Sunday, June 17, 2007

I just wanted to thank you all so much for your messages.

It is so nice to see how my mum touched you all, I read the comments with tears streaming down my face- this is a good thing though :)

In a few days I do hope to email you all once things begin to settle down.

Any emails you send to my mums address i will also read. My Dad, Brother and I really appreciate your messages, love and support. We will be printing all these off to keep hold of.


Saturday, June 16, 2007

and just incase any of you were wondering.......I knew my mum's password. I set up her email account for her years ago and devised the password (I guessed it may be the same).


unfortunate happening

This is Daisy's daughter Lydia writing.

It is with much sadness that I inform you all that unfortunately my Mum passed away this morning.

She has been ill throughout this week becoming increasing weak and confused by last night. Last night we had decided to get her into hospital this morning however this was too late as this morning I discovered her. My dad had been sleeping in a seperate room to enable her proper rest. We do not yet know the official cause of death. She has been taken away and most likely a post mortem will be carried out on Monday.

She spoke of her blog to me often and the friends she had made through this. I really wanted to find a way to let you all know.

If anybody would like to contact us please leave a comment and I'll give you my email address.

Lots of love

Lydia xxx

Wednesday, June 13, 2007


Just to let you know I am still around. Unfortunately, I have been in bed since Monday afternoon with a horrendous virus.. Pounding head, sore throat, aching muscles sore joints, chattering teeth with cold piling up duvet on me. The fever broke last night, complete change of bedding and nightie, twice plus the most horrendous dreams. My other half is looking after me, it will take me few weeks to build up my stength again. I will pick up on the Poety Fest at some time next week. Sorry too tired to write any more.

Friday, June 08, 2007


Before I begin, my computer screen has gone a rather unpleasant pink colour, so my colour values etc are distorted, so it is fingers crossed that my text and illustrations work as I can't see the true colours until my screen is sorted
Ansel Adams

On 10th June, the Celtic month changes again and this month will be the month of the Oak. A tree to me that is quintessentially English, phrases such as the Mighty Oak, Hearts of Oak and From Little Acorns Great Oak Trees Grow. The Oak has always protected England from time immemorial, it was the sacred tree of the Druids, they had their Oak Groves, and throughout history the boats that were used by the English Navy to defeat invaders to our isles were made from from slabs of the mighty Oak. The Armada was turned back by these ships crafted from English Oak. Therefore, from the 10th of June we have the 7th Moon of the Celtic Year, Duir, the Oak Tree. Duir meaning door.


The month of Duir, also contains the Summer Solstice, and of course, the symbol of the Summer Solistice is the magnificent Oak tree. Every civilisation that has had access to Oak trees seems to have realised the mystical properties of it. The Oak is one of the three most sacred trees, Oak, Ash and Thorn and is thereby known as King of the Grove. English legend believes that King Arthur's Round Table was made from a massive slab of Oak tree. The oak is allied to the element of Fire and is ruled by the Sun. It also has associations with the God of the Forest Herne and the Wild Hunt and the Oak or Green man who is a potent symbol in English folklore. It was an Oak tree that Robin Hood was supposed to gather his men round and an Oak tree in which King Charles is supposed to have hidden to avoid detection by the Roundheads. It is a very long lived tree and grows to enormous widths, therefore it is a symbol of long life. It is also associated with the Gods of Thunder and Lightning, due to its reputation as a lightning attractor. The bird connected to this Oak Month is the wren and the stone is moonstone.

The Green Man

The parts of the Oak used are the bark, wood, leaves, and acorns, which I will leave until last, as they are another interesting part of Oaklore. Oak bark tea is very astringent and is thought to be good for sinus infections. Oak can be used in spells of healing and fertilitiy, protection, strength and success. One belief is if you listen to the Oak at the Summer Solstice you can hear what the future holds by listening to the wind rustling through its leaves. Oakwood is a very powerful protection herb and are used as land boundary markers because of this. Also an Oakleaf worn next to your heart is said to protect the wearer from decption and falsehood. Try a handful of Oak leaves in your bath to cleanse you in body and spirit.

Acorns, themselves are very useful and powerful small items. Acorns are said to be able to increase fertility, not just of the body but your creative fertility too. Play with a couple in your hand to ease pain or put some in your window or on your windowsill to deflect lightning and protect you from night creatures of evil intent. You can also carry them in your pocket for basically the same reasons, to protect from storms, from getting lost and from those spirits or people intent on ill wishes towards you. Three acorns threaded together can be made into a charm to preserve youthfulness and to help you achieve in life. You must thread a piece of your hair with the three acorns, and bless them every new moon and full moon, for twelve months. Acorns can also be planted in the dark moon days to bring financial rewards. You must harvest the Oak tree by the waning moon. The acorns in daylight and the wood and leaves at night. Don't forget that part of your Summer Solistice fire should be of Oak wood.


Remember what I said about my computer at the beginning of this posting, well going round the blogs quite a few of us are having various problems with our computers at the moment. Dare I tell you, guess what it is? Yes, Mercury goes into retrograde in a few days time, so don't forget everyone be careful around items of communication. This retrograde Mercury will last from 15th June [with a build up from about ten days before that] until 10th July , but don't forget about the kickback effect that lingers on a while.

A Wren

Keep having a look at my Poetry Fest Website, link near the top of my sidebar, poems are still coming in, and if you haven't participated yet there is still time for this month's Poetry We Loved as Children.

Monday, June 04, 2007


Childe Hassam

Time I put a new posting up. It seems ages since I wrote one, but I have been so busy getting the Daisy Lupin Poetry Fest Website up and running. If you haven't seen it yet click on the link in the sidebar under the little girl reading or follow this

It is fascinating watching the poems come in and seeing what people's favourites are around the world. So many people have had a childhood of Walter de la Mare and R. L. Stevenson poems and they are such wonderful children's poems, though I don't know what today's children would think about them. Some people have picked other favourite poems of mine and some have picked poems I don't know which is a good way to learn more. Please keep sending them in, you can post more than once, if you think of more poems or another one you wished you had chosen.

Annette Mills with Muffin the Mule

Reading the poems and watching a series of programmes last week on television has got me thinking about childhood. The BBC [public broadcasting] ran a series of programmes, every evening on one of its smaller channels about the History of Children's Television. It took every decade and showed programmes made for children and discussed them. My decade was the 1950's, as the older I got the less I had time for television. What struck me most about these early black and white programes from the BBC were two things. How class conscious they were, and on the other hand what an innocent world it was. A strange combination. The programmes were solidly aimed at 'nice' middle class children, showing them how to behave and what to think. Everyone spoke with these strange strangulated 'BBC perfect English accents' of the time. and if they interviewed children, the poor children sound so pompous, more like middle aged people of the time. Then ITV arrived, the channel funded by advertising, it was not bound by the mores of the BBC and had what was called at the time a 'commoner' approach to children's programmes. At least the kids acted and sounded like the real children you met at school or in your neighbourhood.

I think the thing that fascinates me is that at the time, I didn't get these nuances from the BBC programmes, but was often annoyed by them without knowing why and the patronising attitude of the presenters. I am afraid I was not a Blue Peter kid, but a Magpie kid, some people will know what I am talking about, as they were two opposing channel's magazine type programmes for children.

Apart from the above, I do look back with a rosy and golden glow around my childhood. I was always a bookworm, and had a father that loved reciting poetry to me. I know I played out a lot, alone in the garden, making gifts for faeries etc, or outside in my garden or neighbourhood with my friends. Yet I can never work out where in amongst all this I found the time to read as much as I did. I got four books out of the library every Monday evening and returned them the next week read. If it was rainy weather, I would go top a friend's house, or a child would come to my house to play, so where was my reading time? I feel I must have read secretly for hours after I had been put to bed.

Helen Bradley

My favourite reading time of all was on Sunday afternoons. What happened on a Sunday was at midday we would have our Sunday lunch. That is the works, every Sunday without fail, Roast joint of Beef, Roasted potatoes, Yorkshire Pudding, two or three types of vegetable and gravy. Followed on by something like apple tart and custard or rhubarb crumble and custard. Then the dishes were washed whilst I was sent to clean my self up and My Mum, Dad and I, would then go to my Grandmother's [my Mother's Mother] for tea. At 2.00pm we left our house, and this is the amazing thing. as long as it was fine we walked there, a good hour's walk. I can't imagine anyone doing that these days, but lots of families were walking to various places at that time.

Jessie Wilcox Smith

We would arrive at my Grandparents, my Aunt would already be there as she lived at home still, she married late in life, when I was about twelve. We would all sit down with a cup of tea, never coffee, and a glass of juice for me and talk about the week that had past. I was asked about school and anything else I had been doing. After about an hour of this I was allowed in the garden to play, there was a big lawn, and lots of flowerbeds, paths and a vegetable garden to be turned into wild places by my imagination. Unfortunately, the Avenue my Grandparents lived in had no children in it at all, mostly older couples whose children had left home. But I enjoyed my solitary time in the garden and would construct tents out of old blankets or make dens and generally play imaginary games. I did also have some old toys of my Mother's that I loved to play with there.

Then I would become aware of the women, my Mum, Aunt and Grandmother, moving around the kitchen, I could see them through the kitchen window, this was the beginning of getting the tea ready. The talk in the kitchen would become whispered and gossipy, but it is surprising what 'little ears' heard as I popped in and out of the kitchen. Let me tell you, children miss nothing. My father and grandfather would talk men's talk in the main room, though I don't think they had any interests in common, which every Sunday would end up with a tale from my Grandfather about the First World War. He would never tell of the horrors of the trenches, but talked about his comrades or about the time when he was a Prisoner of War. He was placed on a farm, where he was very well treated by a pair of German Farmers, and he was together with another English man and a Russian. It all seemed so very civilised, unlike the Second World War. He kept in contact with the German couple for many years and the Russian, until he disappeared into the upheavels of the time in Russia. Consequently my Grandfather could speak German and a smattering of Russian. Unfortunately his lungs were damaged by gas in the trenches and that seriously affected him as old age struck. I often wished I had been more interested in his tales, as I then thought them boring, but now I realise what a wonderful insight into history it must have been.

S. Derbyshire

The table was set and we all went through for tea at 5.00pm. My Grandmother was an expert at teas and a traditional Sunday tea at my Grandparents was as follows. There would be two types of sandwiches, probably, egg mayonnaise and come type of cold meat and mustard or pickle. A cold sliced beef mince pie and a cold sliced egg and bacon pie, a plate of fruit scones, always a plate cake [ tart] with fruit in season ie apple, blackcurrant, gooseberry. a sponge cake either victoria or chocolate then something like a coconut cake or maderia. My Grandmother did all this baking herself, the only concession to Sunday was a plate of 'fancies' [ fancy cakes she had bought at the bakery]. All this was washed down with gallons of tea. Imagine though, all this was after the large Sunday dinner we had eaten at midday.

Van Gogh

After tea, I didn't usually go back into the garden, the Sunday had left the lawn, and I was supposed to let my tea digest, so I was allowed to go into the formal sitting room, and snuggle down on one of the deep comfortable chairs that were part of an art deco three piece suite, how I wish I had these chairs and settee now! This was when I brought my book out and would spend an hour happily immersed in its story. All my Famous Five books I remember reading in this chair. At around 7.00 we would leave my Grandparents and if it was Summer and a nice night we would walk back home instead of getting two buses to go home. Probably all that walking on a Sunday helped us burn up the calories from our two huge Sunday meals. Home again, meant, for me, immediate bath, a plain biscuit and drink for supper and to bed, for a sneaky read.

I suppose when you look back in this way childhood does seem a golden time, as you probably remember the sunny days best and the mostly happy family days, not days or rain and crisis which happen occasionally in every family.