Happy deathday, happy birthday…

Today is my birthday, and aptly (as I live in Transylvania), the centenary of Bram Stoker’s death. A mere 46 years to the day after Dracula’s creator breathed his last breath, I took my first. No, I don’t think I’m Stoker reincarnated, so put the spookyscopes away. I’d love his book sales figures, though…

This kind of occasion is where the internet is such a boon. I am having a happy day in my mountain eyrie (or should that be eerie?…) with the cats for company, but it’s made even happier by the many lovely messages flooding in via gmail and Facebook. Knowing I’m in the thoughts of friends and family is very heartwarming.

Facebook is fantastic for keeping in touch, keeping connected and up to date with people’s doings when physically distant, for cheering and sympathising when needed, and for enhancing already jolly days. Nothing like it in the history of the world. But it’s not a substitute for face to face contact and first-hand experience. As a tool, utterly brilliant. As a lifestyle, utterly not.

For fellow birthday people, my hot wishes for a splendid, stellar day. And to Bram, here’s to you.

Advertisements

3 comments on “Happy deathday, happy birthday…

  1. JC says:

    A belated reply. Wow! That’s a good bit of birthday trivia. Have you been to Whitby? One of my top, if not The top, coastal towns. Nothing like it on a summer’s day, the view from or to the Abbey. Does get so very busy and brings in all those Goths & Gothnots, the latter being typical of all our seaside trippers (lots of stuff – plastic bags bulging with food & drink, gear for the beach, sandals, socks, sunburn, plastic windmills, buckets & spades etc). Why don’t we have a glam resort anywhere here? We did, I guess, with the Regency towns which are now peeling paint towns! I often think I’d like to live in Yorkshire but it would be an AMB move to go to a place where I know no one! Don’t you sometimes long for a root? A place you belong to? Where your history is. Somewhere where you belong. Pop into the local & chat to all. Feeling of homecoming. I think that may feel very cosy. I never had it. Home was many homes in many places & once boarding school kicked in at 6, there was no ‘home’. No ‘My Room’ because one hardly ever got there. These are my ramblings on a truly dreadful day with cold wind, lashing rain & the poor lambs getting soaked outside my window. The gods heard that we needed rain & by gods we have it! As ever, thoughts & love to you J xx

    • Hard not to, but don’t complain about rain – MUCH MUCH better to leave in a damp green country than a dry brown one. I had to manage with water turned off most of the time last autumn/winter because of 6 months without rain. I don’t recommend it. Animals suffered, crops withered etc etc. Not good.
      Yes, I’ve been to Whitby – dramatic coastline – no wonder Mr Stoker used it. No wonder too that Abbess Hilda and Cuthbert & all fancied the clifftop as a site for the abbey. Glamorous resorts these days are Copacabana Beach and Bali etc – the days of cheap air travel have put paid to glamour at home. Even Le Touquet, glamour resort of the 1930s, has suffered the same fate. Now it’s Worthing-Plage. Portmeirion – glamour village of the 1920s-1950s – tourist trap these days. An opportunity for some visionary town council and marketing guru – where would you suggest?

    • Didn’t respond to your question about roots. Yes, I feel most rooted in West Sussex, where I was born and spent my first 19 years. But Sussex is waaaaaaay beyond my means now, house-price-wise, and that’s why I like this part of the world so much. The geology is the same, the flora and fauna much the same (there are bonuses here, like ravens, eagles, bears, wolves) and the people are pretty much the same as my Sussex hamlet. South Downs (chalk), Carpathians (limestone) – same stuff (calcium carbonate), and I felt instantly at home. Roots, literally – plugged into the soil, eating the food grown in that soil, drinking the local water, etc – I’m (literally) in my element again. It produced immediate deep-down contentment when I first came here and I didn’t know why – but I’m sure that’s what it was.
      And yes, I’d like a toe-hold somewhere in the UK, to have a home of sorts here. But that’ll have to wait till I’ve written a bestseller. Till then, my car is my hermit-crab shell. xx

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s