House Sounds

Our house is not a terribly noisy house, nonetheless it has a few sounds, which to my mind are comforting and friendly and reminds one that a house is a living entity. A more wooden house would emit far more creaky and settling noises, but as ours is mainly tiles and concrete – or in fact rubble and rock, as it is an old house built in the old way, it is therefore relatively quiet, but it still breathes.

I will try to eliminate sounds from outside of the house, as in church bells and children playing football in the street but feel that I should include the sounds from the houses on either side of us as they travel through the walls and therefore become a part of the fibre of the house itself and are changed and distorted by the walls they travel through. Although to be precise the sounds from one of the houses, that is the one on the left as you leave by the front door, is empty now and therefore is for the most part silent, unless, as is happening of late there is work being done in it. But that is sporadic and therefore not comforting but unsettling.

As I sit here writing quietly the first sounds that reach me are indeed from outside, children shouting and screaming coming from far off and suddenly two people talking outside the door, it sounds very close; a man and woman, in Spanish and I do not catch the meaning. And just now a skateboard has gone by too – very noisy and so I try to filter out the outside noises as they distract from the actual House Sounds. “Be quiet you little pigeons”

Ahh! The fridge has just come on with a gentle enginey sound first of all, followed by a series of slurps, which sound like the cooing of the pigeons I have just asked to be quiet.

And now that the fridge has ceased its slurpings for the time being, although it is still humming gently, I hear the constant beat of the clock; the heartbeat of the kitchen. Tick, tock, tick, tock, methodically and somewhat laboured as if it is having an effort keeping time. And yet it does. Relentlessly it ticks on, counting out the time for eggs and buses.

Oh! The firidge just moaned a little – just once. A little mroarr!

And during the time I have been writing about the clock and the fridge there is the occasional ‘ting’. These sounds are from our new kitchen lights. They are hanging lights that look like wonderful chrome teardrops. It would be honest to say that they are our pride and joy at the moment.

Fridge: Mworrr!

They work perfectly for what we wanted, which was over the counter down-lighting, but we have found that they are better than expected, for as they light the surface area perfectly they also emit a wonderfully soft light which makes the kitchen a wonderfully tranquil work environment. If I have one complaint about the lights it is that as they have long life energy saving bulbs they therefore have a slight delay and then a warm up period when first turned on before they achieve full brightness. But frankly the ‘tings’ make up for that.

Fridge: Murrr!

Light one: Ting

Light two: Ting, ting

Clock: Tick, tock, tick, tock

And as I concentrate on the sound of the clock it appears to get louder and then to recede. Louder, recede. And yet it still ticks on with a relentless beat as it wears away the day.

Fridge: Ayeeeearh morrr! As she warms to her theme

My laptop is blissfully quiet although every so often she sort of tinkles and clinks as the hard-drive decides on something it needs to remember and if I put my ear to her she is humming steadily like the thrum of distant bees at work in the forest.

Mmmmmm

Tinkle, clink

Tick, tock

Ting

Ting

Mroarrr

And then

BLUNK! Crack! As the fridge seems to want to break itself apart, but remains as one unit luckily as I can only imagine the mess it would make if it shuddered to pieces spewing out its contents of beer, cheese, gone off prawns, pickles, mayonnaise and milk among many other things.

Tick, tock

Ting

Fridge: Mmmmmmm! Mmmmmm! Mmmmm!

Then from next door in the wall behind me, the very distant sound of feet walking up or down the steps – it is always hard to tell. But then I hear the clink of a key turning so I know that the person from next door is on his way out and the door scrapes open as it is hung quite badly and so drags across the marble step every time it is opened – which upsets me deeply as I know what damage it is doing to the marble every time it opens. Cutting a groove and quarter circular scratches deeper and deeper until the stone will be ruined.

Which reminds me of how I used to have to beg my mechanic to change the windscreen wiper every time he serviced the car as I could hear the exact same thing happening to my windscreen, which made visibility hazardous especially in the dusty summertime or the low-light sharp winter. Still, he was really only trying to save me money in the short term, and yet I already knew how true is the saying: A stitch in time saves nine.

‘Ting’ from light three

Eeeeeeeehahhhhooooeeeeemrawrrr! From the fridge

Vic and I love the fridge – I know it seems materialistic, but like the lights it is more than the sum of its parts for it is not only statuesque in proportion and not only keeps the beer cool and the eggs fresh but it also at times sings like a demented cat or makes us start so with its bunking and banking. We call it our pet fridge and have developed a great fondness for it, for the life it brings to our little house.

And now, even though I said I would not include outside sounds there is a mad jabbering of birds. I cannot work out if they are coming from fore or aft of the house and therefore they seem to meet somewhere in the middle and thus become a part of the House Sounds and so therefore I believe are justifiable in their inclusion.

When one climbs the stairs there is a whole series of creakings and gruntings for every single one of the steps makes a sound. Some much, much louder than the others and all completely different. Of course that is a sound that is made by movement in the house, not exactly the house itself.

As I move through the upper floor I pass my office with my harddrives purring and whirring. I pass the toilet and listen as the cistern plips or plops or sometimes sirrrrs! And then the ceiling – which has old wooden joists delights me with an involuntary creak and a pebble drops from the roof or perhaps the supporting wall within the attic space. It is a reminder that I must get the roof seen to in time as it is old and somewhat crumbling.

And so that is all of the sounds that our house holds at present, perhaps not that many, but definitely worthy. I walk back through the house and down the stairs again; creak, craaaack, cric and through the hall and into the kitchen where the clock ticks mercilessly on, never once losing its beat. I sit on the couch to resume my writing and my ankles crack a bit. Ah! Human sounds, now that is a totally different story.

P.S. photo is of one of our House Angels

The Forest Keeps Calling Me Back

The forest keeps calling me back. I have been having some health problems these past few months. I suppose it is my age. This has made getting up to the forest difficult. I will not let it deter me however and will keep going back.

Last Sunday I made my way up as usual. It is a pain just getting there to be honest. It is all uphill through the village and tests one on a bad day. Sunday was a bad day and by the time I got to just the very beginning of the forest I was hanging. I walked on a bit into the trees, but my legs had begun to tremble and I knew it would just be plain foolish to go on. So I turned back. And on the way home I thought about all the things I might have seen in the forest.

I might have seen that bright red fox with the steel grey eyes, he would have looked at me in that cool, aloof way of his, with one paw raised before he turned unhurried into the undergrowth and disappeared completely for all of my looking.

I might have been chased by a great big golden eagle – swooping down and raining blows on the back of my head as I ran for cover. I would have to run fast as lightening so as not to be swooped up in his talons and taken to his huge nest where he would try to feed me to his babies.

I might have encountered a flock of joyful thrushes singing their songs of love and adoration for the world and all the worms that live in the earth. I would have danced with them for a while singing their song and spitting out the worms, for they are truly vile before cooking and even afterwards can be full of grit and so inedible.

The singing thrushes may have led me upwards through the trees where I could have gathered baskets of wildflowers and spring mushrooms. Thyme and fennel of course, rosemary and little black pitcher orchids, boletes and chanterelles and big snuffling Wild Boar may stumble by, with his little piggy eyes seeing nothing, but his big piggy snout smelling out truffles barely covered by moist and crumbly earth.

The warbling thrushes would then hand me over to the little birds; the sparrows, the wrens, the finches and the tits. A huge swarm of feathers and tiny beaks that would tickle and tease me as I pelted down the mountain again only to be dragged back as they playfully grabbed every available inch of my clothing, fingers and hair and rose me up in the air like a child dancing in the wind. I would be laughing so hard that my eyes would water and so that I could hardly breathe and they would take me higher and higher until my toes would be tipping the very tops of the trees.

And then I would have looked up at the clear blue sky above me and sighed a sigh of great happiness knowing how rich I was to be able to fly this way high above the world – a world so beautiful that it never ceases to take my breath away. And with that the little birds so colourful and gay would start to let me down as their own little chests were gasping for air, exhausted by the impromptu roller coaster ride they had treated me to.

I might not have landed so serenely as I left the ground – with a bit of a bump perhaps, but I would be happy to roll on the forest floor in the pine needles. And when I would stand up I would be covered from head to toe in needles and grass and bits of bracken – my mother would have surely scolded me for coming in in such a state. Well in actual fact she would not as she never did scold us for getting dirty in the garden, she rejoiced in it too, for it meant we were healthy and sound in body as we had been leaping around have such fun together as children.

And by the time I had thought all of these thoughts I was standing outside my own little front door of my crooked little house where I live with my Vic when he is here. Which is another thing that I wish for over and over again – and more than all those other things, one day I know it will come true.

Getting What You Wish For, But Not Exactly on a Star

Ok, Ok, I have got what I deserved. There I was bleating on about how I was such a hypochondriac and wallowing in my new-found sicknesses and ailments. But now I find that one thing just seems to be following the next and now I have a super-duper cold, complete with deep-throated chesty cough. Well, enough is enough and I am officially sick of being sick!

But that is one’s comeuppance I suppose. You pretend for long enough that you are a hypochondriac and then the great finger in the sky hears you – well perhaps that should be the great ear in the sky hears you and it is the great finger that points at you and a bolt of lightening shoots out of the tip and you are struck down with the dreaded Lurgy or at least the Plague!

I am sick of being sick! I have been sick for the most part since my Victor left me just after Christmas, what with my shoulder, other mysterious ‘female’ complaints and now this ‘Thing’ that wakes me in the night with hot sweats and body wracking coughing attacks. I have even been dreaming of evil bile and running sores and vomit! Let me get well! That is a desperate plea to the universe to let me rejoin the human race. For heaven’s sake there are wars erupting on the planet and earthquakes and other real tragedies and catastrophes and all I can think about is my own stupid nose and wretched throat.

So I am turning over a new leaf. Yes, again folks! A new leaf that states that I am no longer a hypochondriac or even a pretend one. I am going to beat this cold and am going to get back into the swing of things. I have a to do list as long as your arm already backed up behind me and I am going to start ticking things off it ASAP.

You know, even though I really am feeling lousy and did tell some people that I had the Flu at first just to illicit a bit of extra sympathy (but honestly my bones really were aching) I am still doing more than most.

I continue to get up in the morning come hell or highwater and even though jogging has been difficult I have still walked my route in the mornings, well most mornings. I plug into my ipod shuffle and listen to my Spanish tapes too in order to keep my mind active as well. I then get home and doggedly attack my Spanish lessons. I learn verbs and I practice conjugations and I write endless essays, which to my delight are yielding fewer and fewer red marks when they are returned to me, so something must be sticking. I am really happy to report that I am definitely coming to learn the most simple form of the past tense as well as having a grasp of two other past tenses. I have even started to make sense of the elusive ‘subjunctive’.

I love learning languages actually. They are extremely frustrating when you first begin and then there comes a shift when the pattern of the language starts to set into your brain and you can literally see the pattern in your head when you are speaking. Of course the final stage is when you don’t actually have to think at all and you simply understand and know how to say things automatically. That is the point when you start to dream in that foreign language as well.

I think the hardest part is that point when you realize that to improve you simply have to sit down and learn rules and irregularities and that there are no short cuts to be taken. That is when you realize the enormity of the project you have taken on as you look at the size of the dictionary and the book of verbs. It is also very frustrating when at times you find you take two steps forward and then another one back and you feel you are achieving nothing.

Not to mention of course the whole pronunciation bit of the language, as well as trying to understand people when they speak to you in various dialects and at a rate of knots. Nighmare!

I have been learning hard now for a year and a half. A year and a bit of that time has been while living in Spain of course and during this time it has been easier to pick up phrases and also to get help from friends and neighbours. Everyday is a practical lesson as long as you get out and about and make sure that you ask questions in shops and insist on speaking to people in Spanish even though sometimes you really do not make a whole lot of sense.

I originally gave myself two years to become fluent in the language. I don’t think I will be far off that target if I continue with the momentum that I currently have, however that is another snag in the learning of anything, loss of momentum or burn out. I am trying to pace myself and keep up a steady programme but boredom is an enemy and also other projects which come in and take over your life from left field – under the heading ‘projects’ I also loosely include sickness which can really scupper all your best efforts from time to time as was proved directly after Christmas when the extreme pain of my tendonitis caused me to put off the start of my new lessons as I could neither sit up for very long nor dress myself, let alone concentrate on anything.

So a cold is nothing really. I will continue to battle on and promise to “think positive” as my dear friend Brian used to say to me, many moons ago. And speaking of moons. Did anyone see the moon last night? Apparently it was the closest to the earth that it has been in some number of years.

Forgive me if I do not remember how many years, I was too busy staring up at its bright face and impressive size and was in complete awe of the nature of its incredible beauty and wonder……..!

Spanish Noise and Therapies

It is not a criticism – but an observation. I am not the first foreigner in these parts to comment on this particular characteristic of the Spanish.

Noise. Spaniards do not know the meaning of quiet. I don’t think there is any such thing either as a shy Spaniard. Even the children are completely relaxed about talking to strangers almost as equals. They do not lower their eyes and hide behind their mothers – well perhaps at times very briefly as they size up a strange foreigner who does not speak Spanish very well and is called something strange like Mary. Mary Poppins is a point of reference I am pleased to note, as that is one of my favourite films of all time. But generally they are quite happy to speak to anyone about all and sundry even showing off their counting skills – however limited.

Why do I mention all this now? Well, this morning I had to go for my first physiotherapy session at a Spanish clinic.

It is funny because I have been agonizing over what to write about this week. Feeling quite blocked really as I have not been in the least bit creative lately. My illnesses and social life seem to have taken over. In my case it is really true that I have to suffer a bit in order to be creative – albeit mentally rather than physically. When I am lonely and introspective I have all these ideas for images and themes. I am rather happy and contented at the moment as I have found myself to have a circle of friends! I feel that for a solitary individual this is a very strange state of affairs. I have lived my life very much as a loner always but now people call me up and call to see me or invite me out or round for meals or drinks. What on earth is going on? Maybe it is part of being in Spain – a much more gregarious place than anywhere else I have lived.

But that is a digression –

There I was agonizing over my non-materialising blog when all of a sudden I found myself invited to what was, in my eyes, the most bizarre group physiotherapy session that I could ever imagine. Obviously it is normal in Spain as no one else there seemed remotely concerned with the strange events that unfolded before my ‘Irish’ eyes.

I have never been to a physiotherapist before so actually I have nothing to judge my assumptions on, but I always presumed that the sessions were done in a small consulting room on a one to one basis. Here I walked into this madhouse where one or two older ladies were rolling large objects backwards and forwards on a table, a man was sitting under some contraption that obviously warmed or vibrated his shoulder. Another woman was lying on a couch having her hand manipulated by the physiotherapist and another lady was sitting under a sun or heat lamp. There was also what seemed to be a totally healthy woman with two children – a small baby and a delightful little girl who was trying to show off her aforementioned counting skills 1,2,4,6,11, 8…etc.

Of course all these people were talking, all the time and all at the same time. Laughing with and talking to the children and holding other conversations between each other. In the midst of this reigned the Physiotherapist – a lovely young woman, named Ana, completely at ease with the situation, although every so often she did say a general shhhh! To get everyone to pipe down a bit so that she could introduce the next exercise to one or other of her clients.

Especially for me it was a little difficult to say the least. I am certain that on a one to one session I would have understood every word she said to me as she spoke clearly and slowly to me, but under the circumstances and the loud and boisterous background noise, I had the greatest difficulty even focusing my attention on her, let alone understanding. Still she actually did speak English too, for which I was heartily grateful. So I did follow and do the exercises and therapies that she presented to me. And then I sat under the sonic wave machine which gave me a deep muscle massage – I am not sure it is quite what I was expecting, as I was expecting something that will dissolve the calcium deposit in my shoulder, but perhaps that does. What do I know? Anyway I am certain she knows what she is doing and time will tell. Oddly I am not experiencing any extra pain and perhaps even some slight more movement than previously in my bad shoulder – so I can only assume that the treatment, however bizarre the ambience, is working already.

Regarding deep thought. No, none. I spent the time trying to understand and follow some of the conversations that were taking place around me. I find it completely frustrating that I understand so many of the words perfectly clearly as single words, but there is something about the way a foreign language is put together that means that, in my own head at least, most of them remain as isolated words and are not hanging together to make any extra sense to me – they are obviously more than the sum of their parts. I can only sigh and hope that it will all start to hang together for me soon.

Maybe I just need to start yelling like a Spaniard and it will suddenly fall into place.

The photo? I thought it vaguely resembled the group therapy session of this morning. It is of me and my brother and one of my sisters showing an alternative to normal sitting. Why sit the right way up when you can sit upside down!

Getting Back on the Horse

Hello Bloggees!

I am back.

Obviously Christmas takes its toll on routine and an ability to sit down and find the time to write and this year just as I had put away the Christmas tree and dusted all the corners in anticipation of starting a fresh batch of work in the new year, I was struck down with tendonitis.

It is hard being a hypochondriac when you have the constitution of an ox and I have struggled to be ill for many a long year. Even my little hormonal imbalance is practically completely non-eventful and as much as I talk it up the symptoms are almost non-existent and the side effects of the medication go almost unnoticed and now, to add insult to injury, my doctor has taken me off the medication all together and everything seems to have fallen into place for the first time in my whole life it would seem.

So when I got the first twinge in my shoulder I stoically decided to avoid it and bravely self-medicated with alcohol (in my opinion the most useful legal drug in the world) and went down to our local bar to take photos of a band for whom I have been designing a poster. Every time I turned my huge and heavy SLR on its vertical side I felt a terrible tearing, but decided to ignore it and simply topped up my alcohol levels to counteract the pain. I figured all would be well in the morning after a good night’s sleep.

How wrong I was! Eight o’clock in the morning saw me crawling down to the ‘Urgencias’ after a pretty sleepless night. I got an injection of something and some tablets which turned out to be pretty useless and spent the next week battling with pain and various painkillers until finally I had to take myself off to the big hospital in Malaga for proper diagnosis and treatment.

Anyway, to cut a long story short – Which is never really my intention – I was out of action for a further couple of weeks with my arm in a sling and just trying to sleep and get better. Sitting at the computer was painful, so even writing emails and, of course, my blog was not possible. And then when all the drama was over I had so much catching up to do on all sorts of mundane things including cleaning the house and changing the bed linen that blogging and everything else creative has just taken a back seat.

So that is my excuse for this year. But I think I tend to lose the run of things at Christmas time anyway. When you work from home and do not have any deadlines it is hard sometimes to get your foot back on the accelerator after any significant down-time. But now I feel almost fully fit again and even went for my first forest walk last Sunday, which was a real head-clearer. I am jogging again too and am starting to feel stronger and fitter by the minute. And now my Victor is coming home on Sunday as well and we have so much to do I think that the next week will pass in a blur.

Which it has! And of course another excuse not to finish writing this and posting it. So now I will. Not too many profound thoughts here this time and a very late start to the New Year for me. But at least now I have begun again…..

Trying to Count my Blessings in the Face of the Big Chill

Oh my goodness! Has all of Europe, or maybe the whole world gone freezing cold!

I have to remind myself that I did have the most spectacular summer that I have probably ever had in my entire life just put behind me. That is the only thing that is (just about) keeping me going the last couple of days.

It has not helped that I have not been able to get warm again after returning from Norway. We had temperatures there of -3 to -8 and I was so torn between wanting to be with my beloved Vic and returning to what I thought would be a warmer Spain. Well it is, but still cold and also wet at the moment. Add to that the fact that as our house is still under construction it is not yet properly sealed and insulated against the cold weather and we have not yet got our promised wood burning stove in. I know that that will make a huge difference to the overall temperature of the house, but at the moment it rather seems to be a bit of a pipe dream. And right now I have chapped lips!

Still I try to remain positive in the face of all the weather and all the other difficult things that are going on in our lives at the moment. I also worry about my children when I am feeling like this and wonder what the future holds for them in this rather uncertain economic climate of ours.

But these are the musings at the moment as I find myself at this low point now, where I am just after my exhibition and deciding what is the best way to go forward.

Well there is one positive thing, I have finally started to set up my very own website, not a blog, (which is really just for me to talk about whatever I want to), but a proper website with all my pictures up on it and where people can go and look at the art and also buy what they see, if they so wish. It is still under construction so I will not post the address here just yet – but I will soon. I should think it will be up and running by the weekend.

I suppose the second positive in spite of the chill factor is that I really feel an improvement in my Spanish. I have always found that shutting off for a spell can actually help and that is what I did when I went to Norway to visit Vic last week. It wasn’t really intentional as I did take my audio tapes with me so that I could listen while walking, but as I did not do as much walking as I had intended to, owing to the cold, I did not actually manage to get my earplugs in at all the whole week and in fact spent a happy time trying to remember some Norwegian, which to my delight I still could. Not all but more than expected. So much so that I keep saying ‘Hei hei!’ to people now instead of ‘Hola!’ although I am back in Spain – they probably think that I am mad. Well actually I don’t suppose they would be far off the mark there!

But getting back to that point, yes, after shutting off the Spanish for a bit I have somehow absorbed more of what I have learned and feel that my skills have stepped up a notch. And it feels good.

Another blessing is that after two and a half days of almost solid rain the sun is now trying to raise its head.

And I suppose the biggest blessing of all is that in a mere two and half weeks Vic will be winging his way home to me for Christmas!

So there, I have suddenly talked myself around again to looking forward to good things to come: Christmas, Vic, Websites, talking to friends in Spanish as well as English and also I have been reliably informed that this cold spell will be taking a break this coming weekend so I might get myself warmed up a bit then.

Zeitgeist

Well I watched it. I waited until I had finished the very last cut of my final lino block for my exhibition because I had a feeling about it. And yes, when I sat down and watched it from start to finish I recognized the fact that in his film ‘Avatar’ James Cameron had stolen all my ideas about the interconnectedness of nature.

Of course it is not just my idea and that is why it brought to mind the zeitgeist.

When I was in college there was a lot of that sort of thing talked about, also the collective unconscious which could sort of explain why the zeitgeist can happen. It fascinated me then and led to some work concerning twins as I figured they were more connected than singletons. I like the idea of a certain amount of involuntary telepathy between people and the world which they inhabit. I love those quirky news stories too about the telepathy and sixth sense of animals too. I also like the way my ear gives an involuntary twitch when it hears a sudden unexpected sound just like a wolf’s ear listening for a rustle in the undergrowth. I also quite enjoy the feeling of the hairs on my neck rising when I am reading a scary book or watching a scary film.

But I digress a little bit as I was talking about the zeitgeist. However, the zeitgeist at the moment is about the interconnectedness of nature and it is about green issues and global warming and all those sorts of things. Which is a good thing in my opinion. Of course one could argue that this interest in these issues has come about through advertising and education and of course there is an element of that and one could also argue that it has come about at this time because of the very fact that global warming does seem to be having an affect on this little old planet of ours, changing the seasons and the weather patterns. Why here in the Costa del Sol it rained last winter for three months solid! Weather absolutely unheard of in recorded history! Mind you if the Spanish lived in Ireland then they would really know about rain!

Still the rain is vital for the earth to keep on living. We are now in the happy position of having enough in our reservoirs here for the next two summers (this one already gone of course – which was three). And that is one of the things I do so love about the world we inhabit. It has such a neat way of taking care of itself. That does not mean that it can support all its inhabitants, and I know that this is an unpopular theory but there are too many of us people. We have been far too successful at breeding and becoming a menace to the planet and so the planet will simply eradicate us, or a lot of us at any rate, in its own way. It is not something that most people seem to want to face I know, but the fact is that there are too many people on this planet and we have dirtied it and destroyed parts of it – perhaps irreversibly, but as the eternal optimist I think not. However changes will have to be made. And here I know I am not alone – this is the old zeitgeist coming up again – which is why there is so much art, films, literature etc etc about nature and global warming and other green issues.

And ‘Avatar’ is about that too. I know it is also written in the old ‘Hollywood’ or ‘American film format’ in order to make it a blockbuster. The story did not interest me at all to be honest. It was completely predictable. It was not even the special effects. It was primarily the save the planet thing and then the planet will save you and I did love the imagination that designed the creatures on that planet. I suppose the correct term for what interested my was the subtext or subplot – but those trendy terms are too much for a simple-minded mushroom picker like myself.

The Language of Mushrooms

Well, another week has flown by. I cannot really quantify what I did this week although I know it was lots of stuff. Lots of little stuff that had been neglected while I was moving certainly towards my exhibition deadline. I do remember that I also had to go to Malaga twice as well for different things. A busy, busy, busy little bee!

One thing I am certain of though is that this week I was incredibly tired all of the time and putting one foot in front of the other has been an effort. Still I did do a couple of desultory runs either in the forest or on the country road route, which is the shorter run for busy days.

I can only suppose that it is in the aftermath of the exhibition as the adrenalin has receded that I am feeling all washed up.

One thing is for certain though, at the moment my passion for running has decreased as my passion for mushrooming has, well…mushroomed. :-) Sorry! I know, really a terrible pun!

But seriously, running does become quite difficult when your head turns involuntarily at the sight of something interesting winking at you from the hedgerow and you are forced to swerve to a sudden stop to take a quick examination of the said ‘winking’ object.

It was when I was out – probably last Sunday - in the forest that I started to notice little glossy brown and yellow heads poking their way out of the ground and through the pine needles. I knew that there were mushrooms to be had and so I was on the lookout and it really was only a short step, once my interest was aroused, to going on a proper hunt.

Now by proper I will admit that I am ill-equipped at present. I do not have a basket to my name so had to make do with plastic bags (which is completely the wrong thing to put mushrooms into), but I took a little sharp knife and my trusty camera. It has been such an enjoyable and satisfying sort of an exercise, going off road and starting to explore the actual forest floor. And even on my first outing – which was completely at the wrong time, being of an evening, a Thursday it was. I still managed to get quite a few mushrooms, which I then rushed home with in order to start the identity parade.

I did know that I was on to something as when I was looking I found the ground disturbed in lots of places and some remains of mushrooms. At first I thought it might have been animals rooting but then along my travels I bumped into two women a-foraging too. They eyed me suspiciously as I was obviously ‘stealing’ their mushrooms.

The next morning I went out for my jog, but wished that I had brought a bag and my knife, for while I was sweating along two cars overtook me and parked up ahead. When I reached them the occupants were already well up in the woods with their baskets at the ready and they were bent over and looking, looking, looking all over the forest floor. I yearned to follow them up and see where they were looking and what they were finding, but am not sure of mushroom etiquette – it seems to be quite a solitary sport and I am sure there is a certain amount of competition involved: The biggest, the most, the rarest, the most tasty, the most peculiar looking one. You do have to be careful who you ask about these things as not everyone is willing to share their own hard won knowledge.

Still I get nearly as much satisfaction knowing that others are picking the mushrooms and making use of them. Even uneaten – as mine still are – I so enjoy the way your mind just turns off everything else as you have to concentrate on looking around and trying to discern the smallest hint of fungi poking its way out of the ground – and they are well hidden, well disguised as stones a lot of the time. Quite clever they are.

I went out again today as it was a Sunday, so a day for recreation. I was planning to go really early, which would have been the time, but I went out to visit a friend last night so was not home until around two! Getting up early this morning just was not on the cards. So it was about 12 before I was ready and up and out. Again this was a bit too late and when I got to all the secret places there was recent ground disturbance and evidence of mushrooms taken. Still I had a successful forage and quite lost myself to the forest, the earth, the trees, the smells and the sounds. There were other people there too, some picking mushrooms and there were others beating olives off the trees.

The difficult part starts now of course. I do have a few books of mushrooms, one in English, one in Spanish and two in German – just to make things interesting. So as a result I am concentrating on the Latin names so that I can cross-reference between the books. I am finding that you have to do that. One book may have a photo, the next a drawing and the third has a really good description and I am feeling my way with this whole project. By the way this project does not simply involve collecting, cooking and eathing the fruits of the forest but I also know that there are one or two paintings or prints gestating away somewhere in the farthest corners of my brain.

I have also asked several people what they think. One man told me that the yellow ones were definitely edible – but you have to peel the skin and take off the spongy underside. The next told me that the others I had in my bag were definitely the edible sort but not the yellow ones! But I sensed that he was also open to suggestion as when I asked him about the ones with the pink stalks he sort of moved over to my way of thinking on them, so I got the feeling that he really didn’t have a clue. The last person I asked today is Latvian – and Eastern Europeans really do have the knowledge of these things. He passed most of them as edible with an easy assurance but said that of them all the yellow ones are the most tasty! So I think I can safely try those at this stage – although by this time they are a bit wilted so will have to make an effort one morning this week to go again and collect some fresh. Even the books contradict each other regarding tastiness of the various types, but not on the toxicity.

So the rest is down to me now and my books. Unless I can find someone who really knows and is willing to go with me up to the forest. That would be completely super of course, but I am not sure that there are that many experts here, but then again you never know until you ask and that is one thing I am getting very good at – in any language!

After the Event

Well, the exhibition opening has come and gone. I was calm and in control right up to the end. I worked methodically through everything I had to do like a well-oiled machine. On the night the timing was perfect. I had time for a nice refreshing and cleansing shower beforehand and then had an hour and a half to prepare the tapas, which I did with three minutes to spare! I enjoyed it. I had to just do it. There was no time to stop and think too much, although at the same time I was making up certain recipes and mixtures of flavours. It was creative and hugely satisfying and relaxing. I even had enough time to wipe down the counters and stack the dirty boards, knives and mixing bowls for a wash-up later on.

I can’t believe how relaxed I was when I arrived at the Casa de la Cultura and calmly started opening bottles of wine and stacking up the plastic cups and organizing the hospitality table in general.

And then the people started arriving. Most were friends but there were also various interested people who I had never met before and there were visiting dignitaries invited by the powers that be. The gallery wasn’t thronged, but I was more than happy with the turnout. It was interesting to see the people who did support me and those that did not. Of course people have their own reasons for not coming on the night and so I prefer to dwell on the surprise of certain people who did come.

It was an enjoyable night for me. Of course I must have been a little bit nervous and in fact I know now that I must have been quite wired over the past couple of weeks of intense work and planning because for the last two days (after the event) I feel about a hundred years old and am having the greatest difficulty dragging my aching bones out of the bed in the morning. Still I forced myself out this morning and went up to my beloved forest. It was a struggle, especially as the weather last night was wet and very windy and it looked cold this morning, so I put on a fleece and was glad of it, although by the time I got to the forest I was sweating gently.

And there I was surrounded by the damp and earthy smells. There was a lovely blue tinge in the air where there was a slight morning mist hanging just suspended by invisible hands. I saw two different types of mushrooms. I was told yesterday by someone who knows about these things that there are mushrooms to be had up there so I was on the look out. It is frustrating that I have not yet learned which ones are edible though. I have the fear of God in me about picking poisonous ones and so hesitate. It is so hard to identify them from books and there is always a margin of error.

My attempts at jogging this morning were pretty hopeless I will admit, but I forced myself to do just a little bit of stop-start stuff. My legs felt like lead and felt quite stiff down the backs of my calves as well. Still I did a bit and perhaps will be fresher tomorrow and I will try again. All the same I managed to free my mind from all the work of the past few weeks and two new ideas just popped into my head. I have now jotted down notes on them and this afternoon I will do a couple of little sketches in my sketchbook to keep them there until I have time to carry them out properly.

Today it is still windy although in the main there is good sunshine. It is a holiday tomorrow for All Soul’s Day (or is it all Saint’s – I always get the two confused and really think that only the very devout know for sure) so there have been a few firecrackers and rockets going off today. I am sure there will be some marching and drumming tomorrow too. It starts to fascinate me, this heartbeat of the land. I often hear drumming practice going on at various times. It is a country of rhythm and slowly but surely I start to slip into that rhythm. The heartbeat starts to control all the residents unless they strongly resist. I have no problem with being sucked in. I like the warmth of the country and of the people that I am meeting here slowly or ‘poco a poco’. I am in no great rush. I have the rest of my life.

Just a Quickie

I am a bit busy trying to get everything ready for my exhibition - opening on the 29th of October.

Things like my Blog have slid a little bit, but I will return all guns blazing after the opening which is always a little bit stressful!

I hope you will tune back in again afterwards and I apologise for not Blogging conscientiously.

Mary x

After the Rain

Well, I think I have jinxed the Costa del Sol. It used to be sunny here before I came to live here and now it seems to have turned on its head and become the Costa del lluvia. It rained all last night it would seem – I don’t know exactly as I slept through most of it. There must be a medal in there somewhere – something about Global Warming and all my wishes and hopes for the safe destiny of the Earth and the human race.

I woke this morning to the continuing sound of rain on the roof and on the street outside – always a little bit worrying as we need to get our roof seen to after the rains of last winter – it took a bit of a beating and will sadly have to be replaced to make it secure.

But on the upside – apart from the roof – I actually like rain! I know it sounds mad, but I did move to Ireland in the first place – nearly 30 years ago because I thought the climate would suit me and I was right back then. But everyone is permitted to change and have different wants and requirements at different stages of their lives and now I really crave the warmth on my bones which is why I came here – well one of the reasons. For me the climate seems perfect now as it is though as I do like the seasons and like to see the world turning. The day coming and going, the weeks passing and Summer turning into Autumn and then Winter, and as the earth revolves the Spring returns to warm the ground.

So I was happy with the rain last night and when I had got myself up and dressed and had looked up some stuff on the internet it was about half past eight by which time the rain had stopped and the skies had cleared so I set off for my Sunday morning walk and now jog through the forest. I have to say it was breathtaking after the rain. The air was clear and washed. There was none of the usual dust in the atmosphere. The ground underfoot was not packed hard and had a nice softness and give to it. Nice for walking and especially jogging on. I like the colours of the ground too after the rain – all the colours are richer and more defined.

And then I turned to have a look at the view! I don’t think a verbal description can do it justice. But I will try. The mountains looked like they were cut out cleanly against the sky by God’s scissors. The slopes were carved starkly by His carving tools – every crevice and nook and cranny showed up in stark contrast – that is, where you could see them, for the lower parts of the mountains were still swathed in wet washed clouds – white fluffy but ripped – they resembled really fresh washed bed linen, pure white and whipped around the lower part of the mountains. Breathtaking! I say it again with no shame – for that is what I felt as I stood there up on a height after a steady climb, my lungs were working hard at breathing in the clean and quite cold air – the little hairs were standing up on my arms, working hard to keep me warm – but it felt great, really fresh and invigorating and that view! If I did really believe in God He was there on the mountain today busy carving and cutting and whipping.

I wish I had thought to bring my camera with me – but there is only so much you can carry with you on a jog and I had not thought that there would be those sort of spectacular photo opportunities. Still I have the picture etched in my head and for you now described as best I can here. (The photo posted here now was taken after the last rains actually - and is of twigs which were swept into little banks by the heavy rains as they washed along the forest track)

What the clearness also brought to me were visions of some really nice ideas for future works – prints and/or medals. As I walked and jogged and thought I dreamed up four distinct different images – of which I think two are really viable. I noted all of them in my sketchbook on my return and look forward to starting on them as soon as my current exhibition is over. Of course being me I really want to start on them now – but time really being far too short at this stage I will have to concentrate on what I have already started first.

Tie me down!!

A New Leaf - Running up to the Exhibition!

Well who would have thought it little old me has got a date for an exhibition in the Casa de la Cultura right here in Alhaurín el Grande. The 29^th of October – a bit sooner than previously mooted. So now I am quietly going into panic mode. Of course I will get everything done in time – I have got too, haven’t I?

The only trouble is this I have ordered paper and lino from England – So far it has not been possible to get suitable paper here or suitable lino either for that matter. Because of the exorbitant cost, I opted for 7 day delivery – let us hope it is just that and not longer or I will be in serious trouble. I have of course two lino plates cut already and two drawings completed for getting down to work as soon as the lino arrives and then get on to printing. In a well organized campaign I would in the meantime try to complete two additional drawings which could then also be converted into lino on its arrival. However, that is really only part of the problem. The bigger part is getting the plates printed up, time consuming anyway and then comes the worst part. The ink is special slow-drying stuff which takes weeks to dry! I know! and I don’t have weeks so I will be out with the hairdryer I guess and I think that there will be prints going into frames even while they are still wet. I hope they do not get smudged.

Well there is nothing to be done about it.

Actually I have just missed the first attempted delivery now (it is Friday) – so will have to wait until Monday for a second attempt. This time I will be home (which I was) but will leave the front door open and the music off. When I am in my office/studio I do not actually hear sometimes when the doorbell rings downstairs. It is a bit silly actually as the bell is at the front door of course – and low enough for every child in Alhaurín to reach and ring as they walk past! However, the ding-dong bit is just inside the front door, but still outside in the porch and so quite difficult to hear when one is at the back of our incredibly long house. I really do not quite know how it got designed like that – but when I lay my hands on the culprit I will give him Ding-Dong! I think I will disconnect the bell when the intercom bell goes in – the new one will ring deeper inside the house and upstairs to boot so should actually alert me to visitors without my having to sit waiting at the front door, quiet as a mouse. Actually I should ring up the electrician to get the intercom installed, but you know what it is like – these little jobs just get pushed to the back of the pile especially when there other more important things still to be done – like building the rest of the house!

In any event I am not actually in much of a fit state to do anything today as I went to the opening of an exhibition last night and from there out for a few drinks with our friend Steve. Then back to ours for a nightcap. It was late and I had far too much to drink.

So I was not going to have anything tonight – it being Saturday now (this blog post seems to be going on interminably), but got wind that the new bar on the Plaza Baja was opening this evening so decided I would go down to lend them a bit of support. It was very enjoyable with lots of people there, free drinks and the chef was taking tapas around all the evening. They had also gone to the trouble of hiring a band, which was very good also. The only downside was that my darling Vic was not with me as he is back in England at the moment. So of course now I have had a few drinks anyway – still I have not overdone it and should be fresh in the morning and so will be able to go for a good walk in the forest methinks – that will start the week well.

So in fact, in spite of what appears to be a bit of a ramble, I have brought the theme through this blog after all – which is new beginnings and openings. My exhibition opening, the opening last night, the launch of the new bar and a new week starting tomorrow. Also you could add to that a new leaf as I will not drink tomorrow in order to renew my liver. I promise.

El Bosque/The Forest - or Home

I have just discovered the forest in Alhaurín. I knew it was there, but it would appear that I have been flirting with it a little bit – or perhaps it has been flirting with me.

In truth I have been a little bit afraid of entering it. Although I was longing for the cool and still of the canopy I held back because I did not know how dark and mysterious it might be. I also did not want to rush it as I plan to be here for a very long time, so why try and find out everything at once? I want to savour each new experience before moving onto the next.

And so I danced around its edges. I began by walking up along the top road in Alhaurín – Calle Blas Infante – which is built up and has its share of shops, cafes and bars. I continued walking this road every day until I learned of a country road parallel to it, but just a bit higher up. This is in itself a much more satisfactory sort of road as it has more grass, wildflowers, trees and fields and no pavement and fewer houses so one has to walk on the road. Country.

But from certain points along this country road I could see the way some of the fincas stretched up as far as the first trees of the forest – their wire fences snaking their way up the incline and disappearing from view as the overgrowth becomes thicker or they meet a cliff face. For in a lot of that stretch, below the forest, on the south side of the pueblo, the slope of the mountain is broken at the base by a sheer drop. It is in this cliff face that you can see the caves. Some are quite large although they do not seem to extend deep within the earth – but the caves will have to be explored at some point in the future – for now it is the forest that holds me enthralled.

From the country road to forest was not a long transition – once I could see the close proximity to the lower level of the mountain I was like a moth fluttering closer and closer to the flame. So one day, not so very many weeks ago now, I walked up to it boldly and entered it.

As I had anticipated it is a place of awe and wonder. It is not a place for earphones, music or Spanish lessons, and I only take my phone in case of emergencies although there are always people walking dogs, jogging or cycling, so in fact you are quite safe, unless of course you leave the track and then you would be on your own – so I take it just to be on the safe side.

Although you do meet people there are not many, so the wonderful sense of isolation and contemplation is all around. The forest is mostly silent. Sounds are muffled but still at times you can hear the church bells from the village, very distant, and also sometimes cries and shouts of people (playing perhaps?) echo up, but it is only in parts. My favourite sound is the sudden cracking of a branch. Obviously there are some birds, still unidentified. Some of them caw like crows, although they are not – I saw one fleetingly yesterday and it had much more colour, some blue beneath and brownish on the back, and I have seen the eagles whirling overhead making their pip pip noise.

Of course if you stop and listen you can hear much more; the creeping of beetles and the rustle of branches in the wind and bees buzzing while they gather nectar.

But mainly as you walk you are overwhelmed by the silence around you, disturbed only by the crunch of your own feet on gravel or twigs

I have taken some photos, obviously, and am delighted at how some of them really capture the essense of the forest – the blackness of the shadow between the trees and the brightness and contrast of a shaft of light as it forces its way through some gap or other in the foliage. There is also a blue haze that permeates parts of the forest, like magic mist.

The trees are mainly pine – although in the later part of my walk – obviously depending which direction you take – these are replaced by olive, some fig, some oak and other species as yet unidentified.

I believe the pine trees to be pinus pinea or Stone or Umbrella Pine – the latter name really appealing to me now and opening all sorts of parallel avenues! If anyone knows different then please email me and correct me of course. The bark is very distinctive with very strong vertical platelets – the colour ranges from various greys to terracotta. Really beautiful. I love the strong texture and the earthy palette. I have also discovered – if my identification is correct – that these have large edible nuts in the cones, so I must watch out for these.

Of course I am keeping my eyes and other senses peeled for signs of mushrooms as the thought of being able to go a-mushrooming in the autumn is a thought which truly gladdens my heart. I don’t think you could ever go hungry if you lived in a forest and you know how I feel about mushrooms!

And so I explore – so far I have not strayed very far from the forestry pathway, which is large enough to take a car by the way, but bit by bit I know I will venture off road and further up the side of the mountain, but that is not usually recommended to do on your own – in any event it is still a bit too hot, but in another month who knows. For now I am content to continue my flirtation getting to know the curves and nuances and studying the light and magic places in the most traveled part of the forest.

I love the forest and now that I have found it I feel more content and more fulfilled in my choice to move here. I knew it was the right place for me to call ‘Home’

Artist's Block or Clouds and Silver Linings

Did I write about this subject before. If I did, well forgive me, as I am going to write about it again. Why? Because it is an affliction that affects all artists form time to time – some more than others – and it is so frustrating and debilitating. When it happens you procrastinate and procrastinate and then finally sit facing an empty canvas or sheet of paper and realize that it is now or never and so nothing else gets done in the house, as actually everything has been done during the first period of procrastination. No more books may be read either, because that is procrastinating too, although it can be classed as inspiration at times, in which case it may then be allowed, but you have to read something worthy not some easy-read-bodice-ripping-yarn. And then it is Ohmygod! I have to produce something or never again!

I wish I had a job in the library. Then I could pretend that I was not an artist and never was.

When I was little I thought it was great to be an artist. Not because I thought it was a cool profession, in those days things like that never entered my head as I was too busy looking at clouds or umbrellas, but because if you make things – like I did – then you were never lonely or never bored.

How wrong was I!

I get terribly lonely sometimes and when I am facing that empty sheet of paper I can be so bored, because nothing presents itself – then it is little steps. I might draw a leaf. But then that leads to nothing. I try to draw a landscape. Difficult at the best of times. Nothing. A building – I could never draw straight lines anyway. I go through old notebooks and try to haul out ideas from them. I have some good ideas there, but then trying to draw them when I am like this can be impossible. I draw another leaf. Terrible, it doesn’t even look like a leaf. I can’t draw and will never be able to draw again! I get up and pace the floor backwards and forwards, thinking, thinking, what will I draw? What do I want to draw? I go upstairs into the bedroom and look out the window at my pigeons for inspiration. They are not even there – gone out shopping I suppose – I look at an empty drainpipe, well empty except for those dirty plastic bottles which I must remove when I get a long stick. Not much inspiration here.

I go to my artbooks and look through them. Fantastic! All these artists making all this fabulous work and I can’t even draw a blessed leaf! That doesn’t help it only makes me more frustrated and jealous. I wail and gnash my teeth – not that this helps either, but it is involuntary.

I go downstairs again and sit in front of my paper. It is blank.

I go into the kitchen and make a cup of tea – I wander round polishing a bit while the kettle boils. Teabag, stir, squeeze – half a spoon of sugar, stir – good dollop of milk – it is all about ritual. Anything to waste another bit of time without having to stare at that darned piece of paper. The blank piece.

I sit down in front of my blank piece of paper and drink my cup of tea. I finish the tea, the paper is still blank. I go to the kitchen and wash the cup and put it to drain on the draining board.

I sit down in front of my blank piece of paper and pick up my pencil desperately looking around me for inspiration – even my hair is standing up on end with frustration! There is no inspiration at the kitchen table under the stairs.

I get up and go back upstairs, I have had an idea. I get my old source books out – which I made in college and miraculously kept – well it wasn’t really a miracle it was because I remember our tutors saying that when you were blocked – and everyone gets blocked from time to time – get out your old sketchbooks and sourcebooks and look at them. What wise tutors we had in college and how wise I was to listen to them.

I go through the source books and find a picture I like which could work with the theme I wish to explore so I go downstairs again and slowly, very slowly start to copy the picture – just copy it – that is ok, it is still my drawing of the photo in front of me and as such it starts to take on a small life of its own and bit by bit I become absorbed in the process of making lines and drawing wrinkles, I do not want to put in any shading at this point as this is going to be a line drawing for a print – the shading will come with the cutting of the plate. I do not notice the time going until I look up and find it is getting dark in the room where I sit and there are mosquitoes nipping at my ankles, so I get up to close the door.

My body is stiff from being in the same position for a long time and my eyes smart from squinting at the paper and from the tears of frustration that were flowing freely from them earlier that day and for the past few days.

I look at the drawing again and am happy with it. That is a result, although I am not out of the woods yet. Still it is late and my body is tired so I pour a drink and allow myself to sit at the table with a book in my hand and read a bit to take my mind off the terrible day I have put down.

From early morning until late in the evening I have finally produced a tiny little speck of a drawing and I know it is not one of my best, but it is better than the leaves or the other various attempts I made over the past few days.

The house is spotless. All the bedlinen has been washed and the floors have been swept, vacuumed and washed down twice. Window frames have been cleaned and all the little corners of the kitchen have been attended to. I hung a picture and the clock in the kitchen, filed all my documents and receipts – which means I will not be able to find anything. I picked up all the clothes draped on the floor the two bedroom chairs and the end of the bed and folded and put them all away. The ones that needed washing have been washed and folded and put away also. I sorted though my chest of drawers as well for old clothes and these have been washed, folded and bagged for the charity shop. The toilets have been scrubbed, delimescaled and bleached to within and inch of their lives and all the chrome fittings are sparkling.

Letters have been written, blogs have been written, Spanish verbs have been copied and filed for later use (in other words – lost). All the old newspapers have been tossed and I even swept my under-construction-terrace although there is no real need as it really is a work in progress and no matter how many hanging baskets you put on it a cement mixer will always be a cement mixer.

Artist’s block does have its upside I will grant you. But those tears of frustration and the fear of never being able to draw again, not to mention the strain that all the drinking puts on your liver while you have nothing else to do – those are not so good.

People think that being an artist is a jolly life. You get to sit in bars all day and observe people, you are allowed to drink too much and people almost expect you to be wild and behave badly. Some artists do that is true, but most of us just live quietly and try to scrape a living from our work and live from one block to the next with the thought of the next one never far away even when we are working like a maniac.

I remember someone once referring to my art as a ‘hobby’ (I was working as well at that time) that too is not a true perception of what it is to be an artist. It is a compulsion, at least it is for me and part of who I am as a person, my identity, which is why that block is such a threat to me. If I cannot draw or make or whatever, then what am I. At this point in my life I think it unlikely that I will be able to reinvent myself as something else – an engineer for instance – I have been an artist now for 50 year after all and it is somewhat engrained. I was born with this affliction and am certain now that I will die with it. But it is not such an easy ride as people think – I only hope that in time I will also become better at dealing with the block when it comes. But then the house would never get a Spring clean!

Some Like it Hot

Well, now it is HOT!

I am sitting in a pool of sweat – unfortunately not a swimming pool!

I am simply melting, but refuse to be put off. It is still a novelty and after the years and years of incessant rain and cold winds and storms that I have put down in recent times this is definitely preferable.

Let me count the upsides of too much heat:

1. It is dead easy to drink your required eight glasses of water a day!
2. You hardly ever have to go to the toilet for a wee.
3. Like a sauna, it really cleans all the ingrained dirt out of your pores, but there is no snow to roll in after the sauna. Actually the sauna does not end!
4. You don’t have to wear many clothes which saves on washing.
5. You don’t have to wear sunblock because it is too hot to go out
6. But you do manage to keep a nice little brown glow going by very short exposures – to the line and back is sufficient.
7. On that subject – clothes dry really quickly
8. You don’t need to put on the central heating in the evenings or fill a hotwater bottle on your way to bed.
9. You can’t tell when you have a hot flash – because you seem to have one that lasts all day and all night and everybody else is having them too. All of Spain is menopausing!
10. If you forget to close the window before leaving the house for the day you don’t have to worry about the rain blowing in all over all your bits on the windowsill.
11. You never have to take a jacket or a wrap on a late night out, although mosquito repellant is advisable
12. No jumpers
13. No overcoats
14. You can work slowly and no one complains
15. The weeds do not bother to grow so there is no weeding to be done
16. Mind you as we have discovered that our garden is just one great big rock I do not think that weeding is going to be a huge problem over the years – a huge Zen garden springs to mind! So just a bit of gentle raking when I am in the mood
17. You can admit to taking a snooze in the afternoon and you don’t have to call it a power nap anymore.
18. Will I continue?
19. Or are you getting the picture
20. When I finally get my wonderful terrace built out the back of the house I will be able to spend the summer time slopping about making fantastic clay sculptures and not worry about getting covered in water and wet clay – it will be an image from Woodstock or Reading Festival, but perhaps a bit more creative.

I do think I have earned this right to be enjoying my life here – obviously it is not perfect as I have been at pains to point out in previous postings, but as a life choice this has to count as one of my better ones. In fact I am not sure that I actually made any real choices before this one – they sort of happened in a much more organic way and I was reactive rather than proactive. Mind you this one I could probably have thought through a bit more first, but hey! That would go against a whole lifetime of shooting from the hip and being led by my heart.

And both those things have served me pretty well so far.