We love pumpkins in this house. October and November are a pumpkin lovers paradise. Not for any other reason than their gorgeous organic autumnalness.
But yesterday one had to be sacrificed for the pleasure of a small person.
Winking and smiling was her request . The design was finalised and then the evisceration took place.
Everything marked out with a Sharpie was due to be cut out.
Winky was created in just under half an hour.
Eyelashes any pumpkin could be proud of.
Diamonds in the street after a morning deluge, with a bright blue sky reflected on Tarmac.
What a morning of changing weather, one moment serious raincoat weather and the next a walk with no coat is entirely appropriate.
Puddles to stamp in for a three year old and sandals for me.
Other rain induced illusions appear on the road
Pretty funky when double exposed together.
And onward to another week .
How to fill an empty space?
Put on a performance of the London Songs by Sian Jamison.
With a choir of 60 all dressed as Londoners from any period of history.
I popped back 40 years to late 70’s punk.
I can still get into the lycra/ jersey mini skirt but my knees are not so pretty. The make-up flowed on like I still do it every day, but…
The Wrinkles. Who put a contour or topographical map on my face?
Every year etched on my face as a trip hazard for dramatic make up.
So the knees just had to show their age and the face went for a modified version because nobody needs to look quite that ghoulish on a Saturday night.
And we filled the space magnificently.
It is not every day that the bobbers get to bob in a very bobby sea with a world renowned natural scientist. But yesterday Sir David Attenborough sailed right past our swim zone.
Heading to Antarctica with a full crew and more than 60 scientists.
BBC News – Sir David Attenborough ship visits Plymouth
https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/cz6nw7819zlo
So somewhere on the huge ship that sailed past the bobbers there is also Boaty McBoatface.
That is two celebrity ships for one bobbing session and it was a most delicious bobbity bob. Just the right amount of chill, chatter and chocolate.
Wordle is a morning activity, along with reading online newspapers and some Instagram scrolling. Tea followed by coffee. Blog writing. Being creative.
My definition of morning is actually any time after midnight and is entirely dependent on how well I am sleeping. Younger me would have done a fresh Wordle after a night out. But I rarely see midnight at the end of the day, unless my book at bedtime is very addictive. Fresh Wordles are released at midnight.
Screens are considered poor companions before sleep or indeed in between sleeps. But my sleep patterns were formed by years of 24 hour shifts that involved overnight working on screens between grabbed patches of sleep. Long before all other humans became so fixated on screens.
Contrary to all sensible advice regarding insomnia, screens help to put me back to sleep. I am very aware that I am an amateur insomniac, trained to be one, rather than a sufferer of the real condition.
Another foolproof method would be to have a quick swim in the sea or to walk in city streets, neither of those are particularly safe for a lone woman.
Night swimming in the sea would never be for me because I am a competent but not confident swimmer. I would not walk the streets of my current city, alone after dark.
Walking at night in a city became a habit when I lived in London. The first time,because I was young, and the night was a new and exciting world after growing up in rural Essex. The second time because I worked in two very safe parts of London. Marylebone and The City.
I think I am by nature a nocturnal person who has been reframed or indeed retrained as someone who goes to bed at 10.
So Wordle is my after-midnight* excitement these days. My younger self would be appalled.
When you think of the word “successful,” who’s the first person that comes to mind and why?
Successful means a positive outcome no matter how large or small the original effort Sometimes success occurs, unplanned and with no effort from the midst of abject failure. No one person represents success without failure and no one person represents failure without some success. We are all a mixture of both.
#1353 theoldmortuary ponders.
I am having a bit of a creative experimentation phase using watercolour, weaving and collage. The colours of the sea around us are constantly changing and I photograph and paint them often, mostly as never to be seen ideas on paper.
This image started life as a storm picture, the colours featured are the sea, old military concrete, rust and vivid seaweed all tossed about in the sea . Then I chopped A3 paper down to A4 and used the cut off pre-painted paper to weave into the A4 and made a weaved image to collage onto the A4. Sheet. There is a curious pleasure in destroying an image to create a new and unexpected one. I like the sense of unity that my mark making on the original sheet brings to the new weaved image. I like that there are now 3 or 4 layers all telling the same story but in a very different way.
My original was just swirling wave forms but the woven piece almost tells a more accurate account. This is not an area of gentle sandy beaches and murmuring flisvos.
Waves don’t often hit our shores gently and there is more concrete than sand. This area has been a port for more than 1,000 years. Waves slap hard against cliffs and man-made structures which are built to be resilient. The collision of water and hard surfaces is the soundtrack of a walk by the sea. The sharp angles and abrupt colour changes of the woven areas are a good reflection of the sound and sensations of being at one with the sea in an area that is not completely natural and unspoilt. A little arty, digital tinkering makes me want to try this again.
But for now it is just a fabulous design for a stained glass window.
What makes a good neighbor?
Most of my current neighbours are unknown to me. They live across a small service lane at the back of the house. I have no neighbours opposite the front of the house. Neighbours to the sides are known just enough to exchange brief pleasantries and take in one another’s parcels. I suggest that this is an ideal situation. My neighbours cats are quite another matter , choosing the planters in my yard as elevated toilet zones. I am almost certainly smiling and polite to their owners, not knowing which house sends their feline occupants my way for their daily ablutions.
Adversity shows up the power of really good neighbours. We were burgled in London some years ago. Sympathy and support from 6 of our neighbours created a friendship that went way beyond the immediate aftermath. The parties that roamed between our 6 dwellings were legendary and had aftermaths of an entirely different nature. The ribbons of those friendships flutter and circle the world now. Markers of a time and a place.
I would choose paragraph two neighbours over paragraph one. But have no need of another burglary to create an alchemy of exquisite neighbourliness. Good neighbours are whatever serendipity provides. I wouldn’t want a bad one, all other sorts are a bonus.
I am not sure where this blog is heading it involves Quinces and pockets, Rupert the Bear with a scintilla of handbags.
Before I set off on a meandering blog, here are my timeline notes.
Cooking Quinces
My paternal grandmother cooked Quinces.
She dressed like Rupert the Bears mother.
She always wore over garments with lots of pockets, just like Mrs Bear.
Read the link below for an understanding of women and pockets. And the garment of my grandmother and Rupert’s mother.
When anyone asks what my favourite or most influential book is I ponder long and hard. It fluctuates, at the moment it is The Count of Monte Cristo.
But in researching the Grandmother Rupert link I realise my most influential books are the Rupert Annuals which I received almost every year for twenty years.
Goodness knows when I last opened this book. But I know every page like the back of my hand. Out of curiosity I sniffed it, out of nowhere, if you ignore my lachrymal glands, small pricking tears appeared in my eyes. Maybe it was the dust…
Mrs Bear appears often wearing a long pinny or a light over-garment with pockets.
I am very much a pocket woman. Since hitting semi-retirement I have relied on pockets rather than a day to day handbag. That has only changed in the last couple of months now I am obliged to carry an Epipen on any outing that might involve food or drink.
I think pockets were my genetic or literary gift from my grandmother/Mrs Bear. A dress or skirt is not a garment for me without pockets. If there are no pockets in a mass produced garment I don’t buy them or I add them. Pockets should be cotton or a natural fabric. Cotton bags from shops work well.
Less so now that leggings come with pockets. It is easy to hide leggings under longish dresses and skirts.
Whilst cooking quinces or indeed anything I have apron pockets so large that I could carry a litter of squirming puppies.
Maybe more Rupert musings in a future blog and certainly more Quince.
Day 2 of Quince cooking beckons.
What principles define how you live?
Hmmm,
I am mostly very law abiding.
Rules and protocols require a little more consideration and questioning.
Wisdom and my moral compass fill in the gaps. Kindness, good listening and reflection are also good gap fillers.
And the aesthetics of everything colours life, sometimes with little effort and other times with a good deal of thought and experimentation.
Saints are not my cup of tea, so failure on all these principles happens and thank goodness for that. Saints are soooo tedious.
I believe net curtains are the work of the Devil. Especially above ground level. Make them plain and call them Voile. Nobody’s windows need to look like fancy underwear. Another lesser known principal but useful all the same.
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