I’ve been both a town and a country mouse. One thing that stands out for me as I revert to country mouse status is how oblivious I’ve been to natural change when living in towns and cities.
It’s been partly due to my occupations in these places, of course, that I have noticed things so differently. When rushing to work in town or city, you may indeed notice the seasons change, but the micro changes so often pass you by.
Everything at Seaview conspires to remind us that the old Greek adage from Heraclitus πάντα ῥεῖ (everything flows) is true. Life here is constant flux.
The sun and the moon show this as well as anything. These photographs of a wintry sunrise on the solstice last year (December 21st) were all taken in the matter of minutes as the sun rose to the west of Bamburgh Castle. First a tiny hint that something was coming …
Then a bit more …
And as the sun continues to rise, it appears to swivel to the right …
Now you can see clearly the orb approaching …
Likewise the moon, here captured on the night of the Supermoon last month, (14th November) …
Through the early evening, the moon moved rapidly across the sky, in and out of the clouds. But there were other changes afoot too – man-made changes. In the blink of an eye, a train slipped across our line of sight, travelling down the mainline East Coast railway line …
Cloud banks constantlychange, sweeping across the huge Northumbrian skies in a fascinating variety of patterns …
Rainbows shimmer for a moment (here over Holy Island) – and then pass on …
Sometimes the moment appears to linger. This foggy sunrise last winter seemed trapped in a cold still world …
But the lingering is always an illusion, usually fostered by the light on cold days, as captured in this picture of Berwick, golden in the setting sun …
You’ve got to be quick to catch the birds sweeping through our skylines too. Starlings over the neighbouring houses …
Crowds of seagulls following the plough …
Or this solitary bird caught in a recent sunrise …
Unremarkable hungry black birds, looking extraordinary in black and white …
And our very favourites, the little sanderlings (who only visit this area in the winter), running in and out of the waterline on the Tweed …
Just occasionally we manage to capture the boats coming into the Tweed – not often. Entry is difficult, limited by the tides, and so dodgy (because the channel is very narrow) that only the local pilots are allowed to navigate these boats to the Tweed Dock. Magical to see them rushing past Berwick’s old lighthouse …
Tides – ah, yes, tides. Nothing, of course, demonstrates the inevitability and variety of natural change like the tides.
“Twice daily the tides are here, sometimes
breenging shoreward like an army
of small, mad, angry locals,
at others, creeping in on tourist feet.
They are their own beginnings & endings …”
from At Douglas Hall by Stuart A Patterson (a Borders poet)
A couple of weeks ago, I decided to record these changes by photographing the Tweed Estuary from our lane throughout the day. In all these pictures, you should be able to make out the wide panorama, stretching from Berwick’s old lighthouse on the far right to Berwick’s Royal Border Bridge on the left of the picture. These pictures start at 9.21 am with very low tide, and the sands of Spittal Point stretching out almost down to the lighthouse …
An hour later (10.22 am), the sun has come out, there’s a van coming down the lane, and the sands of Spittal Point are succumbing to the incoming tide …
By 11.26 am, the sky is really blue, there are some gorgeous light clouds mirroring the line of the pier, and only a few islands of sand are still uncovered by the tide …
12.20, and the sky is far less exciting, the sun has gone in, there are still a few very small islands of sand in the Tweed – and there’s a train running up the East Coast mainline, Berwick bound, I think …
13.17, and rather a dull picture of high tide and no sun …
An hour later (14.20 pm), and shafts of low wintry sun are running over the picture from the left (the west) as another train is captured on the Eastcoast railway line. It is very high tide …
By 15.17 pm the light is beginning to go, but an odd flash of blue sky is revealed in the dying light. The tide is on the turn …
And the last picture of daylight, taken at 16.15 pm, the sky and sea are delicately rose-pink from the rays of the setting sun in the west. The tide is still only a very little way out …
How uplifting – in a year when the world has seen such radical and disturbing global changes – are these ephemeral sudden shafts of light …
Right at the centre back in the photo is this bag which I made about 10 years ago for my father who died last year. It was for his 80th birthday, and I’ve recorded the date and details on the strap (“written” with my sewing machine). It’s a bag I treasure especially because I know he treasured it too.
It’s a knitted bag (lined with quite stiff fabric to stop it sagging), and I had a lot of fun picking out words and patterns that were important to him. He excelled at his classical language studies in his youth, and a love of Greek and Latin stayed with him for the rest of his life. You will find μηδὲν ἄγαν (the Greek writing on the left) written on the temple of Apollo at Delphi in Greece. It means: Nothing in excess – or Moderation all things. On the other side, the Greek writing could be translated (roughly) as Everybody chooses the best path for themself. Both these mottos were important to him, as were the Latin words from the Book of Psalms: The Lord is my illumination (on the left) and In you, Lord, have I trusted (on the right). And I have knitted Greek key patterns all over the bag – great fun to knit.
So you’ll realise I love to work with words, to incorporate language into my designs. I also studied Classical Greek as a university student, so this next bag celebrates a motto that sums up the thought of the ancient Greek philosopher, Heraclitus: 
Part of the fun of making your own bags is the nice surprises you can put inside. And the buttons!
Often the fabric suggests the bag – as my grandmother’s beautiful curtains above did. But with this next bag, I made the fabric myself. That is to say, I knitted the pattern I wanted, put it in a hot washing machine wash to felt it – and then cut the resulting fabric up to make the bag.
The interior treat is this gorgeous Alexander Henry fabric, featuring these terrifying knitting ladies. That is some knitting! They reminded me strongly of the three Fates of ancient Greek myth, the Handlers of the Threads of Time so I’ve added that story to the Alexander Henry one. You’ll see that I’ve embroidered the names of the three fates in their hair. In the Greek legends, Clotho (on the left) was the spinner of the thread of life, Lachesis ( on the right) measured each person’s lifeline, and Atropos ( in the centre) cut the thread of life. My Fates here are knitters not spinners – but still wickedly witchy women, and I have a sure feeling that they are knitting and measuring and finishing the knitting of my days. 
In recent years, I’ve been particularly drawn to the poetry of Mary Oliver, so several of my bags feature her words. This bag utilises boldly patterned fabric to make a statement with : Tell Me.
I’ve always longed to be accosted by a stranger, asking “Tell me – what?!” Nobody ever has asked – but since you do, I’ll show you the answer, which is, of course, inside. This line is much-quoted, and justifiably so. It’s a good thought to carry about with you. Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life.
I also used a poem by Mary Oliver for my green leaf bag. Again, the fabric – a leaf-green printed batik – inspired the pattern. When I’d embroidered all the leaves in place on a plain background, I felt the bag needed something else, and searching through Mary Oliver’s book, Thirst, I found “When I Am Among the Trees”. Just what I needed. It captures the sway and the breath of the trees calling out. “Around me the trees stir in their leaves and call out ‘Stay awhile.’ … And they call again, ‘It’s simple … you too have come into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled with light, and to shine.'”
Other poets inspire me too. How evocative is this line is from John Donne’s poem of impossibilities! “Go and catch a falling star.”
Lots of other little bags hang on the walls of my Woolly Room. This little group below features a charmingly hand-embroidered sewing bag, a colourful beaded bag from Monsoon below, a glam little evening bag cleverly made by my daughter from a gorgeous scrap of one of my grandmother’s dresses – and a Little My brown paper carrier bag! It takes all sorts!
The next two little bags are both Japanese. My father worked in Tokyo for many years in my childhood, and my mother acquired a lot of beautiful Japanese fabrics while there. These don’t get much used, but they are much treasured.
This piece of daughter Helen’s work glitters and glams it up. Featuring Alex from the Clockwork Orange, it’s a student piece of hers, made when she was a beginner seamstress. It’s just cool!
Some thirty years or so ago (goodness!) I had a spell of enthusiastically painting patterns on fabrics. I wanted a commodious bag for a family trip to Paris, and this bag was just perfect. It brings back very happy memories.
There are lots of green bags, of course (my favourite colour). That’s an Orla Kiely bag on the far left; next is an amazing mock-croc I found in a charity shop; then, there’s my embroidered leaf bag; next is a bag made in the Phillippines of recycled packaging (so ingenious); and on the right, a ditsy little grass effect bag – much faded, alas, but still convincingly grassy.
Just – very occasionally – I will buy an expensive bag. I found this bag on Ebay, whilst searching for felted bags, and – it was irresistible.
There are working bags of another sort – my sewing and knitting bags. This is my much-travelled Solace bag which accompanies me with my knitting when I go away. It was a gift from Rebecca of 
And there are still new bags coming! This is another needlework/knitting bag, and another generous gift. I just love the lemon-slice print – thank you so much, Issy.
Not just bags of fun – bags of happiness, inspiration, memories, treasures, generosity … and love.
something from seaview 