I am planning to stop my weekly blog after No. 50 in Series 2, as I feel the pandemic may be under control in UK by that time. The blog has helped me survive isolation and maybe helped entertain others. I was going to save this, my last Hermes, for Blog 50, but I think I will wear it today for an ambitious spin on the carpet. Two reasons, one...I want to try a night flight and two...I am seeking answers. So what am I questioning high in the sky with the stars? I found an unexpected interest in my writing and it certainly taught me to appreciate the interesting and exciting life I have led. So, my first question is....with what shall I replace it? My second question is....am I letting down my faithful readers who have come to expect a bit of nonsense from me on Sunday morning, albeit that the post lands in the junk or spam boxes of some subscribers, including mine? Let's have a look at my little Hermes treasure and see if there are any clues.
It is named Constellation, is a tiny pochette, rather than the usual large size headscarf, silk of course, hand rolled and stitched showing the rolled edges on the front surface rather than the back of the scarf. (Maybe not all scarf wearers know this.) The name Hermes-Paris is very discreetly written in one corner in white. It is the softest pale eau de nil with pastel pink and blue stars, and one shooting star in deep gold. I will fold it into a small triangle and tie a small knot at the back of my neck, and we will be off on the carpet for its first night flight. I am not planning a long trip, just far enough to clear the light pollution of London, then I will lie back on my trusty old rug and see if I can find these constellations on my tiny scarf. I am no astronomer, so this will be some task.
My only experience stems from early Girl Guide days so I can probably find the Plough and use that to marvel at the North Star. Well, there are no clues there as to what I should plan for the rest of my life. I do not intend to plough the fields and scatter, or can I translate that to gently turning over the soil in my raised flower beds of my 20x30 ft courtyard garden and tipping the contents from free seed packets which came with Gardeners World magazine? I also got a two-for-one entry to hundreds of gardens throughout the land, so that could be a plan to get out more when travel gets easier.
My scarf shows the Great Bear constellation. In a previous blog, I wrote of my experience of a night's sleep disturbed by a bear clambering over the roof of the log cabin in Nevada. I wonder if I will manage another visit to America's West Coast or the Eastern seaboard of Canada to find another bear? There are two possibilities there, but in the meantime, I will pass on a promised book about the life of John Muir, the Scotsman pioneer who explored Yosemite. The recipient is a Scotswoman with sturdier legs than mine who may take on Yosemite and run a little faster from marauding bears! I will also get in touch with a Canadian friend who introduced me to the Group of Seven, brave artists who painted the wild Canadian landscape, living with nature in the early twentieth century. They must have encountered bears! My memory of the McMichael Art Gallery where I saw their vibrant paintings for the first time was a chilly, snowy day in February when even the Niagara Falls had frozen. My scarf was warm cashmere then rather than a silk Hermes number! So what do I learn from the Great Bear? Maybe the pleasure of sharing.....but not a chunk of my leg!
Let's move round the scarf. There are two hunting dogs Canes Venatici lying nearby to the Great Bear. What can I say about them? As a very young child living in Scotland, I was brought up with various game dogs, either in our home or at a gamekeeper uncle's lodge at Fern. We once made a mad drive with two young children there and back from London in two days mid Winter to collect a black Labrador puppy from this uncle. Thick freezing fog, impossible driving conditions. Lucky to get home alive. Husband was run over the next day, standing on the pavement behind the Haymarket theatre......by a Rolls Royce, driven by its millionaire owner who had lost his licence. He was moving it from one parking meter to another whilst his chauffeur had gone to buy a sandwich! Husband was somewhat impaled on iron railings which ripped his cheap raincoat.....replaced later by the embarrassed driver with the finest cashmere overcoat from Harrods. I am going to Scotland in October and will not be coming home with a puppy. I am not swapping writing for dog walking!
Let's move round the scarf and find another constellation. I see Lyra up there in the heavens, but alas I think it is too late for me to tackle playing an Ancient Greek stringed musical instrument. A few years ago I impulsively bought a piano keyboard. I can plug in the headphones, tinkle away and silently entertain myself without driving the neighbours mad. If I was granted a wish, I think I would ask for a singing voice. Just imagine flying around on this carpet looking at the stars and singing effortlessly.
Thud, that was a dream too far. I have dropped to earth and am stuck on top of the Fatsia Japonica in the corner of my garden. I didn't find the final constellation on my scarf, the Southern Cross. How could I? I would have to travel to the Southern Hemisphere. Now I wonder if I could make one more trip to Tahiti to look for it?
I certainly found no answers to my questions in the stars. Maybe I will just hitch myself to that golden shooting star and see where it takes me. Well, what do you know....the postman has just delivered a packet from Colorado, a gift of a small kerchief and it is covered with....what do you think? Yes, stars! There is also a fox in a top hat and a tiny mouse conversing with a deer. There must be a story there. Maybe I will write just one surprise blog a month. There are nicotine patches to give up smoking, methadone for drugs, but have you any ideas for a prescribed treatment for scarf and storytelling addiction?
Busy Bee, Scarf Face!
Series 2, Blog 47.