theoldmortuary ponders

What’s the trait you value most about yourself?

I don’t know that I value so much, as rely on my ability to stick to a commitment once I am commited even if the task or project seems a little beyond what other people might need or expect of me. Until recently I would describe this ability as ‘goat-like’ meaning that no matter what the job, it would be completed. Maybe not elegantly or with style but with confidence and determination. With the diligence that goats show when taking difficult paths.    In recent times Goat has come to mean something entirely different. Greatest Of All Time.

Now that, may I say is not how I would describe myself.

The nuance of my interactions with people changes outrageously with this new Goatish accolade.

” Would you like help with that shopping”

” No , don’t worry, I am a goat”

Meaning ‘I am fine the bags are balanced and are not too heavy’

Or

“Leave me, I am the Greatest of all time at carrying shopping without a scintilla of modesty”

Language is an evolving and perplexing creature.

However I think the world would be a better place if Goat stood for, Gets Onwith A Task.

Greatest of All time is overated.

#1056 theoldmortuary ponders.

©George Hassanakos

A funny thing happened on the way to the airport a couple of weeks ago. Breakfast, before we left on the last leg of our Greek road trip, was had on Gythio waterfront. A shop selling prints and C.D’s caught our beady tourist eyes. Popping into the shop I immediately bought these 4 postcards. A beardy chap invited us to follow him to another location. He was artist and photographer George Hassanakos, our destination was his workshop, showroom and studio.

https://www.hassanakos.gr/

Without a care for our bulging suitcases we bought more A3 prints of his photography.  His workplace was fascinating, as all creative spaces are. Needing to start the journey to Athens we left him, reluctantly. In an effort to keep us he offered to call the airport and delay our flight. We demurred from his vivid suggestions, the ideas of a wildly creative mind and set off.

The large prints survived our journey to the U.K, just a quick hop to Australia for some of them now. We are all the proud owners of prints signed and annotated by the artist. Funny the unplanned things that happen on the way. Unplanned but never unwelcome.

#1055 theoldmortuary ponders

Storm in Arcadia 2 weeks ago.

The rain has set in, in Stonehouse, not as beautifully as it did in Arcadia . In truth we may have returned to the days of greige.

Full colour image! Stonehouse

I had promised myself to the ironing board when the weather turned. Somehow it feels like I am ironing myself into autumn. Lightweight clothes are ironed and put away, more firmly than before. If there is such a thing as a summer table cloth then that is ironed and may not see the light of day until 2024. I’ve always turned ironing into a learning experience, documentaries or podcasts. Today I ironed in the company of an Octopus called Scarlet, courtesy of the National Geographic Channel. Several levels of improvement from the mostly black and white magazine that popped through the postbox of my childhood home. What luxury to be able to absorb other worlds whilst ironing. I am so intrigued by the Octopus programme, I almost want more ironing, but I also know that an Octopus life has drawbacks, so I am happy that my pile is done with just as Scarlet meets her beau. He touches her with his ‘special’ breeding arm just as the last shirt is ironed. I am released from the responsibility of knowing that she will die as soon as she gives birth and that her babies will feast on her carcass as their first meal. For two reasons I am glad the ironing is over. I am also glad to not be an octopus. I am a loving mother but I know my limits.

#1054 theoldmortuary ponders.

September 2014 Fougaro, Nafplion

Flashbacks, 10 years ago we were on a roadtrip in mainland Greece. Two Weddings and a Baptism.

2 Weeks ago we were on a roadtrip in mainland Greece.

Fougaro Artt Centre featured in both trips. Weddings too.

10 years ago I took one of my all time favourite photographs at an exhibition at Fougaru.

Ornate wedding jewellery

I also took this photo, of a photo, of a wedding tradition, bride and groom dancing in the streets of a home village.

Despite attending Greek weddings We had never witnessed this.

But then in our first moments in Stemnitsa, 2024, this happened.

What are the chances!

Fougaro is one of my favourite small Arts Centres ever but even Fougaru had a little surprise for me.

I had never noticed this ornamental rill on previous visits. The rill took its revenge for being ignored. I failed to notice it again, until I was in it.  No photographic evidence, just wet dungarees and a lot of laughter.

September 2024,  Fougaro,Nafplion 2024

Website below.

https://fougaro.gr/el

#1053 theoldmortuary ponders.

Cat on a chair in Monomvasia

What could you do more of?

Travelling, off the beaten track. I will freely admit that often the ‘off the beaten track’ is an error of my navigation or a misfiring memory. But ‘the road less travelled’ has always been fascinating to me. As for todays blog I have decided to go with some alliteration.

If it is Monday it must be Monomvasia, although, in truth we visited on a Tuesday. Images from Monomvasia 2 weeks ago will illustrate this blog.

Perfect Pomegranates in Monomvasia

First my aversion to alliteration, like swearing I believe alliteration should be used sparingly. Too many people on Social Media use it as a reliable tagline.

I once protested, by swearing, when someone running a Social Media account gave me a list of alliterations to use for the month when I was taking the account over. Despite me explaining gently that I was alliteration averse. Not my finest hour.

Greek Urn Geek, Monomvasia

By nattering on about alliteration I have ably demonstrated how easy it is for me to go off the beaten track. But I needed to explain myself as I delve into ‘Its Monday, it must be Monomvasia’

Steep steps, Monomvasia

Monomvasia was a misfiring memory. When it was suggested as a destination on our road trip my head thought Mount Athos. A monastery destination near Thessaloniki which is closed to women.

Colourful cottages, Monomvasia

Both places played a part in my vivid imagination as a child with access to the National Geographical magazine.

Best bar, bar none. Monomvasia

The adult me never thought to question why women would be admitted, I suppose I imagined some form of orthodox emancipation had occurred. Regardless Monomvasia was  everything I had hoped and welcomed women. Which is always a good thing. The unexpected road less travelled did not disappoint and off the beaten track is always thought provoking. Plus  Alliteration can be useful in small doses but it can be taken too far.

Oleaginous Olive Tree, Monomvasia

The End.

Warm water, Monomvasia

#1052 theoldmortuary ponders.

This week’s figs. Not freshly plucked from the Fig trees of Kalamata but picked off the shelf from Marks and Spencer. A sign of the times figuratively speaking.

Today is the Autumn Solstice, a calm acceptance that Summer is officially over. The autumn clear up of the yard is scheduled for today.

The huge success of this summer has been the trellis extension( the orange area)  to the wall. It gives us a foundation of better privacy in the yard. There are three seating areas to catch the sun and we use them much more often than we ever have before. Not that our neighbours are Ogres at all,but they do have a garden trampoline and goodness me I have an irrational dislike of those things. Now it is just a small black line on my extended horizon. The trellis also stops our dogs seeing the cats and chickens of our local area walking along the top of the wall. The dogs have an irrational need to be terratorial about such incursions.

A calm acceptance of the Autumn Solstice is a bit of a lie. Inside I am fuming, Summer arrived late in our yard and yet it is departing on time. I have enjoyed watching the progress and achievements of the climbing plants as they clamber their way up new wood and old stone to colonise the trellis. The Wisteria has something even more exciting to climb on, a massive rusty length of marine chain which was washed up during the last storm before summer established itself. In time the wisteria will cover the garage roof using the chain as a wayfinder.

So here we are Autumn, in theory my favourite season but I really only dislike winter.

The season of mists and mellow fruitfulness. I am already signed in with my figs.

#1051 theoldmortuary ponders.

We’ve had great success with our  Canna growing this year.  All of them have bloomed. This from a historical and geographical perspective is quite the achievement. Our Cannas have been with us a long time. Some moved from the garden in Cornwall and others from Crystal Palace , they were always grown for the architectural shape of their leaves but we would have loved some flashes of red against the black fences of our two previous gardens. It seems they prefer a white stone yard to show off their blooms. Better late than never. Red is so energising. I just looked red up in my photo file and was hit by some great eye popping reds

It’s funny how the shortening days of autumn make me want to enjoy red and orange in my visual life but I don’t ever really wear a lot of red. Maybe the scrag end of September is the time to change that. Is it brave to wear red at any other time than Christmas?  I’m a bit shocked at how much I love these red grids. All started by my red  Canna blooming for the first time.

#1050 theoldmortuary ponders.

Memory is a funny thing

I have been exploring mine with a fine tooth comb or even a tooth pick for the past few weeks

I have been on holiday with a man that I was at school with 55 years ago. It seems there is no limit to the amount of useless information we have both retained from our school days or the village we lived in. Every small memory from one of us promoted a surprising response of more information from the other. Even really random observations helped us find a recognition of the cast or script of our distant past

So used to delving in the past am I, in my waking hours that my nocturnal meanderings in the dream world have also taken to historic recollection.  Dreaming about the past and revisiting the most mundane of old scenarios has become my nocturnal adventures. I find it both comforting and reassuring. Somehow I am braver in my dream world than I ever was in real life.

Memory is a privilidge I am happy to accomoadate.

#1049 theoldmortuary ponders.

Which topics would you like to be more informed about?

The world is a complicated place and I have a magpie mind. Never really knowing what will interest me next. Frequently I surprise myself. This week I have been intrigued by football chants and songs. Who knew?

Goodness knows what it will be next week. I also plan on baking macaron biscuits some time this week. Not delicate little french ones but chunky almond coated ones to accompany coffee. I also have a rather ugly piece of furniture that needs some TLC to make it acceptable as my bedside book store. I sense my magpie mind is busy storing projects to get me through the winter months, once this glorious early autumn descends into dreary dreariness.

Post holiday the yard is working hard as a drying space. The climbing plants managed very well while I was away. Climbing and flowering in my absence.

Probably happy not to have my interfering fingers trying to encourage them in directions of my choosing rather than their natural urge to find the best sunny spot for their new shoots.

Our yard planting is all about improving privacy and encouraging wildlife, alongside creating an outdoor space that we want to sit in.

Our first new visitor of the autumn is a Pug Moth.

Named, apparently, because at some angles it resembles the dogs with the same name. Not from any angle I could find. Maybe that is something I could be better informed about!