aww a baby snail curled up and asleep in a courgette flower! cute …. that or she’s punch drunk sozzled into unconsciousness having gorged herself on the nectar… the blighters have utterly decimated almost everything i’ve planted…. runner beans are has-beens of all the courgette plants this is the ‘last man standing’… a pyrrhic victory… snails have been so bent on devouring the others this plant has mostly survived… one fruit looks like it will make it to harvest. yay courgette flowers are super on salads… tho might give this one a miss… plenty of vitamins in snail slime? toms are looking good tho the devastation is the same every year. you’d think i’d learn. try something different? apparently not! i don’t mind. spiral shells… mystic beauty evicted to the patch of great willow herb down the far end of the yard anyway stuff to do! x
Megan: If you plant lots of garlic, onions, leeks, etc. around the plants they like it keeps them away (to some degree).
chess… when playing this ancient and intriguing game, best to dress to impress, like some ottoman panjandrum! with left over birthday money from mum i ordered a chess set and a book of puzzles, arrived today. fun ……… my latter years, once my dance career is complete, will be spent playing chess in a park, on a hill over looking the turquoise sea each morning I shall set out the pieces and recite poetry, sitting there in the shade of an ancient tree, surrounded and succumbed to Roses opponents will come. opponents will go. the hustle is moderate to lucrative a beautiful old town nestles somewhere down below, meditteranean… spain? italy? Praha-on-sea? yet the stillness rhythmically punctuated by the ullululation of a mosque… daydreamy artifice need not be overly specific n’ realistic in the distance a band plays flamenco inspired music, sometimes mournful, often more euphoric. latino… frangipanni … jacaranda … bouganvilea as i ponder the board, half an eye wanders to the endless variety of beautiful folk meandering by, dog walkers, book readers, jugglers, kids… many stop to tell me about their lives, i nod sagely. KnxB Check!
audio of text
(as i’m clearly prone to waffle)… i loved chess as a kid… sport of kings? that and table tennis… best games ever… do all programmers adore chess? i was the captain of the school team… top board… which sounds impressive… but when its a drear bog standard british comprehensive… i think i was the only oddball actually interested… many of the other pupils dressed as mods and spent all day being brusque and gambling with games of ‘penny up the line’… tho yeah in hindsight that sounds fun too! i even played at cobham chess club… clive craigmile (craig clivemile?) took me along most weeks, there was me and one speccy kid, he was good, and lots of earnest, intelligent middle aged men chess clocks with the looming impending doom of the flags… a genius invention… notation pads to jot down every move an air of intense concentration. humbugs, in fact every variety of boiled sweet… oh and pipes! surely them bods were smoking pipes? clever
audio of text
i almost posted a black and white photo… to comply with the underlying chess cliche… but decided the colours were far too lush and sumptuous to waste
‘chess a game for clever and serious people’, a selfie obvs, tho as befits all attention to detail folk, i set the board up so i’d lose to fool’s mate on the next white move… hence the glum… well scholars mate actch, but ya get the drift x
Roast Avocado and Asparagus, on a base of quinoa, with spinach, orange and almonds! washed down with a czech lager… oh and an equally green view from the downs first attempt from a birthday recipe book from my sis, tasty! tho somehow warm avo has the unique quirk and kink of something from the 70’s i was half expecting the suggestion of a vegan prawn cocktail for starter and pink angel delight for pud?! this despite the fact i doubt i tasted an avo before ooh 85.. back in the seventies of my childhood it was but a colour for bathroom suites the zeppelin of cuisine (well if your middle class brit like me) has clearly drifted in the direction of the moon (new instagram moon in cancer)
heart felt thanks for all the birthday greetings… 57 today, here i am cream crackered, just having ran for 57 minutes (9.973 km) to Seaford head and back to Tidemills. tidy! daughters coming over, haven’t seen her since she’s back from greece, so we’ll have a mellow day… eat pie, drink prosecco, go for a walk, swim in the sea… tho deffo not in that order! ‘Love people, both despite, and for, all their flaws… then have the wisdom to both acknowledge and cherish, the myriad impossibly beautiful ways the world loves us back’ i adore composing a sentimental aphorism
audio of text
ha, i like this photo, accidentally blinked, which is as well for my red rheumy hay fever frazzled eyes, makes me look like a goofball mystic meg, ‘the closed eyes of the seer representing spiritual vision’.. or in my case, the fact that i haven’t got a clue in which direction i’m going! enjoying running at the mo, as you get older treat your body well, just so that you can utterly take it for granted when you need too… because when wedged down the front at a festie, the crowd goes mad i want to wild whirling dervish frenzy with da best of them! today, jogging along beside the oomph of the mighty ocean, grubbing across the willow strewn marshlands, then weaving in between the dog walkers along the promenade if i was fit would have blundered on over seaford head and to teh seven sisters beyond., no hills for me.. dullard but determined! narrowly missed out on making the 10k target in the allotted 57 mins. put that down to having guzzled way too much cacao and been to a dance yesterday evening
audio of text
last night i dreamt of flying… not the bobbing along banging your head on a chandelier, like a helium balloon, type of flying but rather that which begins with a balletic leap or two, then, with practice, carving your way through the air, with skill and diligence you begin to soar. Outside above the tops of the trees, looking down, see those people below?… ‘tally ho land lubbers! ground huggers! you FLOOR BOTHERERS!’ to swoop, plummet, then soar i alight, it is dawn, sit cross legged on the banks of the river, a sense of summoning, imminence, she is near, robed in the gentle colours of the sun rise, Sri Lakshmi, Venus Aphrodite, the goddess … dreams eh! have a beautiful day xx
look!! the troll who lives in the toaster… feasting on burnt bread shrapnel … crumbs! (literally CRUMBS) tis like a tardis in there… puts me in mind of my meteorite, which i’d proudly parade to visitors, a blackened husk of a thing from the depths of outer space… turned out to be but a baked potato lost for several eternities in the back of the oven
tis bloooooms day (Joyces Ulysses set on the 16th June 1904)… preposterous book… prague my proxy for dublin… took me years to wade my way to the end of that mighty tome! everywhere i went the only things I had in my brightly coloured hippy duffle bag, juggling clubs and a much battered copy of Ulysses… both seldom used… yet parks, pubs, raves… whatever time of day or night, however wrecked when i’d meander home, somehow i never lost my bag must have started the book at least 10 times… beautiful gibberish… ooh its about hmmm death, music, politics, family, lechery… and everything in between… a hologram of much of the universe if you’ve finished it presume your an intellectual, a pseud, have had far too much time on your hands, are dogged and tenacious… and that you LOVE words… personally, I think its fab! oops enough of the maudlin’ reminisce… i was going to say, get the audio book of ulysses… it’s read by Bishop Len Brennan from Father Ted (apparently a famous Irish thesp)… deeply nuanced… he switches voices mid sentence… makes it much easier to understand as the often the book is several voices gabbling over the top of each other within a single coagulated convoluted sentence. hurrah!
wild cherries… sweet/sticky… purple/black… found these on a cycle today… thoughts tumbled back to ooh June 92, Praha… Sabina and I jumped the wall into an orchard somewhere below the castle clambered high, high into the swaying branches, there to guzzle cherries from the tree.. laughing, juice drool on our lips… sweet/sticky… purple/black
noo bouffant… transPlant… follicle profusion… as the sanskrit proverb: ‘ALWAYS trust a man with lettuce on his head’
audio of text
Elderflowers and wild Roses, the fragrant pong, the mood of early june its been an emotionally turbulent time, sorrow, but also huge dollops of fun, dancing, there is usually dancing! i’m impressed by the beautiful fickleness of the human soul… sometimes tears in the morning, yet laughter later… allow to flow through… wind harp we are so versatile, intricately tuned lots of root chakra stuff for me… being outside and in the body, a balm… smelling salts, counterbalance, to powerful thought only when grounded, tethered can the heart truly flourish. peace x
a magenta man in a mulberry top before a pink hawthorn… violet beauregarde!!! back from a jog, so many thoughts in one small noggin, good to let them go to ground through brute physique… more cussin’ than runnin’
………………..
impressive smoking from the mighty vangelis (who died a few days ago)
