Storm Bert, is not living up to his rather jovial name. His 24 hours of big seas, gusting winds, heavy rain and some structural damage have been more dispiriting than disruptive.
The Bert Gold Standard, including his cockney accent which never bothered the British says the actor.
“I still get kidded about it. But it didn’t seem to harm anybody’s enjoyment of the movie. But I do get kidded about it. The people who don’t kid me are the British. They never mentioned it — and they’re the ones who should be making fun of me and don’t.”
Anyway Dismal Bert, has inspired a painting/drawing I will crack on with him later next week.
I feel the urge to drench this blog with colour, we filled our day with it by going to a local craft festival and nattering with vivid, colourful artists.
The Studio walls were painted with an Oat colour.
And I carried on with my Autumn challenge, set by a friend when I was disparaging about another artist. I still stand by my comments, the challenge has become curiously enjoyable.
Not the bigger picture.
And finally Bert doing his worst yesterday at Tranquility Bay. Not so tranquil.
This morning October pulled out a fabulous combination of sunshine, good sea temperature and excellent biscuits. 8 bobbers, 3 dogs and a non-bobbing bobber caught an early high tide and filled the bay with chatter and some swimming, before we all departed for almost a whole day of doing stuff elsewhere. There was a bit of bounce to add to the experience, not as much as I created in the picture below but we never look this cheery when the sea is actually this rough. Grim determination is the facial expression on those days , this morning the smiles were genuinely generated. It really sets you up for the day.
August 31st and it is still summer, only just, the summer tide is going out. But not before the bobbers managed a historic bob, with P.S Waverley the world’s last working Paddle Steamer coming into the background of their evening swim. A paddle steamer and three choices of cake. It really was an epic bob.
Our Cornish bobbers got to see the Waverley twice, catching her again on their return across the Tamar.
Still summer, a phrase that uses the word ‘still’ two ways.
It is still summer but summer has also slipped into its still phase. The last summer storm, Lilian, happened a week ago. She was a screamer for a few hours, rattling chimney pots and screeching up our cobbled back lanes before stirring the sea into a murky stew for a few days.
Since Lilian we have slipped into the still summer phase, no raging heat, gentle rains, crystal clear seas and some really lovely days. Not that I am looking at Summer 2024 with rose tinted glasses. She arrived shockingly late when June had already started and Spring hardly made an appearance. Tomorrow we hit the first day of Autumn/Fall, lets hope summer drags her heels a bit and leaves as late, if not later than she arrived.
When we took over this house and yard, a little under 3 years ago, there were a few projects that needed time, money and thought lavished on them.
The yard was an unloved space with no flower beds and lots of artificial grass. It was utilitarian and rather unloved. Nothing more than a dog toilet and the route to the garage for the previous owners. We immediately moved loads of pots and containers from our old garden to make it feel like home. Most survived. Perhaps the biggest revelation was that the artificial grass covered slightly raised beds and an old concrete patio. We have had to learn a lot with a yard rather than a garden. After the wettest winter on record a wet spring and now a wet summer we have been rather despairing of ever getting the yard how we wanted it. Perhaps most importantly we also had to learn what works in a stone and concrete box. Our natural aesthetic is Jungle and the yard prefers the Mediterranean vibe. For the last few days the sun has been out and suddenly we can see climbers climbing and a dense planting plan become dense.
The weather was even reliable enough to get the yard bean bags out, which was much appreciated.
Which brings me to a yardening hint. Linked to our yards previous life as a dog latrine.
We keep a couple of rhubarb forcers in an ornamental raised bed. Any emergency dog poos go into the rhubarb forcers in toilet paper along with teabags and coffee grounds. No rhubarb.This curious mix of foodstuffs feeds all sorts of creepy crawlies, slugs and snails. There is never a smell and the pots seem to regulate themselves to always being about half full.
We have used this method for all of the eleven years we have had Hugo, in three gardens. A clay soil in London and perfect soil in Cornwall. Each time we moved we lifted the pots to reveal perfect compost that could easily be dug into the ground. We probably stopped using them about two months before the move date. The only time there has been a problem is when a thoughtful visitor bagged up their dogs poo in compostable bags and then popped them in the pots. We discovered the error about three weeks later. That is not a day I care to dwell on, it was August!
So here we have it, a shit end to the first blog of the week.
Sharp Shadows on Shit.
P.S. I googled to see if a Mediterranean Jungle was a real thing. Sadly not, but just as there is such a thing as an Atlantic Rain Forest there is also a Mediteranean Rain Forest, both left over from when the earth was actually covered in Forests. Both under threat from Human activity.
We could never create a forest, but by accident we have created exactly what we have. A Mediteranean Rain Yard.
Another swim spot called 9 bobbers to the water yesterday. After a few days of grim weather our usual dipping zone was packed with swimmers eager to put the rainy days behind them. Tranquility Bay was anything but tranquil.
This nearby swimming area can easily accommodate 9 or 10 swimmers and all our paraphernalia. It is a picturesque spot with arches and seats cut into the rocks.
Trippy editing
It is a favourite place for people to enjoy just taking in the views and sometimes enjoying some weed.
Trippy photo editing for today.
We were lucky the whole area was available to us at just the moment we needed it. A few realistic images follow.
But why let reality get in the way of a good blog.
As you can see from the altered image below this area is just a few steps further west from Tranquility Bay.
Curiously the current was very strong yesterday and tried to sweep us all back to our usual bobbing area . Mother Earth wooshing us back to where we should be.
Hugo is on limited walking for a few days. He got over excited at a friend’s house and has tweaked his back. Just like a human with a bad back he needs rest, pain relief and moderate exercise.
I know which walk takes half an hour and because this blog prides itself on the repetition of normal life, I took some sunny photos on my circuit yesterday.
It is bin day and this is a fine example of how camouflage works.
Our morning walk often has military men, carrying weapons doing training runs. This is so normal that the dogs pay no attention. We are fortunate that we live near the barracks and the men running past are fragrant adverts for mens grooming products. Not so much if I catch them on the way back.
Low tide at the beach is not the most scenic shot.
But the next shot also shows how well camouflage works.
With my back to the sea we head down Hutong Lane towards the Royal William Yard and a series of harbours.
Then a quick left onto some grass and to the first harbour.
Then we follow a boardwalk on the edge of a second harbour back towards the entrance of the Royal William Yard.
Maybe at this point I should do a little catch up on my pondering.
Ponder #1The efficacy of Camouflage.
#2 is more complex. Some babies are born with a rare condition where their heart is not fully enclosed by their ribs.
The Hutong Cafe is outside the Royal William Yard which is a thriving mixed use commercial hub with many cafes and restaurants.
The Hutong used to be closed on Tuesdays which is when this ponder first took hold. On Tuesdays this regular walk felt incomplete. The small cafe outside the yard sets the tone for the entrance and experience of the very grand, Royal William Yard, RWY. Recently the Hutong opened on Tuesdays, making everything feel right 7 days a week. Which gave me a spontaneous moment of clarity. The beating heart of the Royal William Yard is actually just outside. Aha, my useless information brain kicked out.
Ectopia Cordis!
Which is what I think every time the cafe has loads of customers. Many fresh from sea swimming, some mamils/mammals (Middle-aged men in Lycra). People who still go into the office within the RWY. People having work meetings in the sun.
Ponder #2. Ectopia Cordis.
Ponder #3 came from my earlier work on our little yard and the guns carried by the men in camouflage. Guns are a very rare sight in England.
I have been following yard or container growing pages on Instagram. A contributor yesterday suggested improving security when there is a rear access point. I read the article with interest as the rear doors on our yard are definitely a project for the future. The simple plan was to increase the length of the screws holding the hinges of the door to the frame. All well and good I thought until the final sentence.
” A longer screw will give you additional time to arm yourself if someone tries to break in”
The contributor was from the U.S and, if I am honest, provided me with the most unusual yard/yardening advice I have ever read.
Ponder #3 I will stick with the shorter screws and offer a cup of tea , or run away.
And that concludes our very regular half an hour dog walk.
Another day of painting white walls white or waiting for white paint to dry. I was painting a stairwell in the yard that drops from yard level down to a rear service lane and our garage. Not in the original painting schedule for June. But part of the extended, aspirational plans now the yard looks so fabulous in bright white. If a two graves were dug end to end that would describe my working space. Hugo helpfully rested on the top level, inspecting and encouraging.
The biggest challenge was not brushing any part of me against the freshly painted walls in such a confined space. Hugo had no such qualms and is now a white dog tipped with bright white enhancements.
Our lunchtime walk took us past very similar walls with a much more naturalistic appeal.
All of the stone used in this area would have been quarried extremely locally. The original Quarry boundary is 20 yards from our front door. I have qualms of guilt about painting such an ancient natural building material but previous owners made that decision a long time ago. The grubby white I am painting over covers a very strange colour choice. A sort of pinky orange. Texas Adobe walls is my closest colour reference. One external yard wall remains in this dubious shade. Another addition to the extended, aspirational wall painting schedule.
Adobe is a fabulous colour choice in Texas and other places with extremely harsh sunlight and where the colour is naturally occurring. Not so great in South-West England.
Sharp Shadows in Stonehouse.
Whilst not exactly a ponder, here is an unrelated fact.
Adobe Walls is the site of a historic battle in Texas!
My relationship with the colour of Adobe walls is much less blood-soaked. Two of my favourite women artists had studios in Mexico and New Mexico and used the colour often in their later works. I always rather fancied being an artist in that environment. Not that I will be rushing out any time soon to replace my newly pristine white walls with Farrow and Ball, Red Earth.
That particular fantasy cannot be lived comfortably in Devon.
Meanwhile a quick romp through my colour theory books gives me a whole family for Adobe walls to live with.
So much blooming nonsense to fill my mind whilst painting walls white.
The bobbers are late getting to our regular Wednesday evening swimming habit. Maybe only a few weeks late. Most years we tend to start in early June. The tide was set well for an 8pm dip. And with no forethought at all I had called the bob for the exact time the England football team were playing a televised semi-final match. A good result for England as they won and a very good result for the bobbers who got a whole glorious seascape to themselves. Moments like this are a real privilege, we could swim out a bit and catch the evening sun. Hugo and Lola could sniff the incoming tide and fish for seaweed without irritating anyone. They do not usually come to a bob. Bobbers who drove could use nearly empty roads . It was a win-win kind of evening. If there was a chink of gloom it is that the water has not really warmed up to normal July levels and there were less bobbers than normal,but everything else was perfect.
Up early this morning to vote, and hopefully change the political colour in this country. I am 66 years old. If this election goes the way it is predicted then for the first time in my voting life I will actually have voted for the party that goes on to form the government. This is for geographical reasons, I have moved about a bit. I have often had to vote tactically and have on occasions voted for a successful and effective local M.P. But it shows the weakness of our first past the post system that for nearly 50 years my votes have felt impotent and pointless beyond local results.
Being up with the lark was surprisingly social for me and the dogs.
But, being greeted, on the harbourside by this enthusiastic, swimming-sheepdog slightly dampened my early morning joie de vivre. In her defence she was spooked by a drone powered camera. Presumably getting picturesque shots for news bulletins.
I hope that is the only dampening of my political spirits that occurs over the next 24 hours.
During my morning dog walk I popped into an exhibition at Royal William Yard (RWY). It is Shark Month at Ocean Studios. There are loads of lovely Sharky images, but on a bright morning this one was the only one not glazed and not suffering from loads of reflections. The website of the artist is below.
In the cafe there was also a really cute collection of bits and pieces left at low tide near to RWY.
I particularly liked these little bits with text on.
As I regularly poke about at low tide I was quite jealous, I never find anything with words on.
But then on my walk home I had a moment!
The tide had delivered me a cracked and grubby plectrum. With words on it.
A freebie advertising gears for Mountain bikes.
Here’s the moral dilemma of the day. Do I donate to the communal exhibition of tidal finds? Or does a grubby plectrum start my own collection of mudlarking treasures with text on.?
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