#1271 theoldmortuary ponders.

Fantasy rock pool bathing.

Today was a day when the stars aligned. Dog grooming appointment and high tide .No need for fantasy swimming, the real thing at Wembury was glorious. Then basking in the sunlight, all while the dogs were being primped just a mile in-land.

The real thing was very glorious but a few hours later as the tide dropped a massive field of seaweed revealed itself. I considered if crossing it  was a sensible idea and decided that on balance it was. As it turned out balance was the problem and I soon slipped on the rocks made slippy by layers of seaweed. Like a wallowing hippo I splashed around in the shallow  water. Neither getting deeper or getting out was an easy option.

Out was the sensible thing as other swimmers made the same perilous journey with similarly awkward results.

My bathing costume had become a bag of writhing slippery seaweed. Our beach day was over. The outdoor shower was too feeble to move the loathsome stuff to any great extent. My journey home was deeply uncomfortable. Maybe fantasy rock pool swims are a good idea

#1270 theoldmortuary ponders.

High Tide Tidal Pool

I’ve been a lone bobber more often this year than any other. A good summer and warm water calls me when the tide is high.

Lone bobbing and group bobbing are two completely different experiences. Group Bobbing is a life-affirming experience that jiggles my soul and gives me plenty to reflect on.

My Private stairway to watery heaven.

Lone bobbing is all about quiet reflection . Just bobbing about in the water pleasurably reflecting on life.

Group bobbing is the most restorative of the two submersions. The weight of the world can float off my shoulders when I am bobbing with the bobbers. My grumpies/worries really do get reframed by social bobbing. I don’t believe I would go for a lone bob if I was cross with life or people. Maybe I should try it sometime.

High tide rock pool

#1269 theoldmortuary ponders

Coastal Grandma Style.

Coastal Grandma style has been a bit of a summer thing for the last few years. Regardless of ‘style’ I am, at many levels a Coastal Grandma even at my least stylish.

I live by the the sea.

My two children have made me a coastal grandma, although I am called Nana. I have three granddaughters who visit me by the sea.

Sometimes I wear beige/pale/cream clothes. But not always. Today coastal nana is wearing a denim blue t-shirt dress and a pair of heavy-duty green crocs with bright blue straps. While she does the post-visit laundry.

What is the ‘thing’. Certainly hard work in the home and in the workplace. Being there always for the significant people in my life and to an extent many others with whom I have shared a space or a moment. The ‘ thing’ is also about recognising and enjoying all the lovely moments of a life and surviving and then thriving with resilience all the bad stuff that has ever been done or said to me, or about me to others. It is about using criticism and harsh words as rocket fuel to jet me to my Coastal Space. The gorgeous thing about being a Coastal, or indeed Coasting Grandma is not about location , for me that is serendipitous. It is about a state of mind where the wonder of a two-year-old can mingle with a lifetime of experiences both good and bad and everyone gets something magical from the interaction.

Even doing the laundry had its magical moments today. One bed contained a Schleiche Lion wearing table glitter as a crown and a Schleiche Deer wearing a Sylvanian waistcoat. The other bed was scattered with lavender heads. Enough to have charmed a visiting Queen of England to stay a month in our spare room.

Coasting Grandma is probably a more appropriate title. Useful in so many varied locations.

#1268 theoldmortuary ponders.

3 girls on a beach.

Day 1 of being back to 1 girl. The fizz summer that is 3 grandchildren has dropped to  the more normal level of 1.

Still fizzy, just less so.

So two fizzy girls are returning home and I have photographic memories to be processed and forwarded on. One fizzy girl invited us to a car boot picnic last night. Car boot picnics are all well and good when you are two, but adult heads need a little more headroom when eating chips and drinking ginger beer.

Normal blogging routines will re-establish.

#1367 theoldmortuary ponders.

What profession do you admire most and why?

Could ‘Great Thinkers’ be considered a profession?

I am at my most creative when I indulge in disordered thinking. I am more than capable of productive and ordered thinking. To do so, I always have to translate my disordered thinking into ordered thinking. Sometimes I have to allow my ordered thinking to have a little freedom to wander into the realm of creativity.

I admire the undesirable qualities of great thinkers. Selfishness, reliance on others, assuredness, arrogance, certainty, single-mindedness. Knowing, that in my hands those same qualities would not lead to great thoughts but to an insufferable person. The world does need more great thinkers but it does not need any more insufferable people.

I suppose I admire great thinkers in the same way that I admire great sports people. Knowing that something that is a great achievement would not be in my  best interests or within my skillset.

My balance, or imbalance as a thinker is 60/40 or 40/60. Constantly switching from one foot to the other to find my own equilibrium. I admire Great Thinkers, I just don’t have it in me to be one.

#1366 theoldmortuary ponders.

It is 17 years since I obtained my Fine Art Degree. A watershed moment in my creative life. Finally achieving the type of degree I wanted, rather than the career based subjects I chose to pursue at 18. Getting what I had always wanted  was not as satisfying as I had imagined. In fact after I got my degree I went through the least creative phase of my entire life. 2 years of not creating any new projects or attending art courses. A very fallow patch. I think I needed it. A Fine Art Degree was not a bit as I had imagined. Luckily in my 2 years of zero creativity I lived in London and could visit museums and art galleries and stock my mind up with all the things that I had been taught to appreciate in real life rather  than from text books. After the 2 year gap I atarted making art again and have been doing so for 15  years. There is a good bit of art stocked up in drawers and files around my home which is why When I needed to illustrate my  blog of yesterday I could find a sketch of a Leviathan from my stash of art work.

Facebook reminded me today. of a large 2 metre by 2 metre painting that I sold about 5 years  ago.

My leviathan is tiny in comparison but with the magic of a digital manipulation app I can put the two together. They sit comfortably together because the mark-making on both is mine and the relative difference in scale has been altered as can the perspective.

The large abstract painting has gone on its own journey, which is satisfying but the poor old Leviathan has been stuck in a folio with no obvious future, other than the tip when I am in my dotage or deceased.

But by playing around with both today he may have a future as a greetings card or a print. The Leviathan in Plymouth Sound is a catchy title…

Something to think about.

#1365 theoldmortuary ponders

©Anne Bobber

Mythical creatures on a mystical night. We camped overnight under a full moon and read books about mythical creatures.

As luck would have it the mythical creature in the book was a Leviathan which we had visited earlier in the day.

Overlooking Plymouth Sound for overnight camping we were not troubled by the low sad songs of unhappy Leviathans. Instead they jumped and frolicked in the bright moonlight which was untroubled by clouds or any other weather predicament.

The Leviathan and a full moon at Stonehouse
The Leviathan and Plymouth Hoe

It helps, of course, that Nana drew a Leviathan a few years ago.

#1364 theoldmortuary ponders.

It is easy to pick up free magazines with lovely articles in the Summer months. These two fell into my hands yesterday.  Primarily aimed at tourists they also give us up to date information on places that we visit often. Padstow is very location specific . Drift is more regional. Both good with a cup of coffee.

Drifting is what we did yesterday  when we specifically visited Padstow. Yesterday Padstow was at Peak Padstow.

So with pasties in hand we made our way to a field overlooking the estuary. Just as visitors have done for centuries. So I made our family picnic photo look historic

My pastie was rhubarb and custard and I followed it with a gooseberry yogurt ice cream. Hardly traditional but it was a drifting kind of day and I drifted from more conventional flavours towards the joy of English Soft Fruits.

I realise now that I really value the word ‘drift’ and indeed the idea of drfting through a day.  All from a magazine that I picked up  on a whim.

#1363 theoldmortuary ponders.

What’s the most money you’ve ever spent on a meal? Was it worth it?

I have no idea what the most expensive meal that I have ever had cost me. I have been lucky enough to eat in some very swanky places and don’t recall ever feeling cheated or disappointed.

I have also eaten all sorts of meals in ‘ cheap as chips ‘ places and been absolutely thrilled with the quality and value of my meal.

I find that disappointment is more likely to occur in the middle ground. Chains or places that believe they are fancier than they are. Establishments that are themed or over-decorated to attract Instagram moments are often very much styled over substance, with £££ spent and charged on decor ingredients and skilful chefs who are well-paid.

If the meal on my plate is not worthy of the cost. No one can force me to go back,but if everything about the experience is wonderful I will always return if I can.

Plastic flowers and grotty loos  might make me feel cheated even if the food was fab. Obsequiousness from the front-of-house staff makes me lose my appetite for a big bill. Micro-herbs and foam, also unlikely to thrill me to empty my purse.

All reasons to question the value at the bottom of the bill.

#1362 theoldmortuary ponders.

Scour the news for an entirely uninteresting story. Consider how it connects to your life. Write about that.

Headlines always fascinate me. I know that they are written to grab attention and are largely forgotten once readers take a deep dive into the nitty gritty of the story.

What is a week’s worth of honey?

And to whom is it a weeks worth.

The answers are endless.

What does a week’s worth of Honey look like to you?

A jar lasts me about 6 months so my answer would be, about a teaspoon.

That would never satisfy two bears. But it might easily be a full weeks production for a busy bee.