How have you adapted to the changes brought on by the Covid-19 pandemic?
Unbelievably pre- COVID-19, I would never, ever, have considered plunging into the sea here at least once a week. Plunging into the sea in all weather and conditions would never have crossed my pre-Covid mind. It has become almost a ritual and one that has more benefits than I could ever have imagined. For some inexplicable reason swimming in cold water has made me braver in other awkward or challenging situations. Rather a positive change that I am very grateful for.
Yesterday was for the greatest part both busy and effective but my painting and printing were off -the- scale awful. Nature showed me how to be creative with beauty and subtlety. For about ten minutes I was treated to an ever changing milky sunset.
Meanwhile one of our occasional bobbers, and other Plymouth singers were in London making a noise
It must have been a fabulous time experience to sing in that massive, Gothic space even for just ten minutes. If you read the article the intent is massively important but was achieved in a very eccentrically English way, with Architecture as the code word.
A quirky achievement to preserve evenings like this, when life is better than art.
No late blogging today. Obviously for regular readers there is a clue to the repetitive nature of today’s blog. But as so often happens a ponder has emerged from the repetition that takes me off in an unexpected direction. There was a small pod of dolphins sleeping in the bay, roughly where the sea changes colour. Every now and then a dolphin broke the surface of the water. Sunshine and water, why wouldn’t I share the news with all my swimming friends. I put this image on our Bobbers Whatsapp group. A bobber then replied with this image, of where she is currently dipping her toes.
What an uplifting pair of pictures. A visual call and response.
The minute I typed, call and response I thought I should check my thinking.
This kind of visual call and response happens a lot on the Bobbers WhatsApp group. Tranquility Bay is our ‘home’ but if a bobber dips into other waters and gets a great photo then a picture pops up for everyone to enjoy. Nearly always with a comment that a swim at Tranquillity Bay will be much appreciated when the bobber returns from their glossy holiday bobbing.
Funny that I would use a shanty term to describe photographs of the sea. It must be the ebb and flow, the rhythm of flisvos*
Meanwhile the sun is rising and I must be up and about and printing.
March the Ist rewarded the Bobbers with a great swim yesterday morning. The sun came up. The water was at 10 degrees and the air temperature was 5 degrees. Nothing significantly different from January and February. But swimming on the first day of meteorological Spring felt buzzy. We were buzzy. As a group we have completed our third winter of regular sea swimming. When we started a photo like this was unthinkable. Each separate household kept themselves about two meters apart and our swim was our half hour of permissible outdoor exercise during a Covid lockdown. Our group of 12 to 14 swimmers stretched out on the promenade for almost 20 metres depending on who lived with whom. Even sticking to the rules there was always a small element of anxiety about our early bobbing sessions. That anxiety was heightened when we were approached by the police. We shouldn’t have worried, the police were concerned for our safety. There was a voyeur on the loose. Hidden in clear sight, or in his case enhanced clear sight. A man was taking his half hour exercise by cycling along the promenade in fluorescent clothing. Fitness was not his goal however. He sought stimulation of an entirely different sort. His gimlet eyes searched for the hidden curves of damp bottoms or boobs as swimmers struggled in or out of their clothes.
Another winter was marked by an Atlantic Seal called Spearmint who joined the swimmers of Firestone Bay rather too enthusiastically for her own good.
She swam with us so often she almost needed her own Bobbers sweatshirt.
Maybe that’s the reason this year’s winter swimming has felt, at times, like a chore. The only memorable thinge is how much storms have negatively affected our Bobbing plans.
Winter 21/22 Year of the Perv
Winter 22/23 Year of the Seal
Winter 23/24 Year of the Storms
I painted Storm Agnes, the first one of the season. She really whipped into Firestone Bay with a malign fury. The others didn’t inspire me quite so much. No paintings.
The first bob of February was achieved yesterday morning. It was a somewhat monochromatic day. And for no particular reason quite a brutally cold swim at Tranquility Bay. There were only four bobbers, two bystanders and two dogs. A small highpoint was waving to the sailors on the deck deck and them waving back. An excellent way for us all to warm up.
Monochrome was the flavour of our outdoor life yesterday.
Two barrel hoops had dropped off a barrel near the Cooperage.
And much to the disappointment of Lola, one of her favourite cafes was shut.
Which leads me to today’s prompt rather nicely.
Something on your “to-do list” that never gets done.
February sees us back in home DIY mood. We are fired up by a very arty weekend away in Penzance.
Every inch of our previous home. The actual old Mortuary was designed and created by us and two wonderful builders, Jason and Dave who humoured our maddest ideas while still rebuilding a mortuary and attached cottage into a wonderfully comfortable home.
But fate took a turn in good ways and bad. We became the family hub and our family, which had been shrinking for many years, started to grow.
To paraphrase Chief Martin Brody in Jaws. We were going to need a bigger house. Our current home is an old Townhouse that had been owned by the same family for 60 years. It had been ‘done up’ to sell but has many original features. Without ripping out perfectly good things we are slowly remodelling the house to better represent and accommodate us. The to-do list will never be done. And we are just fine with that.
The extra blog. Unusually for me I woke up this morning with my cup less than half empty. 3 days early for Blue Monday my mood was definitely on the blue side of the mental health spectrum. No particular reason, some very small clouds on my horizons but nothing of consequence. The grumpies had arrived overnight. I am never too saddened by feeling glum as the artist in me knows that life and art is a combination of darks and lights. Feast and famine. Good days and less good days.
Blogging absolutely helps me pick out the high spots of daily life. But I am a free spirit and conforming, as I am, to the prompts of Bloganuary is not really my thing. I slightly dread the revelation of the prompt of the day.
But how to perk myself up?
1 Agree to go for a bob with the life affirming bobbers.
2 Write a random blog.
3 Put on my new, warm, fluffy socks.
4 Eat chocolate biscuits after the bob. Notice my cup is already more than half full.
5. Take steps in the sunshine to banish the grumpies.
Swimming in water at 10 degrees with an outside temperature of 6 degrees, blogging, fluffy socks or eating a chocolate digestive might not work for everyone but it is working for me.
Christmas Day was a bobbing day and unusually there were more observers than bobbers.
Bobbers 6-9 Non-Bobbers.
The Non-Bobbers managed a seasonal Victory despite two late attenders who failed to make the pre-match photographs. Coach is always a non-bobber but always takes the photographs. The Non-Bobbers had brought in International stars from Poland and Hong-Kong to bring strength to their team. Inane chatter at the end of the bob was kept to a minimum as bobbers and non-bobbers had post-bobbing commitments. This was the last bob of 2023.
All week I have been dodging bad weather and a virus. The weather mostly dodged me, I did not dodge the virus and as a consequence despite the morning swim being in beautiful weather and with the extra excitement of it being a birthday bob. I also dodged the bob and had a dry bob. Basically a bob without the need to take my clothes off and get wet. Dry bobs also give the chance to have a good old natter with Coach Andy and drink coffee from a thermos. A dodged bob is never a wasted bob when you can do all of the components except the cold, wet one.
Bright October sun gave me this image yesterday. It was a day for walking and enjoying good weather. The rust coloured scratches on the paving slab caught my eye as the orange leaf briefly landed at my feet. I had no idea until later that the shadow had formed such a perfect leaf shape. Nature and sun accompanied me on my coastal meanderings.
The sea was in a very calm mood, so much so that I was tempted to go for a solo swim despite having a 6pm one booked with the bobbers. Waiting was the right idea. We were not alone in the bay, a small choir of women had gathered on the beach. As we swam they sang. Strange unknown sounds filled the cove. The incoming tide pushed them closer and closer to the small cliffs that surround our swimming area. If this had been a summer or winter solstice we might have anticipated such an unusual experience. Even the pragmatic bobbers crack out a candle or two for special swims. No merfolk were summoned while we were swimming. A fat seal snacked on a big fish. We probably stayed in the water a little too long, but unexplained singing to the sea is not our usual experience of the Wednesday evening bob. The moment was quite cinematic . The singing was not exactly joyful, New-age , part chant, part song; soaring notes with harmony and discordance woven together. There was a lot of hugging. We clambered out as their last notes filled the air. Hot drinks were needed by both groups of women. The magic , or moment, broken by the need to warm up, and for the bobbers to chatter about their mid-week lives. Chocolate may have been involved.
The evening dog walk fueled by a left over bobbing chocolate.
P.s This blog was deliberately written before I have had the chance to email one of the singers to ask what they were doing.
After the bob we learned that one of our Bobbers’ mothers had died the previous day, I wish she could have been with us last night, as a singer she would have appreciated what ever it was we experienced.
Waiting for Agnes. Storm Agnes is on her way, but early this morning there was a bobber in the water. Taking a dip before the storm disrupts our coastal life.
Just one bobber and a buoy
Just like a storm the subjects for this blog are blowing around in my ponderage. 4 possible subjects all of them small. Struggling to find a common theme and realising that with forbearance and some imagination the link might be the sea.
Tasks for the day
Chores
Dog walks
Make new necklace out of three old broken ones
Sketch a merwoman/bobber taking a strong pose
Dog walks
Chores
Lets not talk about the chores but the first dog walk found a familiar bobber bobbing in Tranquility Bay. Which for now is still tranquil.
I have been holding on to three broken necklaces for some time. I moved them to this house in bits two years ago. Today was the day that I actually reused the best bits from all three. The link to the sea is tenuous but the new necklace is made mostly out of artificial pearls.
My other slightly sea related subject is a new to me accompaniment for toast.
Fishy, salty and lemony it is the perfect wake up for my post-covidly pathetic taste buds. I tried Gentlemen’s Relish but it seems my tastes are more towards the criminal than the gentlemanly.
And so onto the sketch of the day. It seems only appropriate to name her Agnes.
theoldmortuary.design 