#920 theoldmortuary ponders

Four Devon Bobbers and one Cornish Bobber went bobbing at Talland Bay in Cornwall this weekend. I will admit this image is full of digital trickery but memories are a bit like this. The imagination and reality merged in a slightly twinklier version of real life.

Here is the real life.

I just chopped it up a bit, played with scale and enhanced some colour. Which is exactly what most humans do with an anecdote.

There is something a little tingly about being confident cold water swimmers. It turns us into Nyad Ninja’s.

We know that holidaymakers look on at a group of over-fifties women, arriving on the beach, and wonder what we are about. Especially when we slip out of our normal lives and stride confidently into the sea. No timorous squeals when the cold hits. We hear the comments of ‘Mad, brave, bonkers’ and push on.

There is no feeling like it.

#919 theoldmortuary ponders

We were plunged into digital silence yesterday. The O2 mast serving the Talland Bay area provided no service for nearly 12 hours.  I thought this Foxglove was much more pretty than a useless signal mast. It is also a reminder that we are heading towards the Chelsea Flower Show Season. When we dream big in our gardening/yardening world. In our yard world, next week sees the arrival of a wall height trellis extension. In our city home our neighbours have cats and chickens who see our yard as an extension of their own. After nearly three years of escalating visits, we have to do something. So trellis and climbing plants are the new deterrents.

So , very soon the yard will be a whole new world. Hopefully a chicken and cat free zone. And hopefully as beautifully styled as a Show Garden.

#917 theoldmortuary ponders

My life in a triangle. The first cup of tea and this blog co-exist in the morning sunshine. I would say that I mostly skip the second stage but when I looked for a photo of a cup of tea there was a biscuit lurking in the corner. Out of the picture is the chair for ‘ a nice sit down’

When I was working, drinking coffee was a much rarer treat. A pleasure when enjoyed in an independent coffee shop and occasionally essential to get me through the working day.

Caffeine is my giddy stimulant of choice. Avoided after noon.  A new-to-me, word arrived yesterday more usually associated with the jollity that accompanies alcohol.

What a wonderful new descriptive, these days my bacchian or jovial phase is nearly always fueled by caffeine and sometimes occurs during the nice sit-down phase.

That doesn’t mean I am only jovial or indeed at my most bacchian before noon, the half life of caffeine, in me, is extremely long lived.

This brings the blog to its usual conclusion. My first cup of caffeinated coffee will fire me up to start the day, with every hope of some bacchian moments. No alcohol is required.

#916 theoldmortuary ponders.

Most mornings before I write the blog I have a little canter through various on-line, news-gathering  services, check out the 3rd party blog prompt, and consider the blog I was planning to write.  One  thing jumped out from news gathering that is quite pertinent to todays blog. Also the 3rd party prompt has only a one sentence answer. A gloriously simple answer that I could have used on any of my many days on earth.

What’s the oldest things you’re wearing today?
My skin.

Yesterday I did two very small paintings. They are somewhere between abstract and representational, closer to abstract.

One of the articles I read this morning was about, Euphoric recall.

My life, in my old skin, is pretty much one long example of euphoric recall. My two paintings of yesterday are far more euphoric than real life. Maritime Sunburst Lichen is one of my favourite things to see on rocks.

Here it is in its active stage.

But as it ages it flattens out and leaves circular scars.

On sunny winter days it just makes me smile. My abstracts of yesterday were painted from memory with no reference images. I just threw in some  dutch gold to brighten them up , they are exactly euphoric recall because some days even Sunburst Lichen can look pretty dull.

But in my head, the lichens are gaudy circles of natural joy.

Which is very much an example of euphoric recall at its finest.

In general my blogs are all about the joyous things in life even if sometimes the inspiration point starts off in a darker place.

#915 theoldmortuary ponders

Dragon Centre, Sham Shui Po. HK

Wednesday ‘ hump’ day and a chance to answer a 3rd Party prompt that has been circling my mind since I first read it and decided not to bother with it. But actually circles or going round in circles is appealing as an answer and doesnt knock the planned blog off the page.

Are you a leader or a follower?

As an absolute magpie for  information, both necessary and unnecessary, I am an instinctive follower. All the better to learn new stuff from people ahead of me. I have vast pots of information stored in my head.

I call it information and not knowledge because to quote my exasperated Dad, ‘I am a mine of useless information’. Despite being an instinctive follower I am more than capable as a leader, even if that is sometimes accidental. To get back to the proposed blog. I have been pondering the recent death of someone that I had an awkward, or difficult relationship with. I am not alone in finding her difficult but my conundrum was that despite our differences I could see her many good qualities and her death has both surprised and saddened me. It has also galvanised me, as these things often do, to live my life as fully and as engagedly as possible. A sort of mental energy burst. It bothers me when I don’t completely like people and, as I have discovered that becomes harder when they have died.

Luckily for me, a very clever poem to mark the death of someone who had difficult relationships has slightly rescued my circling mind.

If I Had A Voice
by Caroline Wilkes

If I had a voice now
It would be loving
And I would say thank you for all of your care.
If I had a voice now
I’d want to tell you
I’m sorry for not always wanting to be there.
My life, it confused you, it did so to me.
But I am released now and my heart is free.
The heart that was hidden beneath all the pain,
It felt so much more than I could explain.
And if I had a voice now,
I’d say out loud
I love you, I wish that I’d made that clear.
And in my lifetime
I need you to know
That I was much more than I did appear.
These are things that I’d say through choice…
if I had a chance and if I had a voice

I think this nicely demonstrates how learning something from someone else. In this case the admirable Dr Google, can circle a follower into a leader.

You may never have met this poem before. But you almost certainly have had some difficult relationships with people who have since died. Maybe all of this poem works for the conundrum of difficult relationships. Or maybe, like me, just one or two lines do the trick. Maybe just for a moment I have led you to some useful words.

Fantail Fish

So to conclude I believe leading and following are often the same thing from different viewpoints.

#914 theoldmortuary ponders.

Blooming Zemblanity. We held a very select group discussion at Bookworms Book Club yesterday. Just 4 people to discuss The Forest by Edward Rutherfurd,  a historical novel charting the people and landscape of the New Forest in Hampshire over many centuries. We all enjoyed the book so much we are going to talk again when we are a bigger number. So no spoilers in the blog. 

As usual the conversation, cake and tea flowed freely.  Two words took centre stage.

Edward Rutherfurd uses  zemblanity, serendipity and ‘sliding door’ moments to move the narrative in unexpected directions and to give readers huge opportunities to ponder the ‘ what if’s’ of his characters lives’

Zemblanity certainly wins for the most exciting word of the session but Estover proved to be the most locally interesting. Estover is a suburb in the north of Plymouth. None of us had realised it was anything more than a location name. But Estover is an ancient word that gives an individual the right to take just enough from another person’s land to sustain but not profit.

Sometimes low attendance at a Book Club feels a little disappointing but yesterday proved that four people can easily fill two hours with book chatter and come away with loads to think about.

The elephant in the room at Bookclub was not our missing members but the return of heavy rain after four days of sunshine. Here we are in the middle of May slipping off dripping raincoats to talk about books when we should be throwing the windows open to cool things down. Rain is a somewhat tenuous link for this blog.

The four days of sunshine made my yard pop with bright greens and pinky/purple flowers.

For no particular reason, I chose to use them as the illustrations for this blog about a book club. The only common theme is the elephant in the room. Rain. After 4 days of sunshine and hard labour in the yard it was so good to see these happy blooms and greens. After one day of rain the slugs and snails, with no need for raincoats, will be out chomping on my precious blooms. Zemblanity in action!

#912 theoldmortuary ponders.

Yesterday was one of those days when our lives exactly matched a meme on Facebook.

A day of replanting pot bound trees and plants rewarded us with aching bones and a need for sleep. While all around us something magical was happening in the sky.

Predicted to be happening again last night we headed for Dartmoor.

We were not the only ones and the phenomena was not obvious to us or the hundreds of others who took to the dark skies of West Devon.

Our Northern Lights.

The dogs got a very late walk in Yelverton and with some digital tweakery I can repurpose the image of brake lights and headlights into something we were hoping to see.

And I can cut and paste and superimpose it on a very nice tree from our journey, to give an utterly false but funky memory of the night we were stuck in a traffic jam on Dartmoor.

#911 theoldmortuary ponders.

A nuclear submarine passes Tranquility Bay

What does freedom mean to you?

The 3rd party prompt today needs this shot from my high-tide evening swim.

I think I am largely oblivious to what freedom means to me, because I have always had it, and I am lucky enough to have never got close to losing freedom because of my individual life choices or those of World Powers.

There were very differing opinions on Britain’s place as a Nuclear Power among the swimmers and bobbers at Tranquillity Bay last night.

Freedom to have differing opinions is a wonderful thing.

#910 theoldmortuary ponders

Doggy friends in Dulwich Park.

My dog walking habits started in the streets and parks of South London 11 years ago. The parks and streets of South London are a riot of colour in May as urban trees and bushes  burst with fresh green leaves and blossom in the tightly packed, built environment. A couple of days ago I was a little home-sick for my London meanderings so did the best I could,in an area of outstanding natural beauty to recreate an urban city walk. I wanted grungy and beautiful all in the same walk.

Home sickness turned out to be the theme of the walk.  The city bit of the walk was easy enough to achieve . I wanted to throw in some specific graffiti that I had heard of in an old fuel store on the Cornish side of the Tamar. With my trusty O.S map I found my way over the river by ferry to Camp Bedrock.

I had no idea I was heading to a camp site. I approached using a footpath running along the river.  To me I was a lone adventurer with two canine friends finding a rural anomaly. Good Street Art in the countryside. So set was I on the graffiti that I barely photographed the outside.

Mt Edgecumbe Old Fuel Depot.

The inside after an autumn, winter and spring of near constant rain was a riot of colour and reflections.

The roof.

The accoustics of the building are amazing . I couldn’t actually get too far in. Not only was the floor a bible-black puddle. It was also a quagmire of  bovine excressences.  More than my feet could endure., A deeply fragrant gallery, deep in the countryside. It was the smell of cow poo that gave me another jolt of home sickness. Suddenly I was engulfed in the fragrances of the Dairy farms of my childhood

The old fuel store had been used to overwinter some cows. The farmyard smell was rich and clean and earthy, not at all the sort of smell that the word manure conjures up. It really was quite intoxicating. Not many art galleries would be brave enough to replicate this as an installation. It was only as I left the fuel dump that I found a small Camp Bedrock sign. Dr Google showed me  the error of my ways. Not a rural secret at all. A camp site!

Enough of cow poo my next fragrance high point was the Wisteria Pergola in the Formal Gardens of Mount Edgecumbe House

Two hours and a few miles of walking had rewarded me with some fabulous sights and smells. All done in the early morning when my sense of smell is at its most reliable and no one else is about.

One last treat of the day , a different ferry back. This time to the Royal William Yard. I was the only passenger. I felt like a Queen*on a Royal Barge.

* It still feels a little odd to say ‘a’ Queen rather than ‘the’ Queen.

Yesterdays painting was , in part, inspired by my wanderings.

#909 theoldmortuary ponders.

What is your career plan?

If I ever had a career plan, I almost certainly didn’t stick to it effectively. Now I am officially post-career I could retrospectively chart my career in a linear way that might, quite falsely suggest that I had followed a plan or pathway. This morning I had a blogging plan, which did not involve using a 3rd party prompt. But that blog proved to be a little unwieldy. Instead of blogging, I set out to do an early dog walk, ponder my pondering and hopefully return home with a blog in the bag, so to speak.

A chance encounter with a friend, who was talking on his phone inspired both this blog and my 3 hours of mindful painting that was planned for this morning. And I could use the 3rd party prompt which burnishes my algorithms. What woman would not want enhanced algorithms.

A five second conversation.

” Juliet, you’ve inspired me to start writing again”

8 words.

He inspired me with that lovely comment.

What was inspiring me in that moment.

I wanted to explore the 3 colours + white of the Wisteria I had walked a few miles to see yesterday.

Blue,pink,green +white.

Why mindful painting? Just 3 colours mixed any way filling predrawn spheres. Easy to do while my mind and nattering were certain to be running away with me.

One Thursday a month I meet up with a group of creative makers and artists. We create, chatter and drink coffee. I try to always take something to do that I can do, while fully participating in the swirling conversations that fill the airspace over our creative table.

The subjects of conversation today were-

1. An upcoming exhibition

2. A Tree Festival ( hot💥 topic in Plymouth, for all the wrong reasons.)

3. The history of the Merkin.

4. An alpha male in an art group that most of us belong to.

5. To have,or not to have, a second coffee.

6. Spanish rescued dogs.

7 Brixton SW9 ( London).

8. The pleasure of seeing foreign servicemen in uniform.

9. How much free parking do people have left.

10. When will we next meet.

Looks nothing like the Wisteria that inspired the colour choices.

But playing around with the colours will certainly help when I do the actual painting. Below, tweaking saturation and black point, making the whole thing a bit zingier.

Overlaying these 3 pictures.

Gives me this interesting piece.

My career plan was, pretty much, to not plan.  Just like this colour exercise this morning. Lets just see where we end up, and if I inspired anyone along the way that was a bonus.

Careers like life should be a journey not a destination.