Author: Carol Purves

It was great to have a writers’meeting in another part of Cumbria.  The day started overcast but by the afternoon the sun had managed to make holes in the clouds.  Life is so much better in sunshine.

2nd March, Spring has officially arrived and nature has caught on to the fact.  Along the waysides there were swathes of snowdrops like fallen stars onto the lush grass.  Sheep were munching in the fields; although I’d been told there were lambs in the region, I didn’t see them. 

As the gradient rose I caught sight of the views all around.  I hadn’t expected any snow to still be lying; but there it was like discarded tissues in the crevices of the hills.  If the snow continues to lie, it’s waiting for more to join it, so the country saying goes. Rivers were not in spate, a reminder that rain will be coming to increase their volume and in Cumbria when it starts to rains, it forgets to stop.  You can tell I’ve been to a writers’ meeting by my eloquence!

Don’t say all this comes about by accident; I have to believe it is all there for a purpose being for us to enjoy .

Carol, the country lover

I’ve proved it’s possible to get a cheap train fare as I managed to pay about half what I usually have to pay for a 350 mile journey.  Can’t be bad.

Although I was only going away for a few days, I started out on one of the few days of the year with the whole country under snow, from the north in Carlisle to beyond London.  But I don’t need a `sympathy vote, it had all cleared the next day.

Going back to my original area I noticed quite a few changes, not all for the better.

Meeting old friends, eating sumptuous meals and looking around took up most of my time.  Sunday was spent visiting my old church, where some faces were missing and some were new.  The encouraging thing was the gospel message was the same as it always has been and what I am used to up north.

Carol, not an Essex Girl.

No this isn’t a second take on James Bond; the hero of my book was born in Prussia, a country no longer in existence.

George Muller, born in Prussia in 1805 started life as a thief, womanizer and heavy drinker.  By the grace of God he repented and for the rest of his long life spent his time in serving others.  As part of the Brethren movement, he moved round England, lived in Exeter and Bristol, where he eventually started a number of children’s homes where thousands of children were saved from the unhealthy streets and lives of poverty, prostitution and begging. 

The remarkable thing was that George never appealed for money, but prayed to God for the provision of his needs.  There are numerous stories of his prayers being answered in a number of ways.

Although the work as such does not exist today, the Muller Foundation works among the elderly and with needy families in churches.

My book about George Muller, entitled From Prussia with Love recounts all these stories and many more facts about his godly life.  Read the story for yourself, obtainable from www.dayone.co.uk or from myself.

Carol, the writer

Thank you to the dozens of you who visited my web-site and e-mailed me after reading my meditation in the Upper Room, especially those from America.

In brief what I wrote was –

Two football team played a home derby.  When the visiting team won, a supporter said that they won because they played with passion.  Which begged the question, are we passionate in serving God?  Biblical references – Hebrews 12:1 and Phil 3:14.

Carol

Our meeting of the Carlisle Christian Writers produced the usual mixture of fun, laughter and brilliant writing.  I marvelled at the variety of work that one title could give and many different storms were read out.

One member described vividly a storm he’d endured in Africa where the party had feared for their lives.  Another read a beautifully crafted poem about Jesus on the lake.  That was some storm the disciples witnessed! A member with a fertile imagination recalled a house she had seen in the West Country called The Storm House and invented a frightening story about it.  Creation weeping like a storm was used by another person.

Two people went down the historical route, describing a storm where a father and daughter rescued members of a stricken vessel and another wrote about  a bridge collapsing and a train and passengers plunging into the raging river below.  We felt ourselves clever when we recognised Grace Darling and the Dundee Rail disaster.

Our next topic is ‘Space‘, so I can only say, watch this space.

Carol, a stormy writer.

No, I’m not ‘sad’, but this was part of a research project that I needed to do as a freelance writer.

Thank you to everyone who sent me a Christmas card.  I’ve analyzed the type of cards they were and their pictures.  46% of the cards I received were bought in aid of a charity(many for the Woodland Trust).  Maybe it’s easier to put our hands in our pocket, than to roll up our sleeves and get our hands dirty.  When I offered to pray for a friend’s wife the other day.  He said  ‘Don’t just pray, do something’.  It made me think.

23% of the cards had nativity scenes on the front.  Before we tut, tut about that, I read somewhere that Victorian cards seldom had stable pictures.  So it’s not a sign that as a country we’re becoming less Christian.

19% featured pictures of snow.  That must be a secret wish to have the beauty without the inconvenience; 7% portrayed Christmas trees, without the snow.  These gave a feeling of homeliness.  Robins appeared on 6%.  Many years ago I remember my mother commenting that nearly all the cards showed robins.  Are they disappearing from our cards , as they are in real life?  6% featured holly.  I don’t know what that means.

Please continue to send me cards at Christmas.  My decorations look bare without them.

Carol, the Christmas girl.

For the uninitiated, that’s the day after Boxing Day.

  I spent the day with Edinburgh brother and Edinburgh Christmas lights.  Both well worth seeing.

The highlight of the day was a ride on the big wheel.  Not as high as the London Eye, (visited twice by me, once in daylight and once by night) but more scary because the capsules were open to the sky and elements.  Not that we had many elements – little breeze, cool temperatures but good visibility.  I suppose that’s the most important thing.  Princes Street looked quite different from that angle, the Scot Monument seemed within touching distance and the ice rink far below resembled a Lowry painting.

A quick walk (in my case not too quick) up Carlton Hill completed the day.  My photos from the various view points were interesting and well worth keeping.

May you all have a blessed 2013.

Carol, the high-flyer

Now the days are dark, dreary and wet, wet, wet, I look back to a lovely day I had only a few weeks ago.

The picturesque village of Caldbeck with only 700 inhabitants, 13 miles from Carlisle and 20 minutes drive from Ullswater and Keswick, is bursting with atmosphere and history.  My brother and I parked the car up on the fells and walked down to the village.  Even on this day an umbrella was needed.  As we commenced our walk we looked down on the Solway Coast (AOWB) and over to Knott and back of Skiddaw.

We ate a delicious meal at the Oddfellow’s Arms which I believe is now the only pub in the village.  It was here that the infamous John Peel used to drink.  I asked the landlord if they had any memorabilia, to which he replied curtly, ‘No’.  Oh dear, I suppose everyone asks that question.

We ambled along to the churchyard where John Peel is buried (died 1854) along with several members of his large family.  Before our ascent up the hill we visited the church, St Kentigern’s which was commenced in 1112 on an original site used in the 6th century.  Since then, of course, there have been many alterations and additions.

Carol, visitor to the Lake District National Park

I felt this would be a good time to remind you about my first and most successful book – Chinese Whispers. The story of Gladys Aylward would make an ideal Christmas present or a New Year present for someone who got overlooked at Christmas.

Gladys was born and educated in Edmonton, East London and never gained any scholastic qualifications.  Whilst working as a parlour maid, she accepted the Lord as her Saviour and felt the call to be a missionary in China.  Not being accepted by the China Inland Mission, she made her own way to China.  The hazards she met on the Trans Siberian Railway would fill a book in themselves.

On one occasion the train entered a war zone and could travel no further.  Gladys had to walk back down the track for a day and a half to reach safety.  (The howling she heard in the night were not dogs as she supposed, but wolves)  Being mistaken for a ‘machinist’ instead of ‘missionary’, which was the wording on her passport, she was nearly kidnapped.

Once in China she ran a hotel for mule train drivers, was shot in the shoulder by rebels, escaped over the mountains to safety with nearly a hundred children as well as facing a crazed axeman in prison.  The film ‘The Inn of the Sixth Happiness’ was based on her life but very much glamorized.

Contact www.dayone.co.uk to obtain a copy of this book.

Carol, the author of Chinese Whispers.

At the Carlisle Christian Writers we always set homework and for our last meeting – see above.  Our unusual topic produced some unusual results.

One member wrote about an unusual wedding present – a porcelain figure of ‘the praying hands’, so popular at that time.  Never liked by her or her husband, they eventually managed to give it away to an admirer.

Two members were able to quote from books they had written and another person gave each person a small shell, a replica of a larger one she had been given by a loved one.  The message was ‘ you can give this away but what will you do with the gift God has given us?’  Two other member wrote thoughtful poems.

The rest of the time was taken up by writing limericks, followed by coffee/tea, of course.  And the next piece of homework – you must wait and see.

Finally, to make you smile –

‘Exaggeration is a billion time worse than overstatement’.

And ‘Take the bull by the hand and avoid mixed metaphors, even if a mixed metaphor sings, it should be derailed’

Carol, the recipient of unusual presents.