Appreciation - It's About Meaning What You Say

Weekends are not a time to relax here.  Instead they are a time to do things that you really want to do but don’t have chance to over the week.  I suppose they are relaxing in the sense that there is no real responsibility, but they are far from lazy.  This weekend was no exception.

I imagine you all know from my giddy, excited tweets and messages that this Saturday was the Caithness County Show.  It’s been 16 years since I last went to an agricultural show and it is fair to say that my expectations were very high.  I suppose to my readers who live in the cities and always have, this may seem more than a little quaint, after all leading horses is one thing but cows were never meant to be pulled around by thick cords.  But it is not about looks and glamour, it is, in essence, an appreciation of care and devotion to job that farmers and private handlers do.

Appreciation is one of those funny words that we use so often without much regard for how it is branded around and almost taking for granted that, as long as we say the right thing at the right time, we’ve done our bit for it.  That was a fairly long sentence, full of what I wanted to say in too few words.  Here’s a story…

Once upon a time there were two people - for the sake of showing no bias or discrimination I will not state whether they were male or female! - and each were walking through a corridor.  It was a thin corridor, dimly lit with no natural light and periodically intersected by doors, not those swing doors like they have in schools, and which, incidentally, are always bashing poor, unsuspecting children in the face, but those old fashioned type that have a handle and a catch.  One of these people was carrying a cup of coffee, the other was carrying a file full of paper, neither was of great encumbrance, but both were more than a little awkward.  The person with the coffee, being in front, opens the door and stands back to allow the person with the file through.  File (the abbreviated name, as The Person With The File was getting a bit tedious to type!) said thank you and continued down the hall at the same steady speed, neither in a rush nor overtly slowly.  Coffee (did the same thing there, in case you missed it!) followed on and when the next door was reached File opened it and passed through, letting the door close in front of Coffee.  Perhaps Coffee managed not to spill the drink all over themselves, perhaps Coffee just continued on down the corridor without saying a word.  That is not the point of the story.  The point is that, in spite of the fact that File said thank you, File had no appreciation at all for Coffee.  How do I know?  Because otherwise File would have held the second door for Coffee.

[DISCLAIMER: That is not a true story and the two characters were purely fictitious, although if you identify with File, it might be time to rethink your manners and priorities!]

It’s taken me a long time to realise that people very often do not look for appreciation in material terms, and quite frankly those that do will receive nothing from me.  In my job I’ve found that encouragement is the best form of appreciation.  It costs nothing but it shows that you really think someone is capable of achieving something.  Sure, I give out prizes to my younger pupils when they have achieved a target, but it is the fact that they do not look for gifts that makes them deserving of them.  It was one of those epiphany moments when all thinking seems pointless and you notice what you’ve known forever.  A kind and encouraging word costs nothing, but to the recipient it is priceless.  I can recall to mind countless times when individuals have said such deeply gratifying words that I do not think I shall ever forget them, and quite honestly they shall stick with me far longer than any exam percentage.

So here is my little challenge to you, my readers [I don’t know how many of you ever actually rise to my challenges but I like to think that a majority do] take nothing for granted, take no one for granted and most importantly of all - take no opportunity for granted.  Phrases like thank you are ingrained in many people but most don’t stop to think about saying it or even carrying through such a statement of appreciation, like File in the story.  Make sure that today - and hopefully henceforth! - you do.

John O'Groats and the Human Obsession with Labelling

Today the sun has been shining almost continuously in the seaside town of Home.  At times there has not been a cloud visible in the sky.  Arty poetical writers, myself included, tend to refer to a sky like this as “sapphire”, but actually it is only remotely like the colouring of the gemstone.  Really, it is much lighter and paler and so - note to self! - writers should find much better terminology to match such things.

It is an obsession of poets and authors to put labels on things, adjectives thrown in just for the sake of bumping up the word count or trying to describe to their readers exactly what the image in their head looks like.  The only problem is, if you label everything there can be little room for imagination.

Today we travelled off to John O’Groats.  I am assuming that this name means something to all of my readers as it attracts tourists from the world over.  This seasonally affected village is the epitome of labelling.  It’s the end of the road, the journey’s end.  Each year thousands of tourists meander up the thin, twisting and potentially dangerous A9 and A99 to visit and when they get there are confronted with a handful of shops and a little harbour.  In the sunshine, like today, it is all very picturesque with cyclists posing beneath the signpost and cars with registrations from all across Europe.  Last year, whilst busy on the advertising campaign with The Forty Five Project we met a very friendly Italian who very politely listened to us before it became apparent that he only knew about 5 words of English.

The tag attached to John O’Groats is perhaps the single biggest tourist attraction of the Caithness region and I can’t help but wonder what other labels those tourists attribute to my home.  To me it is certainly not the end of the road, because that sounds morbid and depressing!  Journey’s end is a little better as I’ve always felt that home is not so much where the heart is as where the feet lead.

This is the danger of labelling - no two people would ever necessarily use the same label for the same thing.  How many of those visitors to John O’Groats would even consider the lives of the inhabitants, whose labels would be entirely different to the tourists’, and their seasonal struggle during the winter months?  There is a wonderfully crafted line in a Chris De Burgh song that states:

“There’s nothing quite like an out of season holiday town in the rain.”

And all labels are gone.  I love these little Caithness harbour villages when the wind and swell drives the sea up and over the harbour walls.  Here, we get a crusting of salt on our car and windows if the wind is easterly.  And that brings a feeling beyond labels and adjectives.  That sharp taste of salt on the lips and stinging of the salty spray in the eyes brings back a cacophony (very good word I intend to use more often!) of feelings and emotions relating to happy childhood memories.  I would not like to spoil their memory by attaching tags to them.

It may be that, although we are - supposedly! - the most advanced creatures on the planet, we have to accept that some things are beyond words, are ineffable and should remain that way.  Words fail too often, and it is risky to pin too many emotions and hopes on how those words are received by others.  It is all very well sticking labels on scenery and objects, but I don’t think it is ever right to attach them to hopes and memories - trust me, when I’ve tried I sound like I’m really loopy!

So today, or tomorrow since some of you will be reading this at night, look for the beauty in the world around you, whether that is in a friendly smile or a glorious sunset, just be glad it’s there.  By all means try to describe it to someone else, but they won’t feel the same or even understand the way you feel about it.  That’s for you, and you alone.

And, incidentally, there is nothing wrong with arty, poetic language - just so long as it’s relevant and accurate and not just the same general idea - at least I hope there isn’t or my writing is knackered!

Be Happy You're You and Make Others Happy You Are Too!!

It’s taken me three days to recover from this weekend.  It’s not a complaint, I loved it.  Despite being anxious about commencing my second quarter century, it began with style - or at least “Stomper Style”.  Good things come with age - great chances and privileges like you never seem to get as a child.  I intend to smile each day of this year and find at least one good thing per day that I will tweet to the world, so that if you ever struggle to find something to make you smile, you can have a read of what helped turn up the corners of my mouth.

Saturday saw my youngest sister coming of age.  By way of celebration we trekked south to the Highland Wildlife Park.  We had visited once before and were bought sponsorship of the red pandas by Charles Edward, a very important puppet, for our Christmas present.  It didn’t disappoint.  The polar bear splashed down into the water as if on cue and my only real gripe was that the bison have been put behind an extra fence, making it impossible to talk to them.   I don’t believe in reincarnation, but if I did, I think I might have been a bovine in my last life.

The highlight for me was, once again, feeding time in the tiger compound, although maybe not so fun for staunch vegetarians.  I love big cats, they are just so spectacular and graceful.  I did feel rather annoyed at the manners of some of the people barging around while the tiger-keeper was giving his short talk, and in spite of the fact it was pointed out to me that if he could handle tigers - and in truth, he did look like he could give them a run for their money - he probably didn’t mind the rude, ignorant people for whom “excuse me” seemed to be an alien phrase.

Although I love the tigers, in actual fact, I am probably more like the red pandas with such a slow metabolism.  They are very cute, and performed perfectly for my little sister, coming down from the trees and eating just the other side of the glass from where we were standing.  Charles Edward, our own red panda, had to stay in the car.

Clemency loves animals, it was a perfect thing to do on her birthday and, armed with her new digital camera, she really loved the day.  Most of the people there were trailing children behind them, which struck me as something of a shame - does it mean that most adults feel they can no longer enjoy things like this or justify seeing these animals without having children to hide behind?  I really hope not, as each one of the seven of us were adults and we all had a fantastic day.

The wildcat kittens were so sweet, just like little balls of sleepy cat-ness.  It’s hoped that they might, one day, be released into the wild and Scotland’s own little tiger can excel in its natural habitat.  I am fully in support of animals in captivity like this.  It is the breeding programs of these places that might turn around the tide against the poaching to death of certain species.  Besides which, I would never have seen any of the creatures that are there if it were not for parks like this.

So Clemency, my youngest sister, turned 18 and became an adult.  It’s a very odd feeling, that both baby sisters I remember being born so clearly are now 21 and 18 respectively.  Looking back, I don’t know where the past 10 years have vanished off to.  Perhaps that is the fate of our busy world.  Writing these blogs is almost a way of keeping tabs on my life, so I can look back and remind myself of how much I have done and thought over the next section of my life.  I think it’s all about the journey we are making.  Clichéd I know, but I’m beginning to see it more and more.  It’s like doing a picture (or it would be if I had the patience to actually do a decent job on any of them!), each year adds extra detail.

And so, as Sunday dawned, I added a 26th detail to the picture of my life’s journey…

I spent it as I wish I could all my birthdays, by the seaside, playing on the sand, surrounded by my family.  I built castles and played volleyball and behaved like I was dictated more by my character and less by my age.  Being comfortable with who you are is more important than fitting in to society’s mould.  I got fried in the sun and turned a little bit like a lobster, but I had so much fun picnicking and paddling it really didn't matter.

I’m so glad that we live in Caithness - Scotland’s undiscovered gem.  On Monday, I returned to Orkney for a day, reminiscing those formative ten years of my life before we headed south.  For echoes of childhood and memories of precious times and friends, I could not love a place more than Orkney, but for the sheer sense of belonging and a love of the sandy beaches and high rising cliffs, of captivating smells of wild flower perfume, the song that I hear day-in-day-out of birds more varied in size and species than anywhere else I’ve ever been, but most of all for giving me my niche: I love Caithness just as much.

…Although, my only criticism of the Highland Wildlife Park was that it took 4 hours to travel to, but if that’s my only complaint against Caithness that’s not so bad.

The Rocky Paths of the Rites of Passage

I’m reaching a turning point in my life, maybe not a very big one, but one that is inspiring me to re-evaluate what I am doing in the grand scheme of things.  I’ve never been much of a planner, though.  My idea of thinking ahead for the long term involves realising that the kettle needs switching on to make a cup of tea - how quintessentially British of me!  I don’t believe in the ten, five or even one year plan, but meet obstacles and share adventures as and when they head my way.  I’ve finished my first quarter century and - as of Sunday when I shall be 26 - shall be ploughing on with my striving to reach a half century.  I love life, I don’t believe there is a single soul in the world who loves life more than me, and now, as I reach this landmark in my life, I am looking at how to live the life that I love so much.

(Incidentally, I am so glad that I wrote that last line instead of saying it, because I believe it would prove to be a bit of a tongue twister!)

I inwardly squirm when I hear the phrase “rites of passage” being brandished around.  Most people use it to span any event or even substitute the word event for it.  But I do believe that I am now standing before one, hovering on the cusp and waiting to see which fork of road I am going to pick.  I am actually quite happy at the stage I’m at in my life now, content but not without hopes and ambitions.

I was listening to the Bryan Adams song “Native Son” earlier and I was contemplating the peculiar feeling of immense loss and hope that both sing through to me in this song - he probably felt it had totally different undertones but unique understanding is part of the beauty of art.  In turn the song made me think of the film “Stand By Me”.  If you haven’t seen this film then stop reading this blog and sit down and watch it.  It is the definitive film of transition and is so brilliantly crafted, although it leaves me with a peculiar feeling of reality as though it somehow wakes you up to the world around you and the need to get things done in it.

As much as I would love to stay trapped in this moment for the rest of my life, time is still hurrying on, and as a slave to it, I have to follow.  In the past - and even up until sitting here writing this blog at an insanely early time at the beginning of July, if I’m totally honest - I hated the idea of having to conform to the restrictions of time, but now it is a challenge.  I don’t have to change myself to grow older, I just have to learn more and grow in wisdom, that’s what it is all about.  I shall still be flying kites on the beach, collecting shells, watching children’s films and playing games.  When I think of all the people I know - and in my job that covers a decent age range - those that are happiest are the ones who have learnt how to hold on to their inner child.  It is not about combing the town on a Friday or Saturday night, it’s about seeking and seeing adventure when it comes your way.

From a very early age I’ve had dreams of doing exciting things - visiting Norway, for one - now that I’m old enough to do them the question is no longer “Can I do them?” it is “Dare I do them?”.  At the moment the answer is a resounding: no, but as of Sunday things might be different.

26 - I’ve decided - is the age of taking the bull by the horns, let’s see where it leads!