Category: family
Protected: devon at easter
Protected: miami
Protected: peeps
shoulders
Protected: nippers
birthday bed head
Birthday bed head
me on the morning of my eighteenth birthday (allegedly a grown up)… and cough thirty-ffing-eight years later, on the morning of my fifty sixth (allegedly a grown up!)… jeeps i must’ve eaten a whole elephants worth of birthday cake down the years!
still wearing a St Christopher (travel, silver for this moon ruled cancerian), same prominent nose, the dearth of eyes… probably an equivalent volume of hair, just distributed slightly differently!
a peculiar sartorial sense endures
just back from an early morning amble up the cliffs, followed by a sea swim, time to rouse daughter from slumbers, croissants for brekkie
…………
figurative art my favourite, always fascinated by the endless beauty of the human form… and my own the body, and soul, the one i know best of all… a blessing, which provokes, for me, amusement and delight
such adventures! several dollops of joy, a soupcon of sorrow… life grooved
any words of wisdom? nope!… what does the motto on this mornings turmeric yogi tea bag say ‘love is an infinite power’, can’t really argue with that
we are woven by community… life buoyed up by the generosity, support and love of our fellows. steppin’ lightly. love xxx
Lago di Garda
Finn… Lago di Garda April 2002
aw rummaging through old photos, always loved this one of Finn forlorn, a cold rainy day, on holiday in italy
of course, his expression sums up how many of us are feeling through this socially bereft, thin gruel of a winter, well me anyway!
yet nostalgia a more curious beast… remember…
the sun has set behind the looming hills, sky coaxes, then summons colours from the water, turquoise and tangerine
all is serene, a gentle, benign lapping, as a coast dweller i am so used to the qualms of restless water
Finn and I are down on the waters edge, showing him how to skim stones
owl hoots, rhymes and doggerel, building snow men… and stone skipping… a beauty to share fun things with our kids… reminds us, of course, of those who lovingly first taught us
the beach is littered with a myriad of plate smithereens! all blue willow pattern fragments, as tho there had been a frenzied exstasis of crockery smashing! that, or this the site of an old pottery factory?
picking some of the larger fragments, their soft heft, the way they sit, cocked, between finger and palm… surface, blue ink tattooed, super smooth, with a frazzle puzzled glaze
too beautiful to hurl? but we are mightier, more marvelous, by that which we throw away
flat stones. flat lake. perfect.
skip… skip… skip… skip… kersplosh
mind follows this stone weave, away, gentle, softening to this, the distance of memory
ping pong
Ping Pong! Sport of Kings! a game of kaleidoscopic genius and waft spin nifty pzzazz!… went with new christams pressie paddles (…and offspring!) for a game in seaford
i’m a black belt! there was a puddle bog down my end, where’s Walter Raleigh when ya need him? but nowt can cramp my style, it did tho make for a few arm windmilling stuck in the mud comedic lunges
my top spin overhead pummel smash is a pulsating thing o’beauty… a rare thing of beauty, only works once in ten attempts, but, boy, bedazzle good when it comes off… kersplatt! phooo weee!
braggadoccio*… lets face it apart from chess, juggling, tiddlywinks, petanque… none of which will feature in the olympics… i’m not good at many sports, so best applaud myself for what talent i posess.
stepping aside, momentarily, from the brouhaha of words… spent way too much time on my own this year, obvious reasons, gratitude for any fun and connection
if there are any new years resolutions to be had, best we are all supportive, patient and kind to each other xx
crikey, this drear lockdown winter is a longwinded slog, obvs if boredom and glumness is all i’ve got to complain about, then things are going very well
inertia, i tend to oscillate twixt a comfortable soporific sloth and a lacklustre, docile apathy… almost, but not quite the same thing… tho, yes, interspersed with the occasional yelp pang of dismal loneliness… rubbish
still new year, same old me… i’m going to take up a new hobby! body popping! esperanto! hula hooping! didgeridoo! wearing silk cravats! writing left handed! the peruvian nose flute! speaking only in iambic pentameter and limericks! all of the above?
nope cannae be bothered, back to bed, wake me up when tis spring
*braggadocio, oh, i’d always assumed it was italian, and that the docio bit was some smoothe sweet talking to oofset the preening arrogance, but nope apparently ‘of pseudo italian coinage, from spensers faerie queen (1594)’…dictionaries are brill
christmas day swim