Author: Carol Purves

The other day I took a nine mile drive to visit my nearest outlet centre.  That was fine, except that it was a couple of 100 yards into Scotland.  If Scotland goes independent will that simple time of shopping be fraught with problems?

Will I need to pass through a border control, which is going to add time to the journey?  Maybe I could wade through the river to evade the control!!  Will I be able to spend sterling or will I need to get another currency just to buy a pair of shoes?

Oh goodness, maybe in future I’ll buy my shoes in Carlisle in England .

(For those of you who are not aware of Scotland’s desire to go independent, I expect you’ve had similar problems in your own country)

Carol, the English woman

‘Nine-year-old George carefully pushed open the wooden door.  As his eyes quickly scanned the study he was relieved  no-one was there.  He moved swiftly to his father’s desk where he saw a small sum of money had been left.  The idea of stealing it appealed to him.

Where could he put the money?  Pulling off his shoe he stuffed it into his sock.  Suddenly his father entered the room.

‘George what are you doing here?’

‘Er, looking for a book, father.’

‘Where is the money I left lying on the desk?’

‘I didn’t see any father.’

‘Turn out your pockets, boy’.

Smugly Geogre did as he was told.

‘Shoes and socks, off, boy.’

‘But father I haven’tseen your money’.

‘Off.’

As the sock was removed the coins rolled noisily across the floor.

An extract from my book on the life of George Muller.  To order, find out how from this web-site.

Carol, author of From Prussia with Love.

Another enjoyable meeting of this group.  We had one new member and two last time.  Can’t be bad.

Our homework subject was ‘Valleys and Mountain-Tops’. which produced some interesting offerings.  One member wrote about the Grand Canyon, another the Pyrenees.  A couple of beautiful poems were read.  Another described the valleys and mountains tops in the lives of Ruth and Naomi.  If you want to know what the wagtail says every time it wags it’s tail, you would have learned at our meeting.  ‘Why’ because that’s what he’s saying.

The first chapter of a novel was shared by someone who has  sent it to an agent.  We’re dying to know what happens next in the story and also whether the agent will accept it.

Carol, living in neither valley or on mountain-top.

Nearly every month of the year I have the chance to explore and learn more about Cumbria.  I give talks to a number of Womens’ Institutes as well as to Ladies Meetings at churches.  Before every talk I have a ‘rece’ to find the village or the hall where I wil be speaking.

Just after Christmas my friend and I went to Ivegill in preparation for a talk later this month.  It turned out her family had lived there when she was in her 20’s.  She was able to point out the hall, the school and various houses where certain people had lived, though no doubt long since gone.

So that was another part of Cumbria I was able to learn about.  (The news about my writing will have to wait for another time.)

Carol, the speaker

A happy and blessed New Year to all my readers.  Doesn’t that sound grand!  I was amazed to reach the Millennium and now its fourteen years later. 

Have you made any new year resolutions?  I’ve made two.  One is never to talk about my health unless asked.  But I never did mention it to you anyway.  The other is to write at least one letter every week.  Not on the computer but properly by Royal Mail.  So some of you might be hearing from me. 

In my next blog I will give you some writing news, but you will have to wait for it.

The days are getting longer, the sheep in the fields are thinking about lambs (or at least we are) and I have daffodil spears appearing in my garden.  Spring is not just round the corner, its coming down the road.

Carol, the optimist

This season I have been privileged to make music on a number of occasions in different places.  Firstly our orchestra put on a Carol Concert in a beautiful church in our city.  Did we really think about what we were playing?  Be near me Lord Jesus, I ask Thee to stay close by me for ever and love me, I prayer.

Then there was the Carol Service in the hospital, augumented by the wonderful sounds of the Salvation Army Band.  Patients were wheeled down from the wards to swell the sound.  Visitors  passing through the atrium heard the sound.  Did we really think about what we were singing?  Joy to the world, the Lord has come, let earth receive her King.

Then there was the chance to sing round the hospital wards.   The sick and the lonely would have heard the sound Silent night, Holy night.  But did we really think about what we were singing?    We played at the local psychiatric hospital, did we listen?

Looking forward to Christmas morning, I will be in the hospital Carol Service.  Hark the glad sound, the Saviour comes.  Will we really listen then?

Carol, the musician

As I thought about this blog I realise that there is nothing I can write about this season which hasn’t been written before.  In spite of continual persecution, Communism, atrocities and calling it a Winter Festival, the truth of the gospel message has survived.  No mere man can extinguish it; it must be of God.

The cry from everyone today is that Christmas is too commercial; it leaves our pockets empty and our hearts heavy.  Yes, that sort of Christmas does.

I am fortunate that I can tell a few people what Christmas is truly about – the patients in the hospital, if they wish to hear, the children in the homeless hostel (Jesus was homeless) and singing carols for those in special care (and you, of course)

The truth is there fore those who will hear, like the shepherds and the kings.  Jesus came to this earth as a baby, grew up, was martyred so that we could be forgiven for out sins.

Carol, the answer is in the name

We had an especially blessed time at our latest meeting of the Carlisle Christian Writers.  We had a visit from Sarah who completely inspired us as she explained in the numerous writing projects she is involved in.  It quite took our breath away and we looked to ourselves to wonder where we could expand our work.

The homework which had been set was ‘Hospitals’.  As a number of us had been nurses or were now hospital visitors, the contributions were meaningful and thought provoking.  One member gave us a beautifully crafted poem  about the silence of the hospital atrium at night.  Hope and dispair, quietness and emptiness stalk the corridors.  In a completely different mood one member read his children’s story about an animal hospital where sick insects were healed.  Beetles, centipedes, dragonflies and many others received healing, compassion or brusqueness.  Just like a human hospital really.

One ex nurse remembered her final words of witness to a dying man while another recalled a very young couple expecting their first baby in the 50’s having had no anti-natal care.

All exciting stuff.  I wish you could have heard it all.

Carol, a hospital visitor

I was staying in Stirling for the weekend for a writers’ conference and had the opportunity to visit Stirling castle for the first time.  It was a stirring experience and well worth the climb up the hill.

My visit was on a cold dank November afternoon with the daylight rapidly turning into ‘glooming’.  Wanting to know more of the history of this magnificant castle I attached myself to  a guided tour which started at 3.30 pm.  Dusk was certainly approaching.  For the first half of the tour I was the only participant. (fortunately four others joined us later.)  For an hour I was regaled with stories of the the terrible atrocities the English had inflicted on the Scots (though there was aggression on the other side as well). 

I tried not to say anything which have betrayed my English accent, even worse a southern English accent.  I hope the guide was so busy delivering his spiel that the irony of the situation was lost to him. 

I survived but had to ask myself the question, will the situation change on 18th September next year?  (The date of the Scottish referendum)

Carol, an English woman

At this time of the yearI just have to share with you our autumn colours .  I know whereever you live you will have the same wonderful scenes, especially if you live on the west side of Canada or the States.  But here in the Lake District they are particularly spectacular.  Each year it happens so quickly.

Last Friday I went down to Cockermouth and hardly a tree had turned.  Then yesterday, just five days later the  trees and bushes seemed to be like cup cakes topped with every shade of red, gold, brown, russet and yellow.  I found it difficult to concentrate on my driving.  I could just see myself saying ‘Sorry I crashed officer, but I was admiring the autumn colours.’

Some people would say that Mother Nature is wonderful.  I only half agree with that.  I say isn’t Mother Nature controlled by a Father God, wonderful.  It doesn’t just happen, you know.

Carol, in multi-coloured Cumbria.