Tag Archives: quiet

Quiet and Tears

Been involved in a lot locally recently.

We’ve had an exhibition of a local artist’s work Robert Noble, who died 100 years ago and is buried in the church yard. He deserves to be much better known. I’ve been helping in compiling slide shows and creating a large introduction board for the show and exhibition. The exhibition seems to be popular, and in the process there have been many paintings that have been discovered. I’ve managed to get to the exhibition a couple of times and it is lovely. Hopefully I’ll get back again before it ends.

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Robert Noble Exhibition – information

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Robert Noble Exhibition

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Another more serious event was our Drama Group’s moving production of “The Women of Lockerbie” by an American playwright Deborah Breevort. It tells the story seven years after the terrorist bombing of the Pan Am flight over Lockerbie. The women of the village tried to stop the clothes and artefacts of the victims from being destroyed so they could wash and return them to the families. They had been kept for that long as forensic evidence. The play is unusual as it is done like a Greek tragedy, with a chorus of women. I was in charge of the lighting for the show and on the last night we had a standing ovation, with many of the audience visibly moved to tears. It was a privilege to be part of it all.

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Women of Lockerbie – set

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Women of Lockerbie – the chorus

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Women of Lockerbie – confrontation

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Women of Lockerbie – the release

The cycling recently has been wonderful, though I find myself full of tears for a different reason. I need to wear specs so cannot wear sports glasses, so I find that at speed my eyes water a great deal. When I get back my eyes are slightly crusted with salt, which isn’t too good. I’ve thought about various solutions – fur fabric round the sides & tops of my specs (may look slightly weird or Groucho Marx like), a visor, safety over specs etc. but haven’t come to any conclusion yet. But I am glad my tear ducts still work well. I’ve been racking up the miles and height this year and enjoying climbing the hills on the bike locally so much. One of the recent highlights was a 52 mile ride with over 6,000 feet of climbing after which I still felt great. I’m gearing up nicely for a much longer overnighter in just over a month’s time.

But there have been other moments too. The other week I had a time when I was going quickly with the wind behind. I reached that magic moment when, for just a wee while, I was going the same speed as the wind. Sitting in this bubble of air everything went quiet. No wind noise, no traffic noise, the hum of the pedals almost muted and smooth tarmac with the tyres smoothly rolling along. To me, on the rare occasions when all this comes together, it just seems a form of Nirvana – the soul seems at rest. As usual, a brief moment and then it’s away. Ah well, here’s to the next time.

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A steep one up ahead

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One of the many hills and a hairpin

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Sheep lie in the road up ahead

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Bog cotton on the tops

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A rare greyish day

Looks like our good weather is going to continue for a while yet, off and on, so it seems the legs will continue getting an airing.

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The Calm During the Storm

In the village, before the storm

In the village, before the storm

It was all because of Gonzalo, who crossed the Atlantic to say hello to us all over here – hurricane Gonzalo.

There have been some gales and wild winds recently, but they bring bonuses.

There’s the decisions do I go out? Upwind first, then turn and have a glorious return? Downwind and start with the delight? Across the wind – will the crosswinds be too much as they swirl through the spaces between the houses or gaps in the hedges? Can I make a route that winds its way between sheltering hedgerows or walls, that will creep up hills that hide the wind, or tack to and fro on a course diagonal to the wind?

So decision made – upwind first & head for the windward mark, tacking as we go (one for the sailors amongst you). After 10-15 miles, enough is enough. The roaring in my ears, either full on or from one side then the other has gone on for long enough, time to turn and head downwind.

Now is the time to choose the exposed bits, the wild upland roads with few walls, fences, trees or hedges. Fly, fly, fly – chasing my own tail.

The suddenly it’s there. That eerie calm when you’re going the same speed as the wind.

. . . .

Quiet.

. . . .

But not still, speeding along at 25 – 40 miles an hour with no sound except the whirr of the pedals, the faint whine of the chain and the sound of tyres quietly moving on the tarmac.

. . . .

Delight.

 . . . .

So – I stop peddling, even calmer, no chain noise on the sprockets, no feet spinning easily round,  just more delight. Then after a mile, 2 miles if I’m lucky, it’s time to work again, or sometimes the meditation is broken by the surface being disrupted, gravel crunching, potholes to be dodged, ruts in the road to be avoided, animals to dodge.

But sometimes, just sometimes I hit that sweet spot. I’ve had it occasionally in other sports, that totally windless day on the top of some peak, with a broken spectre reflected below on a bank of valley cloud, the lake with the perfect reflection and the canoe gliding silently across the surface by an ‘Indian’ stroke without a splash. But somehow it’s not the same. You haven’t tussled & worked so hard against the elements to get to where it can all happen.

Bliss