Time passes and sometimes that feels inexplicably sad. Top Gun, the movie was released in 1986 just as I was about to embark on my childrearing years. The release of Top Gun Maverick, this year, when I no longer have the same familial responsibilities is a marker of some sort. The freedom of Youth relinquished willingly and excitedly to form a family and then the evolution of old age and freedom because that family no longer needs you to be that responsible. Me and Maverick have had the same career trajectory too. He is still ‘just’ a Captain because he was always better at the job he loved than promotion. I never progressed much either, because I also enjoyed the job, but also because in 1986 having a child was not the best career move for a woman. Me and Maverick just bobbing along at the same level for 36 years. What a strange parallel!
Beyond that strange gap of 36 years Top Gun Maverick is a rare thing. A Sequel that is possibly better than the original. It was a bit of a weepy for me. Maybe my brain realised I was witnessing more than just a film, before I did.
Its been quite the painting day here, but first the morning bob needs a mention purely for its novelty moment. It is not unusual for us to be passed, at some point, by Royal Marines out on training runs. What is unusual, however, is to hear the command, “Shirts off” and just like that the Marines took their shirts off and plunged in the sea.
The Bobbers, of course, were completely cool with this but not so another swimmer. The Marines chose a good day, it was a fabulous swim.
Meanwhile the outside of our house is being given a big makeover. Dark blue masonry paint and a yellow front door. The decision had been made and the paint purchased but moments before the paint was applied I was still checking Pinterest to see if the colour combination worked on other peoples houses.
I was in a deconstructing mood and chopped up a watercolour that had been deliberately painted to be cut up.
The scraps are endlessly fascinating.
Below is the reason for creating all this vivid mess.
These squares represent nearly a year of observing the sea colours on my daily walks on the Stonehouse Peninsular. This is my first experiment with the technique . #1 stacked up in the studio.
I found this bunting high up in a tree yesterday, while I was walking in the rain. A soggy reminder of a busy weekend, not particularly Jubilee themed for me, more arty really with a side serving of jubilance Three paintings went off to their forever homes over the weekend and another will go to a permanent gallery space later this week.
Lester Longwool goes to Devon
I have always loved the unintentional glamour of agricultural shows. Farm animals given the red carpet treatment for their moments in the judging ring. I used to like to photograph them as if they were celebrities. Painting them in Watercolours is a recent fun thing to do. Lester Longwool in the style of Marc Bolan is the first of these I have sold. As it was a group exhibition he was sold to someone unknown to me. I hope he makes his new home happy. I wonder if he did actually go to Devon, that was just his working title. Below is the unsold, version with him going to Cornwall.
Lester Longwool goes to CornwallSilver Birch Plantation
The Silver Birches, above, went to a friends house. I know I will see this one again. As for the last one, well it was never planned to be for sale. It is a large A1 watercolour project planned to be the backdrop for some digital work. For use as a source for a theme, background, marketing and website for some musicians. Once the project was over I had thought about cutting it up and repurposing it but the client did not want it destroyed and so just like the other two it left the cost confines of the studio. When all the creative work is done with it I can write a whole blog about the experience.
seachanges
There was one charming image that came out of the Queens Jubilee. It is just something cute to end a blog with before I knuckle down to some maths, the unpleasant side of todays studio work.
Jubilee Ma”malade Tea by Eleanor Tomlinson
Please take a moment or two to look at Eleanor’s website, lovely art is good for us all
The sun sets on an unusual 4 day weekend when the Queen celebrated her Platinum Jubilee.
The bobbers got together in their usual place, Firestone Bay, to have a dry bob. A bob that does not require immersion in the sea but that does involve food and nattering. We gathered for a picnic at Stonehouse Lawn Tennis Club for a picnic overlooking our usual swimming spot.
The topics were, as usual, wide ranging but the Queen was touched upon and South West Film Archive provided vital evidence of one bobber presenting the Queen with a bouquet of flowers, she also, thoughtfully, gave Prince Philip a button hole, carefully wrapped in tin foil to protect his uniform. Posterity did not record that moment but we do have a still from the bouquet presentation.
Today was a significant moment in history. None of us will ever see a Royal Jubilee again, so full on picnic time it was, with Sandwiches, Sausage Rolls, A cheese, pineapple and silver skin onion hedgehog, Fritatas, Scones, Strawberries and cream, Savoury Pin Wheels, Cherries, Crisps and Prosecco.
Games were played.
Trees were planted, cheers were cheered, and the National Anthem attempted. A good day was had.
Lovely buns brought the Drawn to the Valley, Spring Exhibition to a close. 100 visitors and members came to the final day of the exhibition and the afternoon was further enhanced by tea and cakes for everyone. Buns are a fine way to spend part of Saturday but a puppy is an even finer way to make the day memorable. Meet Mini, a friends Dachshund baby.
And if a little puppy wanted a cuddle it would be churlish to refuse.
And just like that Saturday passed in a joyous whirl of buns and puppies. Perfection really.
This is the first sign of the day that Friday was not going to go to plan but not necessarily in a bad way. The early morning dog walk was complicated by the dog poo bag holder not being replenished. Lola performed in a deeply rural part of the walk and I was able to flick her early morning elimination into a deep bramble bush, land that has not seen the light of day since the second world war. At the end of our walk I treated myself to a cup of coffee to enjoy in the yard.
At this point we were in an urban environment. At the most built up part of the walk Hugo decided to make his early morning deposit. Still no bags and too early to borrow from other dog walkers I had no choice but to stand over his steaming offering and drink my coffee down very quickly so I could use my coffee cup and lid to dispose of his poo in a proper way. This all took way longer than planned and then I was almost late for the 9 am bob.
As you can see the sea was not to be missed this morning. The morning slipped away with bobbers drinking tea in the yard after what turned out to be a wonderful long swim. I also handed over a commission to a happy new owner. Then the day took a new and unexpected turn, two friends messaged to say they were in St Pauls Cathedral for the Queens Jubilee Service. In an unusual turn of events I was glued to a televised church service plus all the waffle that goes with it to try and see our friends.
Thank goodness for the green tie, and the fact that they took the seats at the back that nobody wanted. That green tie really stood out and the seats no one wanted were exactly where all the V.I.Ps had to stand before going down the aisle. They were often in shot. I am immensely proud of them for refusing to make eye contact with Boris Johnson. Credit too for whichever wit chose the reading from the Bible for Boris to read.
The passage Johnson read was from Phillipians 4:8.
He said: “Whatever is true, whatever is honourable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable … think about these things.”
That was no accident. All this serendipity gives me the chance to share this audio/ video of one of the most joyous sounds in London. The bells of St Pauls.
Not an average evening on Plymouth Hoe. Faithless blasting out from a music festival and a beacon lit for the Queens Jubilee.
A lovely evening walk, ripe for a good old ponder. How effective was the beacon system as an early warning system. There is a good bit of theorising on the internet hampered by not a huge amount of recorded data. It is said that when the Armada was spotted of the coast of Lands End the beacon system alerted London about 6 hours later. Beacons were located about 5-15 miles apart depending on the geographical features of the land. Each beacon would have had a watcher and a beacon lighting team, their efficiency would have had an impact on the transmission time. Beacons were dotted along the south coast of England as far as Portsmouth and then turned inland and spread the news to London and the rest of the country. It is said that the news reached York in the north of the country in under ten hours. This is all vague because at the time no-one kept the time. The specificity of the news would have been carried by a messenger on a horse, the horse and probably the rider would have changed regularly between the start point of Lands End to the end point London. The news would then have then been spread far wider by horses and messengers being sent in all directions from London.
Tonight however the Queen touched a symbolic globe and without any horses or messengers, the beacon lit up in Plymouth and many other locations , just like magic. Although not exactly magic, we were close enough to the beacon to hear the gas being turned on several moments before the Queen placed her gloved hand anywhere near the globe. A moment made all the more memorable by ceremonial bagpipes adding unexpected notes to very well known Faithless anthems. Its been a day of anthems.
P.s. here is a proper photograph from a proper photographer.
Welcome to the Thursday that thinks it is Saturday. The Queen has been on the throne for seventy years, so in Britain we have a four day weekend with today, Thursday,being the first of the days off.
The Queen as Ziggy Stardust, both great British institutions.
My head has been incapable of adjusting to a Thursday Bank Holiday.I can’t help but be puzzled that this is not Saturday. Our usually quiet week day walk was enlivened by huge numbers of tourists. The dogs took their time reading all the pee mails that the unknown holidaying dogs have left, almost making us late for our usual, free, two hour parking spot. A big celebration in London with us not visiting is unheard of, but we never considered going this time. We no longer have our own Welsh Guardsman performing for Her Majesty.
Not because we have lost him, but because he has retired his Bearskin. To be fair his instrument of choice made him one of the men in the back row so we have spent many events of great national significance waiting for a glimpse of his bottom.
We often got front row seats, again really very lucky. On one occasion the seats were so special we had a slightly awkward sartorial moment. We had taken some South African friends, with us, who were dressed amazingly, I suppose we were dressed well enough for normal but as it turned out our tickets were anything but normal. London, on these occasions, is also far from normal so when our tickets, being checked at pinch points, sent us nearer and nearer to Downing Street we were not particularly perturbed. Alarm bells were slightly raised by the fashion and style of all the other people who were being gently directed with us. If we were dressed to an OK standard the others in the queue clearly had a different dress code. Men in Morning Dress ( three piece suits with tails) women in fabulous outfits with high heels and hats of the most fabulous sort. What sealed the deal for the strangeness of our ticket allocation, was the last part of our journey which was through the gardens of Number 10 Downing Street. The home and Office of the British Prime minister. We had randomly been given tickets on the same stand as International Diplomats. We diplomatically stuck close to our South African friends, who looked more dressed for the occasion than we did. We took our places in the stand and had fabulous views. No one noticed us at all, apart from those moments when our friends caught a glimpse of a black Welsh Guards musician and ululated with joy. Having done it once, those diplomats and their families, who could ululate, joined in on on every subsequent occasion. I suspect that is not the normal behaviour from the Diplomats stand, but it made the days events joyful and memorable.
Thursday as the new Saturday, a Platinum Jubilee is unlikely ever to happen again. My confusion is unlikely to be repeated. Probably just as well!
The dogs have a new beach of choice for one of their daily walks. It is a river beach that lies on the Devon side of the Hamoaze , a sort of watery border area, the sort known as 4 corners in some parts of the world. To the west is Cornwall, the east is Devon, north is the Tamar River and to the south the Atlantic, or Pymouth Sound. For the dogs the beach is a collection of freshly changed fascinating smells. At high tide the beach doesn’t exist but at mid tide a treasure trove of smells for them and treasure for their human companions is there for anyone to pick over. It is hard not to be fascinated by little pieces of sea glass and pottery. This handful was gathered in about ten minutes
The dogs love the area because even the most time conscious human loses all sense of time while picking up treasure. This allows them to sniff and track all manner of fascinating fragrances without interruption by a human anxious to get home. We go there so often I have created an indoor collection of ‘treasure’ that has definite boudaries. A box lid that can only contain a finite amount of bits. As new and more colourful bits are added, less interesting ones must be returned to the beach to continue their journeys.
So far this system has worked, only time can tell if discipline or hoarding will ultimately win.
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