Those Jam Jar Moments

Have you ever found yourself in a moment that was so perfect you felt too frightened to even breathe for fear it might be broken? A brief, profound instant when you felt completely aligned and in harmony with your surroundings? So submerged that it seemed as though the physical world had paused around you? These moments of utter contentment are so fleeting and most of the time we never really remember them. We cherish the moment and then move on to the next chapter of the day, often without a backward glance. Whilst these brief, beatific seconds don’t tell the full story of our lives, they are like tiny snippets of colourful fabrics, which when sewn together create a quilt, a glimpse of our journeys and heritages. Over the years we have found many ways to record our daily lives, from ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs to the advent of photography, each of us documenting our lives and the societies in which we have lived to help fill the history books.

When wondering about how to approach this blog, I couldn't help but think about Nella Last. This may not be a name you’re familiar with but I guarantee you’ll google her after reading this. She was a housewife in Barrow-In-Furness, Lancashire who wrote for the Mass Observation initiative during WW2. The MO was founded in 1937 by three former Cambridge students who wanted to record everyday life in Britain with the aim of influencing British policies. She was one of 500 volunteer diarists and perhaps also one of the most notable ones, writing from 1939 until 1966. Her diaries were her escapism, helping her to find a voice that had for so long been lost amid the expectations and demands of her family. Her extensive diaries, which are still kept in East Sussex, describe what life was like for ordinary people as they lived and worked through WW2. Her letters were published in 2006 in a volume titled ‘Nella Last’s War: The Second World War Diaries of Housewife 49’ and when you read them (and I highly recommend you do) you’ll come to see that she found some peace and a sense of liberation from the constraints of her domestic life through her writing.

There have been and continue to be endless debates about the impact of social media on our mental health. We have been told that it can affect human connectivity. As we submerge ourselves in the virtual world we lose our ability to function succinctly in the real one. We inevitably compare ourselves to the carefully curated, aesthetically pleasing photos of others, thus lowering our own self-esteem. But I have to disagree with these points in that these effects are not a given outcome for every user. For most of us social media is a place where we make new friends with naturally like-minded people. It’s a place of empathy and solidarity. If used without expectation or judgement, it can be a source of inspiration and encouragement and more importantly it is perhaps the most comprehensive document of life at this time.

Like Nella Last I found a lifeline through my writing and social media posts. Life before I discovered Instagram is difficult to describe. I suppose I was trying to live two lives, the one that circumstances had given me and the one I felt I should be living in order to be visible and feel fulfilled. I was wedged between these two existences, unable to feel truly contented with what I had and wishing that I could be a better, more worthy version of myself in the eyes of others.

I can describe the precise moment I joined Instagram. It was the day after my birthday, 8th June 2016 and we had been to see Coldplay perform at Hampden Park in Glasgow. Whilst waiting for the band members to come on, I noticed the huge screens either side of the performance area with the band’s name after the hashtag symbol. I asked Eliza what the symbol was and what it did. She explained that the band had an account on Instagram through which I could follow them on their world tour. She also explained how by using the hashtag symbol, I could find photos of the band and the tour taken by other people too. And that describes my first few weeks of Instagram, following musicians, actors and comedians. I didn’t post a picture of my own for weeks, I was quite happy just following the experiences of those I admired. As my confidence grew so too did my understanding of how the platform worked. I’d heard the word ‘trending’ but I had no clue what it meant. I also had little knowledge of how creatively diverse Instagram was. I’d always had a fascination and love of country interiors having been a lifelong devotee of such magazines, so I started using similar hashtags to find images to inspire me. Then one day I decided to post a picture of my own.

My first picture posted on 29th June 2016.

Earlier that week I had bought some peonies from my local supermarket which had opened up overnight and were at their most enthralling. The afternoon sunshine, or at least what little there was of it, was coming in through the French windows and casting a delicate light over everything. Looking back I’m not sure what I expected to come of the post. I had grown up watching my late mother take photos of our childhood home in order to finish a roll of camera film after a holiday. I still have many of the photographs in a trunk upstairs. I remember it never struck me as odd that she did it, I simply believed that she was proud of her home. And I suppose that’s how I felt that day. After living in so many random houses, where no piece of furniture had a place for life, I finally felt that this was home. You could say that I wasn’t photographing a chair by a jug of flowers, I was capturing permanency. A few days later I changed my account name from my given name to ‘Home by the Loch’. The significance of this change has never been lost on me. I finally felt that I was home, just like my late mother before me. As you can see I didn’t know anything about styling, lighting or placement, I simply pointed my old iPhone and took the shot. I didn’t even edit it (mostly because I didn’t know how!) I just put it out there for anyone to see. It got 80 likes and 3 comments. I didn’t expect any followers but I think I had about 50 by the end of the first week. I remember Eliza promising me that if I reached 100 followers she’d buy me a congratulations card. I still have that precious card in my bedside drawer.

I can still recall the evening I took this photograph. It was around 8pm and I was sitting watching television when I noticed the light had changed outside. The sitting room was bathed in a soft, pink light. I looked out of the window to the hills on the other side of the loch and saw the most breathtaking late summer evening sky. I asked my husband to pause the television, I went to the back door, put on my mother’s spotted clogs and walked over to the gate. I didn’t need to think hard for a caption for this post because the words were dancing in my head as I approached the scene.

As I walked out one evening,
Walking down Bristol Street,
The crowds upon the pavement
Were fields of harvest wheat.
And down by the brimming river I heard a lover sing
Under an arch of the railway:
'Love has no ending.

W.H.Auden

An enduring admirer of Auden’s work I found myself in the middle of his imagery, as though I was living the scene he wrote and allowing his words to breathe life into the moment. You may ask though why this photograph is so significant? Well to understand that, I have to take you back a few years. Before we moved up to Scotland we lived in Oxfordshire, a beautiful county but one where space always felt elusive. As soon as the sun shone everyone would flock to the same places and any hope of seclusion was quickly lost. Not even the briefest moment was yours to enjoy alone because every vista, every spectacle was being looked upon by eyes other than your own. So as I stood at the gate, listening to the birds and the leaves gently rustle in the trees that line the lane, I came to realise how rare this view was. So few people would ever get to see it except through me. They wouldn’t have to fight for a parking space to see it or pay for an overpriced ticket. Instead they could enjoy this scenery on my feed and hopefully feel the sense of peace that I felt that evening. I stayed perched on the gate for longer than I had been aware. When I came back inside my husband asked what had taken me so long. The slight chill from the air still hung on my shawl as I said, ‘Thank you. Thank you for giving us this home’.

You may wonder why I have chosen this photograph of my Aga over the many that have appeared on my account over the years. Well this was the first photograph to receive over 1000 likes. It actually received 1,281 likes in total. As the likes poured in I was astounded by how many people shared my love for what is essentially a kitchen appliance! But an Aga, like any oven is the engine of the home and is the embodiment of comfort, warmth and nurture. This was also the first time I’d consciously gathered a few things together and arranged them in a way that told a story. Instagram is after all a storytelling platform. We create pictures that tell our followers a little bit about our day. There is a narrative to each image which quietly captures a moment in our lives. These are the images that the experts refer to, the images that can lead onlookers to feel disappointed or dissatisfied but I don’t see them that way. If you look beyond the Aga, the basket and the other items carefully placed to give this picture the feel that it has, it is simply a housewife putting on the kettle and looking for a recipe for tea. This interpretation of domesticity is not unfamiliar, we all have our own versions of it, it’s just we may have a different coloured kettle. The objects may differ but the feeling of contentment that comes from the simplest of things is universal. I still enjoy styling this section of my kitchen. I’m always moving pottery and baskets around and it would seem my followers love it too because these photos always get the most likes on my feed.

This photograph is hugely significant to me. I can remember the day I took it so vividly. It was one of those perfect June days, not warm (I had to wear a light coat) but one of those summer days that only Scotland can deliver. The clouds were moving slowly across the sky, trailing patches of blue behind them. The hills were a patchwork of green with just a hint of a heathery haze. I had been walking Sizzles around the loch and stopped to pause on a bench for a while. I took my iPhone out of my pocket to take a photograph of the scenery to post on my account when I noticed I had reached 10K followers. I let the phone fall onto my lap as a faint smile and frown simultaneously crept over my face. I was astounded and thrilled in equal measure. As I sat looking out over the Lomond Hills the realisation of what I had achieved flooded me with emotion. It wasn’t about the numbers, it was about how far I had come in accepting who I was and the sudden awareness that I had something to offer. I held my phone up above my head (I wasn’t confident enough to look at the camera) and took my first ever selfie for Instagram. As Sizzles sniffed around my feet, I wrote the following there and then.

‘I can’t believe that I have 10K followers. It’s funny but when I set out on this Instagram journey, my only hope was that by recording the things that made me happy, I would find some contentment and confidence, two things that had previously been missing in my life. I have lots of new followers to whom I’d like to say welcome, it’s wonderful to meet you. I could list lots of facts about myself to give you a sense of who I am but all you really need to know to understand my account is where I am and where I’ve come from. Five years ago my husband came back from work after 21 years as an RAF pilot in Oxfordshire announced that he wanted to do something different and asked me how I felt about moving to Scotland. I cried with joy. Growing up with Scottish grandparents, most of my happiest childhood memories were of messing about in lochs, forests and glens during my school holidays. I wasn’t unhappy when I lived in Oxfordshire but I wasn’t aware back then that I could be happier. I worked in a beautiful private school but was often made to feel like an outsider, unworthy of my role there as both parent and teacher. I lost my way and prioritised material possessions over simplicity and beauty. And so now most days I capture and share moments and things that bring me joy, a sense of belonging and self-worth to remind me that it’s not what you’ve got, it’s what you notice. The only thing you need to be able to say when your time on earth is up is that you loved and you were loved. It’s a simple recipe for life.

It didn’t matter that it only had 658 likes, what mattered were the 274 comments from people who had engaged with me on a personal level. There were no judgements, no criticisms and certainly no insults. This was when I fully grasped how supportive, empathetic and encouraging Instagram could be.

This photograph was another milestone for me. It was the cover photo for a blog post called ‘A Life by Numbers’ and is still to this today one of my most personal pieces of writing. People who have followed me on social media for a while will know that I have struggled with my weight, not necessarily the loss of it (I got off of that merry-go-round a long time ago) but the acceptance of it. In the blog I write about how my entire life had been dictated by my weight and how I could pinpoint any significant moment of it not by date but by my weight. I talked openly about how such an obsessive compulsion to constantly weigh myself had put me in a prison of my own making. I had missed out on so much by being afraid to say yes to opportunities. As the comments streamed in with the words of people who felt exactly the same and who were living in similar cages, I came to understand that I had written something that spoke to the fears and insecurities of so many people. But most importantly of all, I became aware that I wasn’t alone.

This photo marked a change in how I saw my account and how I could use it to help others. I had been approached by companies prior to this time asking me if I’d embark on a brand collaboration with them but up until this point I had always said no. Mostly because the items they were offering me were things I didn’t need or didn’t know anything about. But one day I was contacted by Karina, one of the owners of Cornishware pottery. She explained how she and her husband were trying to repatriate Cornishware back to the United Kingdom and asked if I’d like to be a part of it. Again, those people who have followed me for a while will know that I am passionate about pottery and this particular one already had a very special place in my heart. I was introduced to it by my late mother from whom I inherited my obsession. She had rows of pottery in her cottage kitchen in Suffolk. She had pieces from the remotest islands of Scotland to the tip of Cornwall. She gathered and curated pottery long before it became a hashtag on social media. I already had a few pieces of Cornishware which I had collected but knew very little about its history. Karina’s passion for this iconic British brand is infectious and you only need to follow her account for a day to appreciate her passion and hard work. So I agreed to style and post something. A few days later a huge box arrived in the post, filled with many more pieces than I was expecting. I was overwhelmed by her generosity. I phoned a local flower grower and asked if she could put together a bucket of spring blooms for me. I took so many photos, some in the kitchen and some in the sitting room but this was the one I used. After this post I made an important decision about how I wanted to use my account. I still wanted to focus primarily on capturing moments of simplicity and beauty but I also wanted to use it as a vehicle for good. I didn’t want to turn it into a business or make money from it but if I could help small companies and makers by promoting their work for them, then as long as I genuinely loved the products, I would. Over the years I have worked with some incredibly talented people and as I write this in the depths of the Coronavirus, I will continue to do so if ever they need me.

This photo marked a very important moment in my life. It received 8,667 likes and 573 comments. Why? Because this was the post I used to tell my followers that I had got the job as a guide at Scone Palace. I had just put the kettle on when my mobile rang, it was one of my future bosses offering me the job. I gladly and calmly accepted then thanked her for the opportunity, after which I ended the call and screamed out loud, filling the kitchen as my voice bounced from wall to wall. Alan came into the kitchen and said, ‘I’m assuming you got the job then?’ But I didn’t need words to answer, he could see it on my face. I sat down at the kitchen table, hugging my mug of tea and thought back to the long afternoons sitting with my grandmother in her summer room, hearing her tales of old. She adored history and would have studied it at Cambridge University had my grandfather not came along and swept her off her feet. She never regretted her decision. My grandfather, who was an historical novelist, offered her a life that quenched her thirst for knowledge. Scottish history was her true passion. Whilst most children were tucked into bed at night with fairytales, we were regaled with stories of Scottish Kings, battles and heroines. Looking back I’m amazed I ever slept at all!

The three pictures above were posted as part of another brand collaboration. By this time on my Instagram journey I had found the balance between posting images that made me smile whilst celebrating the work of people I admired. In the summer of 2018 we took a road trip down to England, visiting the places and people we missed. Whilst touring through the Cotswolds I asked Alan if we could pop into a shop in Chipping Campden which was owned by a lady I had been following on Instagram for a while. So we ventured over and went in. I can still picture the moment I stepped into her beautiful shop; the sun was at its brightest and my eyes had to adjust to the quaint darkness within. I wasn’t expecting her to be there and I can honestly say that I was a little shy when I approached her. We all have heroes and for most of us they have done extraordinary things. But there are other kinds of heroes too; those who have achieved something that you admire or aspire to. They are people who have awakened something within you, something that remained dormant or unidentifiable. Along with Christina Strutt, the founder of Cabbages and Roses, Sam Wilson gave me a much needed insight into the importance of buying things that matter, that are sustainable and that can tell a story of their own. It was the year after our visit that she contacted me and asked if I’d like to work with her and I still have a lump in my throat to this day.

You’ll have to allow me a little nostalgia with this picture. Eliza was due to move to Glasgow University in a matter of weeks and like so many parents I had started to worry. Had I given her the tools she needed to look after herself? Will she make friends? Does she know how to keep herself safe in the big city? But on this day, on this beach, all of my fears simply faded away. I suddenly saw her in a different light. We were messing about on the beach trying to recreate compositions of Jack Vettriano’s famous beach scenes. The rain had come and gone countless times and with each unwelcome shower the beach emptied a little more until there was just us. Something took hold of us that day. Perhaps it was the knowledge that we would soon be apart but as we danced on the sand with our umbrellas, not having a care in the world, I knew that we had raised a confident young woman who knew how to get the best out of her life, how to laugh at herself and most importantly, a young woman who knew exactly who she was and would never need to apologise for it. We drove home and stopped for fish and chips. I remember looking at her and feeling so contented as a parent, soaring high on the knowledge that she was ready to take the next big step in her life. The comment for this picture simply read, ‘A day I want to carry with me always’.

I still think about this day and the profound effect it had on me. This picture was taken from The Ship Inn at Elie on the Fife coast. Along with Pittenweem, Crail and Lower Largo, it is one of the most breathtaking harbour villages dotted along Scotland’s east coast. We had gone to watch the famous beach cricket with friends who were up visiting from England. It was one of the hottest days of the year and we had been making friends with anyone who had suncream! I should confess at this point that I do not understand the rules of cricket despite many people having explained them to me over the years. But on this day it didn’t matter because the atmosphere was all I needed. The sound of leather on willow has always transported me and carried my imagination away with it. At around 3pm I looked to my left and saw a haze settle over the ocean. As the temperature started to fall I reached for my cardigan and pulled my sunglasses up onto my head. And then, so imperceptibly, so unobtrusively the haar came in. I’d been told about the Scottish haar before but I had filed it away under ‘stuff of folk tales’ but that day as the ethereal mist amassed around us I was utterly bewitched. I reached for my phone and took this one shot. I may never see another haar again so this picture is my reminder.

And so we come to my last photograph. As I sit here typing I’m overcome with so many thoughts and emotions. In truth I cannot believe how far I have come, so much so that I feel the woman who inhabited this body a few years ago is almost entirely unrecognisable. I hear her voice sometimes, she still likes to remind me of past insecurities but her teasings are so faded now that her words are barely formed long enough for me to hear. Of all the brand collaborations I’ve done this one has meant the most to me personally. It was posted in conjunction with a blog I wrote called Our Daily Thread in which I talk about the fashion industry and buying clothes that are sustainable and conscientious. I have been wearing Cabbages and Roses for many years, even before my Instagram life. I won’t discuss why the brand means so much to me here because you can read it in the blog but this particular day was perfect for so many reasons. It was my favourite time of year when the colours of Scotland turn to rust. We drove over to Kenmore in highland Perthshire with the sole purpose of taking photographs for the blog. I had envisaged being there for hours, taking endless photographs and deleting each one because my lack of self-confidence would take hold and I’d be too nervous to use any of them. But the complete opposite happened. As we drove over the glen towards Kenmore I asked Alan to pull the car over so I could take in the view. I took a few steps down the road and he captured it without telling me. I love this photo, not because of the beautiful clothes and how they come alive in the landscape but because I remember exactly how I felt walking down that road. With each step my understanding and assurance grew. As the skirt floated around my legs I drank in the view, a view that I had been craving for so much of my life. It was one of those moments when I felt truly at ease with myself, I liked who I was and I embraced the moment so fully. In truth Alan didn’t photograph an outfit in that moment, he photographed me at my most contented. But like all of these perfect moments it flitted away again. Yet the photograph remains as a reminder, carefully stored and preserved for as long as I need it.

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@homebytheloch