An early start yesterday for wildlife. Not this beautiful seal, she was definitely a bonus. But one of my regular meetings with a Pest Control contractor called Annie. The Tennis Club I help to run is very close to the sea and considered to be a Winter Palace for the rats who choose to live on the coastline. For two years we have been diligently discouraging the Winter Palace theory with bait boxes and regular surveys of the rat population. Diligence has paid off, living in a Tennis Club is no longer seen as the Winter Dream of the local rat population. They will never be eradicated anymore than our Seagulls , but their numbers are manageable.
Of course the rats, seagulls and resting seals were all living here long before humans arrived possibly during the Iron Age. And certainly before humans thought it would be a good idea to run about hitting small balls across nets.
Seeing the seal just calmly doing her thing with no care for what century she was in was just a lovely peaceful way to start the day.
Book club yesterday with a review of a book that didn’t get much praise from our assembled readers. I will not mention the author or the novel. Others may love it. As is often the case, the less we enjoy a book the more far ranging are the conversations about it. The day after a bookclub meeting I allow myself some free choice reading. The book at the top of my pile should have been read in late December on my flight from Hong Kong to London. I started reading but fairly early on we hit turbulance . It occurred just after supper was served and was so disruptive the cabin crew could not move to clear up the supper trays and drinks. No book reading for a couple of hours as all passengers had to keep their hands on the supper trays and their minds on not needing a wee.
So here I am nearly three months later starting my gifted holiday read again.
Being a holiday read it has fascinating book marks. Airline tickets from Hong Kong and a beer mat from Bermagui Beach Hotel.
Our stay at the Bermagui Beach Hotel was every woman who enjoys an Australian Drama’s Dream. And I love Australian Dramas.
Our stay at Bermagui had a tiny drama of its own when I had a naked encounter with a Sting Ray.
First name to spring to mind was Steve Irwin, an Australian Naturalist who lost his life to a Sting Ray. Once the danger was past I may have given some thought to calling out the fictitious G.P. Dr Blake, famed for his small town, Ballarat, Mysteries.
I think I could have languished quite happily in a genuine turn of the century hotel while he puzzled over an English Naturist in almost a copy cat event. Although had I had any sort of life threatening injury the 9 hour journey he would need to drive would have probably killed me.
Of course all I was actually suffering from was an over active imagination in the most idyllic spot.
Books have a habit of encouraging an over active imagination. Bookmarks less so, but today I am reading about the Dreaming Spires of Oxford while pondering the absolute delight that was a small town hotel in New South Wales. Oh if only those walls could have talked.
Far better to read a book on an Australian Hotel balcony dreaming of the past, but better to read anywhere than not to read at all
Every picture tells a story. But in this case it will take two pictures.
Plymouth is celebrating the 100th Birthday of one of the most famous artists who has lived in the city.
On Saturday we went to one of the liveliest celebrations of a 100th Birthday you could imagine. A silent disco in a museum. I’m not sure if I would have blogged about our attendance but I was having a clean washing grump this morning. Bemoaning in my head that I am sick of the dull colours that emerge from the winter weekend laundry cycle.
But hiding in the corner of the laundry picture is evidence of a night out in fancy dress.
My 1940’s tiger print fake fur coat had her moment. I went to the disco dressed as the flashing woman in the top picture of a video about the life and work of Beryl Cook.
Luckily although I flashed a lot, there is no photographic evidence.
Our fitness trackers, tracked more than 5 miles of dancing. That would not have been achieved in a heavy coat. So she took a rest on the back of a chair while more light weight leopard print garments did the hard yards of the 5 miles of dancing. A bit more flashing as I left and the night was done. Of course it was an outing with the Bobbers. 6 of us on this occasion.
Surely Spring must be on the way. And with it a brighter laundry pile. But the coat is evidence that not all winter garments are dull and practical.
The coat in 2020 just a few days before the first Covid Lockdown.
A morning of gardening and nattering was paused whilst an exhausted Bumble Bee took refreshment at the Tennis Club.
Sugar in a spoon with her own Intensive care team checking progress.
I still love the Romantic filter
The foreground of this early morning image is exactly where she landed, possibly exhausted from her inaugural flight. I couldn’t resist giving her the Romantic filter effect.
Because, although this may be an indelicate subject, I checked out this ladies bottom. It was buff. Making her a Queen Bee. So a whole colony of bees has been saved by the Saturday Gardeners of the Tennis Club.
The North wind was still blowing last night but the sunset was promised to be spectacular due to fine-particulate Saharan sand being caught up in the atmosphere. We walked to catch the last of the day’s feeble rays setting over the Tinside Lido.
The sunset was good but not as fabulous as predicted, so some artistic licence was required to show the last rays of sunshine setting over a very grubby lido. The natural Saharan embellishments, embellished by using some arty AI digital tweakments.
The pool itself is embellished every year by council workers using human endeavour and many pressure washers to chase off the ravages of winter. I cant think of a more satisfying job than turning this pool into the gorgeous sapphire bobbing pool of dreams.
Over this winter the pool and its Art Deco building have had some tefurbishment. I can’t wait to see it.
But just to prove that digital tweakments are not the only artistic/ abstract things I can do with a simple smartphone camera. Here is one of my favourite images from this location.
The pool on a very bright day. Photographed through a 1930’s Glass Brick in a dark changing room.
And after sunshine the cold must come. 7 degrees yesterday and a pale and watery sun. The North wind was blowing. 3 intrepid bobbers went into the sea and 4 intrepid bobbers kept their clothes on to keep watch for Sea Monsters and Merpeople intent on kidnap. The sea was flat and calm. Nothing happened.
Bobbing and bobbers are one of the positive left overs from the Pandemic era. Formed to give a tiny group, now much bigger,of friends enjoying outdoor swimming exercise during the Covid Lockdowns. We started off 2 metres apart and strung out along the promenade. Now we huddle together. Sometimes 15 of us share a tiny 4 metre shelter as a changing space. Other times when the weather is kind spilling onto the Prom to let salt flecked skin dry in heat of the sun.
As the Covid era slips from recent memory into history. The last lockdown was 4 years ago. Bobbing, and the friendship group developed, shows no sign of being forgotten.
Yesterday we sold the car that was chosen in 2021 specifically because it had heated seats. We used to live 20 minutes away from the Bobbing beach. A hot bottom was essential on days when the temperature was below freezing. Bobbing caused us to move 10 minutes walk away from the Bobbing beach. A hot bottom had become a daily driving pleasure but not essential. As we drove to do the part -exchange the seats were turned on to full. We have entered the cold bottom era.
One of my digital photo manipulation apps has a new ‘Romantic’ filter. I never normally use just one app or just one setting,preferring to amalgamate different settings from different apps to create a more unique and interesting image from my daily walks . But ‘Romantic’ seems to be a bit of a wonder filter. My daily walk never looks like this but there is nothing in this picture that doesn’t exist at some time of day or at some time of year from this viewpoint. Never, though all together. My romantic head conjures up something similar to this when I am away from home and imagining what our regular swimming beach looks like. The other thing I love about this ‘Romantic’ image is that someone wrapped up warmly against the cold and sitting enjoying a cup of coffee is obvious in this digitally enhanced image. I had completely missed them on the original photo. Are they reading or sketching?
How do I even feel about romanticising things as someone who believes that I am a pragmatist at heart?
A deep dive into quick AI definitions throws my pragmatist belief into a quandary.
Honestly who could imagine a filter causing so much thought. If only the app had called it a beautiful filter that would have been fine. I would have tried it the minute it appeared on the drop down menu, but the word romantic put me off for several weeks.
Just another pair of words for me to float between.
I have not seen sunshine like this on home turf for 3 months. And this is day 2! Yesterday was a day of out and about chores on all four corners of the city. All chores were achieved but the downside of that was only seeing sunshine from the inside of a car until it was time for it to set behind some trees on the edge of Dartmoor.
This morning Lola and I set off on an unspecified walk which was embellished by meeting loads of people out doing the same thing. Walking and talking in the sunshine was so much better than getting chores done in the sunshine.
But with the chores done yesterday there was no guilt in elongating my morning walk to take in the sights of Stonehouse.
We did an airport pick-up for some friends last night which meant a different but old location for the late evening dog walk.
The little row boat caught in the reflected lights just caught my imagination. It was just a moment when the tide allowed the little boat to have his moment in the spotlight.
But with St Pirans Day, the Patron Saint of Cornwall, approaching I had planned to save this image for a couple of days. A photo of the Cornish bank of the River Tamar would have been useful and appropriate for St Piran.
Alas with just a little research St Piran seems about as authentic a chap as many other Saints. Maybe invented, maybe living under an assumed name.
Below is a link to a fine and glorious fantasy story.
Of all the supposed Saints I occasionally research St Piran does seem to have had more fun than the average . If I exclude the being thrown into the sea weighed down by a millstone episode.
Just for spinning a good yarn, St Piran can keep his Saints Day on the 5th of March. I believe he is my favourite so far.
What experiences in life helped you grow the most?
I would swap out the word helped with forced.
Early on in my journey as the parent of two young children both of my parents died.
There is a saying that no-one cares for a new mother who does not have her own mother. So true. X 2 without a father too.
There was minimal support from other relatives. I survived and ultimately thrived with the support of friends and strangers, some of whom became friends.
So many tough life experiences to encounter in a six year period.
Survival and the drive to be a good enough parent pushed, pulled and cajoled me though. Eventually when the mists of grief and responsibility cleared enough to take stock I realised that I had learned to live life as it was, and not how I wished or imagined it should be.
A valuable lesson I would rather not have been forced to learn. But one that is useful even when life feels awkward or uncomfortable.
Thank goodness I am not a virtuous type. I do grumpy, sad and disappointed with what life delivers at times. But adversity early on has given me all the tools to give myself a good talking to and a good kick up the bum when needed.
And here is the ponder, how on earth does anyone give themselves a kick up the backside. Physically impossible I would say.
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