Oh To Live In An Austen Novel

Jane Austen is one of my all time favourite authors. Why? Because she writes novels in which I would like to live. No, I don't want to live in a huge, impersonal mansion. Yes, of course I would like to wear those beautiful, feminine dresses. And yes, despite what I say about not dancing in public, I would dearly love to go to an Austen ball and, yes, if I went to one, I would dance!

But it is not the dresses or the balls that make her books so wonderful. It is the characters and situations that make it perfect. Lizzie Bennett is wonderful - brave, independent, a little outspoken but totally, totally honest. And what a lovely name. I much prefer Lizzie to my own name - I even tried using it for a while. It was fun. Lizzie was a lot more confident and funny than me. But, all that is by the by.

Back to the novels. Jane Austen's heroines are strong and stand up for what they think is right. However, she is not afraid to show them having flaws - eg the wonderful Emma, but they can always be redeemed, they inevitably do the right thing in the end, they admit when they are wrong, make apologies where needed and come out a better person.

And what about her heroes? Well, they are usually very strong too, they can always be relied upon in an emergency. They will drop everything and rush off to make things right for the woman they love. They stand by their honour, even if it is not in their own best interests and, above all, they love the heroine with all their heart, with all their soul and with all their strength. They will ride hell and high water to win their love and they always win their love in the end. Maybe it is because Jane Austen had to sacrifice her love for the sake of her family that she writes about such things. Maybe she knows that we all need to hope that true love will always win through no matter what the obstacles. Or maybe it's, just like me, that she loves truth, honesty, men of honour and very happy endings.

Everyone deserves a happy ending. Maybe that's why I still like to read children's fairy tales too - because I really hope and believe that the characters did live happily ever after. So I am sorry if it is boring and repetitive but I will read and reread Austen's novels as long as I live and hope that the world really is full of such heroes as Colonel Brandon and Edward Ferrers. Because, when it comes down to it, every girl has to dream.

What is a Mother?

What is a mother? A mother is the only person throughout your life who will ever love you unconditionally. Whatever you do your mother will forgive you, she will overlook many of your faults, but she will correct the ones that really matter. She will believe in you even when you have lost belief in yourself. When you don't think you have the strength to go on she will lift your feet and place them one in front of the other. The thing is, all that time when your mother is helping you battle your demons and make your way in the world she is hiding her own battles so that you won't worry. She is anxiously wondering if she is making the right decisions for you and she is wishing that her mother was here to help and advise her.

The first I remember of my Mum is waking up in my pram and she was bending over me smiling and then she gently sat me up so I could see all around me. From that day I remember her always being there.

I always remember my Mum smiling - smiling, hugging and singing. As a child I used to help her with chores and we would always sing as we worked. I learned so many lovely songs from my Mum. She would take me by the hand to help me on escalators, slippy paths, and to explore glens searching for fairies. My Mum was great at searching for fairies. She played and laughed with me throughout my childhood and my childhood was the best there could be.

As I grew older and lost a lot of confidence, as teenagers do, my Mum was there patiently and gently explaining to me that I could do or be anything I put my mind to. When I decided to go to Canada for a holiday everyone was amazed and said "Are you sure you're okay travelling on your own?" and even I wasn't convinced I was. My Mum told them "Of course she is. She will be fine!" By the day I left she had convinced me I would be and, of course, I was.

When I became a mother myself that was one of the scariest moments I remember. I was suddenly responsible for a whole new life and terrified I'd be rubbish at it. My mother had no such qualms. She was there whenever I needed support and quietly stepped back when I didn't.

My Mum did that my whole life. whenever I needed her she was there, she knew the right thing to do and the right thing to say. And on those occasions when I really messed up she was there to pick up the pieces, tell me it wasn't as bad as I thought, had she ever told me about the time she messed up big time by doing such and such, and, she put the pieces back together again. And, once I was whole again, she stepped back and left me to try again believing in me, that I would get it right next time. She was always there.

Then, suddenly, one day she wasn't. I hadn't messed up, I wasn't about to try something new, but I really, really needed her but she had become far too tired to help any more so she had to rest, God saw that too so he took her to be with him.

I still really need her now. I need her advice, I need her to make me laugh when I'm being ridiculous, I need her to tell me when I'm being unreasonable and need to back down, I need her to say when I've actually got it right and that she is proud of me. And, most of all, next time I mess up big time I need her to help me pick up the pieces and put them together again. Because, if your Mum's not there to do that, then who else will be?

A Life With Poetry

I could not imagine a life without poetry. Whatever you have to face in life, someone has written a poem about just that experience and those exact feelings.

If I am having a bad day I frequently reach for my poetry books and I get lost in the language and the emotions. Sometimes it makes me feel better, other times I just identify with the poet and cry with them. for the happiest times in life there are joyful, celebratory poems to help share the happiness and sometimes just plain silly ones to make you laugh. When my mother passed away one of the first things I did for her service was choose the right poem - and it was there, as they always are.

My life would be incomplete without my poetry. It was not always so. As a child poems were mostly just something the teacher read out or you had to learn by heart. Then, when I was 14, something wonderful happened. His name was Mr Smith - an old English teacher who saw it as his job to make children adore literature - he was good at his job! He introduced us to the poetry of John Keats. At first I was not won over. Obviously this showed in my face because Mr Smith stopped the lesson and announced  "Janet Stewart, stop pulling that face. These words speak of true love. One day a boy will speak to you like this and you will melt!" I was mortified and unconvinced but I did pay more attention in poetry classes, if only to avoid future embarrassment.

By the time I was 16 I adored Keats, Byron, Shelley & Shakespeare, bought books of their works to take on holiday to read for pleasure and had opted to take English Literature 'A' level. Mr Smith told me that his job was done and he could now retire! He kindly held on 2 more years until I had completed my 'A' levels with more wonderful Keats, Shakespeare and yes, you guessed it, he introduced me to Jane Austen.

I left school with an absolute love of literature and the English tutor in the first year of my degree course said he had never had such an enthusiastic student - well done Mr Smith!

Now what about weak at the knees? Well, I started dating a very nice young man, who, after a number of outings handed me a poem that he had written for me and, yes, my heart skipped a beat. He wrote me quite a few more after that and when I came back from a holiday with a girl friend he met me at the airport and handed me more poetry. And yes, Mr Smith was right again, my heart did melt.

I have often tried to write my own poetry but, I have to admit, have failed miserably. Immature schoolgirl nonsense. So I stick to reading it and continue to broaden my knowledge. In the past few years I have read more Andrew Motion and Simon Armitage. Both excellent poets. Mr Armitage is a little more gritty than I was used to, being a former probation officer, but writes with such honesty and knowledge that he has become one of my favourite poets. His poem Black Roses about the killing of Sophie Lancaster reduced me to tears. It is both loving and heartbreaking - read it!

Now, I am sure you are all wondering about the young man who wrote all that beautiful poetry for me. Well, obviously, I married him!