saw a seal the other day. Rottingdene, Finn and i out for a sunset stroll… 10 yards off shore… the usual bob n’gawp, languid eyed, she ducked her head, sea silk, then glided below heart yearn and wonder, but not enough to coax her come back… for sure, in places, they are common, i remember a posse, blubber coated, lolloping along the strand in dublin… but seldom glimpsed around here (‘cept a couple of times on the ouse) wanted to type lachrymose (lachry-morose!), but few animals are prone to tears, with the honourable excetion of doves (who am i to quibble with the diminuitive, sadly deceased, pop genius) if any animal were to cry tho… surely it would be the seal… salt tears into the sea… who would we be to know? too fleeting for a photo… so, but a now, ninja womb alien selfie… nothing extraordinary nor exceptional bit flummoxed by today, tumbled into the weekend bereft of plans… no festies, no classes… and weather that promises nowt but sogginess still glugged turmeric juice… a banana, strawberry, chococolate and peanut butter wrap (yum!)… do some yoga, bask in the subtle integrity and cohesiveness of body… have a lovely one whatever you be up too x
crikey… i’m the spit of ‘old aunty pat’ who did a crystal ball reading for us all when we were kids… i was ‘going to be an accountant’, my brov a parachutist… such the premonition and power of 1970s clairvoyance!
flaps: theres still time
aw one can but dream of what might have been! a black belt in double entry bookkeeping…. representing piddinghoe at the nationals in ‘adding up more things than you can count on your fingers and toes’… sighdid i mention she was the spit of barbara cartland? anyway you’ve interrupted my vinyassa flow… 2 more sun salutations then finally sivassana snooze x
i’ve been hugely enjoying Runner Beans this summer… not for the yield obviously ‘one bean Dick’, but its the first time i’ve grown these critters truly the Magic Beans from Jack and the Beanstalk… fee fo fi fum… such boisterous, roving, mischevious plants… wriggle creepers! corkscrewing up the canes, vines on the climb space rockets… saturn v… mission control we have lift off! one has eloped next door, over the fence and far away… such orchid-esque 2 tone flowers, orange and white another, eschewing its suggested support has meandered off and compromised itself with a pink flowered great willow herb, standing a metre and a half in the ‘scrruffy’ part of the yard no idea what the willow herb makes of it, but such riotous exuberance!… they don’t seem to be stranglers in the way of the dread bind weed… just hitching a ride glorious!
hmm i actually would have preferred a collage with the tall picture of the bean… but the auto tool wasn’t ‘aving it… i’m not quite as preposterously ego centric as it seems… not quite!
Childish natch, but always fun to make covert obscene gestures
‘she comes in colours everywhere…. like a Raaainnnbowww’ an evening stride up the cliffs to shake the muzziness of a days code from my be-barnacled head wind whipped, beneath the wall of the harbour arm, the sea cauldron churns to an ambrosia of chaos occasionally amongst the cacophony, a wave is hurled up, a white mare hurtles over to the far side (fosby flop! ever a muddle metaphor, nary care!) the wave, stretched, then wind smeared, spume in slow motion distintegration… atomised! so far, so beautiful, so ordinary, a common autumnal sight (its the tail end o’june) but tonight, for a mere 5 minutes, a rent in the cloud cover, the westerning sun, daubed the darkened sea with teal and turquoise … and there, as the wave dispersed, the fine diaphonous sheen of Rainbows of course i tried to catch it, we always do, on mobile phone… and now, far too weary, with words… futile… better but to bask in the eternity…. ephemera ha, oft times my heart gets snagged, ripped open by some dubious folly of love… yet nature tears the soul with wonder… grand evening for a stroll anyway!
woken by the soft patter of plump raindrops against the loft windows the sound of soothe… restless thought subsides, eases to fall into step with the rhythm… the beat of what? popcorn static
heartfelt thanks for all the messages, cards, presents, chats and phone calls (what on earth is a ‘birthday story’!) many small acts of cherishing, the generosity of friends and family… i am blessed! to those who missed it… due to the swamp of busy-ness, else the harrumph of neglect… this is normal, it is fine, no matter… plus there is still time! … and even to those few, ha, who sit in judgement (we all do it)… aah ‘what dragon ate your heart?’… kindness a direction, gentleness a prompt… all is grand think that covers all of you?
i had a mellow day, hanging out with daughter, met 2 friends in town, swam in the vastness of the sea, just after the rain storm… it may not look inviting, but the most luxuriant of sea swims… a lovely day
…. and as i’m in a wafflesome mood…. woke up this morning, 55 and 1 day, i am closer to 70 than i am to 40… and 40 is, of course, drear ancient! this tho is a good place to be! somewhere, who knows how far, along the plateau of middle age a beautiful (and long winded) persistence of form man is unusual in having a lifespan that often extends long after the brouhaha of breeding, child rearing… and even career i am curious as to why this is? elbow aside some of the insistent demands of remorseless forward… make space to ponder who are we? ha, i’ve not a blooming clue!… but as a simple cancerian prone to nostalgia.. here are 2 photos me, now, sitting amongst my kingdom of tomatoes and courgettes and one from when i was 21, brimful of youth… my lovely californian friend, sarah, sent this snap of a snap over yesterday… the frisson of never having seen it before! marooned in time we hitched up the east coast of oz, sydney to cape trib and back… rain forest, snorkelling above the reefs, immense overnight truck rides of gabble and half sleep through the endless bush… kipping on beaches… and in strangers homes adventure life is but deepening into the groove all is beautiful
Look Up! Moon agog! Clouds on a journey, summoned to the horizon. grey bellied, embark serene, the merge then sunder, a promise that drift is, indeed, a direction? jigsaw… kaleidoscope… ‘..in the sky with diamonds’ here below, wind skittish ruffles the water, flung up, a pulse that ripple reflects the shine stubborn barnacles of the heart, that speak of truculence and reluctance, shirk then glide beneath the fathomless water, whale songs of yearning ha! stumble tongued, enjoy a wallow in the pompous obvious, wake to morning words just that itch the scratch! clamber up into the arms of an oak, cankour and crevice, traditionally stout, the joy and swollen presence of those which abide
a kinda prose poem i wrote then bunged on facebook… the words garnered a meagre 3 likes (low even by my standards, ha!)… but thinking it would be a good chance to practice a video…. laptop camera… then uploaded to a compression site… its not as easy as it looks! grappled with reading the words… and looking at the camera, with 2 screens… as always flow comes with practice!
puff nettle, puff daddy, puff the magic dragon! on sunshine shady days nettles emitt this weird mesmeric spool of smoke… its actually pollen… as NOT evidenced in the photograph… but trust me, was happening… they are wind pollinators i never knew of this curious phenommenon till, a couple of years back, elise and i observed it in the woods at the reservoir and deduced what was happening gandalf-ian smoke rings! something profoundly satisfying to curious close scrutinise nature, to wonder at a few of her beautiful mysteries and mechanisms this nature photography lark is tough… requires buckets of patience and something more sophisticated than my rubbish phone… spent at least 5 minutes trying to capture it, for nowt if the loch ness monster and big foot have a moonlit tea party waltz around the back yard, you can guarantee i’ll just have a fuzz grainy shot of cup cake crumbs… sigh
revel in this your beautiful, perfect but perishable body cherish the astonishing, intricate, infinite complexity of form, for we are dancing miracles! limbs akimbo, eyes and heart that flame eternal with love crikey o’Riley aren’t we fabulous …….. personally i’ve always had a somewhat reluctant relationship to my body, so mind heavy, head centred, that its a constant suprise i don’t just topple over never thinking i’m particuliarly beautiful, bearably average with a strong, a so so strong predisposition to sloth… and yet, much neglected, my physique, usually functions impeccably all those breaths, the flourishing, crimson blood coursing, biome nibble digesting… these processes that swirl and tick with nary an intervention of thankless thought bravo! gratitude, ta muchly! handsome is as handsome does this the golden courgette star flower of desire
late back from an amble around ardingly reservoir with daughter… lockdown leftovers tea… samosas and bhajis, with humous, vegan quesadilla, pad thai and full power salad… anglo-indian-thai-lebanese-mexican… total yum, what a fusion gastro suprising world we inhabit… not quite the corn beef hash, cornflakes and pink mousse of the 70’s! x
another day soused in lucid sunshine, whilst doing my morning pages, ploughing beneath the lines, through the trough and sloth of thought book poised at a certain angle, i can see the ink glisten as it gushes forth onto the page a tantalising scintilla, then it is dry, from flow to ridgid certainty i love writing with an ink pen… monk in his scriptorium… such a different process to hen pecking each letter on a keyboard… his nibs, snickety scalpel steel mine is much battered, a quid from W H Smiths (W H Audens?!)… i usually write in purple ink, but black, holds all colours the miniscule twitch and creep of muscles in the hand, a perfection of poise and pressure, as tho embroidering elaborate monograms on a silk handkerchief… even if it looks like spider spool scribble! a miraculous process, crab wise scuttle across the page (remember to breathe!), for what? spiteful, lazy embittered thoughts, gripes and glum grumbles ha! i love the glamorous squandering life is ease and grace, surfing the crest of the present, endless becomming, this extraordinary and rare privilege of being alive! all joined up bart simpson ate my shorts bart simpson ate my shorts bart simpson ate my shorts dwell forever in love dwell forever in love
Oh and important only to my obstinate pedantic brain… The typed words are what’s written on the paper and exactly one side of A4! x
…. to dianne: ha! why should frank be spared my warblings? thank the kids for their impeccable tolerance… i think it helps being one step removed, whenever Finn and S see me writing something, theres always much eye rolling and an involuntary wince poor lambs how they suffer as for the colour scheme, kudos to my interior design consultant xx
oh and just back from gathering elder blossoms and a sea swim… lush day here! x
…. to iain: thanks, good to hear from ya… embrace the gobbledy gook, however it comes… obvious ideas around process rather than result, ink pens do make us think different i’m somewhat fascinated by the whole shebang…one huge strand of our thoughts are in words, which are sounds we make with our mouths, with mutually agreed meanings, except instead we create them with our subtle finger muscles and ink on paper, these scribbles are then read somewhere else in time and space, the sense summon spoken aloud in our heads… it’s plain beautiful bonkers! i read your comment in the tone of your voice… even tho i probs haven’t seen you in 10 years anyway hope all be glorious, enjoy the unexpected boon of furlough… time to do what you want for yourself xx
…. to alex: Wow, are pens right and left handed?? In my privilege I had no idea!… Dexterous and sinister… Weirdly was going to say that occasionally I write one side left handed to limber up an unused part of my mind, thoughts flow differently then… Love to ya lefty xx
Ha! Of course, hand trailing rather than leading… Smudge blots are beautiful (if not very legible) hug right back at ya darling xx
oh and if you ever get the chance have a look at leonardos note books… they are simply amazing! mostly for the chaotic tumble of ideas and extraordinary sketches… but also, as most likely a leftie, the writing is right to left mirror writing! xx
to Luna: Loooona! yes! he’s a cornish piskie, from polperro… he was sitting (dancing) on my shelf this morning and felt for his playful energy… when i bought him down, i thought of his twin… and you… of sitting on the battlements of jaisalmere with those curious kids… enchanting hope you, the ‘family’ and your little one (possibly not so little now!?) are flourishing. Love xxx …. oh and obvs come visit the south coast if ever your over in britain! x
Crazy portu-geezers, camels, desert, fires beneath the huge looming stars, a bewildering, wonderful, unforgettable combo! Xx