Cathy Le Feuvre

A (very old) Red Post Box

Post boxes ... those receptacles where we can post our letters here in Jersey in the Channel Islands, and across the British Isles (and the UK) .... are not just functional, many of them are a thing of beauty and can also tell us about our history.

They are sometimes also called 'Pillar Boxes' when they are stand-alone items.

For those who live in other parts of the world who often might only post letters at an actual Post Office, this might seem unusual. But red post/mailboxes ... either as those stand-alone pillar boxes or, built into a wall cavity, are a striking part of our street scenes, and a constant reminder of our history.

The boxes represent the Royal Mail... or in our case, Jersey Post ... and the clues to their age and origin are right there.

Each one bears the Crown, and the letters are called the “Royal Cypher”. They signify the King or Queen who was the monarch at the time when the post box was erected.

Most of the red post (or mail or pillar) boxes you can currently see around the British Isles, of which the Channel Islands are a part) currently bear the initials ER ... representing the late Queen Elizabeth II, who reigned over the United Kingdom, Great Britain and its 'Crown Dependencies', of which Jersey is one, for more than 70 years before her death on 8 September 2022. 

ER stands for 'Elizabeth Regina'.

But older boxes still exist, and this one on the left, bearing the initial GR, is still in use in the parish of St Ouen in Jersey. It's set into a granite pillar outside the Morrison's supermarket in the village.

GR stands for 'George Rex'... King George. Queen Elizabeth took the throne when her father died on 6 February 1952 ... he was King George VI and he reigned from 11 December 1936, taking the British throne when his brother Edward VIII abdicated after less than a year as monarch. Edward had succeeded to the throne on 20 January 1936 when his father, and Queen Elizabeth's grandfather, King George V, passed away.

A GR post box was put up during the era of a King George and if there are no more letters around the GR, then it’s likely from the period of King George V.

If it’s from the era of King George VI I'm reliably informed that we may notice a little “VI” next to the GR.

SO ... bottom line ... it appears that this red post box dates from the reign of Elizabeth's grandfather! It's very old! Maybe more than 100 years old ... And it's still in use today!

The interesting thing is those two post boxes above actually sit at the same location, just about a metre apart ... it's great that the postal authorities have left the old box there as a testament to history!

And if you're wondering... at some point in the future we'll start to see new post boxes bearing the Crown and the initials CR ... representing our 'new' and current King Charles III, who succeeded to the throne on his mother Elizabeth's death on 8 September 2022.

For those geeks among us, interested in stuff like 'street furniture', this sort of thing is very exciting. I have yet to see a red post box with the initials VR (Victoria Regina, representing Queen Victoria, who reigned from 20 June 1837 to 22 January 1901) ... but I'm assured some of those red pillar /post/mailboxes do STILL exist!

Just a little footnote ... a similar post about the old GR post box first appeared on my ClickASnap website, which I'm loving populating! Click here to check it out if you want to... or click on the link on this website.

Thanks! Enjoy!

Treasures Among the Stones

In recent months I've begun to collect sea glass.

If you don't know what that is ... well, sea glass is bits of glass which have washed up onto beaches!

When you find a piece of sea glass it's not just a thing of beauty to behold, but it has it's own story to tell! 

At some point the glass was probably part of a bottle or something else fashioned of glass and who knows where it came from in the world? The sea currents could have brought it from far-off oceans and coasts until it is finally broken up into the smaller pieces that pitch up on our Jersey beaches.

After being battered about in the waves and on the sands, probably for many years, it's usually smooth, not jagged ... although at times I do find 'newer' pieces which are a bit lethal and which, obviously, go straight into the bin! So my sea glass hunting is also helping to clean the sand to prevent accidents to unsuspecting bare feet.

Here in my home island of Jersey in the Channel Islands, sea glass has often been used to create beautiful things. Some artists work sea glass into their pictures and create fabulous jewellery from the items which can be discovered on our many beaches. 

I've been doing quite a lot of sea swimming and walking on beaches in the last few years as I've tried to handle the stresses of life, changing circumstances and the ensuing mental health challenges that have come my way, and this year I've begun searching for sea glass.

Inspired by a canvas that a friend gave me as a Christmas gift - an image of a festive tree created out of pale green, bluish, clear and white sea glass - I decided (as you do, even if you're not an artist) ...' I could do that!' 

And so at times, I find myself wandering up and down beaches, looking for the little bits of glass among the stones and detritus which the tide has washed up. And, as a result, I'm amassing a little store of pretty glass ... much of it clear and milky, some blues and greens of various shades. All different shapes and sizes.

Recently I took a walk at La Mare Beach in St Clement on the east coast of Jersey and beyond to the area called Le Dicq, which I know is good for sea glass and also little bits of pottery including blue and white ceramics from a piece of crockery which at some point probably graced a kitchen dresser or a dining table. 

It was low tide, and not quite sunset,  a perfect time for sea glass hunting, and apart from a few other walkers I had the beach to myself. I'd had a pretty stressful 24 hours so I needed to clear my head and, to be honest, I wasn't confident of finding much glass. I'm a person of Christian faith, and I was listening to some encouraging music which assured me that in the storms of life I have a friend who is there for me - Jesus Christ - and that nothing is impossible with God, even when we are faced by uncertainty and what we may consider insurmountable problems.

At first, I only found a couple of little pieces of sea glass. But the closer I looked, the further I walked, suddenly I began to spot more ... and more ... and more.

A small piece of glass hidden among the stones on the shore, a shard on its own in the sand, and then a few quite large pieces smoothed and shaped from years of weather and wearing just sitting there waiting to be discovered.

And it occurred to me that sea glass and sea glass hunting is like life, and like my journey of faith.

Sometimes I am so overwhelmed with the challenges of life, and worried about the future, that I miss the beauty of the moment. I miss the sparkling treasure sitting there, right in front of me, just waiting to be discovered and used for something new and beautiful.

When I looked closely, even at a pile of stone and rocks and seaweed, suddenly a tiny piece of glass would sparkle in the setting sun over the beach. I was reminded that sometimes I might have to sift through some of the challenges of life to find beauty. I might have to ignore the detritus of my life to find moments of joy and love and hope. I  might have to keep looking and keep looking for the good ... but trusting that it's there to be found!

The interesting thing about sea glass hunting is the more you look for it, the more you see. I walked probably half a mile up the beach and then turned around, following mostly the same route I had taken on the walk up ... and yet as I made my way back to the carpark and my vehicle, I spotted glass I had missed the first time around.

Maybe that was because I was looking more intently now, or perhaps because I was looking at the beach, and the race of stones and rocks on the shore, from a slightly different angle. I'm sure you're getting my drift on this ... sometimes we miss joy and peace and hope and beauty but then, when we return to the situation, and maybe look at life with a different mindset or from a different angle, we find all those treasures in exactly the places we may have missed them before!

It also occurred to me that once the tide has come in again, once the water has shifted things around and churned things up, it will leave more treasures on the sand, and new beautiful objects that wash up on that tide. But the water may also uncover and reveal bits of sea glass which may be hidden tight now but once the piles of stones and rocks and seaweed are moved around, they are there ... to be discovered.

As I walked along that beach, listening to my inspirational music, I found myself asking God to help me ... to help me not to obsess so much about the challenges and rocks in my life but to seek out the beautiful things, the hope and the miracles which may be just waiting for me if I can but see them. If I but look for them! If I make myself aware that they may be there!

Some people call this talking to God  'praying' ... not in the way that you might pray in a church or a temple, which can sometimes be rather formal, but just having a 'chat'. Not just talking to God but also listening. Most importantly ... listening.

And so, on this particular sea glass hunt I clearly heard God's voice as I walked and talked with and listened to him.

I heard him say ... something like this...

'Look for the beautiful things, they are there but may be hidden.'

'Your life may be full of rocks but, like the tide, my love can wash away those challenges if you let me do so, and treasures and happiness and insights and joys which at the moment may be hidden in your grief, confusion, uncertainty and hurt will be uncovered, will be there ready for you to discover.'

In the end, I gathered quite a little hoard of lovely sea glass on my walk, to add to my collection at home - and one day I will create something beautiful. At the moment I don't know what that will be ... perhaps, as in life, we don't need to plan everything meticulously in advance but just see what comes when we are ready to create! 

There are Treasures Among the Stones of life ... perhaps we just need to look more intently and patiently, to try to see beyond the rocks in our lives and instead be alert to the blessings that are granted to us and believe ... a Better Life is on the way!

And, as if to prove His promises, at the end of the day I was blessed with one of God's most beautiful creations ... a most glorious sunset!

How great is that?

A Sunday Afternoon Swim

One of the things I love to do is to swim! 

I learned to swim when I was quite little, and I've always enjoyed it - even the many hours of swimming training at school...preparations for many a swim meet. I wasn't world class (and actually I'm not that competitive), but it was fun! 

In recent years, however, swimming has become more and more important as well as enjoyable.

It's not just the exercise, although that of course is great. I also find  being in the water so relaxing. In the pool, just swimming up and down, up and down, up and down, you get a rhythm that is quite mindful. And when in the ocean, those mindful moments are enhanced by the presence of the fresh air, the salt on your lips, the feeling of buoyancy in the salty water.  I find it easy to clear my mind of stress when I'm looking at the surface of the ocean and into the horizon beyond. For me, it's a helpful mindfulness technique which allows me just to be ... rather than worrying about things I cannot change, past and future. 

Living in the lovely island of Jersey in the Channel Islands, where there are so many beaches and bays and swimming opportunities, I can often - or at least when time allows - be found in the water. In the summer, of course, it's a great place to be ... but even when the water is colder I find sea swimming really helpful for my wellbeing and mental health.

In recent years, which have been quite emotionally and physically draining at times, even a quick dip and a short sit in the sunshine, a quiet few moments to myself, has just been invaluable.  

Many people here in Jersey swim throughout the year and while I've not done that, I do start when the sea temperature rises to about 10°C. Which means that this year I stepped into the ocean in April.

Admittedly, it's a bit nippy at first, but I have some gear ... some sea gloves and special boots, and a big dry robe to wrap myself in after my swim. And the feeling of the chilly, salty water on my skin, the capture of my breath when the cold hits me, and even the little brain freeze that can sometimes happen early on in the swimming season are just exhilarating!

This year, I've decided to chart some of my swimming with a bit of a 'swimming diary', and today I dipped at the beautiful Bouley Bay on the north coast of Jersey where the swimming this afternoon was simply gorgeous. The sun sparkled on the water and the coast of France, not too far away, was visible in the distance.

The water is gradually warming up... today the general sea temperature in Jersey was apparently around 13°C.... so things ARE warming up. And, of course, it helps when the sun is out and the wind isn't blowing a gale.

It's an opportunity to share with you not just my swimming experiences, but something of the beauty of the island I call home.

Today, in the sheltered Bouley Bay, which even around low tide still has plentiful swimming water...the experience was everything!

Here's my little film, which I posted first on social media.... 

Enjoy!

 

Bouanne Libéthâtion!

Happy Liberation Day! 

That's the headline today ... in Jersey's native language ... Jèrriais!

In Jersey and Guernsey - the two largest Channel Islands, it’s Liberation Day today!

It was on this day - May 9th - in 1945 …. that the Channel Islands were liberated after five long years of Occupation by enemy forces! (*Sark residents celebrate May 10th & for residents of the Northern Isle - Alderney - all of whom were evacuated and had to leave their island in 1940, they returned later in 1945).

So, this year is the 78th anniversary of the day when British forces marched into St Helier after the surrender was signed outside the harbour on the HMS Beagle early that morning!

Today, celebrations included a re-enactment of that moment when the Union flag was raised again over the Pomme d’Or Hotel in St Helier, in what is now called ‘Liberation Square’! Parties and fun were had, and there are always moments of reflection as we honour those who lived through that dreadful period of our history and came through it, and those who did not survive.

It’s a fascinating period of history … all the more poignant for those of us who had family who lived through the Occupation!

Three years ago, to mark the 75th anniversary of Liberation, I spent a year working with Jersey Heritage to select 5O Objects from their Archives and Museum collections which told the story of the Occupation and Liberation era … 1940 to 1945.

It was an amazing project to work on and I’m so proud to have worked on it with the team at Heritage!

Object 47 featured the diaries of Ralph Mollett, who was the Secretary to the Bailiff during the war years, and he had an amazing view of history… standing next to and working with the head of our island during that time!

I reworked this episode for BBC Radio Jersey’s Breakfast Show on May 8th this year, but here’s the original audio which features on the Jersey Heritage 50 Objects Vimeo site.

If you have a few moments please do listen … it’s just fascinating!

Happy Liberation Day everyone!

Bouanne Libéthâtion!

50 Objects - No47 from Jersey Heritage Vimeo on Vimeo.

 

Caution! World Under Repair

It's New Year's Eve 2020.

And if you weren't already aware, we're at the end of ... here we go ... I'll say it .... 'a very strange year'!

There - that's done! 

I could say much about the different ways we've learned to live, the things we've missed out on, the expectations dashed, the woes of the past almost 12 months during which a microscopic virus has locked us in, locked us out! Of life, of love, of the things and people and activities and experiences we love.

But I won't! Done that, been there, along with millions of others who have put pen to paper or fingers to keyboard this year!

I'll just tell you about a walk I took this lunchtime which, weirdly, turned out to be a bit of an analogy for life as we travel from 2020 into 2021. 

I live in a lovely place called Jersey - it's one of the Channel Islands, just off the coast of France, but British - and walks on the beach, or at least along the coastline, are my favourite!

One of my usual walks is from West Park, St Helier, to First Tower and back ... not more than a mile or two all told, but bracing on a winter's day!

I set out in the sunshine but we've been having a lot of showers recently and right at the start of my walk I spotted a rainbow.

Not a massive arc in the sky, but certainly a rainbow ... the kind which popped up in the early days of the pandemic in windows and on pebbles on the beach, drawn by unknown people as a symbol of hope in the darkness.

And straightaway I was filled with a strange optimism.

 

Yes, the sky was dark on the horizon, clouds still full of rain, ominous over Elizabeth Castle on the little islet in St Aubin's Bay,  but the sky above was strikingly blue.

2020 might have been full of gloom but in all that there has also been some brightness. Remember how we all pulled together in those early days, to keep ourselves safe, to keep others safe?  Remember how we kept our distance, washed our hands, wore our masks ?Remember how we clapped for our carers at 8pm on a Thursday evening, showing our appreciation for all those who were caring for us in hospitals and care homes, serving us in the shops and on public transport ? Keeping our communities working ? Saying 'thank you' to those who are usually forgotten but who, for a while, we realised were the real heroes of our communities.

But I looked into those dark clouds and was reminded  that it's not over yet. The second spike of this wretched coronavirus is hitting us hard not just here in Jersey but across the world. People are still sick, dying in vast numbers, isolating. Some people are still unfortunately not behaving like we are in the midst of a global pandemic. Some seem to have forgotten the sacrifices of the early months of this year, and the ongoing sacrifices that some are still making to ensure the ones they love stay safe. For some of us that means still working from home after nearly a year, forgoing the company of even our close family at Christmas and New Year and on birthdays and other special anniversaries. 

But as I peered into the horizon I spotted something really beautiful ... like a golden line just on the sealine, under the cloud. Just where the sun was hitting the water.

And then I looked up ... there IS blue sky overhead.

Could I equate that to the Covid-19 vaccines which are on the way ?

Perhaps! That's one way of looking at it.

But maybe it's about more  than that. 

It reminded me that when we pull together and remember that others matter as much as ourselves, maybe sometimes more than ourselves, we can get a handle on this! We did it in the spring and summer of 2020 and then we lost focus. We thought we could relax. We believed that we were invincible. We were wrong!

Along the seafront in St Aubin's Bay in Jersey the pink granite seawalls have recently taken a battering from the storms, the high seas, the winds of winter. They are hardy and strong, but even they couldn't stand the onslaught of nature.

But they are being repaired - even on New Year's Eve the guys were out doing their stuff to rebuild these beautiful defences.  It's not a job that will be completed overnight. It must be done with precision and care to ensure that the wall survives when the storms come again, as we know they will! 

As we enter 2021 I am reminded that we are in this for the long haul. Our World is 'Under Repair'!

We are not there yet. Even with the much acclaimed and longed for vaccines, we still have a long way to go. We still need to wear masks, keep our distances, endlessly sanitise our hands. There's no letting up. 

But if we all pull together, try to forgo our personal agendas and think of the wider common good, then with the added bonus of the vaccines, we may find that this coming year will be healthier and better than the last. We need to stay alert and not forget the year that was 2020. There are lessons in that there time for us all! 

The storm is still there ... over the horizon ... and it will come back I'm sure. But the blues skies are overhead! 

Happy New Year everyone! Stay safe! 

*All pictures /images by Cathy Le Feuvre

                                                                                                                                                      

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Breezy Walk!

Life in the Time of Covid19*

It's been more than a month now since Jersey in the Channel Islands - it's a small British island which lies just off the coast of Normandy in France - went into 'Lockdown'.

It was Monday March 30th and after witnessing the spread of the coronavirus from the end of 2019 and watching what was going on in the UK which introduced social distancing and other rules on social gatherings on March 23rd, our government announced similar restrictions to prevent the spread of the disease.

Since the end of March many islanders have been 'self isolating' in our homes, especially if they are over 65 (which, if you're reading this in 2020... I'm not .. yet!) I'm working from home because, although I am not in any particular danger, I look after my Mum who turned 90 a couple of weeks ago. We have been allowed outdoors for 2 hours a day for shopping, trips for healthcare or exercise. But we've pretty much stayed indoors.

Lots of people have called this a 'strange' time!

It is! 

As a writer I kept saying to myself 'you really should be documenting all this!' Writing a diary? At least blogging? But somehow, in all the weird lethargy of the times, I haven't quite got around to it. I did start writing something on April 1st but didn't post it because … what I wrote felt like an APRIL FOOL! You could make it up!

And then, I asked myself a second question 'what actually have you got to say?' That's because I feel like my life at the moment is incredibly BORING! I look at social media posts and everyone is being so creative - making stuff, home schooling, using their 2 hours for spectacular excursions, whether they should be doing so or not - and in comparison … I'm doing nothing. Or that's what it feels like!

Now, however, as the pandemic continues to sweep across the globe and more and more people are infected, affected and die, I feel I need to write! I realise as time goes on that being intimidated by what others are saying they are doing on social media, is worthless. Whether we know it or not, even the smallest day to day elements of life during such a strange time are worth documenting. Aren't they?

SO here goes … 

I AM working from home.  I work for the BBC local radio station (BBC Radio Jersey) and they sent me home and set me up with a computer with all the links to programmes and editing facilities, on March 31st. And it's busy.

Here in Jersey we are working our way up to the 75th anniversary of the Liberation of our island on Saturday May 9th. If you're not aware, the Channel Islands were the only place in the British Isles that were invaded and occupied by the German Nazi regime during the Second World War. We celebrate the Liberation from our Occupation every year, but  Liberation75 was meant to be a fantastic public commemoration, with masses of events planned. That's all been cancelled due to this wretched virus, although much is now happening online.

At BBC Radio Jersey, we're still planning lots to mark the day, which follows the celebration of the 75th anniversary of VE Day in the UK on May 8th. And as Communities Journalist in Jersey I'm helping to gather stories, and I've been involved in some long running projects in the run up to May 9th. So I've had loads of editing to do!

It's very surreal though. My 'office' is my Mum's dining room. No outdoor window but a couple of lovely paintings on the wall of Jersey scenes, and surrounded by family photos on the piano and mantlepiece.

Although I try not to, I find myself sitting for hours at my computer, only getting up occasionally to enjoy a cuppa, have a 'comfort break',  receive socially distanced post which has been pushed through the letterbox by the safe postman, chatting to Mum and my brother, who is also socially isolated at home (he's a Personal Trainer and he can't work right now because gyms are shut) and very occasionally, walking around the garden to get a bit of fresh air.

I've realised that at work we normally do break up our day. We chat with colleagues, we go make some tea or coffee, occasionally I have to walk three floors downstairs to open the door to visitors when our receptionist is on a break, we have meetings. And I'm missing all that … even the annoying doorbells!

I've discovered that it's very easy to become disconnected with the work programme. I have found myself becoming a little paranoid from time to time that OTHERS think I'm doing nothing here at home and I'm just sitting here waiting for their instructions. At other times I've found myself thinking 'Well they can't be doing much there in the office because it feels like I'm doing everything!' 

Both emotions are, of course, ridiculous in the extreme. But it's one of the results of isolation and if it's affecting me, someone who is usually pretty upbeat, then it must be having really detrimental affects on others who are not so fortunate of myself. 

I can go for walks. I have been for a few over the past month and they've been glorious! They've been mostly on the beach near to my home, the stretch of sand from West Park in St Helier to First Tower in St Aubin's Bay, which is fabulous! I should go for more exercise but by the end of the day in front of the computer I'm exhausted! And the weekends seem to go so fast, with an early morning Saturday shopping trip which has got earlier and earlier to avoid the social distancing long queues and cooking and cleaning and washing, and, truth be told,  just sitting in front of the TV.

By the way I have 'social mediared' some walks which I realise means that I'm part of that online weirdness that makes others feel incomplete. It's a complex world we live in.

I have a garden. Must get round to clearing some weeds soon as the weather warms up a bit.

Less traffic in the roads outside the house means I can hear the birds more clearly. I'm sure they've always been there but often we've not been able to hear them often over the general hum and hubbub of modern life. 

Meanwhile, in our beautiful island, as of TODAY we have 292 cases of COVID19 confirmed, 199 people have recovered and sadly 24 people have died with links to coronavirus.

I'm a journalist, so you might also expect me to report today on the world statistics ...  as of right now, in the UK 186,599 people have been confirmed with the virus, up 4,339 in the past 24 hours. Deaths stand at 28,446, up 315 on yesterday. Yes that daily figure seems to be falling at the moment, and 1,918 people have recovered. Across the globe there have been 3,462,682 deaths linked to coronavirus, up more than 76,000 in the last 24 hours. People who have recovered is 1,110,719 and the numbers who have died stands at 244,911 (up nearly 5,500 on yesterday).

I say 'statistics', but of course each person represents a life, a family, relationships. Every life lost is a tragedy. And, of course, people aren't just dying of COVID19. I've lost a couple of friends and acquaintances during these past weeks, of different long term conditions, and one of the awful things is that because of the restrictions on gatherings, we can't give them the send off they deserve.

But, one of the great things about this time in our lives is that it seems it's given us a new appreciation of people who make our world work. The health professionals and care workers, shop workers, postmen and women, the people who empty our bins. SO many people who until we entered this strange time, were invisible, undervalued, underpaid. Every Thursday evening at 8pm here in Jersey and across the wider British Isles, we stand in our streets and Clap for the Carers, showing our appreciation of all those people who nurse us when we're ill care for us, keep food on the shelves, help us stay in touch with each other and generally keep our world ticking over.  

We don't clap for the overpaid sports personalities and reality TV stars, the celebrities who (still) populate our TV screens, making money out of this situation by being paid to give us endless insights into how they're coping with lockdown in their posh homes and mansions! We clap for those who live in tiny homes, struggling to pay their bills.

We don't clap for the people who take home six figure salaries in the finance industry. We clap for the people who barely scrape a living in life.

We clap for what we have termed in the past  'the little people'. They are not little anymore. They are saving lives, putting their own lives at risk just so we can be safe and stay safe. 

And I pray that when this is all over we will continue to value those for whom we clap on a Thursday. That they will be able to negotiate better pay and better conditions. And that our 21st century British obsession with nonsense like celebrities who are famous for simply being famous and which currently dominates much of our culture, will disappear

And so we come to this weekend. Yesterday (May 2) some of the restrictions on movement were slightly raised here in Jersey. Now we are allowed to go out for four hours a day. We're allowed to meet others (just two) outside our own households. And our 'time out' can be for any purpose, not just exercise and shopping. Our Health Minister has warned that the change could lead to more deaths, but the government are already talking about relaxing some of the rules on the way restaurants can operate, and more. 

Yesterday and today I ventured out (shopping anda  short walk) and I've already noticed many more people out and about. People gathering in larger groups, especially young people. Although the government still advises 'social distancing' (staying more than 2metres apart) I saw many people not doing so. I read social media posts from people delighted that 'the Lockdown is over!'

It is NOT! 

It's just now we have our medical ducks in a row and will be able to cope with the upsurge in cases of COVID 19. We've seen a temporary 'Nightingale Hospital' go up in record time on a field near St Helier, our main town. It will house sick people in isolated wards. Cost? £14m! But I fear that the cost in lives will be even more devastating as people relax, mingle more and spread the dreaded coronavirus.

So how am I feeling today - Sunday May 3rd? Well, a little fearful for our island and it's people, many of whom right now are living with false hope.

And as for me and mine? We will remain locked in, socially isolated, wearing masks and gloves to go out, practising social distancing for a long while yet. Even if we slowly go slightly mad with the isolation. I'm a person of Christian faith, so that sustains me and gives me the optimism I need. I believe in prayer so I pray. And I practice some deep breathing and positive praying/thinking when it all becomes too much and I start to get a little panic attack.

But most of all, I remind myself that this time WILL pass.

It won't last forever.

Will it?

*The title of this blog post nods in the direction of a brilliant book called 'Love in the Time of Cholera' which is a novel by the Colombian Nobel prize winning author Gabriel García Márquz  (Spanish: El amor en los tiempos del cólera) … if you haven't read it … please do!

A Wedding Anniversary

June 16th!

I don't know about you but I'm pretty intrigued by dates. For every day in the calendar there will be something interesting that will have happened on that date, sometime in history.

For instance, did you know that it was on this day in 1890 that a child called Arthur Stanley Jefferson was born in Lancashire in Northern England? He would grow up to be Stan Laurel, one of the greatest comic actors of all time, who with his partner Oliver Hardy appeared in over 100 films at a time when the movie business was just beginning.

Now, this is not a piece of information I was born with, or even learnt at school. No ... I looked up 'June 16th' on the internet and  got the information from one of the many websites that has this kind of stuff on it.  In this case it was On This Day.com

But something that's not on many, if any, sites is that this day - June 16th - is also an important one in the history of one of the global Christian movements, a church and charity organisation that today works with the disadvantaged and the marginalised in over 130 countries across the world - The Salvation Army

Because it was on this day - June 16th 1855 - that the founders of The Salvation Army, William Booth and Catherine Booth, were married at Stockwell Green Congregational Church in London. 

They had met a few years earlier, in 1852, at a tea party organised by a fellow Methodist who had taken William, who was a would-be preacher, under his wing. In the intervening years, William had travelled across the United Kingdom, preaching the Christian Good News as an itinerant independent evangelist but at last the couple found time in his busy schedule to be married. After a long struggle to find a church which would ordain him, the Methodist Church would become their home for a while. Then followed years when they both became known as touring independent preachers, until they finally found themselves back in London where, in 1865, they set up an organisation called The Christian Mission, which reached out to and shared the Christian message with some of the poorest communities in the British capital city.  

 In 1878 they changed their name to ' The Salvation Army' and soon the Christian movement would not just have centres and groups ('corps') in London, in England and the British Isles, but across the world.

From the day of their first meeting, during their long engagement and over the next 35 years of marriage William and Catherine wrote letters to each other and these letters are held today in the British Library in London. When I was asked by Lion Hudson Books to write a book to coincide with the 150th anniversary of The Salvation Army in 2015, I turned to these letters - hundreds of them - to build their story.

So - on this day - June 16th - I offer a short extract from that book  - 'William & Catherine' - the love story of the founders of The Salvation Army told through their letters.

This is my imagining of that day and a little of the narrative that follows in Chapter 7.

 

 

The sun emerged from behind the early summer clouds as Catherine and William stepped over the threshold of the Stockwell Green Congregational Church.

Catherine clutched her new husband’s hand, feeling small yet secure.

William looked down at Catherine’s sweet face and smiled. He could feel her shaking ever so slightly and a rush of protectiveness towards this woman overwhelmed him. He could hardly believe that, after all this time and so many obstacles, they were at last man and wife.

It had been a short and solemn service and blessing. Perfect.

Catherine had been pale and had spoken quietly, her voice quivering as she repeated her vows of love and obedience. In contrast, William had found that his voice, which he was accustomed to using to rather larger congregations, had rung loudly around the church. As his “I do!” echoed around the building it had provoked a little giggle from his beloved. Then, in the cavernous chapel, William and Catherine had knelt at the altar and pledged themselves to God and to each other.

Behind Catherine, William noticed that his father-in-law, John Mumford, and his sister Emma, the only witnesses to the solemn ceremony, were now exiting the building and squinting in the watery sunshine. For a moment he regretted the absence of the rest of his family. Of course, it was unlikely that Ann would attend, but he had hoped that his mother and her namesake, his sister Mary, all those miles away in Nottingham, might have been able to make it, even at such short notice. However, he and Catherine had been thrilled when Emma had sent word that they would be able to afford for her, at any rate, to attend. He knew Catherine’s day was also slightly saddened by the fact that her own mother had been disinclined to attend the ceremony, but, as he held Catherine’s little gloved hand in his, he felt a rush of love and appreciation for her commitment to him.

Catherine pulled her shawl closer around her neck and shoulders. She shivered again. Even with layers of petticoats under her skirts she still felt the chill of the day. Maybe she should, after all, have worn her coat. The few days of milder weather in May hadn’t lasted and it was still chilly, even for mid-June.

Catherine turned to the Revd David Thomas, who had so kindly agreed to preside over this most sacred of ceremonies.

“Mr Thomas, thank you!” she announced, grasping his hand and shaking it wholeheartedly. No simpering little handshake for this gentleman. She remembered their previous debates and discussions about the place of women in church and society, and she knew he would expect this forwardness from her, even on this day.

Father Mumford was calling from the street. The Stockwell New Chapel was tucked away from the main thoroughfare and he had a cab waiting. William, Catherine, and Emma took their leave of the minister and made their way to the horsedrawn vehicle. It was but a short drive back home to Russell Street in Brixton, where, regardless of her unwillingness to attend the actual service, William was sure that Mrs Mumford would be waiting with some light refreshments. Whatever her views on the marriage, and he still wasn’t quite sure of her, she loved her daughter unconditionally and would, he was sure, come around.

William reached out his hand to Catherine. She grasped it and he helped her into the carriage. Whatever the future held now, they were one. The Lord would determine their way, and, whatever happened, they would face it together.

When William Booth married Catherine Mumford, they intended it to be a simple occasion, and it was. In common with many weddings of the time, theirs was a quiet ceremony in church, held in the morning. After the ceremony the couple would have signed the parish register in the vestry, the bride signing her maiden name for the very last time.

As was common then, the venue was the bride’s choice. This had been the subject of some discussion over the weeks, but despite her previous falling-out with the Revd Thomas over the matter of women’s equality Catherine still greatly admired him, and despite the fact that she and William had rejected Congregationalism, she knew the Stockwell Chapel and it was quite near home. They had to marry in a local church and other options fell through, but the choice of venue may have been a reason why Mrs Mumford decided not to attend the marriage of her only daughter. Mrs Booth Snr’s absence, along with that of William’s youngest sister, was almost undoubtedly for financial reasons. They and Emma still only scraped a living in a haberdasher’s shop in Nottingham.

The wedding ceremony would have been followed by a small family celebration at home, perhaps with a specially made cake or perhaps not; perhaps in the company of a few friends, but maybe not. This was certainly a wedding on a shoestring budget.

Although William had earlier intimated that they would both have new outfits for the wedding, it’s likely that they had better things on which to spend their meagre resources and the extravagance of new clothes may have been one step too far. "Sunday best” would have sufficed.

For the rich and well-to-do, marriage down the centuries had often been seen as a way of cementing helpful and even political alliances, and for the upper classes weddings afforded an opportunity to display their wealth. However, wearing white was not common for brides until it was made popular by Queen Victoria. When she married Prince Albert in 1840, some fifteen years before William and Catherine’s wedding day, she opted for a white dress and, following the wide publicity of the day, this was copied by those who could afford expensive white fabric.

But even if Catherine Mumford had been romantically inclined to emulate her queen in this matter, her purse and that of her parents, who still appeared to stagger from one financial disaster to another, would have disallowed it.

Very few couples other than those with money could really afford a proper “honeymoon”, but William had yearned for one, and had planned to take his bride “overseas” for that short “getting to know you” holiday. The reality was a week on the Isle of Wight, staying with friends. The couple then moved on for a mission campaign in Guernsey, from where Catherine wrote to her parents reporting crowds of people flocking to hear her husband but “not so many cases of conversion” as William had expected and hoped for.

Their return boat trip included a short stopover at the nearby and larger Channel Island of Jersey, but the voyage home to England left Catherine violently ill. Very soon she was to discover that she was expecting their first child, but she remained determined to be with William whenever possible. She had waited this long for her husband and now she hoped not to be apart from him for any length of time.

Theirs was to be an itinerant life. On his wedding day, William Booth gave his “home” address as Ardwick, Manchester, where he had lodged during his evangelistic work. He had very lately been confirmed by the Methodist New Connexion Conference in the post of evangelist with an annual salary of £100 for the year plus his travelling expenses.

As he had proudly informed his fiancée just a few weeks before their marriage, “This, of course, is an advance of £30 or £40 on the young man’s salary.” He was to be employed directly by the Annual Conference rather than by any circuit, and this greatly pleased him and Catherine because it meant that he was not under the governance of local church leaders.

After Guernsey he already had invitations to visit (among other places) York and Chester. As always, finances occupied his mind. He reported to Catherine that he had had to pay £5 for his Beneficent Fund Subscription but he hoped to receive £6 for preaching in London, so he had it covered.

Although they had no permanent home to move into once the wedding and honeymoon were over, William hoped to continue with his evangelism while Catherine would continue to live with her parents and join him whenever possible.

 

Hope you've enjoyed reading this little extract from what was my first book. I've written a few more since then but am still so proud of this one!

If you want to find out more or even buy a copy please feel free to go to the 'Books' Page of my website - https://www.cathylefeuvre.com/pages/cathys-books.html - or to any of the online sale sites, especially the Lion Hudson site for this book.

Thanks so much!

Have a great day!

 

 

A Day like Today

Winter is on the way.

How do I know this? Well,  the date on the calendar, for one thing, tells me we are in the last few months of 2018.  Soon enough the days will grow cooler, even colder and the trees will be stripped of their foliage helped by the sharp winds blowing off the sea, and the rain will undoubtedly set in for days, even weeks, and perhaps the world will turn white. 

The days will be dark and long, days of bundling up in thick coats and scarves, and hats and gloves, wrapped up against the cold and rain, and even snow. On those days it will feel, as it always does, that winter will not end, that the darkness will never cease. That never again will the sun warm our bones, or the water feel warm against our skin.

It's on those days that I will remember days like today.

A day to walk on the beach, listening to the waves crash on the shore, paddling my feet in the warm ocean. Feeling the sun on my skin, relishing the final moments of a long hot summer which has managed to extend into the end of autumn.

 

It's on bad days, when nothing is right and there seems to be no hope for the future that we can remember the days when life was great, knowing that just as the tide comes in and out, in and out, in and out every day, the sad moments won't last and good times will return.

There will be warm days again, even when the world has chilled our bodies and our hearts and even our spirits to the core. Even when there seems to be no hope in life, we will remember days like this when life and spirits were high and all was well with the world.

How do we know this? Well,  if we've been given good days in the past we surely will receive them again. For me, that just makes sense. It's the circle of life. It's all a matter of faith, and hope.