Basking, or the lack of it, has become a topic in rain soaked Devon and Cornwall. We have been so deprived of winter sunlight, whilst also having the highest winter rainfall, that few of us have felt sunlight on our faces for weeks.
We were lucky and caught several hours of sunshine on the North Coast of Cornwall a couple of weeks ago but only a few miles away on the south coast there was none.
Rainfall stops random street conversations, as we walk with our heads down and dampness tracking into the areas our waterproofs fail to protect. Rainfall has also minimised the amount of time our bobbing group has been able to bob. Determined sea swimmers do seem to manage it . But the Bobbers are a mixed event crew, we swim and we talk and then we bask. Making the most of whatever week willed winter sunshine turns up between the rain. For the greatest part of this winter even week willed winter sun has failed to turn up.
Rainfall and a lack of winter sun has also deprived us of the ability to talk about our favourite subject, the weather, with random strangers, on the street. Unless of course we find ourselves outside in the few moments of watery sunshine.
“Perhaps we will have a good Spring to make up for it”
“This isn’t going to last today”
Long term hope dashed by short term reality.
Nearly a whole winter gone in a deluge.
Oh, we really need some sunshine. We need to talk about the weather.
3rd Feb 2026 is not quite as inspirational as 3 years ago. Today has dawned as greige as greige can be. Hard to find my bloggers muse.
The day absolutely needs a touch of aqua to lighten the mood.
Aqua is an instant mood booster, particularly on a greige day. Not one of my favourite colours in the normal run of things but greige is not my favourite place to be at any time of year. But in hunting out this picture of rinsing water some lovely aqua images popped up.
The sea at Monomvasia
Aqua or turquoise makes the world a better place. We are promised another couple of days of heavy rain so Lola and I took two morning walks in the greige while the greige was dryish. There was no specific rain but the atmosphere felt wet. People seemed to be weighed down by the mud beneath their feet and the promise of more rain. The urge to get fresh air is a powerful motivator. For me and Lola it was a reward for dull jobs achieved in a timely way. Not that she was particularly involved in the dull jobs but she appreciated the R and R break afterwards.
I returned refreshed and ready to write about a dull day enhanced with images and memories of a bit of turquoise. She has returned unaware of my problem with greige. She is just happy to have been out.
A dogs actual view of life is somewhat greiger than mine even on a fabulous day so she has no idea what I am missing.
This afternoon I will be more dog, just happy to be out.
Waking up with a different perspective. Not a deep philosophical epiphany. Just the first morning with actual sunshine since the big winter/post-Christmas tidy-up and I am facing our Ikea lampshade from a different direction.
I believe we are at the end of the urge to tidy up and reposition furniture. There has been some clearing out but I sense more could be done when the daylight hours actually provide genuine daylight. This morning’s early effort was short lived. As morning tips into the afternoon a luminous Greige is the default version of daylight.
Similar light fitting, same lampshade, different room.
We have had between twice and three times the normal level of rainfall in January. The last two days of the month are scheduled to drop even more heavy rain on our already sodden souls. It has crossed my mind this morning that these lampshades are like mood reflectors. Upstairs the sun-touched one brought me the same visual joy as a tasty meringue, downstairs I have just replicated a grey raincloud. Nobody needs another one of those in my humble opinion.
I appreciate that other people in other locations might have a different perspective. Which is exactly where this blog began.
The last public holiday in England before Christmas Day. A day that often disappoints with slightly grumpy weather. Today though, was gorgeous and this panoramic view is like a great turquoise smile expressing exactly how a holiday Monday should be.
I had a swim and didn’t want it ever to end, but superb swims, like all good things must come to an end. The balmy waters of Firestone Bay were just perfect today. There is a suggestion that the weather will turn tomorrow…
And just like that the rain arrived overnight.
Very disappointing weather behaviour. Of course exactly the sort of thing that underlines that the scrag end of summer has established itself as a transitional season and that layers and waterproofs may be needed for all future adventures.
When I wrote yesterday’s blog I had no idea it was the last one of January. Somehow I missed the anticipation of the end of the longest month.
Which is a sign, I suppose, that taking a more positive attitude to Winter is having some effect.
On a positive note we are 2/3 done with the official winter months.
I know I am not alone with my slightly dismal attitude. People wouldn’t write books and articles about positive winter attitudes if winter was all ticketty boo for the majority.
A SouthWest English winter does not look like this.
Fictional/Fantasy Devonport Park
What can I say about switching my mindset from endurance to tolerance?
Seasons are a bit like work colleagues or club members or any other group of humans. There is always one that has to be tolerated, made allowances for and most importantly celebrated when they leave.
So good morning February let’s get this winter malarkey over with.
I may even sign your leaving card with a cheery message wishing you well with your future in the Southern Hemisphere. I will watch and make sure you leave.
I have high hopes of Storm Bert who is rumbling in this morning.
I have never had a bad experience with a Bert. Berts in my experience are mostly clean old gentlemen wearing a hint of Old Spice aftershave. Berts who have fallen on harder times may not be as clean or fragranced but they have always seemed amendable. Bert is a solid working-class name. Bertie is more of a socially mobile name, George VI was known as Bertie, short for Albert.
I would rather ask a Bert to do a job than I would a Bertie.
Right now Bert is harrumphing down our chimneys and making the trees sway. I quite look forward to painting him when he has revealed his stormy personality.
Snow hit Devon and Cornwall Thursday. We saw nothing of it on our little peninsula that juts into the sea. But the effects of it made the day quite a challenge.
Hugo was due some more jaw surgery so we set off early to the vets. No vets had made it into work from their homes on Bodmin Moor or Dartmoor. All surgery apart from Hugos was cancelled. I left him in the hopes of vets arriving eventually.
There are only two major roads that take traffic in and out of Cornwall and Devon to the wider world of everywhere else. Unknown to me one of them, the A30 had been closed at 5am which is why the vets were struggling.
The less efficient of the two roads, the A38, became overwhelmed. The A38 is the road I use for the 20 minute journey to and from the vets. In total I should have spent one hour twenty minutes on the A38. Thursday, my actual total was closer to 5 hours. I could have planned my day so much better.Hugo on the other hand had a blast of a day. No surgery, a late breakfast and ample opportunity for cuddles with veterinary nurses who had time on their hands.
In the time it has taken me to write these few words Bert has gone from gusty to glum. He may not be one of the nicer Berts of my aquaintance.
In other news the festive window dressing is finished. Father Christmas/Santa in a sailing boat arrived. I started making a window feature after seeing them in the back streets of Chelsea and Westminster about 10 years ago.
From the insideFrom the outside
Today I discovered there is a trend for frontscaping a house.
Almost certainly the weather is the thing I moan about the most. Not perhaps to other people, but my internal dialogue is a vivid cacophony of weather considerations. I was not always a weather watcher, but ten years as a dog owner has made me appreciate the value of a walk without rain, or more unusually, a walk without scolding hot pavements. I have three weather apps on my phone. In addition to my dog walking considerations there is also the small matter of sea swimming. You might think that plunging into the sea year round would make the weather largely irrelevant,but storms and rainfall affect safety and water quality. There is also the small matter of changing after a swim. Rain on a salty body makes drying and dressing really tricky. Everything becomes sticky or tacky. Clothes that would normally glide on get caught in mysterious places or cling to the first piece of skin they touch.
Tiny garden weather stations are a thing. Controlled by a smartphone they provide hyperlocal weather information. I am a little tempted to get one. I might moan internally about the weather, but I have also become fascinated and intrigued by how the weather can change my life.
While writing this I realised I preferred the word mithering to moaning. The dictionary suggests there is nothing to choose between them.
I am not by nature a complainer or even a moaner in the normal day to day. But being a weather mitherer has something about it which I rather like.
Storm #3 of the storm season has had quite an impact.
Not perhaps in the way I may have thought though. Ciarán reminded a friend that I had painted Storm Agnes and wondered if she was for sale. She is as it happens and now she is off to a new home.
Storm Agnes
Storm Babet didn’t really impact us too much although she did take out the road to one of my regular beaches.
In the eye of the storm at 2am
I know how I would paint Babet, a voluptuous storm, who caused chaos in an unexpected place with less energy than you would think. A storm directed from a chaise long perhaps.
Ciarán though, no clues in the name . Until I looked him up known as ‘ the little dark one’ Keir-on is how the weather forecasters pronounce the name. Ciarán is doing dramatic, theatrical stuff on our coast. Attention grabbing and flamboyant splashing and crashing on the outdoor lido, the sort of thing that gets you noticed. Hyperlocally Ciarán has been less wildly beautiful. More of a truculent bully, pushing over the bins and scattering domestic rubbish on the streets. Here he is just bashing the steps down to the tidal pool.
I have a little idea how he will be painted now. The little dark storm
November blows in on a storm. Yesterday was dog grooming day. A very recent storm had damaged the road that would normally take me to Wembury beach after I dropped them off for a couple of hours of pampering. The weather was already pretty unpredictable so I had packed a raincoat, a large beach towel and a tin containing greetings cards. I was determined that my dog-free hours were going to be well spent. Weather and the tide, not fate was going to be the deciding factor on how I spent my morning. At the point that the beach access road was closed I took off, up steep valley lanes that were covered in slippery, damp fallen leaves. After two hair raising reversing events I found a car park at a place called Wembury Point.
As I arrived the heavens opened which negated any value my raincoat had, the beach towel was already useless as I was now very many metres up from sea level. The tin of greetings cards it would have to be. So here we have it, confession time.
I am dreadful at sending out Christmas cards in a timely fashion. I have made all the excuses in the world and often opt for the donating to charity option. None of that helps my guilt as the cards from more diligent people drop through our letterbox in December. This year I made a plan. I have bought Charity Christmas cards and some note cards. The note cards can be written at any time, no pressure no deadlines and no excuses. Inside I have popped a small Christmas card bearing the words ‘This may be your 1st Christmas card of 2023’
Creating a specific tin with everything that I need has transformed my task. If I know I am going to be hanging around doing nothing more than scrolling through my phone, I grab the tin and write notes to friends and family. Yesterday 12 cards were written and posted in the time it took for a storm to pass.
I even had one of those moments when a forgotten address just floated into my head when I wasn’t actually thinking about it.
With an hour or so left the rain had cleared enough for me to do a clifftop walk. The area where I was walking was formerly a naval establishment called H.M.S Cambridge. Only a small radar station remains and the land around is being gently returned to nature. The groundworkers making the transformation are not human.
Dartmoor ponies have been moved to Wembury point to gently graze the area back to a more natural state. When I set off on my walk they were all hard at it. But on my return a lunchtime rest had prevailed.
Not only ponies, when I returned to the car park two large refuse collecting lorries had parked up for their crews to enjoy a break with beautiful views. This was absolutely in my favour. As they started their engines to leave I decided to follow them down the narrow lanes. No awkward reversing stand-offs with oncoming drivers on slippery lanes. Nobody expected two refuse lorries to reverse and so, as a convoy of three, we returned to civilisation easily with other people backing up.
Two groomed dogs, 12 notes with cards written and a good walk. Time to get on with real life.
Waiting for Agnes. Storm Agnes is on her way, but early this morning there was a bobber in the water. Taking a dip before the storm disrupts our coastal life.
Just one bobber and a buoy
Just like a storm the subjects for this blog are blowing around in my ponderage. 4 possible subjects all of them small. Struggling to find a common theme and realising that with forbearance and some imagination the link might be the sea.
Tasks for the day
Chores
Dog walks
Make new necklace out of three old broken ones
Sketch a merwoman/bobber taking a strong pose
Dog walks
Chores
Lets not talk about the chores but the first dog walk found a familiar bobber bobbing in Tranquility Bay. Which for now is still tranquil.
I have been holding on to three broken necklaces for some time. I moved them to this house in bits two years ago. Today was the day that I actually reused the best bits from all three. The link to the sea is tenuous but the new necklace is made mostly out of artificial pearls.
My other slightly sea related subject is a new to me accompaniment for toast.
Fishy, salty and lemony it is the perfect wake up for my post-covidly pathetic taste buds. I tried Gentlemen’s Relish but it seems my tastes are more towards the criminal than the gentlemanly.
And so onto the sketch of the day. It seems only appropriate to name her Agnes.
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