White Haired Woman

…..I think my favourite holiday was going to Avignon by train. We took the Eurostar from Ashford to Paris then the TGV to Avignon. We stayed at l’Hotel Central which is about halfway to the town square up the Main Street.

We didn’t know what to expect. It was August, 2013. We hadn’t really been away for a few years and, though we had researched Avignon on the internet, we really didn’t really know what we would find. Almost immediately we both felt that Avignon was a place we could go again and again!

The hotel was very pleasant, except for the mosquitoes which obviously had it in for Julian. The bedroom was lovely, the breakfasts were so yummy and the situation meant that we could find great places to eat within a few minutes’ walk.

The first night we walked around, getting our bearings before deciding to eat at a nearby restaurant. We had a wonderful meal and shared a bottle of wine when, though quite tired after the early start we walked to the town square. What a great place to sit in the evening with the old Popes Palace on one side and a handful of bar/restaurantson the other along with what are probably private residences on the other. There were musicians in front of the Palace, a young boy singing, a violinist, an accordion player….

Too soon they finished for the night and we decided to make our way to the hotel. Along the way back was another large square with yet more restaurants and a carousel!

In the next few days we went to various galleries around the town, walked to the Pont d’Avignon and wondered why it only goes part way across the river, sat and ate a picnic in the park close to the hotel and just generally chilled – always finding a great restaurant in the evening and eating wonderful food. Sometimes we started the evening with a drink from one of the bars then went to one of the nearby restaurants. We tried to eat in a different place every night.

We went back to Avignon in 2014 and again in 2017. We visited the new town, went to Arles to see where Van Gogh painted some of his masterpieces, and to see the Roman amphitheatre, and were happy to visit, once again, the galleries, the squares and the restaurants of Avignon. Once we had the tour of the Pope’s Palace, most evenings we sat in the square listening to the musicians and watching the people walking by.

We’ve just been chatting about Avignon and may just visit again, this year! In the meantime, here are some photos of our visits.

I was sent to summer camp when I was nine or ten along with Judy, my sister, but we slept indoors. I was in a cabin with several other girls and there was a bathroom we shared with another bedroom of girls. It was one of many cabins, housed by girls and, separately, boys. Judy, on the other hand, being younger, slept in the house – where, I imagine, grown-ups lived.

On the one night that everyone was going to be sleeping outside, both Judy and I were kept inside. I have a feeling I was at fault for some reason, though I can’t remember what it was.

What I can remember is what was the highlight of the whole week (or was it two?j, the HAYRIDE!

Everyone was on top of a huge pile of hay in a BIG cart pulled by a car or truck, (this was in America around 1954). I imagine there was some singing going on but the hayride is only a very distant memory. Maybe if I had pictures in my head, it would be clearer but I have aphantasia and probably was born this way.

People often ask me, if I don’t have pictures in my head, how can I remember anything. I don’t know! My memories go back about 76 years or so (I really don’t remember things much before I was five years old.) I know that some of my memories are not things I actually remember but have been told or have seen a photo with me in.

My mother told me that one morning, when I was very young, maybe two, I somehow opened the front door and walked out into the snow and was found by a neighbour and taken home where my mother and father were still asleep! This I don’t remember but I do remember being told it.

Something I do remember is that my mother had a station wagon with wooden trim. I can imagine what it looked like but I have no picture of it in my head.

I remember we had a cat called Coco when we lived in Cincinnati. Our house was on a hill and to get to the road we had to walk down 30 or so steps. One day I opened the front door and Coco ran out of the house, down the steps, across the street and hid under our car. I remember standing on the top step, watching her and wondering what I should do. Cars drove by and she stayed under our car. I thought she would be okay because she seemed to know, I thought, that running back home would be dangerous when a car went by. Maybe she did but what she didn’t know was that when a truck went by, it was not safe because that’s when she chose to try to get home. With no pictures in my head, I can’t see her poor, dead body and I have no idea if Mommy or Bill went and picked her up. I think they must have but I just don’t know.

Sitting here, thinking about how I remember things, what I can say is that it’s in words in my brain, or it’s translated into words by my brain….it’s all very complicated!

If you are interested in this lack, do what I do when I want to know more about something – go to Google and type in APHANTASIA and have a look at the quite a few articles on there.

If you want to find out how I found out I’m different, have a look at my earlier posts, there are several where I write about finding out. Apparently, it’s genetic; sadly I can’t ask my dad as he died long ago. I do know that some of my siblings have it but I also am pretty certain that Judy didn’t. She day-dreamed long, complex stories when she was sitting in a class, bored by whatever the teachers were trying to teach her. And, I remember, Judy saw ghosts! Whether seeing ghosts depends on being able to see pictures in your head, I don’t know. I’ve never seen a ghost, but twice, in the 13th century house I lived in, actual physical things were thrown across the room when the only person in the room was me! (I think I’ve written about that in an earlier post, as well.)

As for actually camping, I’m a bit too old to contemplate it now and I really don’t think I’ve missed much!

I don’t have favourite emojis – what a silly question to ask an 81 year old woman! There are a few that I use like the smiley one 😄, the I’m sick one🤮, the blue heart💙, the two laughing and crying at the same time ones 😂🤣, the little girl with her hand up 🙋‍♀️, and sometimes I search to see if I can find an appropriate one but don’t always succeed.,

The problem is, I believe, my age. I spend a LOT of time online every day, unlike some old people I know, but the emojis are hardly ever mentioned and new ones appear with no explanation. The meanings of the ones above that I use a lot are self-evident, I believe – but I could be wrong. There should be a book I can buy or an app I could use that I can look up a meaning and will be shown the correct emoji or a list of all the emojis with explanations (which would be more difficult to use as a dictionary.)

Thinking about what I’ve just been writing ——— why bother to use emojis in a line of writing? I mostly use them as a comment on a tweet on the newly-named X. (What are the messages called now?)

Oh, yes, I’ve just remembered. I do like the one like me when I’m thinking about emojis – 🥺 – or is it?

I’d love to answer that I’d be studying archaeology at university and taking part annually in digs in England or Europe.

I’d love to answer that I will be a celebrated abstract artist, opening at a gallery in London and another in Paris.

I’d love to answer that I’d be looking after Chloe’s children and dogs.

I’d love to answer that I’ll be alive and sitting in my conservatory, reading the newspaper and listening to Mozart and Rachmaninov.

But, let’s be honest. In ten years, almost to the day, I’ll be 91 years old!

I would love to go to auctions to buy stuff that I wanted to try to sell. This would necessitate money, of course, and I do like to eat occasionally and that takes money, as well, but, if I were independently wealthy, I would go to every auction I could get to, just to see if they had anything I wanted.

Sothebys, Christie’s and Bonhams tend to have wonderful and expensive items for sale but local auctions, often have really nice items for sale that aren’t expensive and can make good profits, if you bid enough to be the successful bidder.

Back when I had my shop, I would go to a general auction in Maidstone every Thursday morning. Sometimes I couldn’t find anything worth waiting around for and others times I would find things I really wanted. There is a lot of standing around and waiting at auctions – one reason many of them also have some sort of cooked food outlet on the premises. I had many an egg on toast at Maidstone auctions! But, you don’t have to stick around if you have somewhere you must be.

Many general auctioneers produce catalogues – usually in typed list form – and you can look through the lists, ring the auctioneer if you have questions, and leave a ‘commission bid’ with them if you want. Then, after the auction, you can ring up to find out if your bid was successful and either go back or pay via bank transfer and arrange collection or delivery, if necessary.The cost of the item(s) you buy includes the auctioneers buyer’s commission, any VAT necessary and delivery charges, where applicable.

At the start of my buying and selling career I always went to auctions and mostly stood around, waiting for the lots to come up. My weeks often included 2 or 3 auctions. On Thursdays I’d be in Maidstone, on Saturdays I’d be in Chatham where there was a weekly auction and on Mondays I could often be found in Lewes where there was a weekly general auction held by a well-known auctioneer to get rid of the less-valuable items that must accumulate rapidly if you also do house clearances.

I must admit, I would love to have done house clearances in my early buying and selling days. Those of you who have read some of my earlier posts will know of my interest in linens, buttons and sewing-associated tools. Buttons often were chucked out by house clearers as having too little value but I loved buying buttons, sorting them, pricing them and reading about them. Many children are given a box of buttons to sort and play with by their mums and grans but mine didn’t have button boxes😩 so I went through the button-box stage in my 50’s!

When we closed the shop, retired and moved to the seaside, there wasn’t much point in going to auctions and there weren’t many around here, anyway. But, I had my old game and jigsaw website and had to replenish my supplies, somehow!

There are several sites on the internet which advertise auctions around the country – and even around Europe. I knew of three such sites and spent loads of time daily, looking for the items I wanted. I was able to buy some superb old games, many of which I couldn’t bear to part with! I also was able, occasionally, to find wonderful old jigsaws. I spent hours putting the puzzles together and photographing them. Sometimes there were several pieces missing and I taught myself how to remake and paint missing bits. If a puzzle was missing too many pieces, I kept it – though I love a complete puzzle, those with missing pieces are lovely, too, and just as satisfactory to put together.

One further thing about old wooden jigsaws:- most come in anonymous boxes with no photo. The late 19th and early 20th century jigsaw makers didn’t keep a catalogue of their puzzles and most didn’t put their names on boxes. I have a feeling that many of the jigsaws that passed through my hands were one-offs, made using old advertising posters. Among the loveliest anonymous puzzles are a collection of Pear’s Soap adverts.

There came a time when old wooden jigsaws became too expensive for me to buy and make a profit. That’s when I closed my previously very successful website and retired.

So, to answer the question posed by the prompt, I would buy old wooden jigsaws and spend hours putting them together if the question had added that I would have an unending supply of money with which to purchase said puzzles.

Below are a few of my favourites. Some I have sold, some I still have.

Nope. You’ve never read that as the headline about any sport, anywhere. As a short-legged, big-hipped young girl I realised no sport was calling out for my participation and lost interest, fast.

The truth is, I have watched a tennis game here and there; I’ve watched one or two wrestling matches; I sat through a few baseball games when I lived in Cincinnati; I think I watched a British soccer game in 1968; I once went to the filming of a figure-skating competition – and walked out after the fourth time the filming was stopped because a skater fell over yet again.

If I’m in front of a tv that’s on and it’s showing cycling in a velodrome or ice skaters in a skating race (the one where one arm seems to be attached to the skater’s back while he swings the other, all the time bending forward), I might stop and watch for a moment.

I definitely don’t like to watch horses jumping over obstacles, either in a race or in show jumping and dressage seems to be a wee bit mad – what with the horse stepping sideways or curtseying. Such unhorsey behaviour!

I do, though, quite like watching dogs running around an obstacle course with their owners running as well……one sees some well-behaved dogs and occasionally a silly dog, doing a bit of comedy for laughs.

I’ve written about this before but not in answer to today’s prompt. I wish I had an ‘inner eye’ like most of you out there have.

It may be that you have never thought about your inner eye, or it may be that you didn’t realise that most people have real pictures in their heads.

I didn’t find out that I am different until I was in my fifties (a long time ago, now.) It was at a party and somehow it came about that I found out that I was the only person there that couldn’t see pictures in my head. This state of affairs was not only a revelation to me but, the fact that not everybody has pictures in their head, was a revelation to everyone else because they all did have pictures in their heads.

My sister, Judy, used to get into trouble at primary school, all the time. When I asked her why she didn’t pay attention in class, she told me that she had on-going day dreams which were much more interesting than whatever was happening in the classroom. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t have a day dream at all! Many years passed………

I had more pointers that my mind wasn’t quite the same as others’ when I was with a group of people trying to meditate. The leader said, “Close your eyes and picture a rose bud. Now imagine it slowly opening.” I can imagine all sorts of things – but not in pictures. My imagination depends on words. I found the exercise very difficult but it didn’t click that I was missing something.

Then there was the day i was talking to two schoolgirls outside school. I don’t remember why, but I said something about the words in their heads. They both looked at me as if I were crazy while I thought that they were definitely lacking something.

Thankfully, my wondering had an answer at that house in Kent, during that party. I found this lack very interesting and almost everyone I came across I would ask, “Do you have pictures in your head?” Most people looked at me as though I was asking something really strange and, almost everyone would say that they had, of course. But, I did find a few people who didn’t and I realised that I wasn’t alone!

Now, we hop to sometime in the 21st century. One day I picked up a newspaper and there was an article about something called Aphantasia. I read it and got more and more excited because I found that not only was I not the only person who didn’t have pictures in their head but that there were studies about the condition and possibly as many as 3% of people seemed to have it!

They don’t know why it occurs but I think it must be genetic as my half brother has it as well as my grand daughter. And, completely unrelated to me, my neighbour has recently told me she has it, too. It may turn out that there are lots more than 3% and that many people just don’t realise they are different!

No, I haven’t watched BBT 5 times, but I have watched it through, from the beginning to the end, twice. Indeed, I have never watched a tv programme nor a film more than twice. I have yet to find something that I just have to see again and again.

Unlike me, my sister Judy, did find several films that she would watch time after time. I think it was because of the male leads. Judy seemed to fall in love with some of the men she saw on screen or perhaps the people they were portraying. I know that she saw Lawrence of Arabia at least 7 times and spent a lot of time studying Lawrence by reading Seven Pillars of Wisdom and anything she could find about his life. She also made a pilgrimage to his old home. Of course, she also thought that Peter O’Toole was wonderful!

Another film she watched time and time again was The Greatest Story Ever Told, starring a Swedish film actor called Max von Sydow. But, the film that she loved, above all others was, High Noon with Gary Cooper. I don’t know if she ever saw it at the cinema but it was on tv quite often. In fact, thinking about it, I may have seen it five times or more simply because it was what was on the tv when I was in the same room!

In my old age I have been lucky enough to have a tv that I watch while Julian watches the one in the lounge. Our taste in programmes is completely different. Julian loves watching non-fiction, true life adventures (ie Naked and Afraid and Ice Road Truckers) while I love watching fiction, mainly crime series like Morse, Endeavour and Lewis – I watched all three series last year and realised that there were many I hadn’t seen before or, if I had seen them before, they were so unmemorable that it didn’t feel like I was watching them for a second time.

I also watched Sex Education which transported me back to my youth and later, Heartstopper. Both are set in present day British high schools and tell stories of young people growing up in a society that is far removed from my own experiences but they are going through things that I think all young people have gone through in one way or another – falling in ‘love’, being spurned, being or not being ‘popular’, feeling different from the others. When I saw that Ncute Gatwa will be playing Dr Who, I was as happy as if I were his mother! And, I suppose that’s how I feel about each of the young people in those programmes.

At different times in my life I have loved watching the ‘soaps‘. I went through a few years of East Enders, more than a few of Coronation Street and even more of Emmerdale. One by one I have given them up. Until a couple of years ago I watched Holby City and I have been watching Doctors for about12 years. Holby was removed by the Beeb and now they are taking Doctors. Soon, I won’t be watching anything on the BBC or on tv at all. I shall only do streaming.

There are loads of things I haven’t watched yet. On Channel 4 there are many programmes under the heading of Walter Presents. I have watched quite a few of those already. The Red Door is really good as is Astrid:Murder in Paris. I might bring myself to watch one or other all the way through again in a year or two!

Right now I am going to sign off. The dog is fed up waiting for me to stop typing and get my coat on as it is ‘walkies’ time. Then, it will be supper followed by streaming of some programme or other.

Until the next time, good watching!

If I manage to live around another 20 years, and I reach 100, what will life be like? My life will necessarily be even quieter and slower than it is now. Those around me will be gone or will definitely be 20 years older than they are now. Life for the rest of humanity will be different, too.

If Climate Change has cut Thanet off from the rest of the UK, I might still live here or I might have tried to move closer to Veronica – who will be almost 80 by then – or closer to Chloe who will be around 50. It would be nice if they lived near enough to visit me occasionally! Maybe I’ll have a jet propelled wheelchair that will take me where I want to go or, even better, maybe someone will have worked out the way to teleport (safely, of course!) As many people already know, I don’t like travel but I do like to go to other places.

You will have seen, I suppose, that this isn’t really a letter to myself at 100 – I will already know what has happened between now and then in my life, so this is a letter wondering if what I think might happen, has happened. This post is all getting very confusing, so I think I’ll stop and sign my letter!

Love, Me (at the age of almost 81) xxx