#683 theoldmortuary ponders.

Pondering and Blogging are curious ways to start the day. Initially I rejected the prompt below because I felt I had nothing to say on the subject.

Share a lesson you wish you had learned earlier in life.

Whilst not exactly a lesson, today’s observation is something I constantly need to cherish. All of my life my limbic system has been a great ally in my judgement of people, places and situations. Below is the complex explanation.

What Is The Limbic System? Definition, Parts, And Functions

Put in my simple terms I should listen better to my instinctive responses. Ignore them at my own peril. If I listened better, life may have been easier in places and I may even have been in different places.

This ponder is about location. When I first moved to the West Country 35 years ago, I immediately sought out the Water-colour painting community. The group I joined had regular demonstrations in a local Quaker Meeting House. After the session people drove off to a rough and ready pub in a dockyard area. I was immediately bewitched. There was often live music and the notes and lyrics bounced off the docks and harbours nearby. In my vivid imagination the wooden ghost ships of the past jostled for space on the already redundant wharves and salty old sailors were listening to the same tunes as a bunch of amateur artists. I immediately felt a sense of belonging.

Two years ago I moved within easy walking distance of that same pub. Both of us have changed, almost unrecognisably in the 35 years. I still imagine wooden ships and salty old seafarers in this location but am surrounded by tech startups and call centres housed in beautiful historic buildings.

Last night I was lucky enough to be able to visit a replica wooden galleon. El Galleon Andalucia. So my imagination has a little more heft. The photos are from my visit. The one below is just a coil of rope but exactly illustrates how life circles around and takes us all, to sometimes unplanned, destinations via interesting routes.

#682 theoldmortuary ponders.

Bad weather took away plans today, in doing so It freed up time for more plans. Right now I should be in the midst of Pirate Mayhem as the Tennis Club I am involved with was hosting all sorts of wonderful Pirate and Sea themed adventures at its seafront location. Dreadful weather with high winds was forecast and so on Saturday morning the whole thing was cancelled. And so a 24 hour gap appeared in our life schedule and the van was swiftly packed up for a mini adventure. I worked in Devon for a large chunk of my working life and have lived here for two years and have always wanted to explore the nooks and crannies, visit the places only ever seen on patients request forms. Devon being Devon explorations are best done in the tourist off season. The bad weather warning of yesterday heralded the tourists off season so we ticked off three places, never before visited. Noss Mayo, Bere Ferres and Holbeton.

Not a single photo of landscape beauty exists, but we do know where we will and won’t be taking a long wheel base VW in the busier months. We also know exactly how wet it is possible to get when a county gets a severe weather warning.

As luck would have it there was a coffee shop in the quickly created wish list. A coffee shop with three inside tables. Definitely a win win situation.

Home

Pirates 0- Coffee 1

#681 theoldmortuary ponders.

Walking but not running is a huge part of my daily, dog owning, life

But running not so much . However in my vivid dream world last night it was all about running and shouting. I blame the large chocolate eclair I ate closer to bedtime than is usual. . Our evening had been spent enjoying pizza from a home pizza oven.

As an inaugural effort it was both hugely successful and intriguing. Three out of four were visually and flavorfully successful. One was structurally unsound but an epicurean delight. The evening was nearly thwarted by the pizza oven having a european plug. Trusty Waitrose, a rather middle class supermarket, had a travel adapter for all the European holiday makers flooding into Cornwall all summer minus their travel plugs. The consequence of pizza oven plug jeopardy was a delayed start time for eating which then pushed Eclair eating further down the time schedule.

Between eating and sleeping there was just the late night dog walk.

A sleep fueled with pizza and chocolate eclair with no real gap is not a restful event. When I woke up at six I was exhausted by my nocturnal adventures and then easily droppin off again I was plunged into a colourful world of events and activities that required me to run through airports and take part in vintage vehicle parades. When I woke up at eight and checked my phone the question below popped up on my blogging app. Any other day I would have ignored it , feeling embarrassment that running is not really my thing any more.

How often do you walk or run?

But clearly in my nocturnal life things are quite different. In my dream world I run around like a twenty five year old athlete. Parkouring where necessary, nothing gets in my way. Fueled by late night carbohydrates and fats, the world is, apparently, a place to be scampered through at speed. Who knew!

#680 theoldmortuary ponders

The 15th of September, a day that I usually allow to pass without too much notice. It is 29 years ago that my father died and it is maths that makes today different. I was 29 when I had my first child so he is now the age I was when I effectively became parentless. My mother was already terminally ill with neurosarcoidosis at the time of my fathers death. This is not in any way a sad ponder. I am blissfully lucky to have two adult children who stand successfully on their own two feet and for whom being actively parented is not essential. They are also fabulous parents themselves. But what exactly, as a fully grown adult did I lose 29 years ago. How has my life map been altered by not having an older generation above me for almost half of my life. No brothers or sisters aunts, uncles or cousins to seek the answer to life’s adult quandaries. In truth I have muddled along with the help of friends and sometimes strangers. By and large muddling along has been fine, there really has been no other option. I am certain that with my parents around some of my adult decisions would have been different and better informed. That in itself is quite life affirming, in that, with a little bit of effort poor decision making can be turned around.

A few years ago I bought this painting of two Hares from a fellow artist. It reminded me of that September day 29 years ago. My Dad has quite a sociable death and he had gathered the people he wanted to see over the few days of his demise. His bedroom overlooked the flat fields of the Essex countryside. The recently harvested fields were the playground of Hares whose antics gave everyone something else, beyond death to think of.

I have never seen a Hare since.

Today I decided to turn this small picture into a much larger print as a celebration of love and loss, and all the complexity of being the young matriarch and growing to be an old one.

https://www.sharihills.co.uk/

#679 theoldmortuary ponders

What’s your favorite word?

I have so many favourite words that it would be too hard to choose one, but I do have a word that my mum loved to use in her frequent work rants.

Audacity.

I love that in my mind it can be both positive and negative.

Willingness to take bold risks is a fabulously empowering thing. Bold is not stupid or dangerous.

In my mums work world women took bold, audacious risks, always for the benefit of other women. Bold risks because they ignored rules and regulations to better improve the services and experience of their exclusively female patients.

Men in senior positions often had the audacity to question and try to control the decisions made by these women for women. This was always the subject of her regular work based rants, always down the phone to people hidden and anonymous to me.

Somehow Audacity is a really precious word, one that I never feel quite able to use in its negative tense with anything like the accuracy of my highly indignant mother. Could I ever be cross, at her near-nuclear levels?

On the positive,though, I love it. Audaciousness is very much something I respect in almost every aspect of my life.

Audaciously I am using a completely unrelated image for this blog. The audacity of it!

#678 theoldmortuary ponders

What are you doing this evening?

Just over half way through my day I have no idea what I might be doing this evening. Apart from delivering art to a gallery my day has been a series of unscheduled events. Trying to photograph this apple core was more of a challenge than you might think. Over the weekend this apple sculpture made of apples has artistically diminished to an apple core. The fragrance in the sunny courtyard is the fragrance of early autumn.

Delivering art to this particular gallery is an enhanced pleasure on a day like today. But the welcome of apples and sunshine made it extra special.

By a great piece of design the poster for the exhibition mirrors the colours of the apples.

What a lovely feeling to just drop some art off and have no responsibility for the curating or organisation. However familiar I am with these surroundings the architecture never fails to charm me.

But today I was surprised by a piece of abstract planting in one of the courtyards. Almost Sci-fi with these purple Aeonium.

So what am I up to this evening, beyond some early bobbing I still have no idea. But if anything fascinating crops up perhaps I will mention it tomorrow. But returning to daytime activities , my fellow artist Debs did get a good shot of the apple core.

#677 theoldmortuary ponders

Another day of prepping for an art exhibition. This time at a local National Trust property. You might think that having prepped recently for an Open Studio event I would be pretty well organised. But every exhibition has different criteria, different commission and often different hanging requirements. Of course this wouldn’t be an arty blog without some procrastination. Today productivity was my procrastinator of choice. Before I could allow myself to get the art organised I felt it to be essential to get all the home chores done. Dipping into my stored works is another form of procrastination, some of them will never see the glitz and glamour of a gallery. I’m not sure my Pangolin painting will ever be one that I can sell, but every time I go through my paintings file, his sleepy eye catches my attention. I’ve always loved Pangolins and painted this sleepy fellow when scientists were trying to find an animal who might have passed Covid-,19 on to humans.

Blogging was the subject of an extraordinarily dull repetitive dream last night. No matter how often I woke myself up I kept slipping back into it. It was such a boring subject, I could never have written such a thing. Better to miss a day than inflict complete tedium onto the blogosphere. On a positive I find myself with all exhibition admin done and all the domestic admin completed half way through the day. That feels like procrastination is a good thing.

#676 theoldmortuary ponders

Describe your ideal week.

An ideal week starts slowly, not perhaps as slowly as this inquisitive snail gliding gently over a National Trust scanning machine. Yesterday we witnessed a poignant but inanimate event. A large pebble was tossed onto a bank of pebbles by the rough incoming tide. On impact, at our feet,a crack appeared in the pebble and it immediately divided into two parts. How many thousands of years has that pebble been at the mercy of the powerful waves of North Cornwall. How long has it been one pebble not two?

Now a pebble is a pebble, but seeing the smooth palm sized pebble crack and fall apart in front of us just felt immeasurably sad. The next wave would part them forever. Both halves were quickly popped in my pocket. They will no longer be tossed in Cornish waves but will peacefully rest together in my Devon yard. The week is starting very slowly.

#675 theoldmortuary ponders

We went in search of an offshore breeze yesterday and found ourselves at Godrevy at Gwithian Towans on the north coast of Cornwall. The September Heatwave made a large rockpool the perfect spot for a skinny dip.

Our evening location was very acceptable in every way.

The evening dog walk was very slow and in places the sun was setting in just the right spot.

Ponies are used to keep the sand dunes healthy,but in true pony style my photo is dreadful.

A long time ago I used to photograph Jazz musicians as an occasional money making hobby. I did a lot of Jazz photography , I only occasionally made any money. It is extraordinarily difficult to take a flattering photograph of Jazz musicians, but that was a huge part of the pleasure. Sometimes hobbies are meant to be difficult. I was moderately successful and musicians can be fascinating people. Ponies on the other hand are equally difficult to take a flattering photograph, not particularly entertaining on a conversational level and would never put a hoof in their pockets no matter how good the photograph was. I’m not really certain why I pondered off to my photography past. Maybe while pondering off, I should ponder off on this skinny dipping habit. I’ve been doing it all my life. The Swimmer, a Burt Lancaster film, was the inspiration and yet at no time was Burt naked. I think he just inspired me to swim when the moment presents itself. Unlike Bert, my random acts of swimming never confront me with reflections of poor choices or relationship failures. If a black and white film on a Sunday is your thing I can recommend it.

The Swimmer https://g.co/kgs/PBZYyR

My parents thought my obsession with the film and the act of skinny dipping was a little odd but as true people of the 70’s did nothing to stop me.

And so it continues unchecked and so far I have never been caught out in any way.

Meanwhile back to Godrevy and the lighthouse.

#674 theoldmortuary ponders

How do you relax?

It is no surprise to any regular @theoldmortuary blog reader that over the last 3 years my relaxation comes from swimming in the sea with ‘The Bobbers’. No one is more surprised than me to say this. If I were writing this blog in 2020 my answer would almost certainly have been reading or listening to music. In Ocrober 2020 four and then five of us started swimming regularly in the sea at Firestone Bay. That number has swelled to 21 as of yesterday.

What started as an immune system boosting, cold dip, for one bobber has become a fellowship of swimmers and Coach. There is nothing official about us, just a Whatsapp group where times of ‘Bobs’ are called. The Whatsapp group messages rarely stick at just a tide time and weather prediction. Our Bobbing friendships have similarly become intertwined, interesting and most importantly supportive.

Sometimes in the past, pre 2020, I knew that if life was tripping me up, with too much to do or think about then a couple of hours in a good book would set me right. Not so much now. Even in the depth of winter I know that a dip in Firestone Bay or another cold alternative is exactly what I need. Developing an eclectic and supportive group of ‘bobbing’ friends has also been life changing and life affirming. People who I would never have met in any other way have been brought together by a shared interest in getting chilly on the coastal edge of Plymouth Sound.

In fairness to ‘ Bobbing’ it does do a lot more than relax. This blog could equally have asked all of the following questions and I would have written something similar.

Where do you laugh the most ?

Where can you always get advice?

Where do your maddest conversations happen?

Where can you always get a hug?

Where do you enjoy biscuits the most?

7 Bobbers Bobbing