For some reason I just accepted the name without ever looking up its meaning . To be honest I thought it was rather a clunky name for something quite so pretty. Moving on to yesterday evening when our dog walk took us to the furthest part of Devils Point and the Royal William Yard. There was a beautiful sunless sunset and this historic gas lamp had been fitted with a bulb that glowed with a warm light.
Only moments earlier at the top of the staircase I had seen delicious clouds basking in the light of the departed sun.
In a perfect world I would have been on this spot five minutes earlier. Those clouds deserved a visible light source. I stuck the two images and came up with this one.
I was never going to pretend it was genuine but felt it needed a name. Only to discover the French word for twighlight.
So , I am doubly educated . I no longer think my rose has a clunky name and I am quite delighted to realise that I planted it , by accident, so that when it has grown the sun will set behind it. Both crepusculing together.
Yesterday I was back to winter habits, dog walking in the rain and trying to guess the moments when I would get less wet. I am a very poor predictor of rainfall and was drenched on three occasions. The most memorable when we were in the Memorial Garden of a local park.
Colour drenched
I wish Memorial Gardens would attach QR codes to the memorial plaques. The chosen biography of unknown people would be so much more enjoyable than just their name and dates of birth, and death. Why were these people loved so greatly and missed by so many?
People are so much more than the ash that feeds these blooms.
But the raindrop tears on droopong petals were beautiful yesterday.
Yesterday was the perfect Spring Day so we set off to a perfect beach for a long meandering dog walk. The beach and surrounding estate were sold over winter.
Sold for an undisclosed sum. The asking price was £30 million
It is alleged that the previous owner had wanted to turn the area into a millionaires play ground. If that is true,that would have been rather sad. Bantham is a spectacular place enjoyed inhabited and visited by regular humans since the Bronze Age.
What makes you laugh?
Now it has to be said that I laugh at most normal things, but the idea of a natural paradise being turned into an unnatural paradise also seems to be so laughable that I can quite see why local people protested with enough vigor to stop such a scheme. I hope the new owners don’t give them cause to protest again. For now all seems peaceful. We paid our £5 parking fee, had the beach mostly to ourselves and the dogs made themselves giddy and exhausted with play and paddling.
I took some deliberately bad photographs to reprocess into Hybrid images and was once again surprised and puzzled by my results. Just two of my chosen images worked. Jenkins Boathouse turned out pleasingly vibrant.
Four nights of magnificent illuminations and projections and the dogs given access to buildings they would not normally enter.
Quite what they made of it we will never know. But a festival of projected light makes the average last dog pee of the night a lot more illuminating than usual, with paths, walls and steps rather more vivid than usual.
I think a celebrated and projected history of Devonport may have passed them by but they sniffed their way through every location with dogged diligence.
Which allows me to ponder on what they really get from sniffing other dogs pee.
Foxes are supposed to be able to read the pee messages left by several generations. I assume dogs are similar. Wouldn’t it be cool to pick up family and local history by just sniffing,
Being taken by surprise by February 1st gave us a curious Saturday morning of shuffling things around. The afternoon was rather greige so we set off to a favourite town. We arrived a bit late to visit the castle but by walking there we were propelled towards the back streets which I have not explored for more than 20 years when I worked here. The main streets were bustling with the tail end of a busy Saturday market.
17th or 18th Century Door Knocker
Rusty women became a little bit of a theme.
Encased in an air vent.
Our theme was just to enjoy walking the back streets looking at many centuries worth of lovely cottages on interlinked lanes and passages that spread like cobwebs from the Castle.
The castle dominates the town from its prominent hill as it was designed to do.
All our wandering was at dog pace. The peemails left by centuries of dogs always fascinate them in historic urban areas. But they are small dogs and we had been doing walking jobs with them all morning. The cafes in the High Street were calling the dogs but were all still buzzing at 4:00 or buzzed and already closed. But in a back street, we found this glorious turquoise paradise. Busy but not too busy.
We were on 10,000 human steps. Goodness knows how many dog steps. This cafe was one that Lola was not prepared to pass the door of. So happy was she to sit down and share a cheese scone that she agreed to a photogenic photograph.
A silky morning walk with some breaks in the cloud. The quiet chug as the river ferry collects passengers. Just a whole lot more charming now the Greige has lifted. I fear this is a temporary lull. Storm Éowyn has booked herself a place on our coast from tomorrow.
Having never read or watched Game of Thrones I don’t really have an expectation of the name Éowyn. My JR Tolkien reading days are long ago and I have no recollection of his character Éowyn. But it is a really beautiful name so I am hopeful of a storm that does no harm and creates beautiful sunrises and sunsets. Most importantly I would like the winter greige banished for more than a brief moment. For now I am more than happy to accept the silky calm that precedes her.
Yesterday, I managed to tackle all admin work while Hugo enjoyed a longer walk without him needing pain relief. It was a productive day with a refreshing sea breeze as I balanced work and caring for Hugo. This was my working-from-home location during one of his rest periods.
I suspect Hugo is loving the attention of the last week since he hurt his back. My route yesterday around the harbours of Plymouth is one of his favourites because there are many cafes that he approves of. Yesterday we chose a cafe themed towards bikers with engines.
Predictably their dog biscuit offering is fairly butch. Far too challenging for fluffs with small mouths, but the industrial concrete floor soon turned a bulldog style biscuit into something a poodle could nibble at.
The slower pace of this week’s walks gave me a moment of contradiction yesterday. Despite walking past and walking into this old building on the edge of Sutton Harbour, many times, I had never read the blue plaque.
The Custom House was built in 1586 or round about. The time when Plymouth was at its zenith as a Pirate port.
Usually when I see old doors I like to romanticise about the people who have passed through them but certainly I cannot imagine too many pirates saying,
” Have you seen the new Customs House, we must pop in there on our way to the bars and whore houses, when we dock”
” I just cannot enjoy myself and really let go until my Import Tax is up to date”
That must have been quite the job to have in Elizabethan Plymouth. Everyone strolling right past pretending they haven’t seen your open door and welcoming toothless smile.
No playing Wordle in a quiet moment.
Just lots of quiet moments.
It is somewhat ironic that these two information boards are just a few paces from the old custom house.
The things I get to ponder on restorative, slow, dog walk days.
Hugo is on limited walking for a few days. He got over excited at a friend’s house and has tweaked his back. Just like a human with a bad back he needs rest, pain relief and moderate exercise.
I know which walk takes half an hour and because this blog prides itself on the repetition of normal life, I took some sunny photos on my circuit yesterday.
It is bin day and this is a fine example of how camouflage works.
Our morning walk often has military men, carrying weapons doing training runs. This is so normal that the dogs pay no attention. We are fortunate that we live near the barracks and the men running past are fragrant adverts for mens grooming products. Not so much if I catch them on the way back.
Low tide at the beach is not the most scenic shot.
But the next shot also shows how well camouflage works.
With my back to the sea we head down Hutong Lane towards the Royal William Yard and a series of harbours.
Then a quick left onto some grass and to the first harbour.
Then we follow a boardwalk on the edge of a second harbour back towards the entrance of the Royal William Yard.
Maybe at this point I should do a little catch up on my pondering.
Ponder #1The efficacy of Camouflage.
#2 is more complex. Some babies are born with a rare condition where their heart is not fully enclosed by their ribs.
The Hutong Cafe is outside the Royal William Yard which is a thriving mixed use commercial hub with many cafes and restaurants.
The Hutong used to be closed on Tuesdays which is when this ponder first took hold. On Tuesdays this regular walk felt incomplete. The small cafe outside the yard sets the tone for the entrance and experience of the very grand, Royal William Yard, RWY. Recently the Hutong opened on Tuesdays, making everything feel right 7 days a week. Which gave me a spontaneous moment of clarity. The beating heart of the Royal William Yard is actually just outside. Aha, my useless information brain kicked out.
Ectopia Cordis!
Which is what I think every time the cafe has loads of customers. Many fresh from sea swimming, some mamils/mammals (Middle-aged men in Lycra). People who still go into the office within the RWY. People having work meetings in the sun.
Ponder #2. Ectopia Cordis.
Ponder #3 came from my earlier work on our little yard and the guns carried by the men in camouflage. Guns are a very rare sight in England.
I have been following yard or container growing pages on Instagram. A contributor yesterday suggested improving security when there is a rear access point. I read the article with interest as the rear doors on our yard are definitely a project for the future. The simple plan was to increase the length of the screws holding the hinges of the door to the frame. All well and good I thought until the final sentence.
” A longer screw will give you additional time to arm yourself if someone tries to break in”
The contributor was from the U.S and, if I am honest, provided me with the most unusual yard/yardening advice I have ever read.
Ponder #3 I will stick with the shorter screws and offer a cup of tea , or run away.
And that concludes our very regular half an hour dog walk.
During my morning dog walk I popped into an exhibition at Royal William Yard (RWY). It is Shark Month at Ocean Studios. There are loads of lovely Sharky images, but on a bright morning this one was the only one not glazed and not suffering from loads of reflections. The website of the artist is below.
In the cafe there was also a really cute collection of bits and pieces left at low tide near to RWY.
I particularly liked these little bits with text on.
As I regularly poke about at low tide I was quite jealous, I never find anything with words on.
But then on my walk home I had a moment!
The tide had delivered me a cracked and grubby plectrum. With words on it.
A freebie advertising gears for Mountain bikes.
Here’s the moral dilemma of the day. Do I donate to the communal exhibition of tidal finds? Or does a grubby plectrum start my own collection of mudlarking treasures with text on.?
There was a little bit of Christmas in our Brunch outing yesterday. We had a voucher for a restaurant in Tavistock for Christmas. We love both the restaurant and the town but not its weather. So the minute predictable good weather was forecast we took a trip to Tavistock and had a great brunch seated outside on a Mediterranean/ West Devon Balcony.
The sun was shining and birds singing. Christmas-red shoes and nails were a nod to the occasion.
The dogs were welcome and approved of the quality of the sausages. Remarkably the sun kept shining so an adventure further out to Brentor was planned.
On good weather days Brentor church can be seen from miles and miles away.
Dinky red shoes and a maxi dress are not normal attire for climbing the Tors. I ditched the dinky shoes and put on something a little more rugged.
The maxidress, while not particularly suitable gave me a fabulous perspective to how women before 1920 would have felt clambering their way to worship, celebrate marriages and births or to mourn at funerals.
Billowing fabric and winds are great as sails at sea but not so useful climbing a hill.
The views were worth every gusty moment.
The church itself is small and simple.
The memorial to Percival Cocks shows that getting married at the later than average age of 43 , in a church on top of a Tor was not the bravest thing he did that year.
Bluebells filled the tiny church with their scent.
A sunny morning filled perfectly. Sensation at every turn.
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