Starting the day with a sunset maybe a bit counterintuitive but last nights sunset was so crisp and clean it is a shame not to share it.
Sunsets were a bit of a thing yesterday in the studio too. Still sticking with the coursework of my ‘ Finding Your Colour Voice’ I painted a bobber, wearing a ‘Raspberry Beret’ in the style of meditative shape making and colour blending.
And there I leave you with a fine and delicious earworm for the day.
Yesterday was a well balanced day, for Bobbers. Water temp 9 degrees and air temp 9 degrees, and, for a while, sunshine. This morning we have mist, but for the first time this year the sun has some strength, and the right angle, to make happy mist, not greige. The happy mist is slightly enhanced here.
Both things though strongly suggest that Spring is on the way. A fine thought for a Monday morning.
I learnt last week that longstanding residents of Stonehouse call the recent influx of wild or outdoor swimmers “Dryrobers”. This is infinitely more polite than the residents of the Lake District where the same groups of people are called ” Swimmers in Wankerobes”
The bobbers are unapologetically swimmers who wear these types of garments.
Nowhere in the companies website do they mention increasing, post bob, talking time or the comfort of patiently waiting dogs. There is even a large pocket that can accommodate a champagne or prosseco bottle for Birthday Bobs.
Yesterday the water temperature was a balmy 10 degrees while the air temp was 7 degrees. Today they have both dropped a further degree. But even in such chilly times we managed over half an hour of proper post swim chatting.
Certainly in large numbers ‘Dryrobers’ look like swarming, plump, insects stuck forever somewhere in the pupating stage of life. With head feet and hands emerging from a protective cocoon their bodies have no intention of leaving.
The popularity of outdoor swimming is a post-covid phenomenon that shows little sign of going away as the pandemic ebbs away. Coastal areas have become 365 days a year destinations, which is almost certainly a welcome boost for independent businesses who suffered so greatly during the multiple lock downs. Swarms of happy, healthy people is a good thing to have emerged from a sad and difficult two years of Covid-19.
Rusty links and shadows on a Saturday. The sun came up, our campervan passed its MOT and the Bobbers got back into the sea after 10 days or more of stormy conditions. Spring must be just around the corner.
This was the bobbers celebrating sun and a succesful bob . On the next beach along other swimmers let the sun go to their heads.
Beneath the bobbers warm clothes and cups of tea every bobber is a glorious celebration of toned muscles and flexed pecs. We simply didnt get correct instructions for the after swim photo. Next time…
Bad weather has stopped bobbing for a week or so. We’ve all missed our regular dunking in the Atlantic edges. Over the 18 months or so we have been bobbing some not inconsiderable skills have been gained, talents that should not be allowed to go to waste simply because the weather is having some bad days. A Dry Bob was called. Cake and conversation without the bother of getting cold and wet. Really the only things we could safely do while Firestone Bay is quite so unwelcoming.
Our cake and conversation is fully primed and up to speed for when the sun comes out again.
A birthday bob yesterday with some of the usual surprise guests. A warship sailing past as we are waiting to get in. We love a busy swim. However it may appear, we were not lined up to wave to homecoming sailors but were waiting for Spearmint the seal to swim away from our bay so we could start our swim. We love her but she is not invited to our Gatherings because there are restrictions and responsibilities that protect her. There was far more action in the next bay and attracted by the noise she swam off. We jumped in but probably had only ten minutes in the water before she returned. Current advice is to get out of the water and give her 100 metres space.
Clearly she was going nowhere this time, so we retreated to eat birthday cake. Some of us had hardly got our shoulders wet. There was great disappointment but copious amounts of cake cheered everyone up and nature provided the perfect birthday card.
There was a time in deep Covid when our little group of Bobbers stayed pretty much in the same geographical area. The photographs that appeared on the Bobbers Whatsapp pretty much depicted scenes from a small area of the Tamar Valley. But now photographs appear from places further away. These Sunday Llamas are hanging out with Bobbers further West in Cornwall . The one below is called Grumpy Brian.
Grumpy Brian lives near Playing Place, near Truro. Surely a location that should spark joy in anyone?
In other Sunday news, the sticks to provide texture in a flower arrangement have gone rogue and started to sprout new leaves. Looks like we will be growing contorted willow in the yard this year.
Not exactly another blog about bobbing but possibly a blog about plans, chance and expensive serendipity. Everything came together for this blog. The tide was perfect for bobbing at midday. The sun was scheduled to come out between 12 noon and 1pm and Spearmint the seal was hauled up a mile away . There is reason this picture is a little bit unusual, and the reason I have allowed myself to bore you all with another blog about bobbing. You might notice that there are gentle undulating waves for two of the bobbers to swim on. This is far from normal in our little bay. Friday was serendipitously not a normal day nautically. Out to sea, beyond our field of view there were many Nato warships taking part in an exercise. In the hour or so that we were bobbing or drying off, there were many tugs going in and out of the dockyard to help the larger ships navigate the complexities of Plymouth Sound. Almost certainly a very expensive way to provide us with gentle rolling waves for the duration of our bob. Serendipity at its serendipitous best.
Not every ‘bob’ renders a blogworthy photo. Todays sea temperature was 10 degrees and despite it looking like a murky, bumpy ride, it was a pretty good swim. The currents though were something else. A moments inattention and one current swept us off towards the rocks. The swim back then took us into another current which pulled us quickly in the opposite direction. This area is not called Devils Point for nothing. Fortunately we are all more than one year experienced at swimming from Tranquility Bay and know well enough the tricksy currents and the need to carefully look out for one another.
My pre swimming energy came from a festive breakfast cereal.
We didn’t manage to eat any of them during the festive season. I’m not sure I particularly need to buy them again except that they provide the most glorious whiff of nostalgia if you plunge your nose into the packet before pouring them into a cereal bowl. I am hugely nose orientated. For inexplicable festive reasons we also have a mulled wine spice air freshener for the loo. No sane person on the planet needs their bathroom to smell like a bar in December, it just needs not to smell of poo. I am a festive smell marketing directors favourite shopper…
In other news I remember that pre-Christmas I wittered on about a sewing project but couldnt reveal too much as the item created was a gift. May I introduce you to Madame Cholet. A Womble of Wimbledon Common who gathers the left over embellishments from a man who brings huge joy to some of the streets of London.
https://wombles.fandom.com/wiki/Madame_Cholet
Should you be wildy interested in Wombles the link above gives you the Madame Cholet official biography.
My Madame Cholet was created from completely recycled fabrics. Her eyes are the only new thing about her. I bought an original and second hand sewing pattern from EBay.
The fabrics came from my own stash. The stash of a friend and fellow artist, Tess.
And the wonderful organisation, Plymouth Scrap Store
https://www.facebook.com/plymouthscrapstore/
The whole project was inspired by a man who brings so much joy to the London streets that he cycles on. Wombles are keen recyclers and as this amazing man, who has turned tragedy into joy, cycled past me I wondered what the wombles would make of any bits that might blow off his bike or costumes. ( I suspect he is a master craftsman and bits do not really drop off) You can find him on Instagram.
Is there a point to this blog I hear myself and many other people thinking. I’m writing it as I warm up, it could end up as complete nonsense, which is exactly what we talk as we thaw out.
There is. This meandering blog comes from a very dull January day from an entirely average person who has never excelled at anything.
Writing a daily blog is about stitching any old stuff together to tell a story.
Making a womble out of mine and other peoples cast offs is more or less the same.
Swimming in cold water really is no big deal.
Most of us are ordinary,there really is no need to be special to achieve things.
Anyone can turn nothing into something. We all just need a tiny scrap of inspiration.
Yesterday started and ended with the sea.
My morning walk, at dawn, was a chilly experience. I was wrapped up snuggly but the wintery wind nibbled, coldly, at my fingers and ears. From this picture you can see that there were already hardy types out swimming. I was so grateful to be warm inside layers of winter clothing. My mind was elsewhere as I also knew that I had plans to be swimming at sunset. Nothing seems quite so contrary as knowing that a well and appropriately dressed walk is pretty cold and yet there are plans afoot to take a swim later in the day
My first day back at the museum, post Christmas, was the usual lovely mix of talking to visitors and catching up with colleagues. With all afternoon breaks covered and a last loooooooong conversation with a visitor it was time to rush home for a quick dog walk and a slow enrobement of my winter swimming wet suit. My legs and feet, tired from a day of many steps in museum galleries just wanted a cup of tea and ten minutes on the sofa. Instead they were forced into constraining neoprene and forced to walk again, this time to the beach.
There were only three bobbers available for the sunset swim. We were the lucky ones, the sea was as calm as a mill pond and the light was quite magical. The tide was coming in, everything conspired towards a very succesful bob. While swimming we didn’t particularly notice the water temperature of 11 degrees and had longer in the water than we would usually do at this time of year. Getting out was a bit of a shock, our feet were all a bit useless at walking on dry land and the dressing process was hampered by fingers that felt like ice cold silky sausages. No words can describe just how good it feels once our clothes are back on and we have warm drinks to hand. Looking out over the bay, as we nattered, made a January evening look gorgeous.
theoldmortuary.design 