Some days the tide and time come together to create the perfect swim. What I had not expected was for the perfect swim to set me up for the perfect uncomfortable encounter.
Some time ago myself and one of my dogs were attacked by a large local dog who had been allowed off its lead. We were both injured and traumatised, the owner of the dog left the scene of the attack without apology or any obvious concern. The incident was reported to the Police bur despite being initially supportive their interest dwindled to nothing. It has been in my mind for some time to confront this man if the chance arose. Which it did today after my perfect swim. I was somewhat surprised by my calm conversation with the individual. Since his behaviour and that of his dog on the night in question was indefensible, he had little to say and none of it of any value to me. But it feels good to know that I am no longer his silent unknown victim. He is now in no doubt of the harm he caused. A small victory but one that I am glad to have delivered eloquently.
Somewhat shaky when I got home though. Thank goodness for the perfect swim earlier.
The absolute silence in this reflective image of Sutton Harbour last night, does not in any way reflect the aural reality. The harbour had the rich sounds of the harbour through history. Tuesday evening dog walks around the harbour have the bell ringers of St Andrews Church as a regular and welcome soundscape. Seemingly performing perfectly, Tuesdays are their practice nights.
Coupled with the nearly still water in the harbour the acoustics were perfect last night. It was also the last day of the school summer term so families were filling the cafes, and their exhausted teachers were finding their way to the bars. The pavements filled with strange adult crocodiles of walkers. Large groups of colleagues making their way to their selected bar informally but formally, two by two. The only thing missing from the human crocodile were the luminous pink-tabarded attendants at either end.*
Live music spilt out from the bars across the harbour, and dancing girls made their, uncertain, way to a Salsa Bar. High heels and cobbles are tricksy at the best of time without the added uncertainty of a pre-class drink in the evening sunlight.
As seagulls circled, greedy for chips, the only thing missing from this moment , which could have been heard any time in the last 500 years, were the Fishermen and Sailors in any significant number. Fish are landed in Plymouth but the huge fish market is just a holding space for the fish auctions that are held on-line. I’m not sure what handsome young sailors en-masse do on Tuesday nights but they were not easily visible. Represented only by middle- class, older men, in two’s and fours. Pink trousered with those non-uniform, uniform caps they all wear to silently call one another from across a world crowded out by non-sailors.
The harbour hubbub and the people watching was just serendipitous concatenation at its unpredictable best last night.
A Golden Moment, I might say.
* I only realised the significance of the teacher element of last nights bar activity when I heard the crisp steps of a man walking from one bar to another. Who walks from one bar to another with recognisably crisp steps?
A man, or woman, who regularly crosses purposefully from one classroom to another. A warning sound of impending trouble that we all learn to recognise from age 5.
*Of course such a lovely evening was rich pickings on which to ponder.
A painting ponder was to sketch Sir Francis Drake and his wife Mary Newman in the contemporary attire of Summer 2025. She will be wearing a spotted flared dress for a night on the cobbles and he will be wearing the older casual sailor outfit with one significant difference. Those pink sailor trousers will be cropped to show off his shapely calves and feet in deck shoes with no socks.
Something that will require a lot more pondering is how to replace the phallic symbol of the hilt of his sword. I suspect an uncapped bottle of beer will have to do. Over-sized of course. No cold weather posing for Frank.
Sir Francis Drake on Plymouth Hoe ( a Spanish seagull has taken revenge on this day)
I love an empty seat in a welcoming space. Two empty seats are better, but not essential. This empty seat is in an old stable block that has been turned into a cafe. The stable block is about 300 years old. Horses are no longer an every day essential, but a cafe is the beating heart of contemporary culture. It is absolutely possible to imagine horses in these buildings until cars pushed them out of their bespoke buildings. What is impossible to imagine or consider is what will be the next in line when humans no longer need a cup of coffee and a place to sit down.
If I had the answer to this I would almost certainly be far too busy to live a normal life. Explaining the ‘something’ to most people would take a lot of time and effort.
Better to concentrate on the things that I don’t understand and give myself a little mental upgrade. Most of my contemporary understanding arrives accidentally at my door. I often wish I had understood something better years ago. But am always grateful that late enlightenment has arrived. Pondering helps.
I thought I had the measure of yesterday. About 5 hours of admin for two organisations that I work for. Some dog walking and some domestica. Serendipity however made those things happen alongside some lovely pondering. My early dog walk gave me a rare moment on the most popular beach nearby. For once it was deserted and I could get one of my ‘bad’ photographs to play around with later in the day.
The sun was up, the dogs were happy and I could perch on the drying rocks contemplating my day. But I was not alone, just at the point where the high tide had turned last night, there was a gathering of memorial flowers and some ashes. Someone else had not quite left the beach.
Just a small bunch of yellow roses signifying all the love and sorrow of an unknown person’s death. Somewhere in this Hybrid Printmaking image, of a spring morning at the tidal pool, these flowers create a little bit of the texture that makes this picture what it is.
My phone is my on-the-go note book. Photographs and screenshots remind me of all sorts of thoughts that need to be followed up. I try to clear up my archive on a regular basis, trying really hard not to delete any gems. I have also been having a radical digital Spring Clean of the images stored on my phone. Only time will tell if I have been too brutal.
Monday started bright and early with a swim with the bobbers.
A new bobber joined us, the first in a long time to commit to regular bobbing after her first dip in Firestone Bay. She is wearing the green hat. Brave to join us when the water is almost at its coldest of the year. Brave to agree to join the Bobbers WhatsApp group which carries eclectic messages, only 50% of them stick to the topic of cold water swimming.
I took photos for stereotactic image making later in the day.
The exhibition season is nipping at my procrastinating ankles.
My evening was spent making images as above. Walking my dogs and finding the most beautiful Magnolias and watching TV and finding a friend on screen.
The rest of the undocumented day passed off without need for notes or photographs. Happily all dull tasks and domestic admin were achieved with a sense of a list well achieved.
When I discovered Venn diagrams at Primary School I became a little obsessed and created intersectional circles as doodles when I should have been doing something more meaningful in class. I would create figures and shapes with intersecting circles filled with words and thoughts. This image popped up yesterday on a science website and it just makes me smile inside at my much, much younger nerdiness.
The more mature me loves the associated word, Intersectionality which is most commonly used to describe the less admirable facets of society.
But Venn diagrams and Intersectionality can also be a way of quickly identifying positive and joyous connections in the world and are really useful in decision making and design. A Venn diagram is fabulous for colour mixing too.
John Venn has a fabulous alternativeblue plaque which also makes me smile.
Wikimedia Commons
Which neatly brings me back to the first diagram.
A man who is an acknowledged Logical Thinker is also an Anglican Priest. That’s a whole new Venn diagram for me to ponder over.
Our morning walk gave us a familiar surprise in an unfamiliar place. We used to live in London where street stabbings were, not commonplace, but not unheard of. Street memorials sometimes lasted years. Supermarket flowers and mementoes, kept fresh by friends and family.
Although we knew there had been a street stabbing on one of our dog walks it was a bit of a surprise to find an informal flower memorial to the person stabbed last month.
Sometimes the unexpected makes eyes a little blurry. As we returned people were tidying away the dying blooms. What a very sad job for anyone to have to do.
Monday’s blogs are either early or late. Not because I am sleeping on the job like this sloth. Mondays we do childcare and choose not to be on our phones when she is around. So a blog is written early or late.
This is the late variety while our small person sleeps. I love this picture from a friend’s recent holiday in Costa Rica.
I am very fond of sloths and envious of their lifestyle under normal circumstances.
But dozing like a sloth in a tree and proper pondering is not for me today.
The normal order of things has arrived in our house out of the normal order.
Bunches of daffodils arrived over the weekend. Normally the first cut flowers of January, they were overtaken by beautiful blowsy tulips who arrived en masse for a birthday just over a week ago.
The weather of this curious winter is doubtless to blame. Tulips come from elsewhere and are grown in controlled greenhouses for the early part of the year. Daffodils come from just down the road and suffer the same weather as I do.
The daffodils in our kitchen probably started life as cut flowers a week or so ago in fields near Penzance. Then travelled in temperature controlled luxury to London, were distributed to Marks and Spencer, where they were purchased and then driven down to us over the weekend.
Normally we can reliably buy daffodils by the roadside from early January . Everything is a little bit late and battered by the storms that keep rolling in. Even snowdrops seem a bit behind their usual schedule.
These clumps of snowdrops are usually much more open to posing for photographs. The green stripes of their underskirts are one of my favourite shades of green.
Flowers in January bring a twinkle to the listless, slightly unfocussed days of mid-January. Arriving out of order is a discombobulating experience. But now the daffodils are in the kitchen and everything should fall into place. Onward to the second half of winter. Bring it on and let’s get it over with.
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