The Roman


I have always had a fascination with spirit. What I mean by spirit is not necessarily the spirit world as in speaking to those who have passed over with the aid of a medium and table knocking but more the existence and sense of spirit. I know I am spirit, that ‘I’ am not a body but rather a spirit with a body. The possibility of death, an end to my existence; that I am no longer does not compute.

Heaven in the concept of fluffy clouds, angels with harps and pearly gates does not appeal either, there is too much white in the image. I want there to be colour, noise, scent and life. I want life; I want it to be continuous and ever changing. I cannot see dead people. I can feel places, objects and something else that I cannot explain though.

I love museums, wandering around, looking at the exhibits and feeling the past. Over the years I have spent many hours roaming museums in different towns and cities across the world. These days I do not often get the chance to roam alone and generally my husband, our daughter and the grandchildren come along too. Luckily, my husband understands my love of museums even if he does not necessarily share it and our youngest daughter and the grandchildren are all at an age where museums are exciting and interesting places and they have yet to adopt the perception that they are stuffy and boring.

Our local Museum is always a special place; we paid a lengthy visit there in the past few days. My husband gallantly entertained the children in the Natural History and Prehistoric Galleries where they made acquaintances with Polar Bears, Dinosaurs and poisonous tree frogs. I happily wandered the Archaeology and Egyptology Galleries at my leisure. Here, time is held prisoner mainly within glass and wood coffins and yet it passes so quickly for those who look on.

Some of the exhibits call to me, I can hear them before I enter the Galleries. Once I enter and look upon them they take me as a visual prisoner, drawing me in with their colours, patterns and details. A beautifully embroidered beadwork waistcoat once said to have belonged to a Native American Chieftain is held captive in the Living Cultures Gallery. The waistcoat casts a spell on me as real as anything deemed physical in our world. Over three hundred years old its colours are deep and rich, the flowers so appealing that you want to reach out and caress their velvet petals.

I appreciate the beauty of the Japanese swords and armour as I pass by and yet I cannot feel or hear them. My senses however buzz wildly as I wander closer to the Egyptology Gallery. I order them into place before I enter and try to wander as quietly and sober as the other visitors. What does anyone looking on see? Do they feel the exhibits too?

The artefacts from the Tomb of the Two Brothers are amazing, but I cannot feel or hear the jewellery, sarcophagi or mummies clearly. Other Egyptian artefacts call out with louder voices. Strangely, the strongest are much younger mummies in the far corner of the room; Romans who died in Egypt and who were mummified there. These are not grand mummies accompanied by gold and other worldly goods; they have something much more precious, a painted cloth portrait of the person within. One, a young man, perhaps in his late teens looks at me as real as the young student to my left. Another, a woman my age or possibly younger talks to me and a look captured in her eyes by an artist over two thousand years ago tells me that life then was much the same as it is today.

A couple of the mummies remain silent and the final two scream at me like rock stars from an ancient world. Two men, one with olive coloured eyes was a lover of many women and he tells me that he loved himself more. The other is as alive today as he was then. His rich wavy brown hair falls with a swagger and his brown eyes sparkle with mischief and delight, his voice is deep and loud. He tells me clearly what I already know and understand; that our spirit lives on long after our body is dead and that heaven has colour, noise, scent and life.

Labels: Miladysa, Spirit Heaven Museum Life

Posted by Miladysa at 11:50 AM 10 Comments

I joined the Tufty Club within the first month of starting school, I remember receiving my little pack and Members Badge. As far as badges went, a Tufty badge was not in the same elite league as a Blue Peter Gold BUT the big advantage of a Tufty badge was that it could be acquired for a small affordable sum of money. Blue Peter badges have to be earned by lots of hard work.

I would wear my badge with pride and practice my road safety with the utmost diligence. Something always worried me though, a little something that preyed on my mind, even today, here on my blog I am finding it difficult to confess that I did not really like Tufty. There, I have said it, I confess, Tufty was a Goody Two Shoes and Willie Weasel was by far the more attractive character. If anything went wrong, you could be sure that Willie was at the bottom of it and Tufty was always as white as snow.

The same thing happened with Sooty and Sweep. Sooty never did anything wrong (apart from squirting water in a goodhearted way) and Sweep was never out of trouble. I mean, poor Sweep, he did not ever intend to be naughty it just all got out of hand. Sooty and Sue were always on hand to report him to the sanctimonious Mr Corbett. I loved Sweep and the bulldog Butch. Sooty, Sue and Mr Corbett could have all gone and “got knotted” as far as I was concerned, Sweep and Butch were the ones who would have received the invitation to tea at our house.

The amazing thing is, I am, to all intents and purposes, what could be best described as a Goody Two Shoes. I abide by the rules, I always do the right thing, and I never get into trouble, well for the majority of time. Every now and then I falter, something happens, a little bleep along the smooth path that is me and BLEEP! If you bleep all the way along life people recognise it as your tune, if you bleep every ten years or so it is always remembered as a bum note that is never to be lived down.

“Do you remember when mum and auntie H drank all that champagne and mum got ratted?”

“Yeah….”

“We had to have tea at auntie H’s and dad arrived home to an empty house and no note to say where we were.”

“Yeah…”

“He put mum into the car and then she opened the door and FELL OUT onto the pavement!”

“OMG! YEAH!”

“And that time she was 40 and we had that barbecue!”

“Yeah…”

“I can’t believe she embarrassed us by singing that Meatloaf song on the karaoke!”

“Gross!”

“Then she collapsed and got carried to bed!”

“Yeah…”


I mean for heavens sake if that’s all they have got on me I think I can issue my own badge! :)

Labels: Confessions Mother Sooty Life, Miladysa

Posted by Miladysa at 10:01 AM 37 Comments

Labels: Memories Childhood Nostalgia Life, Miladysa

Posted by Miladysa at 7:27 PM 18 Comments

Labels: Memories Childhood Nostalgia Life, Miladysa

Posted by Miladysa at 11:06 AM 22 Comments