Needless to say the opportunities for merchandising have been exploited to the full.  There is no lack of Jubilee ware and street party supplies:

Everything you need for your Jubilee street party. John Lewis Aberdeen.

There are a lot of rather light-hearted takes on the Jubilee.  Linda at Occasional Scotland has a photograph of a wonderful piece of Jubilee kitsch, a Solar Queen whose hand waves when powered by the sun.  Corgis seem to figure prominently.  I find this tea-towel rather witty (though I bought it as a present for someone else):

Cath Kidston teatowel with Royal Corgi

You can even buy Jubilee corgi pajamas, so you can celebrate in your sleep!  (Notice the bunting – Marks & Spencers, like John Lewis, is a British chain so all this will have been decreed at HQ in England.)

Corgi pajamas in Marks & Spencers

And I presume Her Majesty will be amused by the recent Marmite advertising campaign.  Marmite, for non-UK readers, is a brewer’s yeast spread; and the Queen, in case you haven’t heard, should be addressed as “Ma’am”.  There’s a very common expression here:  “It’s like Marmite, you either love it or hate it.”  Hence the joke in the scroll “One either loves it… or one hates it”.  I like the two corgis epitomising these opposing reactions, and the crown formed by a toast rack on top (“toasting the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee”):

Ad for Marmite (“Ma’amite”)  outside the supermarket

The Scots, generally, aren’t fervent Royalists in my experience.  I remember the Queen visited the University of Aberdeen in 1995.  I succumbed to temptation and went along to see her – it wasn’t difficult as there were only two groups of schoolchildren waving Scottish flags!  More recently, Michael and I found ourselves standing next to Prince Edward at a street crossing in town.  Amongst the few of us waiting to cross along with him, the only one who acknowledged the presence of a Prince was a very drunk man who accosted him with “How ya doin’ wee laddie?!”  The Prince and his security man crossed over, and only then did I notice a red carpet rolled out in front of the recently refurbished His Majesty’s Theatre.  There were a few journalists, who snapped photos and promptly left, and the Lord Provost, there to greet him.  Everyone else around remained steadfastly nonchalant.

I’ve also been told by those of a nationalist tendency that the current Queen is NOT Queen Elizabeth the Second of Scotland, because Queen Elizabeth the First was never the Queen of Scotland, only of England.

More Jubilee merchandise.

I have some friends who are infuriated by the cost and privilege of the monarchy, but most people I know here seem to have a kind of low-key affection for “wee Queenie” as one friend calls her.  I think the Royals probably enjoy being (relatively) left alone in Scotland.  They must come in and out of Aberdeen all the time to go to Balmoral, but you never hear about it.  On the Western Isles I’ve heard people occasionally mention that the Queen was in the neighbourhood.  But as with Prince Edward’s visit there doesn’t seem to be a particular fuss about it and I’ve never heard any fawning.  Certainly she seems to take her job very seriously and I can’t think of many women her age (86 I believe?) who are still putting in a full day’s work on a very regular basis.  I would be pleased if the forecast for a “continuing period of reign” comes true.

Blue Himalayan Poppies in Cruickshank Botanical Gardens, Old Aberdeen. 22 May 2012.

The blue of their flowers is really amazing.  At home, lots is happening in the garden:

In my garden: bluebells, tulips, peony yet to bloom, geranium, pulmonaria finishing, and an old rose in the background. Aberdeen, 23 May 2012.

It was so warm the other day that the scent of the azaleas greeted me and for a moment I was puzzled before I worked it out!

Azaleas and clematis montana in my garden. Aberdeen, 23 May 2012.

Inside the house it is cool and lovely (except the upstairs is baking – that’s where the cat hangs out, nearly comatose in the heat):

summertime light in the hallway

It’s been wonderful to see people enjoying being outside.  The below photo is taken in a park that we always refer to as ‘The Cinderella Park’.  It got this nickname from a family friend, now sadly departed, who lived nearby.  He said it was the most neglected park in Aberdeen – I don’t know if that’s true, but the name has stuck!  I really liked that young family picnicking with their baby:

‘The Cinderella Park’: Bon Accord Terrace Gardens, Aberdeen, 24 May 2012.

This morning I had many helpers in the church garden!  During the morning we planted about 400 bedding plants:

Some of the Garden Committee, taking a break from hard work. South Holburn Church, Aberdeen, 26 May 2012.

The Good Lord has been very kind to us with this lovely weather, and now we will have to pray for some rain (only at night of course) to keep these baby plants going!

I hope your own weekend is relaxing and fun, whatever weather you’re having!

A dear friend in the States sent me the ‘Lizzie’ novels by Amish writer Linda Byler.  As you may know I’m fascinated by the Amish and so to read a series of novels written ‘from the inside’ was a real treat.  I was surprised (though why?) by how the characters in the book have all the same feelings that the rest of us do – family tensions, frustrations, and so forth.  And I was interested to read how Lizzie struggles with the question of obedience – to God, to the Ordnung (church rules) and to her future husband.  By the end of the last book, it seemed to me that insofar as obedience to her husband goes, Lizzie and her husband both discover that they must each be ‘obedient’ to the other and create a marriage built on mutual respect.  Their struggles, like Lizzie’s parents’ own struggles, would be very familiar to any non-Amish family who has had to work out juggling careers, children, work, where to live, responsibilities towards other family members, and so on.

Recent reading: BIG Decisions, the third of the ‘Lizzie’ books by Linda Byers; I Leap Over the Wall by Monica Baldwin; and Hinds’ Feet in High Places by Hannah Hurnard

I Leap Over the Wall is a book I’ve read at least three times before now.  (This 1957 paperback has a cover that seems to anticipate The Sound of Music in 1959.)  Baldwin was the niece of Prime Minister Stanley Baldwin.  She entered an enclosed order of contemplative nuns in 1914 and left it in 1941, when she was in her late forties.  The wall that she “leapt” over was, in her words, a spiritual one rather than a physical one.  Her account of emerging into wartime Britain after having been cut off from all developments since before the First World War is intriguing.  She recounts the effects of her vow of obedience in the convent – useful if your sole object is union with God, but not so good in a war-torn worldly setting.  For example, she has to learn to make noise so as not to startle people, and has to break the 27-year-long habit of keeping her eyes cast to the ground.  Her greatest challenge is to discover a new obedience – no longer to a Rule imposed from the outside, but to her own instincts and to what she calls Inward Urges.  These guide her in sometimes startling ways to create a new life for herself.

Lastly, with some misgivings I began Hannah Hurnard’s Christian allegory, Hinds’ Feet in High Places.  I’d expected it might be horribly didactic, but found it a compelling and thought-provoking read, and I plan to re-read it sometime.  It’s the story of Much-Afraid, who journeys from the Valley of Humiliation to the High Places.  All along the way, she has free will to leave off her arduous journey but she decides to be obedient to the guidance of the Shepherd.  She is assisted on her journey by Sorrow and Suffering.  I was very interested to discover, having finished the book, that it was written in 1955 and that its author was brought up a Quaker, became a missionary, and later apparently was much criticised for her interest in New Age thought and reincarnation.  I like the sound of this woman – talk about following your own path!

So I’ve been reflecting on obedience.  It seems an extremely old-fashioned concept.  Our society is much more interested in winning competitions, material success, and asserting one’s individuality.   I’m all for critical thinking, and I myself have on occasion been extremely disobedient.  In fact, here I am committing Civil Disobedience during the 1984 strike at Yale University:

Being very kindly escorted by a policeman to a waiting bus.  This was a civil disobedience demonstration, led by Bayard Rustin, a stalwart of the Civil Liberties movement.  450 people lined the streets while the Board of Trustees met, and refused to move until they recognised the workers’ union.  We were duly and very peacefully arrested. (Clipping from the New Haven Register, Nov. 11th 1984.)

A few years later, a reader’s report on my Ph.D dissertation on the medieval writer Christine de Pizan stated that I had “committed the heresy of feminism” just as the subject of my study had.  This was amazing to me, as I’d been completely disinterested in feminist thought until that point.  I embraced my disobedience, and began to read the feminist classics to see what exactly I’d been accused of.  I ended up teaching Women’s Studies for many years!  Throughout my life, I’ve been fairly headstrong and independent, for better and for worse.

But the older I get, the more interested I’ve become in the deeply unfashionable concept of obedience.  It’s not just that I believe we should stick to the speed limit and other external regulations.  It’s the inner work of being obedient that is challenging and fascinating.  For example, at work I see students who increasingly chafe against being told what to do.  One recently declared to me, “I am not going to edit my essays!”  I replied that the choice was hers, but if she wanted to improve her writing she would have to edit.  Many young people resist having to follow conventions, and I find myself in the odd position of defending obedience to convention, at least in academic writing, as a path to clearer communication.  (Of course in other ways young people, as always, are hugely conventional – witness the amusing sight of skirts just at knicker length, and for boys, trousers that are held around their hips only by a kind of cowboy walk.)

Within marriage and family there are many moments of negotiation, and this can often be a disguised form of obedience.  One example is that we were discussing whether to go ahead with our summer week away, given how unwell the Dafter still is.  She agreed it would be potentially difficult, “But I think Daddy really needs to have a holiday.  Don’t cancel.”  She was being obedient to some kind of inner imperative about the balance of needs in the family.  We’re not always so self-sacrificing, needless to say!  When Michael and I are both happily settled at the end of a long day, and a request comes wafting through from another part of the house, we don’t always fight to be the first to jump up and obey.

Parenthood brings the question of obedience to the fore – both the question of how and when to try to get your children to obey you as a parent, and also of obeying the commitment to love them unconditionally no matter what.  Parents sometimes make great sacrifices for their children, and all parents make thousands of smaller sacrifices along the way.  One could see this in terms of being obedient to the demands of parental love and devotion.

When couples struggle through difficult decisions in life – do we move to a new city so one of us can have a better career?  do we stay put so that the other can enjoy their job?  Which set of parents do we visit at Christmas?  Who decides which movie to watch? etc.  – all of these could be seen in terms of obedience to the imperative of treasuring the other person in the couple.  Similar questions occur within the extended family:  who cares for the ageing parent?  who organises get-togethers? and so forth.  Obedience and sacrifice are closely connected.

And then there’s obedience to one’s inner voice.  I do believe in following my instincts.  In fact, that copy of I Leap Over the Wall came to me one day in Illinois when I was walking past a thrift shop and the thought came clearly to me:  “Go in there – there’s something for you!”  So I did, and there it was.  Similarly, I try to walk a certain route if I feel so inclined, phone someone if I feel an inner nagging to do so, and so on.  Very often it turns out there was a good reason for doing so.

If you believe, as I do, that God takes an interest in your life and wants to help, the question is:  how to be obedient and be led in the best path?  In the past I have asked for very clear guidance, and have received it.  Sometimes this has taken the form of doors firmly shutting in my face.  On the other hand, I remember seeing the ad for the job I have happily had for the last eight years.  My heart sank, as it was at that time in a section I thought was problematic.  I remember thinking/praying:  “Do I have to apply for this?” and feeling/knowing, “Yes, you do.”  It truly was what I was meant for, and has been very fulfilling.  On the other hand, I have at times been willful and only later realised that I was motivated by getting my own way, or by fear, and that I had ignored those nagging inner voices that had been trying to get my attention all along.

Lastly, I think that we need also to be obedient to the imperative of self-expression.  This can sometimes be hard to do.  For example, it might be midnight but you want to finish sewing something together; common sense says Go to Bed, but that crazy spark of life inside says, Go ahead!  Finish the project!   Or you end up walking up a side road because you’re hoping that the lilac that hung over the fence last year will be in blossom again this year.  Or you take yourself out for a walk, just because, even though there are dishes to be done.  Or you wear the slightly odd article of clothing that cheers you up.  This kind of obedience is, in my opinion, vital to living authentically.

If you’ve read this far, firstly thank you, and secondly I’d be curious to know your thoughts on the topic of obedience.

Mount Hood daffodil, Aberdeen, early May 2012.

Here is a garden that the Dafter and I used to walk past nearly every day.  Its owners are professional gardeners, and boy can you tell.  We call it “the Perfect Garden” because there is never a leaf out of place.  Even the small lawn area is mown in stripes like a cricket pitch:

“The perfect garden,” Aberdeen, 15 May 2012.

When the Dafter was smaller, we would often stop to refresh ourselves with a mint here.  Despite what eavesdroppers might think, the phrase “once we get to the Perfect Garden” actually has no moral or religious meaning in our family!

On Monday I was visiting a friend in Stonehaven when a very dark cloud came over, like that scene in Through the Looking Glass when the crow darkens the sky.  And the next thing we knew, the windows were rattling with hailstones.  Half an hour later and they were still much in evidence:

After the hailstorm, 14 May 2012.

But sometimes it’s the falling petals that seem like snow:

Cruickshank Botanical Gardens, Old Aberdeen, 15 May 2012.

We’ve had some sunny moments too, albeit mostly accompanied by a rather icy North wind.  Hats and gloves would be useful, but I can’t bear to wear them in May.  A colleague of mine from Lancaster is fond of quoting her grandfather:  “Ne’er cast a clout til May be out”.  (Don’t wear less clothes until after the month of May has passed.)  Well I have “cast” my hat and gloves, and if I have blue hands and a red nose, so be it.

I hope you’re keeping warm where you are!

Betty’s cardigan:  “Tender” by Kim Hargreaves, knit in Kidsilk Haze mohair/silk.

Betty has been a dear friend to me over the past few years.  She’s had me over for many cups-of-tea-and-sympathy, and she’s given me very good advice.  She herself has seen plenty in her life:  she was widowed very young, suddenly left on her own with young children to raise.  She knows what it’s like to lie awake at night worrying about how on earth things will ever come right.  But to meet her you’d never guess:  she’s so vibrant and funny and generous.  She’s great company and a wonderful conversationalist – happy to discuss how to care for alpines, or the intricacies of family relationships, or novels about women living in very different societies from our own.

She’s also a very elegant woman, who loves to discuss the finer points of clothes design and construction with me.  You know, the kind of friend that whisks her jacket off and turns it inside out to have a good look at the seams.  She always shows an interest in what’s on my knitting needles, and so I offered to knit her something – whatever her heart desired.  She chose this beautiful cardigan designed by Kim Hargreaves.  I modified the pattern by adding a wee ruffle at the ends of the sleeves, and also sewing clear beads just under the edge of the hems, to keep them from turning up and to give a little flash of glamour such as befits Betty.

I’ve had such a good time knitting it – it came to England with me, including to the V & A.  Betty is so pleased to have a cardigan made to her measurements, and I’m so happy it turned out as she’d wanted it.  Doesn’t she just look fab?

Tilly says ‘thank you for my hot water bottle!’

When we found Tilly in the animal shelter, she was about a year old.  She had been lost in the snow for a week, and in the shelter for a week.  We came on the very first day she was up for adoption, and we felt very lucky indeed to be able to give her a home.  She’s always been a very well-behaved and intelligent cat.  And for a long time, she was a very shy and frightened cat.

As I wrote here, she finally learned to purr after a lot of coaxing from me.  After about a year and a half, she decided it would be safe to jump on my lap – but only if I’m sitting in my knitting place, and also only if I have a skirt on.  If I have my jeans on, and want feline companionship, I put a blanket over my knees.  Other members of the family have so far not been graced with this particular cat-compliment, but Tilly has always been friendly and attentive.  She nuzzles our legs, and likes to join us for meals:

Tilly sometimes joins us for meals (although she doesn’t come up on the table).

Since the Dafter has been home for over eight months now, Tilly (who is also at home each and every day) has been learning to trust even more.  Tilly now comes into the Dafter’s room and meows when she wants the Dafter to play with her.  She sometimes puts her paws on the Dafter to stress her point, and she will have meowing “conversations” with the Dafter.  A few times when the Dafter has been resting, Tilly has come right up to her and sniffed her face.

These interactions may sound like nothing to someone who is used to living with an assertive cat, but for a shy little cat these things are significant.  I’m so pleased that the Dafter is making at least one new friendship during this time.

The bay window

At this time of year our neighbours’ beautiful cherry tree is a lovely sight.  I think I might have missed taking a photo of it at peak blossom, but you get the idea.  The bay window is a great place for me and Michael to have a cuppa together, when we get the chance.  Now that the days are lengthening very noticeably (the sun rises at 5 am and sets at 9 pm) we can enjoy the evening light.  Tilly also enjoys sunning herself on the chairs.

However, all is not quite as it seems.  It has been a very cold spring.  Earlier on the day I took this photo (Saturday, 5 May), it SNOWED!  This is the second time I’ve experienced snow in May in Aberdeen, in the 20 years I’ve lived here.

Today is a public holiday in Scotland – the May Bank Holiday.  I wish you all a happy day wherever you are, and a happy week to come!

I don’t know how you feel about zoos, but we enjoy going to Edinburgh Zoo.  The animals are well-cared for, and now there is even a pair of pandas!  (The money raised by the visitors to the pandas is helping fund improvements to their native environments.) On our way home from England at Easter, we stayed overnight at the hotel next door to the zoo.  The hotel was very full, including with several busloads of Chinese tourists who were keen to see the pandas their country had lent ours.  After a very enjoyable breakfast, we met up with Our Son [that seems to be his blog name!], and began our morning at the zoo.  The zoo is on a hill.  You can take a kind of bus up to the top and walk down, but as we had to be at the panda enclosure at 11 a.m. sharp, we decided just to go part of the way up.  It was nice to have help pushing the Dafter in her wheelchair:

The zoo is on a hill! We have a laugh pushing the Dafter up, up, up…

Here is a baby pygmy rhino and its mother, both having a watery snooze:

Having a wee kip: pygmy rhinos at Edinburgh Zoo.

I liked this wallaby taking advantage of the view out over to the Pentland Hills:

A thoughtful wallaby (on the right by the fencing) contemplating the view, Edinburgh Zoo.

We were pleased to see the lions, who looked like larger versions of Tilly to us:

Mr. & Mrs. Lion having a morning snooze, Edinburgh Zoo

The leopard, though, was pacing back and forth in its enclosure.  It was hard to get a good photograph, it was moving so quickly:

A leopard, pacing. Edinburgh Zoo.

The tiger was munching on some greenery:

Siberian tiger having elevenses at Edinburgh zoo.

We arrived at the appointed time to see the pandas.  A small group of us were ushered into this beautifully planted and decorated area:

Entrance to the Giant Pandas’ enclosure, Edinburgh Zoo.

We were lucky that one of the pandas, Tian Tian (“Sweetie”), was on view.  She too was having a nap.  Female pandas are only fertile one or two days a year.  The previous week had been the propitious time for her, but she and Yang Guang (“Sunshine”) hadn’t mated.  However, we were told that all the signs had been good, and the zoo is hopeful for next year.  Sweetie has already been a mother, to twins, and she was a very good mother to them.  Our guide explained that baby pandas are extremely small – he made the comparison to humans giving birth to babies the size of our thumb.  (Might be more comfortable to give birth, I hear some of you thinking!)  Panda mothers keep their babies in their armpits for the first few weeks, and have to mother them very intensively.

Here’s me with my two:

me, Our Son and the Dafter, having a happy time at Edinburgh Zoo.

It’s quite something to think that Our Son came to us nearly 16 years ago now.  He was almost four, and quite a lot bigger than my thumb at that point, but in need of some intensive parenting as well.  We said goodbye to the dozing Tian Tian and went for a coffee.  It was warm enough to be outside!

Brother and sister, Edinburgh Zoo, April 2012.

And the Dafter insists that I post this photo of us fooling around:

Scary creatures at the zoo!

Well, I haven’t much pride! (Joke!)

St. Nicholas Kirk seen through budding trees, 1st May 2012, Aberdeen.

Looking down Schoolhill towards the shiny clean Marischal College, 8:25 a.m., 1st May 2012, Aberdeen.

Blossoming apple tree on King's Crescent, Old Aberdeen, 1 May 2012.

College Bounds, Old Aberdeen, 1 May 2012.

Powis Gate - formerly the entrance to the Powis Estate, now part of the King's College campus of the University of Aberdeen.

King's College, Old Aberdeen, 1st May 2012.

As you can see from the tower clock, even though I was a shutterbug, I wasn’t late to work!  A very happy May Day to you all.

While we were visiting friends near London over Easter, the Dafter was more than happy for the ‘rents to disappear for an afternoon, and we headed for the V&A.  Sadly for me, most of their needlework and textiles were off-limits because they are redoing the display, which will open in 2013.  (Michael said, “You’ll just have to come back!” and who knows, maybe I’ll do just that.)  But there was plenty else to enjoy.  Here for example is a (flash-less, sorry) photo of part of the ironwork collection:

The Ironwork section, Victoria & Albert museum

I love that amazing bull, and the swan to the right.  I did discover a few pieces of needlework.  Here are items that were displayed at the Great Exhibition in 1851, including early examples of machine-manufactured knitted goods.

Examples of needlework that were shown in the Great Exhibition of 1851. Victoria & Albert Museum.

The Victoria & Albert museum was established at the close of the Great Exhibition:  the proceeds of the event were used to found the museum dedicated to art and design.  Here is a beautiful tile panel by Lewis Day from 1902:

Tile design by Lewis Day

You might think that everything in the V&A is on a domestic scale, but not at all.  We were completely amazed to stumble upon this:

Michael overlooking a room with, amongst other things, Trajan's column!

To give you some of the idea of the scale involved, here is what we were looking down at:

The scale of the room below.

This room is the Cast Court, and these are not enormous pieces of stonework, but enormous plaster casts.  Extraordinary!   Some of the pieces cost thousands of pounds even in Victorian times.  You can find out more on the V&A blog.

I was interested to read that when the museum first opened, it was thought that collecting historical pieces of design was useless.  The focus, many argued, should be on contemporary (Victorian) design.  However, eventually the argument for including design from the past was won.  And lucky for us, because the V&A’s extraordinary collections have inspired many designers over the years.  In the field of needlework, one need only think of Kaffe Fassett, and his books of designs inspired by objects in the V&A.

The fabric of the building itself is as fascinating as what it contains.  Here is part of the cafe/tea room.  It’s covered with ornate and often gilded tiles, and the windows are of stained glass:

The tea room at the V&A. You can imagine the tinkling of the piano!

Throughout the museum one sees edifying quotations.  This is part of “his soul and enjoy good in his labour” which Madame Google kindly tells me is from the Book of Ecclesiastes (2:24).  The word over the mirror is “Truth”!  (Is this what I really want, at my age?  I didn’t risk looking into it!)

Here am I, happy in the courtyard after a coffee:

Me in the courtyard of the V&A. (The Dafter: "You look like Mary Poppins. And that is NOT a compliment!")

To the left of this view of the courtyard, the building has a large frieze with all the countries of the Empire listed, and many more edifying quotations (“Wisdom exalteth her children and layeth hold of them that seek her” – from Ecclesiasticus 4:11).

The courtyard of the Victoria & Albert museum.

I just could not resist showing you that even the loos are highly decorated.  The tiles have a design of an interwoven V and A:

Amazing tiles in the (unisex) loos at the V&A. Note that the initials V & A are in the tile design!

As we left, we were a bit taken aback by this reminder of more recent historical events, namely the London blitz:

Historical evidence....

We presumed that this damage from bombs and bullets had been left intentionally as a reminder, as you don’t see a lot of this kind of thing around London.  And indeed when I researched it afterwards, found a photograph of this inscription:  “The damage to these walls is as a result of enemy bombing… and is left as a memorial to the enduring values of this great museum in a time of conflict.”   Seeing the bomb damage as we left shocked me a bit, made me feel how fortunate we are, and made me think of people in other parts of the world for whom enemy bombing is a current reality.  I do hope that the values of the V&A are ones that society will choose to prioritise.

Although our visit ended on a sober note, it was a great afternoon, especially for two parents who don’t really get out much!