#501 theoldmortuary ponders

On By theoldmortuary.designIn ponderingLeave a comment

Rather a late blog. No particular reason. Certainly not giddy celebrating of blog 500.Our weekend plans have flipped completely and maybe that has affected my time line. For whatever reason I overslept considerably this morning leaving no gap for some gentle Pondering before the day started. A news article piqued my interest as I was scrolling while cooking breakfast. It seems that one of my favourite doors has a life of its own beyond its home town of St Ives or my blogs.

This 200 year old door is opposite the kitchen window of a cottage that we like to rent in St Ives during the winter months. Below is the 2018 article that popped up while I was scrolling.

https://www.cornwalllive.com/news/cornwall-news/famous-st-ives-green-door-1833083

I hastened to Pinterest and Instagram and had a look at their picture grids of the door.

Pinterest and Instagram

It seems I am not the only person to find old doors with flaking paint fascinating.

https://www.stivesbythesea.co.uk/blogs/st-ives/the-green-door-of-st-ives-have-you-discovered-it-yet

By one of life’s wonderful coincidences we found an old, green, ghost sign in Plymouth, this example of flaky paint may not interest any branch of the various Tate Galleries but it has a green flaky charm of its own.

Below is another WordPress Blog with the exact same subject.

St Ives – behind the green door

Flaky paint on a Sunday. Pondering is a funny old habit.

#500 theoldmortuary ponders

On By theoldmortuary.designIn art, Box1 Comment

500 blogs in this series. I should perhaps roll out a great big old ponder for such an auspicious number but instead I am rolling out a softer more ponderous ponder. This small sketch caught my eye. A man, or woman in a hoodie is such an iconic image of our times. The subject of this sketch specifically tells a thousand stories. My first though was that he was like any number of men I have met. Aged prematurely by the life they have led. Sinewy necks created by manual work and a mouth sunken by tooth loss. Specifically to Plymouth he looks like a crewman heading into a local pub after a few days and a few decades at sea. Straight off the boat he has not yet scrubbed up for socialising. His first pint and his crew mates don’t care what he looks like.

Crew could well be printed on the back of this man’s Hoodie. A roadie from countless world tours with rock bands. The younger roadies leap and swing from rigs and stages but this guy knows where everything goes. He knows where to get the drugs in every world city, legal and illegal, and has seen two or three generations of groupies anxious to make out with the band and him if it gets them closer.

Every city has men like this, lost against the brickwork of our streets. Lives lived but in this moment anonymous and passed by.

But who is this man in a Hoodie?

He is a 15th Century Monk and the sketch is attributed to Leonardo Da Vinci. 1452-1519 A simple sketch, so many stories to be imagined. A man we see nearly every day. Somewhere. And for the 500, this man is a little over 500 years old.

©The Box

#499 theoldmortuary ponders

On By theoldmortuary.designIn Hugo and Lola, Serendipity, Travels, VividLeave a comment
©Time Out

On this one occasion where @theoldmortuary goes Time Out follows, albeit at the number 7 spot on their list of most overlooked places in the world. Who even knew @theoldmortuary was quite so on trend!

https://www.timeout.com/travel/worlds-most-underrated-travel-destinations

I’ve copied and pasted the Plymouth section so I can use my own illustrations and add my own small pearls of wisdom. Actually these Pearls are of wealth and not mine to share. There is every possibilty these Pearls passed through Plymouth in the 16th century. Elizabeth I favourite man with very dubious morals, Francis Drake, opperated almost exclusively out of Plymouth. She liked gifts and he supplied them.

The Armada Portrait, currently at The Box Plymouth.

Plymouth, England
If the Devon city of Plymouth were any smaller, it’d be considered a jewel of a day-trip destination. If it were any bigger, it simply couldn’t be overlooked. Perhaps because of its middling size, it’s slipped under the radar, and that’s pretty unfair, if you ask us. I like a city that I can do most things by walking or using public transport, not always possible but defiantly achievable most days. Like art? The Box is a brilliant, recently opened gallery that celebrates local artists.

Local artist, not celebrating.

Like architecture? You’ll be dazzled by the newly done-up Market Hall, which also has its own ‘immersive art dome’.

@theoldmortuary goes there often, good coffee and cake, 360 degree films and a memorable lesson in Aerial Yoga.

Like swimming? Few pools are more spectacular than the Tinside Lido.

Tinside, fun swimming and fuels my obsession for abstract photography through glass bricks.

Like gin? England’s oldest distillery is smack bang in the historic city centre.

Cocktail from a glug jug.

Book a room at the Bistrot Pierre B&B, in the revamped Royal William Yard, and you’ve lined up pretty much the perfect weekend away.

No need for a room at Bistro Pierre but @theoldmortuary can easily bore the socks off you all with our daily dog walks here.

Thanks to Time Out for giving me an excuse for a quick dip into my photo archive. Congratulations for getting to Friday with me.

#498 theoldmortuary ponders

On By theoldmortuary.designIn Jetpack Prompts3 Comments

Describe the last difficult “goodbye” you said.

The new-to-me blogging platform gives daily prompts to inspire. I have used one of them last week but more as a reaction to it than inspired by it. This one similarly made me think that some of the most difficult goodbyes are the ones that were not said. I would be loath to rank my many sad, difficult awkward or even life changing goodbyes. But the ones I didn’t get to have are poignant, raw, saddening at their worst and wistful at best. There are so many things that we do in life for the last time, without knowing. Experiences that we will never have again. A group of people or person we will never see again. A place we will never return to. Thankfully this is often a good thing so I don’t need to over think this, but in response to this prompt, I would say some of the most difficult goodbyes are the ones I didn’t have. Occasionally the non-goodbyes swirl around in my head, they are inconclusive thoughts, little whisps of love, happiness, familiarity or friendship, locations or experience. Insubstantial like clouds or candy floss there is a beginning but no end, just infinite regret, sometimes, and acceptance, eventually.

#497 theoldmortuary ponders

On By theoldmortuary.designIn SerendipityLeave a comment

I am the green message. The subtext was “I’ve just had a shower and I’m really warm and snug, a bob is the last thing on my mind but the dogs do need a walk so I will come for a natter”

This was the Bobbing zone. It was very persuasive.

Do you call this a dog walk?

As luck would have it there was no one else about. My coat came off and soon after it all my clothes. With a rising tide and a super quick submersion no one was any the wiser. The rising tide did cause a small problem.

Nothing that multi layers and deft dressing couldn’t cope with, the sunshine was very competent at drying me off and the reward was iced gems for all.

Where is the ponder in that I hear you all asking. Well…

Just about every local dog walk takes me past the sea. The only walk I do that doesn’t feature actual water is the Ferry Port and Royal Marine Barracks where there are security cameras and men with very big guns to dissuade casual water entry, casual anything really. In the winter, on a dog walk, my mindset is always one of gratitude that I am not about to plunge into the sea. This morning was no exception. I was fresh out of the shower and wrapped up very warmly against a bracing walk in 4 degrees centigrade. A natter with bobbing friends while doing the dog walk was as close to bobbing as I was prepared to get, until the sun lured me to take my coat off while they were getting ready to swim. We were in a sun trap and there were very few people about. The dogs were preparing to bask on the warm rocks and before I knew it my socks and boots were off, quickly followed by everything else. A very quick entry into the sea and my fate was sealed, I was bobbing. It was high tide so even getting out was easy to do unobserved. A moment in the sun, unplanned and lovely.

Temptation at 4 degrees

#496 theoldmortuary ponders.

On By theoldmortuary.designIn dog walksLeave a comment

Two months late but thriving. These small narcissi used to be a New Year event. One tiny clump existed immediately behind an old military fence at Devils Point. Last year the area was landscaped and the narcissi became collateral damage as the old fence was ripped up. Huge concrete posts were torn out and there was no sign of the tiny bulbs. Several visits at New Year showed nothing much in the freshly landscaped area, just some straggly leaves that may of may not have been the bulbs. But two months on there are two larger clumps than ever existed previously.

If the bulbs had been deliberately protected the outcome would not have been so great. The one preserved clump would certainly be celebrated but by getting no protection and being woefully mistreated by a big digger with caterpillar tracks, the clump has become clumps and seemingly much healthier. I can’t get a useful shot of them both together as they really are very very small and quite a way apart now. I wonder if they will manage to make up time over the summer and autumn underground and be ready to bloom on New Year’s Day 2024. I hope so, but seeing them so healthy in February feels like a clear sign that Spring is on the way and that, as is often the case, my moments of worry were moments wasted. They were doing just fine on their own

#495 theoldmortuary ponders

On By theoldmortuary.designIn SerendipityLeave a comment
There is a human in my dog bowl.

This is a rare occasion. A hot bath occuring. Several things have made this unusual. All my life until two or so years ago there was no problem, hard day, ache or pain that couldn’t be solved by a hot bath. I loved to read for hours semi-submerged, hot top ups and tea were beautiful additions to my sense of well-being. More recently Podcasts became a lovely addition to bathtimes.

But as my body has acclimatised to cold water swimming I have lost the ability to slowly broil away my troubles in an overlong hot bath.

Cold swims certainly help with the aches and concerns of mind and body. But winter-feet bored of a life in socks and boots need either a good soak in a hot bucket, my feet still love to be broiled, or complete emersion in a tepid bath. Neither of these choices accommodate book reading. I’m sure my book reading capacity has diminished over the last two years. But overall the switch from hot bathing to cold bobbing has been beneficial.

A most unusual dog bowl.

#494 theoldmortuary ponders

On By theoldmortuary.designIn dog walks1 Comment

When I was young and we took our holidays in Devon I was always thrilled to see a Dartmoor pony. Wild horses did not roam in North East Essex. Wild horses were the thing of pop lyrics and imported American dramas. At 30 I moved to the west country and took a job that required me to commute across Dartmoor for half of each year. Commuting is tedious wherever it takes place. I realise I have had some of the most picturesque commutes in Britain. 10 years along the seafront at Brighton, 20 years crossing Dartmoor and 10 on the number 3 bus, or walking across the Milleniun Bridge from Tate Modern to St Pauls in London.

Only a fool could ever be bored on such journeys but a commute is exactly that. A journey between A and B with a time constraint. The pressure to be somewhere on time and ready to perform. So when I visit these locations as a non commuting person some of the old commuting anxieties flood in. The London commute was obviously complicated by traffic, protesters and terrorism at different times in my ten years. Similarly Brighton, the IRA bombing The Grand Hotel on Brighton seafront affected an already congested seaside city for months. Dartmoor was a distinctly different sort of commuting jeopardy. Livestock grazing on common land have no respect for a busy clinic schedule up in North Devon so meandering slowly up a road is their birthright. Similarly Dartmoor farmers, slow moving tractors with rickety trailers and truculent attitudes rarely bothered to pull over. In Devon and Cornwall many people really do check to see if you have a local numberplate before they decide if they will let you pass. The summer months bring the joy and wealth of tourists. Tourists who think nothing of abandoning their cars on the side of an already small road to capture a photograph of a wild pony. Which is exactly what we did yesterday.

I have no shame and no commuting anxiety.

Catkins on Hazel
Lychen on twigs
Dogs in a tree-stump cathedral.

#493 theoldmortuary ponders.

On By theoldmortuary.designIn SerendipityLeave a comment

Pride comes before slump day. Many Bobbers gathered for an early morning swim. Despite the dire warnings of a sea temperature website.

The bob was a fabulous experience, the sun was out the Bobbers were in good form and all was well. We even stayed in longer than the suggested 10 minutes. The post bob conversations were wide ranging and witty fueled by hot drinks and the famed cold water endorphins. Fuel was the thing @theoldmortuary had not factored in, adequate fueling of the caffeine sort. One early morning cup of tea is not enough to keep us going, we had failed to make a coffee pre swim and then the post-swim drink was caffeine free. By 2pm we were ravaged shells of human beings. We dragged ourselves out for the afternoon dog walk, bemoaned our lack of energy. Wondered why we felt so diminished and then realised that one caffeinated drink does not an effective Bobber make especially Bobbers who need to get other stuff done. Breaking all the caffeine rules we made a fully loaded cup of tea at 4pm and got a burst of energy that made us do a second much more sprightly walk and were rewarded with a blue evening and a bright moon.

Caffeine is a wonderful thing.

#492 theoldmortuary ponders

On By theoldmortuary.designIn flowers, Serendipity1 Comment

Here we are, past the middle of February by some way and I have not given daffodils the usual blog space that is normal for this time of year. This year I am not driving all over Cornwall arranging arty stuff so I don’t get the thrill of seeing wild and often unusual daffodils growing in the hedgerows where they were discarded during the second World War, when flower fields were changed to food production. Our house has had the easily available £1 daffodil bunches available in most supermarkets. Pretty enough to bring joy to the house but standard looking. Until this week. This week’s bunch took a while to open and were unusual in that they have a different shape, a bit like a cross between a daf and a tulip. Their outside petals form a cup and don’t open.

Extensive googling can’t find the name of these unusual daffodils. I wonder if they were picked in error for the bottom end of the daffodil bunch market. I am very happy to have them. Googling however took me somewhere a little sad. Supermarket Flowers is a song written by Ed Sheeren in 2017.

The actual words were unknown to me but really resonate with the moments when a family gathers to clear up after a mum has died.

I took the supermarket flowers from the windowsill
I threw the day old tea from the cup
Packed up the photo album Matthew had made
Memories of a life that’s been loved
Took the get well soon cards and stuffed animals
Poured the old ginger beer down the sink
Dad always told me, “Don’t you cry when you’re down”
But mum, there’s a tear every time that I blink

Oh I’m in pieces, it’s tearing me up, but I know
A heart that’s broke is a heart that’s been loved

So I’ll sing Hallelujah
You were an angel in the shape of my mum
When I fell down you’d be there holding me up
Spread your wings as you go
And when God takes you back we’ll say Hallelujah
You’re home

Fluffed the pillows, made the beds, stacked the chairs up
Folded your nightgowns neatly in a case
John says he’d drive then put his hand on my cheek
And wiped a tear from the side of my face

I hope that I see the world as you did ’cause I know
A life with love is a life that’s been lived

So I’ll sing Hallelujah
You were an angel in the shape of my mum
When I fell down you’d be there holding me up
Spread your wings as you go
And when God takes you back we’ll say Hallelujah
You’re home

Source: Musixmatch

Songwriters: Johnny Mcdaid / Edward Christopher Sheeran / Benjamin Joseph Levin

If the last Supermarket Flowers I ever received were daffodils, I would be a very happy woman. Even the boring ones bring such happiness.

A Daffodil Sunset. Over the daffodil fields of Cornwall.