If you had the power to change one law, what would it be and why?
Many laws, one Convention.
The convention of the patriarchy is the foundation stone of many laws and rules. How I wish things were different.
#1423 theoldmortuary ponders
Category: Serendipity
#1420 theoldmortuary ponders.
The epitome of greige.
My cheery alarm call goes off at 7:15 with a local weather forecast. By this time most mornings I have already drunk the first cup of tea and will be contemplating the first cup of coffee. So it is not a wake-up alarm but more of a fleshing out the day review.
Today was forecast as intermittent drizzle throughout the day. Intermittent drizzle suggests very light rain with moments of no rain. Not the incessantly bleak greigeness enlivened by constant heavy rain that is my reality
My orange raincoat was the only bright colour in the landscape. Now I would not normally photograph my rain coat. But I threw my phone on the floor as I wrestled my wet clothes off and the camera took a passing shot of the raincoat as my fingers slipped on the wet case.
All this rain reminds me of a moment of enlightenment that I had in the National Gallery of Victoria, in Melbourne, 2 months ago.
I was on an amazing race against closing time in a gallery that I could have spent hours and hours in. This picture got less than 5 minutes of my attention but I think about it nearly every day
It could so easily be a regular swimmer walking towards the sea on a rainy day. He appears to be checking his phone. He isn’t. I was spellbound by the beauty and tenderness of this painting, entirely painted in shades of greige. An anonymous man captured calmly walking through rain, shower, or voile curtains.
I was shocked to see such a peaceful picture painted by Francis Bacon. Shocked that this picture cannot be of a naked man checking his mobile phone. I cannot unsee my first incorrect thought on seeing this painting, before I realised who the artist was and when it was painted. Shocked too that greige could be so beautiful. I would even hang this greige painting in my house. Which is a big thing to say in the depth of a very wet winter.
Greige has been slightly rehabilitated.
Travel, as they say, broadens the mind. 41 days of rain shrinks it.
#1419 theoldmortuary ponders
Are there any activities or hobbies you’ve outgrown or lost interest in over time?
I think there are many activities and hobbies that have, quite correctly, lost interest in me. The big one would be Radioligy/Radiography. There was a brief flutter of renewed interest in me during Covid but now we are in agreement that making pictures with X-Rays is in my past. Retirement from a scintillating career. The Physics definition.
On a good day I can be quite the scintillating conversationslist too. She said modestly.
I have kept my transferable skills and transferred them to other things.
Team games were never my thing until I discovered rowing. It was probably the only team sport I had an aptitude for. But we have had an amicable parting of the ways for some time now.
Drawing. Painting. Sketching. Printing. All things that have not given up on me. I was still at school when I realised that sketching a quick cartoon of a teacher was a pathway out of nerdiness and into ‘almost’ cool.
A skill that stayed with me during a long career in the N.H.S. A quick cartoon of an arrogant doctor or an ineffectual colleague handed over at the same time as a handover sheet was better than a hundred tactful words and lightened the mood considerably. I was never caught.
Everyone has worked or studied with a dick or two.
Acting gave me up.
Serious singing and dancing the same, but lower down on that particular spectrum and I am quite the unqualified success! Art however, we are together for ever.
P S sometimes in the NHS other departments had the same problems with the same characters. There may have been cartoon requests to lift the moods of other beleaguered colleagues.
#1416 theoldmortuary ponders
Yesterday was a rare sunny day, at home. Two dog walks achieved with no changing of clothes needed. When a couple of free hours revealed themselves. I decided to do a quick sketch. What did I choose? A rain soaked pasture on Dartmoor. Misty enough to create a halo around the moon.
My only excuse for a rather sombre image, is the political storm that was billowing around me from the radio.
A classic tale of who knew what, when in the world of powerful men, disposable women and lots of money and influence.
I wanted to use the word turgid to describe the political clusterf**k, that has been emerging for some time from the fall out of the Epstein Files on Britain.
The situation is indeed turgid with both meanings of the word and my picture is a bit turgid, but over the last couple of years turgid+badger is a phrase that reminds me of a happily eccentric holiday spent in Abersoch, Wales.
For no particular reason I think it would be a fabulous name for a rock band or a trendy coffee shop. Or a graphic novel.
We were staying with some friends in a large house. In the early evening I had spotted a badger snuffling on the edge of a quiet path in a large garden. I mentioned it to our host.
“Ah ” she said.
“I have never seen a live one,but that does explain the turgid badger I found in my water butt”
Not a sentence I would expect to hear ever.
I wonder why it has stuck with me.
Firstly it was a lovely few days with friends that we don’t see often enough.
We were all slightly discombobulated by our surroundings and a way of life that we were unfamiliar with. Champagne at 4pm on an emptyish stomach gave none of us the maturity that matched our chronological ages.
The words themselves are delicious when paired together. So I am a little protective of the word, turgid.
I am not prepared to gift it to dodgy politicians and their even dodgier friends. I might just allow it for a painting.
Difficult times.
If badgers were not such lovely creatures the term could become a massive insult.
“You, Sir are a turgid Badger”
#1415 theoldmortuary ponders.
Something is missing, and for once it is not the sun. A sea surge +high tide has completely hidden the sea pool. A promising day awaits.
If the sea was as clear and transparent as it can be, the picture below is what we might see.
With such a depth of water covering the pool there will be all sorts of things swimming about, things that normally leave the pool to humans. I wished the sea was warm enough and quiet enough for me to explore the submerged pool. To be honest that would require swimming skills that I have never possessed.
My mind was immediately transported back to 4th December when my swim in a sea pool in Australia gave me the surprise of my life when an early morning skinny dip came to an abrupt end when I realised I was not alone. Swimming with a Sting Ray was never on my bucket list.
Staring at a submerged sea pool and imagining what might be in it, I realised that despite not having a bucket list. My bucket is extraordinarily full of bucket type experiences that I could never have imagined. I am a lucky woman.
#1413 theoldmortuary ponders
Hard on the heels of St Brigids Day and Imbolc yesterday comes Candlemas on the 2nd February.
Churches often bless all the candles to be used in the church for the year . Other Christian significant things have been added to the day but just like Imbolc and St Brigid’s Day it marks the mid-point between the Winter Solstice and the Spring Equinox
We are frequent users of candles. Especially fragranced ones, The quality of light a candle produces is one of the great positives of winter evenings.
Australia in December was an unusual scenario. Sunshine, candles and other-worldly fragrances in the run up to Christmas. Our return luggage had many essential oil blends that could be added to candles or fragrance diffusers that look like candles.
Candles are a true positive of the darker evenings of winter. The fragrances of Australia have added to the pleasure this year.
Candlemass a worthy Celtic and Pagan celebration.
#1411 theoldmortuary ponders.
We missed celebrating the Winter Solstice on the 21st of December in Penzance due to grief for our dog and a friend’s chest infection. But we are gathered here together in St Ives for the weekend of Inbolc.
The world does feel as if something is shifting.
The views from our roof terrace were full of early morning promises.
Just like last night we wandered streets and alleyways with no particular purpose or plans. A ‘good’ coffee was an essential but as a target for a day that was it.
A coffee with the best view in the house was a bonus. Double bonus and a gold star when achieved twice.
On a meandering cliff walk I found the perfect name for a character for a novel. (As yet unwritten).
Who is Rusty Lovelocks? What genre?
Romance
Erotic literature
Adventure
Historic fantasy
Crime
Psychological thriller
For some time I have wanted to rehabilitate the name Beryl. Of all the lovely gemstone names, Beryl seems not to have floated back into fashion. And yet I have never met a bad Beryl.
How better to do that than write a novel featuring Rusty Lovelocks and Beryl Heliodor.
Beryl Heliodor brings gravitas and a touch of Skandi Noir. A strong woman.
Rusty Lovelocks, sexually ambiguous, softer maybe but with a fierce loyalty and intelligence.
Whatever sort of novel might I write. But I digress.
Today is about the reality of sunshine. And Imbolc. Things to look forward to.
#1407 theoldmortuary ponders.
It has been a tough week at the office. Three large storms have taken one tree down and two huge boughs off others. Storm Chandra the last of 3 arrived yesterday and took down another already damaged bough.
On a positive note this morning, no rain, just wind, a lot of wind and some sunshine.
Tranquility Bay was looking and feeling fairly untranquil.
A day that required a dry robe and wellies.
The dry robe had a bittersweet moment for me in one of its huge pockets . On the day our dog Hugo died we went walking on the beach and I found a rock that looked like a cracked heart.
#1366 theoldmortuary ponders
I had tucked it in my pocket and forgotten about it. Until this morning.
So while I was busying about photographing damaged trees for Tree Surgeon quotes the heart shaped pebble found its way into my hand. I immediately realised what it was. A comforting sensation rather than completely sad. I might keep it in my pocket.
#1406 theoldmortuary ponders
The last week of January, not that I am counting!
One whole month since Christmas and only a small piece of Christmas Cake left, 4 mince pies and a late arrival Christmas Pudding.
The date on the box says 1849, so that is quite a late arrival.
Last night our evening dog walk took us past one defiantly gorgeous Christmas tree alight in a warm and cozy 6th floor sitting room. Credit to the home owners for keeping the festive faith for so long. We still have ‘Winter Lights’ in the yard.
This scrag end of January is stormy and grey. Not much to recommend it in the outside world except the Aurora Borealis on clear nights last week.
We didn’t get quite the same glorious show on our little peninsular but pictures like this,dropping into my Social Media, have made some lovely memories.
I believe my efforts to take a more positive attitude to Winter, and in particular January, are paying off but it occurred to me last night,that in all hierarchical lists something has to come bottom no matter how much embellishment is applied.
This week will be the long farewell to my least favourite, but more bearable with a positive attitude month.
#1400 theoldmortuary ponders.
The old mortuary ponders. I am one of life’s great ponderers. Not a Great ponderer. A ponderer who does a lot of pondering.
1400 ponders is a moment. Before this collection of ponders there were the Pandemic Ponderings, when the world skipped a beat and my daily ponderings started.
#1399 theoldmortuary ponders.
Yesterday’s ponder was about 2016. A year when a Global Pandemic was a historic fact. In 1918 a third of the world was infected with The Great Influenza ( Spanish Flu). Maybe as many as 100 million people died.
Global pandemics were things of the past or theoretical predictions. We were blissfully unaware in 2016 quite what was just over the horizon. In 2026 we are all too well aware that enormous scientific and medical progress did not protect us from another one.
I wonder if I would have started a daily diary about mundane and ordinary life in 1916, inspired by that earlier pandemic.
I think I would have considered it and maybe even started one. But writing a daily diary has never worked for me until blogging came along. Inexplicably a daily writing habit is now second nature. I love it. But I doubt I would have gained the habit without those long pandemic days when life took on a whole new level of mundanity.
Always one for irrelevant details, blogging has only increased my thirst for the minutiae of daily life and a bit of positivity. I suspect every aspect of my life has altered for the better.
#1401 and beyond . More sunflowers and more Silver linings.
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