#672 theoldmortuary ponders.

What aspects of your cultural heritage are you most proud of or interested in?

Being British is to be curated from a culture that has always been a multicultural stew. As befits a small island nation that has been the subject of invasions and conquests. We also have a history as colonisers which has many negative connotations but has boosted the multicultural character of Britain. It is multicultural Britain that I am most proud of, it is my cultural heritage. Maybe I should do a genetic test to see what heritage my genes are sourced from. That question is easily answered. But where do my cultural interests come from. I honestly have no idea. I am a magpie for the cultural experiences that living in an ethnically diverse community brings. I used the word magpie advisedly; just like a magpie I see/ hear/ taste/ experience something intriguing from other cultures or heritages and immediately research/ steal the idea from any source to pop into my mental resource to be utilised later when and if appropriate. No shame.

#670 theoldmortuary ponders

What’s the best piece of advice you’ve ever received?

Bobbing and the bobbers are a rich source of advice. So much so that isolating the best piece of advice would be foolhardy. But the wittiest piece of advice I gained from the big bobbing trunk of advice is really rather useful and it also makes me laugh out loud whenever I hear the first sentence in real life or on the radio or TV.

” Well, the ball is in their/his/her court” says the protagonist, following a disagreement or differing opinion on any number of subjects. This suggests to anyone who is listening that a point of understanding or neutrality has been reached after a period of tentative discussions or slightly uncomfortable negotiations.

The protagonist is suggesting that the next move is entirely up to the person or organisation that they have had a disagreement with.

A Bobbers additional sentence takes all illusion of control away.

” But the bat is up my arse”

Removing any scintilla of doubt as to where the real power lies.

#688 theoldmortuary ponders

On reflection

What things give you energy?

The serendipitous aspect of life gives me energy. The saying that life happens while we are making plans is such a sage piece of advice. I am not one of life’s natural planners although I absolutely know that a certain amount is essential to a smooth and anxiety free life. I hide ‘planning’ in the words routine, chores and repetitive. Things that must be done.

Looking back over my week there has been enough space in my routine and repetitive chores to allow some serendipity. The picture above is a serendipitous moment after collecting a parcel from the local sorting office. When this chore needs to be done I always combine the trip with an early morning dog walk to Oreston. The perfect reflection of the sea, boats, sky and buoys was immediately energising, the dogs got a longer walk than necessary and I harvested vitamin D after a few days of dismal weather.

Being with other artists at an exhibition energised me because we are all like little hermit crabs :isolated from one another in our work spaces doing our individual thing. Often having the same stumbling blocks. My artistic stumbling block has always been my inability to follow through with a sketch book unless absolutely forced to by the requirements of a course or tutor. Another artist clearly suffers the same blocks and hesitance but has cured her problem by creating a loose leaf sketch book.

©Jane Athron

Why have I never considered that as an option?

Then there was my night of live music on Friday. Energy boosted and delight overload as the power of music made a whole room dance and jiggle with the glee and bonhomie created by skilled and happy musicians.

Another type of energy comes from meeting people at a birthday party. Random conversations can be scintilating especially if the participants have honesty and warmth. It may not seem very birthdayish but last night I discussed the spirituality of being with someone as they die with women who, like me sit on the atheist/agnostic spectrum. It helped that we all had professional experience of witnessing many strangers deaths but our conversation was based on the deaths of people we loved and it was uplifting/energising because there was an absence of faith muddying our conversation.

Thats enough energy for a Sunday morning!

On reflection.

P.s I forgot about cold water swimming, the best energy generator of mind and body known to this woman.

#687 theoldmortuary ponders.

Live music in a standing venue is one of the great timeless experiences. Humans have been standing around in semi-circles listening to other humans making music for ever. Dancing in that semicircle can be a messy, sweaty, life affirming experience shared with absolute strangers. Beer, or sometimes worse, on your feet and trampled toes are a tiny part of the experience of moving as part of a human mass to music. Last night we joined the throng of three university’s worth of Freshers on Freshers Friday in the city centre.

We were there to see a friends band, Ushti Baba play.

https://m.soundcloud.com/ushtibaba

We had the best time. Nothing hits the spot quite like live music.

Ordinarily the question below would have had me pretty ponderingly stuck. My music tastes are eclectic, unsophisticated and possibly unpredictable.

What’s your all-time favorite album?

I don’t have enough time or head space to condense my love of music to one album. I love the effort involved in an album. Not for me a couple of highlight tracks or the shuffle option. I want to listen to an album as the musicians wanted it to be published, in the order that was argued over and then decided upon.

Had I not been out to listen to live music last night I would probably have skipped the prompt question. But I feel all topped up with good stuff this morning. Ready to be honest and say that it is beyond me to make such a decision. I may not yet have heard my all time favourite album. I have almost certainly forgotten some absolutely sublime albums. In my head there are many albums poking at my aural grey matter.

“Choose me” they beg, giving me tiny earworm snippets of their favourite tracks.

” Choose me, because you love the artwork”

“Choose me, because you fell in love to my soundtrack”

“Choose me, because I am the best break-up album ever”

“Choose me because you grieved so deeply , my tracks were your slow recovery and salvation”

I am not listening, my mind is made up. I do not have a favourite album. I am aurally polyamorous. No shame.

#686 theoldmortuary ponders

Sketch for future project about cold water swimming.

What do you enjoy most about writing?

Writing gives me the chance to note down inconsequential things. As an artist I can sketch inconsequential things. Sometimes something of substance comes from these two activities. As September heads to a colourful autumn I am on the last leg of being out and about as an exhibiting artist. For the first time this year I did an event called Open Studios and am currently exhibiting in a gorgeous, medieval period, house called Cotehele.

Exhibiting this year has felt significantly different to the last couple of years. Writing, or capturing this thought gives me the chance to consider this sensation. Almost certainly 2023 felt like the first truly Covid worry free year for people who organise art events and for their visitors. Everything that people love about art shows was back. Sketch books, business cards and crowds. Boozy Private Views and long delightful conversations. There is so much to learn from the company of other artists and the people who love to look at art. The current financial climate has limited the amount of sales.

But the interactions with visitors have been wonderful. I have been so lucky. I’ve unexpectedly met some old friends and work colleagues for long leisurely conversations and put faces, names and personalities to people I barely knew before this summer. Some blog readers have also appeared which has been lovely.

What do I enjoy most about writing?

The ability to reflect and cteate a world that is both real and imagined , orthodox and surreal. A safe place to ponder. A place to take stock of the snippets of life that might go unnoticed.

#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.

#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!

#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.

#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.