Our Morning Glory reusable coffee cups from Morning Glory Cafe on Coogee Beach.
Holidays and Christmas firmly behind us, the first Monday in January finds us with a list of chores and jobs all made a lot more tolerable by beautiful sunshine.
The sun even penetrated the car cleaning chore.
Our reusable coffee cups are useful and a great reminder of our first breakfast in Australia.
I will take a cold West Country winter with bright sunlight any day but a warm early summer in Sydney in December certainly has made it much more tolerable. I feel like I have had a power pack inserted, I really hope it lasts until at least the end of March.
Sublime point is on the Illawarra Escarpment. Overlooking the Blue Mountains and a small section of the coast of New South Wales.
The views are breathtaking and awe inspiring.
But my inner word nerd was just as thrilled with the word ‘sublime’ being in general usage.
I love the words sublime, subliminal and sublimate. Liminal also is pretty gorgeous.
They are like triplet children whose characters and behaviours are significantly different despite having the same parents
The family name would be the latin word Limen, meaning threshold.
The only time I was an ‘A’ grade student in Chemistry was when I knew in an instant what Sublimation was. Not because I loved chemistry at all, but because I really loved to dance in clubs and pubs and the highlight of the night was when the Dry Ice was used.
I have always been a little shy of using the word sublime in general conversation . I wonder if it is a class thing…
Maybe now I have actually visited a sublime place I should be a little braver.
Making a point sulimely at Sublime Point. N.S.W
3 words, roots in the same place, and yet completely different.
About 18 months ago Google offered me the chance to have AI assistance with writing my blog. It was a brief research piece for Google
” Replicating your own unique voice”
I suppose I tried it for about a week, the results were dreadful, they never saw the light of day, and if my voice were unique in their AI way there would be no regular readers.
In art and photography there is a place for AI and digital skills. I use both for image manipulation but then I use tried and trusted analogue skills to replicate my own unique style.
I suppose the previous paragraph was written to reassure myself and all my loyal blog readers that I am not a flat earth dinosaur, AI luddite. But oh how I love the analogue skills I learnt in regular photography dark rooms and medical imaging dark rooms and the print rooms of art colleges. The joy of just writing down my whimsical ponderings is also a much loved skill. I know my haphazard punctuation and grammar slippages can be infuriating. I am analogue through and through wearing a voluminous cape of digital skills.
My two images for this blog are sunrise at Coogee near Sydney and Sunset at Portwrinkle in Cornwall. One month apart.
I asked AI what the connection was between the two and was rather charmed by the answers.
I suppose my connection was somewhat conceptual. I particularly love sunset because just over the horizon somewhere else is getting a sunrise. Conversely sunrise makes me a little guilty almost responsible for stealing someone else’s sun.
AI would never be able to replicate that convoluted thought process.
The conundrum of giving and receiving. One is more virtuous. I strive to be virtuous. But also love gifts. The joy of a paper wrapped surprise is a life affirming activity!
Sydney Harbour Bridge. The Opera House is just visible
This monotone image was my first sight of Sydney Harbour Bridge at about 6 am. I love it when nature dials down colour to monotone. Time is suspended and real life is presented, as if in a black and white film.
One month on I realise that this could not have been a more fitting first moment.
When I was 10 my Aunt, Uncle and Cousin migrated to Australia. There were complex reasons for this. It was my first experience of heartbreak not caused by death, but by distance-created absence. We had been an extremely tight familial group. Two sisters, their husbands and two girls, both only children. My cousin was severely handicapped and this was the reason the family sought a new life in Australia.
My uncle, who was a nursery man and landscape gardener,was employed to be a plantsman and landscape gardener for the Sydney Opera House Project and nearby botanic gardens.
Apart from occasional ‘bluey’ air mail letters our only contact was ardent following of news coverage of one of the great building projects of its time. All in black and white.
Which is why this image delights me.
Hello old friend. You look just the same as in 1960’s news broadcasts and papers.
Of course I promised you, theoldmortuary blog readers sunshine throughout January.
Two days later.
Funny to think that my uncle would have watched this building being built whilst leaning on a shovel or at the wheel of earth moving equipment. As was often the case in the sixties he did a really manual job while wearing country gentleman clothing. Brogue shoes, tailored trousers, a shirt and tie and a ‘Sports’ jacket with a fine knit Fair-Isle jumper.
The first and last painting, finished on the last day of 2025 and published on the first day of 2026.
My January intentions are to get some sketching done every day and to add sunshine into every blog of January so a sunrise is a good way to start.
Not all my sketches will make it to the blog. But the sunshine is a promise. My holiday photos might be the back up if January gets dreary. I will become that person who wants to,
“Have a coffee and show you my holiday pictures”
Exccept my pictures will be accompanied by random ponderings…
And so randomly off we go.
Our NYE became a random event . Firm plans with pre-chosen menu choices were scuppered when the restaurant of choice failed to open.
But a new itinerary was quickly scheduled. Who needs firm plans for New Year anyway?
A fabulous Asian meal followed by a country pub. What could possibly go wrong?
Absolutely nothing, we had a great time. The serendipity of the unplanned gave me the chance to meet a young, old friend.
We talked about shared friends and neighbours . And a piece of art of mine that her parents own. It was a 3D piece from my Foundation Degree.
I don’t really remember the brief but I chose to render a sliced red onion. I think it was O.K, it is some years since I have seen it. It used to hang, quite appropriately in their kitchen, all was well until one of their guests thought it looked like a vulva. Once someone says that, the thought cannot be unthought. Although it is not uncommon for fruits and vegetables to sometimes look a little cheeky. Figs are the naughtiest.
The family have moved and the artwork has not found an appropriate hanging place in their new home.
Where would such a thing hang appropriately?
There are no images of the piece, but I have asked if one could be taken.
A future ponder perhaps.
2026 in a country pub. Unbeatable
One man’s bottom is about to look like a peach. These things work both ways.
I took some time out yesterday to get paint on paper before 2026.
In the past 3 weeks I have described the undescribable sensations I felt when I first saw the colours of the sea at Coogee Beach an hour after I landed in Australia. I have not been lost for words but making a colour sketch was essential as photographs and words can’t do my memories justice. I wanted the vibrancy and translucency of the colours of the sea combined with the milky coffee colour of the mix of sand and waves on the shore line in the brightest of sunshine.
This is my best effort, a mix of vivid watercolour painting and some digital photography tweaking.
For now I am content and optimistic that the job can be done in the New year.
Our post Christmas life has been about rehabilitating Lola as our only dog. Left to her own devices she would sleep most of the day and happily nip out to the yard for comfort breaks. This lifestyle would not be good for her. We have discovered that she is energised by trips where other dogs and humans can give her contact and interest . We had not attempted countryside walks until yesterday when a bright and breezy Dartmoor attracted us.
Traffic calming on Dartmoor.
We walked along the river Dart at Dartmeet. Lola tolerated the isolation but was indifferent to the history or beauty of the area until she was offered a half share of a warm sausage roll on our return to the car.
Road Bridge 18th Century with damaged Medieval bridge in the foreground.
She sniffed Lichen boulders but not with any great enthusiasm.
Our second walk of the day was more to her taste. Ashburton also took in history with one of the world’s oldest inns. Trading as an Inn since 1140
Nearly 900 years of dog messages expressed on its exterior walls. Lola loves to track and was nose to the pavement once she left this rich trove of Canine communication. She sniffed out a serendipitous collection outside a closed antique shop. Either intentionally or by accident this tiny collection of objects has been rained on, pissed on and then caught in bright winter daylight.
Lola chose not to leave her own message but I was glad to have been dragged by her to see it. I just love the patina of the teapot against the terracotta, rust and vivid blue plant pot.
In some ways the picture of the day and for Lola, possibly the highlight. She is most definitely more urban than rural for the time being.
Blog #1378 wallowed in nostalgia and some dog extra sensory perception. I am comforted by nostalgia and a little sadness is easily softened by the reliving of many happy moments in the same place. But familiar places are never dull. Especially on a day when the sunshine quota was high.
Early visits to Fowey in the 70’s and 80’s, were to a seaside town still functioning as a place where normal people lived, and tourism and locals co-existed. Butchers, Bakers, a Fishmongers and Pharmacy all filled Fore Street The physical buildings remain more or less the same but their form and function have changed to service the hoardes of wealthy Airbnbers and luxury hotel visitors who flock to Cornwall every year.
As a visitor myself I am as much a part of the problem as anyone who has travelled further to enjoy the beauty and texture of the place.
In this old Fishing and Pirating Port , tourists have become the catch of the day and buccaneers treasure chest all rolled into one.
Shops and businesses change hands and function almost overnight. We have become loyal customers to specific buildings not so much the business operating within it.
Hot Chocolate @SaltSociety Fowey.
Three generations of family and friends have shared the joy of Fowey on day trips and weekend breaks. The Boom years of tourism. But what comes next.
The tin merchants of 4,000 years ago could not have imagined the Piracy of 400 years ago. Just as I struggle with the changes of 40 years of tourism. Casting forward 40, 400 or even 4,000 years what will be the niche business of Fowey?
Pondering the future during Twixtmas. Round and round , mind meandering at its best.
P.S A glorious shop window viewed from inside. Giant Quality Street Sweets.
This picture is a good representation of how my mind feels pondering all that future Fowey…
I would say my political views have not altered too much over time but my view of politics has changed greatly, and more recently that change involves fear and anger for where the world is heading.
I always think the portal between worlds feels a little more open at Christmas time. Occluded only by a gossamer thin pellicule that love passes through and is more tangible . I don’t just mean between those we loved who have passed over but also with those who cannot be with us in person. Divided by miles or circumstance.
I was reminded of this yesterday during our visit to Fowey.
The Tamar Valley has been my practically placed home base for 37 years. Fowey has been where my fantasy heart resides for far longer.
Everyone we hold dear has been with us to Fowey. I went with my parents when we were on Cornish Holidays and it was the first place I drove to when I moved to the Tamar Valley in 1988.
I always think the outdoor seating area at Bufala, and as it was previously known Toll Bar is like a location for some personal Magical Realism. It would need to be much bigger because I have probably sat out there with 40 to fifty friends and family at different times in my life. Sunburn and windchill being seasonal risks. And now mass tourism has squeezed us out to visits only in the quieter months. My apologies to all F&F who have not been there. Your time will come.
I could go on about Fowey but as this is about people and love here are 3❤️ snippets from the day.
Kylie and Dan 2016. Fowey.U.KMe and Kylie 3 weeks ago. Mount Eliza Australia
Sometimes if we are very lucky work friends become heart-fit-to-burst friends.
The same goes for neighbours.
Seagull perches on Crow, yesterday Keith, our London neighbour in Fowey Dec 2016. A crow perched on his shoulder.
The last little heart snippet is very hard to explain.
Lola
Regular readers will know that our much loved dog Hugo crossed to another realm two weeks ago. We are navigating the experience of canine mourning. Lola has become a very sleepy and restful woman until we take her to places filled with humans and dogs. Fowey is such a place. Yesterday she was in full love-a-stranger mode. In particular she overwhelmed two men who absolutely gave her the best tickles and hugs and then sadly told us they were mourning dog loss of their own. We had not nentioned our loss until after they did.
Then the same happened with a woman in an interiors shop. Visibly upset from the moment of Lolas love bombing she explained that her heart was so broken from losing her dog she could never consider getting another. We were fine with her tears but her adult children, not so much. They ushered her out of the shop. Thankfully Fowey is a confined ribbon of a main street. Lola caught up with her in another shop and created smiles with her new stranger friend.
Lola seems to have developed some sort of doggy empathy. The Season of goodwill in canine form.
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