was the cake to follow ...

but it got munched up before I could take a photo....

then home to decorate the tree to the sound of kings college choir singing carols....

the tree finished.....

and then placed in the window for people inside...and out to admire.....

the perfect end to a perfect day.....

The other wise man

I have just produced a piece of drama with my year10 based on this story....

they created a magical piece which they performed at the Christmas concert to the haunting music from Eden Roc....

an uplifting story for Advent....

enjoy....

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THE STORY OF THE OTHER WISE MAN

BYHENRY VAN DYKE::
Who seeks for heaven alone to save his soul,May keep the path, but will not reach the goal;While he who walks in love may wander far,Yet God will bring him where the blessed are.

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You may know the story of the Three Wise Men of the East, and how theytravelled from far away to offer their gifts at the manger in Bethlehem. But have you ever heard the story of the Other Wise Man, who also saw the star rising, and set out to follow it, yet never arrived ?
:: Once there was a wise man called Artaban who had three friends, Caspar, Melchior and Balthazar. They had seen a special star, a star that marked the birth of a new king. They decided to follow the star to see and worship the promised one who was to be born King of Israel. Artaban arranged to meet his friends and made ready for the journey. He sold his house and all his possessions, and bought three jewels--a sapphire, a ruby, and a pearl to take them as tribute to the King.

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Before the birds had fully roused, before the white mist had begun to lift lazily from the plain, the other wise man was in the saddle, riding swiftly along the high-road, "The King is coming, and I will go to meet him." he said as he travelled, westward.::As they trotted near a grove of date palms his horse startled. Artaban dismounted. The dim starlight revealed the form of a man lying across the road. His humble dress and the outline of his haggard face showed that he was poor and Artaban took the motionless body for dead. He turned away with a thought of pity, But, as he turned, a long, faint, ghostly sigh came from the man's lips. The brown, bony fingers closed on the hem of his robe and held him fast. Artaban's heart leaped to his throat, the man needed help, but how could he stop, tonight of all nights? If he lingered but for an hour he could hardly reach his friends at the appointed time. They would think he had given up the journey.They would go without him. He would lose his quest. But if he went on now, the man would surely die. If he stayed, life might be restored. Then he turned back to the sick man. Loosening the grasp of his hand, he carried him to a little mound at the foot of the palm-tree and tended to the sick man.

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It was now past midnight, Artaban rode swiftly around the hill. He dismounted and climbed to the highest terrace, looking out towards the west, but his friends had gone without him. Artaban sat down upon the ground and covered his head in despair."How can I cross the desert," said he, "with no food and with a spent horse? I must return to Babylon, sell my sapphire, and buy a train of camels, and provision for the journey.

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Artaban did this and continued on his journey until he arrived at Bethlehem. Then the other wise man drew near, weary, but full of hope, bearing his ruby and his pearl to offer to the King. "For now at last," he said, "I shall surely find him, though it be alone, and later than my friends. The streets of the village seemed to be deserted, and Artaban wondered whether the men had all gone up to the hill-pastures to bring down theirsheep. From the open door of a low stone cottage he heard the sound of a woman's voice singing softly. He entered and found a young mother hushing her baby to rest. She told him of the strangers from the far East who had appeared in the village three days ago, and how they said that a star had guided them to the place where Joseph of Nazareth was lodging with his wife and her new-born child, and how they had paidreverence to the child and given him many rich gifts. "But the travellers disappeared again," she continued, "as suddenly as they had come. They have gone to Egypt to escape the Roman soldiers ."

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Suddenly there came the noise of a wild confusion and uproar in the streets of the village, a shrieking and wailing of women's voices: "The soldiers! the soldiers of Herod! They are killing our children." The young mother's face grew white with terror. She clasped her child to her bosom, and crouched motionless in the darkest corner of the room, covering him with the folds of her robe, lest he should wake and cry. But Artaban went quickly and stood in the doorway of the house. The soldiers came hurrying down the street with bloody hands and dripping swords. At the sight of the stranger in his imposing dress they hesitated with surprise. The captain of the band approached the threshold to thrust him aside. But Artaban did not stir. He held thesoldier silently for an instant, and then said in a low voice: "There is no one in this place but me, and I am waiting to give this jewel to the prudent captain who will leave me in peace." He showed the ruby, glistening in the hollow of his hand like a great drop of blood. The captain was amazed at the splendour of the gem. He stretched out his hand and took the ruby. "March on!" he cried, "there is no child here. The house is still."

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Artaban then went to Egypt, seeking everywhere for traces of the household that had come down from Bethlehem where he was told "the King whom you are seeking is not to be found in a palace, nor among the rich and powerful. I Those who seek Him will do well to look among the poor and the lowly, the sorrowful and the oppressed."

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And so the other wise man , travelled from place to place, searching among the people. He passed through countries where famine lay heavy upon the land, and the poor were crying for bread. He made his dwelling in plague-stricken cities where the sick were living in misery. Though he found none to worship, he found many to help. He fed the hungry, and clothed the naked, and healed the sick.

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Three-and-thirty years of the life of Artaban had passed , and he was still a pilgrim and a seeker after light. His hair, once dark, was now white and his eyes, that once flashed like flames of fire, were dull as embers smouldering among the ashes. Worn and weary and ready to die, but still looking for the King, he had come for the last time to Jerusalem. Artaban joined a group of people from his own country, and asked where they were going. they told him they were going to the execution of Jesus of Nazareth, a man who has done many wonderful works among the people, but who Pilate had sent to the cross because he said that he was the 'King of the Jews.' How strangely these familiar words fell upon the tired heart of Artaban! They had led him for a lifetime over land and sea. And now they came to him darkly and mysteriously like a message of despair. Could it be the same who had been born in Bethlehem, thirty-three years ago, at whose birth the star had appeared in heaven, and of whose coming the prophets had spoken? Artaban's heart beat unsteadily “I shall find the King, at last, in the hands of His enemies, and shall come in time to offer my pearl for His ransom before He dies." So the old man followed the multitude with slow and painful steps towards the Damascus gate of the city.

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Just beyond the entrance of the guard-house a troop of soldiers came down the street,dragging a young girl with torn dress and dishevelled hair. She broke suddenly fromthe hands of her tormentors, and threw herself at his feet, clasping him around the knees. "Have pity on me," she cried, "and save me,my father was a merchant , but he is dead, and I am seized for his debts to be sold as a slave. Save me from worse than death!"

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He took the pearl from his bosom. Never had it seemed so luminous, soradiant, so full of tender, living lustre. He laid it in the hand of the slave. "This is thy ransom, daughter! It is the last of my treasures which I kept for the King."

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While he spoke the darkness of the sky thickened, and shuddering tremors ran through the earth, heaving convulsively like the breast of one who struggles with mighty grief. Poor Artaban , What had he to live for? He had given away the last remnant of his tribute for the King. He had parted with the last hope of finding Him. The quest was over, and it had failed. But, even in that thought, accepted and embraced, there was peace. It was not resignation. It was not submission. It was something more profound and searching.He knew that all was well, because he had done the best that he could, from day to day. He had been true to the light that had been given to him. But he knew that even if he could live hisearthly life over again, it could not be otherwise than it had been. He lay breathless and pale, with his gray head resting on the young girl's shoulder, as she bent over him, fearing that he was dead, there came a voice through the twilight,

'Peace be with you Artaban. When I was hungry you gave me food. When I was naked, you clothed me. When I was distressed you comforted me. As often as you did this for the least of my children , you did them for me'.
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His journey was ended. His treasures were accepted.

The other Wise Man had found his King.

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:: She is a genius ::

Whenever I feel down, I plug the ipod in and listen to my Victoria Wood compilation...this is one of my favourites....as a big fan of large knickers and the cotton gusset...I was recently dismayed when my girls at school had no idea what a gusset was......the youth of today...they don't know what they are missing......

enjoy.....

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I can remember when pants were pants. You wore them for twenty years, then you cut them down for pan scrubs. Or quilts. We used to make lovely quilts out of Celanese bloomers. Every gusset a memory. Not bras. They won’t lie flat. We didn’t wear bras till after the war, round her. We stayed in a polished the lino.
I didn’t see an Oxo cube till I was twenty-five. That’s when I got my glasses. And we weren’t having hysterectomies every two minutes either, like the girls these days. If something went wrong down below, you kept your gob shut and turned up the wireless.
We never got woken with a teasmade. We were knocked up every morning by a man with a six-foot pole. It wasn’t all fun. We’d no showers. We used to club together and send the dirtiest one to the Slipper Baths. We might have been mucky but we had clean slippers.
And it was all clogs. Clogs on cobbles – you could hardly hear yourself coughing up blood. Clogs – when times were hard we had them for every meal, with condensed milk, if we were lucky.
And no one had cars. If you wanted to get run over, you’d to catch a bus to the main road. And of course, corner shop was the only one with gas, so you’d to go cap in hand if you wanted to gas yourself.
For years we had to make our own rugs. We used to stitch mice on to pieces of sacking. We weren’t always making jokes either. I once passed a remark about parsnips and couldn’t sit down for a week.
Oh, but I shall never forget the Coronation. 1953. We all crammed into the one front room and starred at this tiny grey picture. Somebody had cut it out of the paper – nobody got television till the year after.
I think we were more neighbourly. If anybody was ill in bed, the whole street would let themselves in and ransack the parlour.
And we didn’t do all this keep-fit. We got our exercise lowering coffins out of upstairs windows. In fact, if people were very heavy we used to ask them to die downstairs.
It wasn’t all gloom. My brother went to Spain, which was very unusual in those days. Mind you, that was the Civil War, and he got shot for trying to paddle.
We couldn’t afford holidays. Sometimes us kids would take some dry bread and a bottle of water and sit in the TB clinic, but that was about it.
We had community spirit round here, right to the end. The day they demolished our street it was like the war all over again – dead bodies, hand sticking out of the rubble. The council should have let us know.
That’s me done, best be off. Got a bit of cellular blanket for my supper, don’t want it to spoil. Ta-ra…
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